SALVATION chapter 10

Salvation
Chapter 10

Long Beach, California

Michelle calmed herself after the brief conversation with Nick
and prepared herself for the ride.
The medicine cabinet held a supply of cotton balls used
between her toes when applying nail polish.
She soaked two in water squeezing out the excess, and
applied the them as sound plugs putting extras in a plastic
baggy with water. They muffled noise considerably.

Selecting amber tinted riding glasses then packing dark
and clear also, she decided to wear a black spandex
head cover with the spectacle cutout usually employed
during cold weather conditions.
The nose and mouth protection would filter pollutants that
now lay thick in the air.
Lacing up her boots, zipping up her jacket, strapping down
her helmet, she left the condominium frightened, deaf,
and determined.

The 710 north out of Long Beach was grid lock.
Michelle wondered if she would be allowed to even
begin her journey.
A semi truck and trailer was overturned two miles up the
freeway spread across the traffic lanes.
She could hear the muffled sounds of music blaring as
she snaked up the right shoulder of the road, cutting
between lanes of stacked vehicles slowly working her
way along the blacktop.
The music seemed to be of the same song, seeping the
moist cotton balls.
The same song at different parts and volumes as she
slink by one vehicle after another.

Shifting her weight side to side working the throttle
slightly back and forth, up shifting for a moment then
down shifting, breaking, constantly slaloming, reminding
her of Aspen, pristine snow fall, down hill skiing, and the
day's of her youth..
Days that now seemed as questionable as a dream. A
distance and time so removed from her current situation
as to make them illusions created by a terrified mind
desperately seeking escape from a copeless state.

Her eyes watered and stung adding additional elements to
the obstacles emerging out of twenty yard visibility.
Presenting each passing moment with split second decision.
The riding glasses quickly collecting sticky soot and grime
distorting her vision further.

There was no quarter save perfect response to each situation.
Metal debris, broken glass, vehicles tipped over, vehicles on
fire, screaming wounded, panicked pedestrians, congers of
malice, and the silence of death.
Rampant brawls between commuters sometimes taking place
inside cars, but more often outside between the lanes causing
Michelle to swing hard left or right avoiding them.

The semi crash site lay in chaos. Emergency flair tubes lined
the roadway forming a halo of wishful thinking against
smothering layers of atmosphere.
Michelle's wits had found their end. Entombed and suffocating
in a world vaguely resembling her own. As if she'd passed
on and existed in a parallel purgatory of shadow land.
A place where all things manifest a half life of decay.

A military helicopter hovered fifty feet above the crash like
a giant bellowing mantas..It's crew shouted warnings through
bell horns sounding like threats.
"Freeway is closed!...Freeway is closed!".."Remain in your
vehicles!"..Freeway is closed!"

"Don't stop..Don't stop for anything!" Nick's words filled her
head and she bore down..
With no more than three feet between the semi's cab bumper
and a cement median guardrail on the right shoulder..
Lowering her body between the handle bars, squeezing her knees
against the gas tank, no vision beyond her current place and
time.. Michelle opened the throttle hearing her self scream as the
bike slipped the narrow gap.
The road opened on a stiff Santa Anna breeze.
She filled her lungs with the diluted mix, gripped the bars
and held on.


Imperial County, California

2:00 PM
Nick spread a paper map over the seat of his old
Harley Softail in the dirt parking area of the Desert
View Tower.
A landmark perched three thousand feet atop the
Jacumba Mountains resting at the San Diego/Imperial
County line. Built in the 1920's using the area's
abundant native rock, the seventy foot four floor
monument looks much like a displaced lighthouse. To
the east the I-8 highway tumbled and slithered it's way
down the mountains coming to rest then stretching out
again over the Anza Borrego Desert below.

He thought of Michelle and felt a pang of quilt. The ride
out of San Diego had been uneventful. Once clearing the
major metropolis prevailing east to west winds brought
with them bright skies and fresh air.

The only hitch was a forty five minute wait at the U.S.
Border Patrol check point five miles east of the small
town of Jacumba.
Stationed first two miles, then one mile, a quarter mile
from it's approach portables flashed warnings in bright red
LED display.
Turn of radios...Silent approach...Offenders subject to arrest.
Traffic was reduced to a crawl. Armed National Guard troops
with closed circuit radios scanned vehicles.
At the check point traffic was stopped, questioned and searched,
Nick included. He cringed at having to remove the ear plugs
but viewed the risk as minimal. The interfacing Border Patrol
Officers were not wearing sound protection. National Guard
troops were however and they framed the vehicles being processed.

