Part 28 (1/2)

”Turn that up,” Wes said.

Solange did, but the crackle of static was overpowering. ”... traveler's warnings extend as far north as Lancaster-Palmdale and to the south as... Weather Services advises all drivers . . .” Static squealed and chuckled, then the station was gone.

The Mercedes was rocketing through downtown L.A. Solange saw that the tops of several of the taller buildings-the Union Bank, the twin black Bank of America monoliths, the silver cylinders of the Bonaventure Hotel, the looming Arco Plaza-were shrouded in a s.h.i.+mmering golden mist. Sand was being blown in sheets back and forth ahead of them across the freeway; wind roared past the car. When she looked at Wes, she saw a slight sheen of sweat clinging to his face. He glanced at her and smiled grimly. ”We'll be fine,” he said, ”as soon as we make it to Interstate 15 and start heading through the mountains. They'll cut this wind down to a . . .”

His eyes riveted on something in the road, and he slammed on the brakes. There were three cars locked together in the middle of the freeway. He felt the Mercedes begin to slip to the left and realized with a start of terror that the sand had covered the highway like ice. He quickly turned into the skid. The tangle of wrecked cars loomed up ahead, one of them with a red taillight still blinking. As the Mercedes swept past them, still skidding, Wes heard the loud grinding of metal, and the car pitched sideways, but then they were in the clear, and the car snapped itself steady. He increased the wiper speed, but now he could barely see where he was going. On the right side of the freeway, a car had smacked into the guardrail, and Solange thought she saw a body hanging out of the driver's door. But then they pa.s.sed, and she didn't look back.

Not much time left, she thought. And went cold.

They crossed the sand-glutted ditch of the Los Angeles River and began to pa.s.s over the crowded houses and buildings of Boyle Heights. Wes switched on the air-conditioner because the temperature had risen sharply in the last five minutes. The air was stifling, and it was hard to draw a breath without tasting grit. They pa.s.sed an overturned car that was burning fiercely, the flames fanned by the sweeping wind.

And then a dark brown cloud that seemed to shake the earth with its fury filled the sky, rolling forward like the dust kicked up from the heels of an advancing army. It engulfed the Mercedes, completely blinding them and smothering the winds.h.i.+eld with sand. The wipers died under its weight. Wes cried out and steered the car to the right, his heart hammering. A pair of headlights came flying from his rearview mirror, and then a car spun around and around in front of them and disappeared into the dense curtain of sand.

”I can't see, I can't see!” Wes shouted. ”We're going to have to pull off and stop, but Jesus Christ, I don't even know where I am!” He tried to graze the right guardrail, but he couldn't even find it. The engine coughed and stuttered.

”Oh, Jesus,” Wes whispered. ”Don't go out on me now! Don't!” Coughed again. He stared at the lurching rpms on his dash gauge. ”Got enough sand in the engine to choke a f.u.c.king camel!” he said. He pumped the accelerator as the Mercedes gave a last gasp and went dead. It rolled perhaps ten yards and then stopped. Wes squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles cracked. ”No!” he said.

”NO!”.

With the end of the air-conditioner, the air had instantly become as stale as the inside of a desert tomb. Wes turned on the ignition but the air that came through the vents was searing-it seemed to be sucking oxygen out instead of letting it in. Wes wiped his face with the back of his hand and stared at the s.h.i.+ning beads of sweat. ”So,” he said quietly. ”Here we sit.” They were silent for a long while, listening to the taunts of the storm and the dry rasp of sand on metal.

”What time is it?” Solange finally asked.

He was afraid to look at his watch. ”Almost five,” he said. ”Maybe later.”

”It's going to be dark soon . . .”

”I KNOW THAT!” Wes said sharply, and was instantly ashamed. Solange looked quickly away from him out the window, but she couldn't see anything because the currents of sand were too thick. Wes switched on his emergency blinkers and prayed to G.o.d that any car coming up behind them would see the lights in time.

The soft click click click sounded like a sepulchral metronome, ticking away the few breaths of air they had left. Wes could see Solange's profile-delicate, stoic, said, ”I'm sorry,” he said softly. She nodded but didn't look at him.

Hardy to Laurel: This is another fine mess you've got us into! Wes felt a grim smile spread across his face, but it faded quickly. The car was still shuddering under riptides of wind, and now the winds.h.i.+eld was almost completely covered.

Wes could taste sand every time he inhaled; it gritted between his teeth. ”We can't just sit here and . . .” He let his voice trail off. ”We can't. But, Jesus! How long would we last out there?”

