Page 20 of The End of the World As We Know It
In the morning, the first of July, they hit Big 5 Sporting Goods. They needed clothing, camping gear, bikes.
Weapons.
The store was cavernous, shadowy, a cornucopia. Aisle by aisle, they loaded a shopping cart. Then, rounding a display, a rustling noise stopped Dani cold.
In theHUNTING ARMSsection, a young man was foraging behind the counter. Dark hair, broad shoulders. His T-shirt sported a great white shark. He spun and shined a flashlight in her face.
He’d beaten her to the guns. So far she’d only picked up a USMC tactical knife. She set her hand on it.
He aimed the flashlight at Mollie, and back.Kid and flight attendant.Killing the light, he spread his hands. “Startled me. We cool?”
Not a grown man—a teenager. Dani kept her hand on the knife.
Mollie stared with X-ray focus, then relaxed. “You were at the Desert Inn when the power went out.”
“That was you?” He lifted his chin, giving her anAll right.“Those burgers smelled bitchin’.”
He hopped over the counter. “And we’re too late. The guns are cleaned out.”
A voice in Dani’s head said,Really?This kid was quick, agile, bright-eyed. His T-shirt saidSANTA BARBARA SWIM CLUB. Dani kept her hand on the knife.
Mollie said, “Are you from California?”
“I was here with my team for a meet. I’m Jesse. Blackburn.”
Mollie touched a hand to her heart. “Mollie. Tajima.”
It clicked. Dani remembered. “The bus. ‘Santa Barbara School District.’ It was—”
“Somebody hit us,” Jesse said. “The bus driver was sick, couldn’t hold it. We flipped onto a VW, crushed it…” He looked pained.
“Hit you?”
“Deliberately.” His expression darkened. “Some girl. In a BMW. Driving down the road sideswiping people.”
A chill scissored down Dani’s back. “Was she wearing a spangled cowboy hat?”
“Yeah. Huge hair. Like the singer from Poison.”
Amber.
Mollie looked up at Jesse. “Are you going home?”
He paused. “That’s my plan.”
Snitch.
Snitch—don’t let him out of here.
“Across the desert?” Dani said. “How?”
“Dirt bike, if I can get gas. Otherwise…” He jerked a thumb at the mountain bikes.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
He saidseventeenlike it meantbulletproof. He was tall, strong, his blue eyes sharp, his hair shiny with that chlorine sheen that swimmers got. And oh my God too young.
