The Omnivore Wars Page 4

  As the first pig reached the trailer’s steps, Andy grabbed the door and slammed it shut just in time. The door seemed to almost burst off its hinges as the creature smashed into the metal frame, bending it inward. The door shuddered a few more times, but held.

  Andy went to his bedside nightstand and calmly reloaded the revolver. He had one box of bullets, more than enough to last for what he’d imagined would be his last moments, a brief, fierce firefight, a mercy killing from this drudgery of a life. (That’s how he’d been thinking back then.)

  His next-door neighbors on one side were a brother and sister, Letha and Ray, or as Andy translated it in his mind so he’d remember, Lethal Weapon and Raygun. He’d liked the old couple. They’d been friendly without asking too many questions, as if sensing, but not caring, that he had a mysterious past. One thing he’d never thought he’d see was Lethal Weapon’s bare backside, dead or alive.

  In his profession, Andy never let anyone’s death affect him. He couldn’t afford the emotion. But seeing Letha lying sprawled out like that, with such indignity, shook him to his core. These were innocents, not the kind of trash he was used to dealing with. Was it too late to save his other neighbors?

  Mike Campbell’s house was on the other side. But if Mike’s dogs were still inside—and he could still hear them howling—it was doubtful the pigs had gotten to him.

  Andy thought about opening the door again and emptying the revolver into the pack of pigs. The trailer was rocking back and forth, and the faint grunting sound he’d first heard had turned into a wild symphony of squeals and snorts. But the trailer, which had always seemed so flimsy to him, held up under the onslaught.

  Gangster in a can, he thought. He lay back in his bed and started laughing.

  #

  Impossibly, Andy fell back to sleep, feeling safe within his metal container, the serenade of the pigs and dogs and the rocking somehow soothing.

  When he awoke again, it was full dark. There was silence outside.

  He opened the trailer door a crack and peered out. There were no pigs to be seen. He saw a couple of burning buildings off toward town, and there was distant gunfire, but the band of javelinas had moved on.

  Letha and Ray were gone, too, though there were bits of meat glistening in the moonlight. They’d been eaten, dragged away for a snack or something.

  Andy stayed inside the trailer for most of day, sober. He almost went into town to pick up another bottle of whiskey, but something made him stay and sweat it out.

  It’s the danger, he thought. That’s what I was missing.

  The Wild West was still wild, apparently. And that kept him on his toes.

  Late in the afternoon, there was a huge boom farther up the valley. Andy was to find out later that most of the rampaging wild pigs were led into a trap and blown to smithereens. That was the full extent of his experience with the Aporkcalypse—some missing neighbors, some howling dogs, and a few dead pigs.

  He had a sudden vision of speaking to Kathy Comfort on camera, telling her his story—and an even more vivid image of his former colleagues back East watching the man who had sent many of them to prison.

  Not going to happen.

  Still, women, pretty women, had always been his downfall. Why change now?

  I wouldn’t mind seeing Kathy Comfort again.

  #

  Without calling attention to himself, Andy decided to try to find out what had really happened on the day of the Aporkcalypse. He heard about an old man named Lyle Pederson who lived up the valley where the explosion had taken place. It seemed that with the help of a couple of his neighbors, Barry and Jenny Hunter, he’d destroyed the javelina horde, though he himself hadn’t survived.

  Turned out Pederson was an eccentric billionaire who owned half the valley, some kind of Silicon Valley genius who’d retired to his hometown without telling anyone how rich he was. To everyone’s surprise, the Hunters had inherited his fortune.

  The whole incident was embarrassing. More than a dozen people were killed or injured by the wild pig rampage, though most residents had been smart enough to stay inside and wait out the Aporkcalypse. Andy himself barely believed it, and there was a lot of nervous joking about “killer pigs.” Most of the residents of this quiet valley decided to keep it quiet. The cover story that everyone agreed to was that the pigs had been rabid.

  Andy had bought Monson’s Diner shortly thereafter, with a loan from the feds. He was proud that he’d paid them off within a year. The diner became the hub of the small town. Everyone who was anyone met there, and Andy just glided along in the background, soaking it all up. He hadn’t had a drink since the Aporkcalypse. The sense of danger had helped him regain his edge.