”Not very long,” Solange said quietly.

”Yeah.” He glanced at her and then away. ”I guess those sheikhs who bought houses up in Beverly Hills feel right at home in this, huh? They can just open up their two-camel garages and hit the trail. If they can find the trail. Hmmm.

I could do some material on that-a nice five-or six-minute bit about Arabs buying up Beverly Hills. I can see the signs on Rodeo Drive-Chez Saudi, serving camel burgers around the clock. If you can't eat 'em, we'll sew you a nice coat... oh, s.h.i.+t.” He'd suddenly gone very pale; he'd felt the presence of Death every time he took a shallow breath and sucked more grit into his lungs. He gripped the door handle and barely managed to stop himself before flinging it open. Uh-uh, he told himself, No way. I sure as h.e.l.l don't want to die, but I'd rather go slow than fast any old day. He forced himself to release his grip and sit back.

”I haven't been very good to you, have I?”

She said nothing.

”I'm a taker,” he said, ”just like all the rest of them. Shark, barracuda, piranha ... all those predatory-fish metaphors apply. I think I just wear a slightly better mask than most of them. Mine doesn't slip often because wearing a mask is what I do for a living. It has slipped, though, and I don't like what lies under it. Maybe the cops'll be along pretty soon. Maybe we can get towed out of this mess, huh?”

Solange looked at him. There were tears in her eyes. ”I've seen behind your mask. There's a Bantu saying: You are what you are when you awaken. Before you open your eyes, before you swim up out of sleep, that's the real person. Many mornings I've watched you, and I've seen you curl uplike a little boy needing protection or love or just . . . warmth. I think that's all you ever really needed. But you mistrust it. You push it away and look for it somewhere else, and so you never really find it at all.”

He grunted and came up with a line from ”Sheer Luck.” ”Elementary, Dr. Batson. Deucedly clever, what? s.h.i.+t! This f.u.c.king storm's not going to stop. I've never seen so much sand without a bottle of Coppertone in my hand and a transistor radio beside the chair.” He told himself to start taking shallower breaths, maybe then she could get more air that way. ”That's where I'd like to be right now. The beach at Acapulco. How'd you like that?”

”It would be ... very nice.”

”d.a.m.n straight. That's what we'll do when we get towed in. We'll make reservations at the Royal Aztec . . .” He stopped speaking as the car shuddered again.

”You're the best of them all,” Solange said. ”No one was ever any better to me than you are. I will take care of you-if I can.” Then she hugged herself close to him, and he held her very tightly. He kissed her forehead, tasting her honey-pepper flavor, then listening to the moaning winds. He was starting to strain his breath through his teeth.

And around the stranded car the wind whispered like the voice of a little girl in a dream Wes had had a couple of nights ago. Come out. Come outside and play with me. Come out, come out . . .

... or I'll come in ...

ELEVEN.

Palatazin brought the Falcon to a halt. ”Wait a minute,” he said, staring up through the winds.h.i.+eld; the wipers were turned to full-speed, the headlights on bright. ”I thought I saw something.” What he thought he'd seen was a huge dark shape up there amidst the rocks and trees through a quick break in the swirling amber clouds. Now there was nothing, just sand spinning against the gla.s.s.

”What was it?” Gayle leaned forward from the back seat. ”The castle?”

”I'm not sure. I just saw it for a second before the clouds closed up. I couldn't tell very much except that it was big and way up on the mountain. It might've been a couple of miles from here, I don't know. Wait! There!” He pointed. The clouds had broken again, and for an instant they all could see it quite clearly, its high turrets standing against a darkening gold sky. From this distance it looked to Palatazin much like the ruins atop Mount Jaegar. Yes, he thought. That's the place. That's where he's hiding. At that height the vampire king would have an un.o.bstructed panorama of L.A.; he could gloat as the lights went out in house after house. The castle looked as st.u.r.dy and impregnable as any fortress Palatazin had ever seen in the mountains of Hungary. Seeing it was one thing, he thought, reaching it was quite another thing entirely. The cold knot of tension that had formed in his stomach suddenly expanded, sending out chill tendrils into his arms and legs. He felt pitifully weak and frightened out of his wits.

”The wind's getting worse,” Jo said in a tight, strained voice.