Nick was ordered to produce license and registration, answer
questions regarding his citizenship, where he lived, where
he was traveling to.
"Spires of the Moon" Nick advised.
It is a remote area in Idaho where a meteorite touched down
a long time ago. Nick used it figuring the authorities would be
confronting commuters destined for populations such as
Los Vegas, Phoenix, or even El Centro a half hour east.

The Border Patrol Officer cocked his head looking at Nick
for a sign of sarcasm. He didn't see any.
Handing back his identification the agent advised.
"Stay on the freeway. Do not attempt to transverse any
inner cities..There are patrolled fueling stations ahead..
You will see signs on the road pointing them out."
Nick picked the man's brain learning the west bound side
of the freeway was in the process of shutting down.
An effort to quarantine the greater San Diego area.
He asked the officer if he'd heard any new information
out of the L.A. area.
The officer shook his head. "You don't want to go there."
Nick pushed back. "I have a friend trying to get clear of
L.A. east bound on the 10."
The Border Patrolmen smiled and jerked a thumb at his
own back. "Your friend has one of those jet packs, right?"
"Fuck it" Nick mumbled and slipped the sound plugs back in his ears."
"Tell you one thing." The agent yelled.."This gets any
worse I might see you out there at that Spires of the
Moon!"

Nick nodded not really hearing the man while strapping
on his helmet. He pulled the clutch pushing the
shift lever down with his left boot toe engaging first gear.
A single through lane merged with the double lane freeway.
On both sides of the road was a large graded lot containing
dozens of confiscated vehicles. Most all showing signs of violence.
Flattened tires, broken windows, bent and twisted bodies...
"Californians don't like to give up their cars.." he thought
twisting open the throttle.

Los Angeles, California

Detective Pigg stood at the entry of apartment 12 gazing
at a thrashed living room.."Godzilla's been here" he mumbled.
If he'd known then just how close to the truth his first inkling had
been he might have turned around, before it was too late,
and simply gone home.
Samantha waited quietly in the middle of the room arms folded
taking in Hal's reaction.
The front entry was swung half open due to misalignment
of a new door stop.
The final resting place of victim number 1 wedged between
the door and the inner wall it normally flushed against.
The face was that of a young man in his early twenties.
The shredded back of his charcoal gray dress shirt matched the
harrowed flesh that lay beneath it like a tailored suit.
It appeared to Hal the wounds were the result of extreme
masochism or extreme sadism.
The only logical conclusion in favor of masochism would be
the man lay down directly in the path of a rotatiller.
Bloodied wood chips embedded under the fingernails of
his clutched hands seemed to match claw marks on the
inside of the door.
"This fellah wasn't putting up a fight..Just trying get away
from whom ever killed him."
"There's another one in there." Samantha pointed to the
bathroom.

Victim number 2 was an older man..Maybe forty. Long
silver hair and a goatee. Lean and muscular in a sinewy
way. Like victim number 1 he too was face down, however
uniquely suspended from the bathroom ceiling.
Staked at the wrists and feet. Anchored to the 2x4 studs
hidden above flimsy rotting wall board by sunk to the hilt
common kitchen knives.
The kind family and friends use to carve the Thanksgiving
turkey or Christmas ham.
Unlike festive individuals gorging themselves on tradional
trimmings such as mashed potatoes and gravy, whole cranberry
sauce, or pumpkin pie requiring a deliberate uncinching
and extension of belt sizes, victim number 2 was in the
process of losing weight.
His large intestine hung two feet below a gaping jagged
wound torn from scrotum to breast plate.
Stepping closer Hal made a mental note. The knives
employed were not the murder weapons. Even the
dullest edge couldn't possibly have created the ripping
two inch wide channel the man's inner's spilled through.
The murder weapon was the same instrument used on
the first victim near the front door.
"Did you see this?" Hal said turning to Samantha.
She had remained with her back to the doorway.
"What?" Her voice was low and her eyes showed a
helplessness.
"Are you alright?"
"Maybe you were right Hal..Maybe I should have
waited outside."
"Listen." His voice quiet and soothing.."I've been
around you know?"..Her eyes brightened a bit
drawing Hal's reference to her own words..
"I've seen it all, but this.....This is just plain
spooky."
She nodded turning toward the bathroom.
"Did I see what?"
He reached and gently touched her arm.
"No. You don't need to look at it..I can tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"First, where is the other victim?"
She whispered, "in the kitchen."
"Thanks. Why don't you step outside and get
some air?...I can handle this."
She smiled.."You want me to go outside and
take a couple of deep breaths of that crap?"
"Well,..you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean..I was thinking
about ordering in some coffee, you want some?"
He nodded, "Actually coffee sounds great lieutenant."
She nodded turning back to him. "Detective."..
His eyebrows raised waiting for her.
"We're still on channel 5...You can call me Sam."