”Yes, I know.” Sand had been spinning across the road for fifteen minutes now, and Palatazin could see piles of it collecting in pockets between rocks. Higher up the clouds tumbled over each other like great yellow dogs hearing the dinner whistle. They closed again, sealing off the Kronsteen castle. The Falcon's engine gave out a sudden wheeze and a tremble, and Palatazin revved it a couple of times. He looked at his watch and saw with horror that it was twenty minutes after five. With these thick clouds rolling in, darkness would fall within thirty minutes. The nagging thought that they would not make it to the castle in time now rang out in his brain like a clear clarion of warning.

”We're going to have to turn back,” he said finally. There were no objections. Now the trick was finding a place to turn around. He drove on, conscious of the aged engine's sputtering. Suddenly a wall of wind came roaring through the scrub trees to the right, parting them like a comb through hair. It hit the car like a bulldozer, forcing it toward the rocky lip of the road. Palatazin fought for control. Jo screamed as the car shuddered to the left-hand shoulder and started to totter over the edge; she could see toy houses with their red roofs below and toy cars scattered on black and gold ribbons. Nothing moved down there for as far as she could see. Palatazin slammed the gears.h.i.+ft into first and wrenched up the parking brake. The wind roared on, carrying wild, twisting coils of sand down into Hollywood. Very carefully Palatazin put the Falcon in reverse and backed away from the edge, slowly releasing the brake.

”We'll have to go up to find a place to turn,” he heard himself say. His voice was dry and thin. ”Neither one of you should've come. I was a fool to let you.”

He climbed farther, looking for a cut in the trees or rocks that he could back the Falcon into. The storm was steadily worsening; another quarter-mile up the terrain was completely covered with blowing sand. It reminded him of the blizzards that had roared through Krajeck, particularly the storm that had been moaning outside the night his father had come home. A thought struck him like a blow to the temple, Did the vampires have any measure of control over the weather? If they did, this freak sandstorm would be an effective way to immobilize the city's population.

It would cut people off from each other, keep them confined to homes or offices.

Planes wouldn't be flying, and the sea would be thrashed into a frenzy as well.

And driving? Palatazin realized they might not get down off this mountain alive.

If the winds didn't take them cras.h.i.+ng over the edge, if the sand didn't choke off the engine, if darkness didn't fall too soon ... He could feel the castle crouched above them, perhaps less than a half-mile away along this twisting, sand-slick road.

Something huge and gray suddenly bounded up onto the hood, its snarling face pressed close to the gla.s.s. Gayle said ”Jesus!” and Jo grasped Palatazin's arm.

The thing looked more wolf than dog, but he could see the nail-studded collar and the tags around its neck. Its thick coat was full of sand, its eyes yellow and fierce. Over the sound of the wind, Palatazin could hear its low, menacing growls. The message was obvious. Palatazin saw other dogs slinking on the road ahead-a boxer, an Irish setter, a few mutts. They all shared the same glazed expressions of ferocity. So, he thought, the vampire king has made sure his fortress is well protected. Even if we could reach the castle, we'd be mangled by these dogs when we got out of the car. When Palatazin slowly drove on, the wolf-dog howled with rage and started scratching at the gla.s.s; it snapped repeatedly, as if trying to bite Palatazin's hands on the steering wheel. In another moment he saw a s.p.a.ce on the right large enough to turn the Falcon around in. The wolf-dog stayed crouched on the hood, its baleful eyes glowering into Palatazin's until the car was turned back down the mountain. Then it jumped off and disappeared with the rest of the pack. The Falcon chugged like a weary locomotive, winds buffeting it from all directions. Once the engine rattled and quit, and they were rolling down to Hollywood, but Palatazin kept trying the key and finally it caught again, wheezing like an old man with emphysema. He raced the darkness back toward Romaine Street, threading his way across Hollywood and Sunset boulevards-both dotted with stranded cars-and finding some streets blocked by wrecks or dunes. The Falcon crossed a deserted Santa Monica Boulevard and made it about three more blocks before it staggered and stopped dead. Palatazin tried the engine several times, but now the battery was groaning. Sand filled the engine. They were stranded almost five blocks from the house, and night was falling fast. The interior of the car was already stifling. ”Can we run for it?” Gayle asked softly.

”I don't know. It's five blocks. Not so far maybe. Maybe too far.” He looked at Jo and then quickly turned away. Sand was already covering the winds.h.i.+eld, sealing them in. It was as if they were being buried alive. ”It's a long way,” he said finally.

”What about these other houses?” Gayle asked. ”Can't we ask for shelter?”

”We could, yes. But do you see any lights? Any life? How do we know we won't be stepping into a nest of vampires? How do we know some other poor souls won't mistake us for vampires and try to kill us? My house is protected with the garlic and the crucifixes. These are just . . . waiting for invasion.”