  Most of the townspeople were satisfied with the cover story, and many of them seemed to actually believe it. But one morning, Andy found himself driving up to the Hunter barn. It was locked tight. He stood at the gate yelling until a man wearing fatigues and holding a rifle, with the unmistakable bearing of someone who had been in military service in the near past, came out and eyed him.

  “I want to talk to Barry and Jenny Hunter,” he’d said.

  Barry was the one who showed up.

  Andy described his own experience with the wild pigs, then finished with a simple question. “What the hell happened?”

  Barry stood silent for a few moments. Then he nodded. “All right, I’ll tell you, Andy. You’re actually the first one to demand an answer, believe it or not. Everyone else in this valley seems to want to ignore the danger or hope it goes away. But I warn you, no one will believe you, and if you tell anyone else, I’ll deny it.”

  Out came the story of the super-intelligent pigs called Tuskers and the battle to the death that had been waged in the Morrow Valley.

  Andy didn’t doubt the story for a moment. The pig at his door with a human arm in his snout had been intelligent, without question. He’d seen it in the creature’s eyes—the same look that his human enemies had before they were about to draw down on him. “You got them all?” he asked.

  Barry frowned. “We aren’t sure. If you see any more them, be sure and let us know.”

  Andy turned back to his jeep, satisfied for the time being.

  “You aren’t just some small-town diner cook,” Barry said. “Who the hell are you?”

  Andy hesitated. “I’ll tell you what, if you don’t ask me too many questions, I won’t ask you too many questions.”

  Barry laughed. “Fair enough. But we could use some good men up here. Handy with a gun. You want to join us?”

  Andy was tempted, but having gotten his answer about what had really happened on the day of the Aporkcalypse, he found to his surprise that he really wanted to get back to his diner. He had his own people to worry about: Sherry, and Carter, his cook, and dim-witted Charlie who washed the dishes, and the other waitresses who came and went. And all the people in the valley who depended on the diner as a meeting place. Weirdly, now that it was threatened, he felt very protective of it all.

  “I appreciate the offer,” he said. “But I’ve got my own people to take care of.”

  Barry nodded. “I hope you can do that. Just remember, when the time comes and you’re in danger, you’re welcome to join us. We’re doing our best to prepare for that day. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  Andy got back in his truck and drove away. It wasn’t till he was almost home that he became worried. Barry Hunter had seemed to guess that Andy was more than he seemed. If he started snooping around, he could put Andy in danger quickly.

  But Barry apparently didn’t make any more inquiries, though he had plenty of money to do so. Or he did make inquiries and decided to stay silent. Either way, he held up his end of the bargain.

  And the Tuskers, if they still existed at all, did not make a reappearance.

  #

  When Kathy Comfort walked in the door, Andy thought the jig was up. He’d almost forgotten about the Apo
rkcalypse. What other reason could the famous reporter be there than to find Vinnie “Smooth” Paglioni, the notorious hit man for the Gambino family? When she started questioning Sherry about the Aporkcalypse, Andy was relieved. Still, since he was now an “honorary” local, he upheld the tradition of silence. He got Sherry away from the nosey news lady as quickly as he could, but not before he’d felt Kathy Comfort’s attraction.

  I should stay far, far away from her, he thought. But something electric had passed between them in those few moments. He’d always been attracted to strong, brassy ladies. Besides, he was getting bored. The Wild West was becoming too tame again.

  Kathy Comfort would come back to the diner, of that he was sure. There were really only a couple of other places she could go to eat. Next time she came in, he’d sit down next to her and see where it went.

  Chapter Six

  Day of the Pulse

  Kathy slept in, snoring like a foghorn. This was so unusual that Seth decided not to wake her. Besides, as field producer (or as Seth thought of it, field slave) of Kathy Comfort’s Justice, it was up to him to do the basic research.

  He ambled over to the diner, the slower pace of the town sinking in. He hoped to talk to the owner. Seth’s thoughts had drifted to the man for most of the night, even as Kathy loomed over him, grinding away until she got off. For once, Seth also came. He suspected she was thinking of the same guy.

  The owner wasn’t in. There was a different waitress, an older, efficient woman who took his order without any small talk, which was fine with him. There were a few rugged-looking rancher types eating huge breakfasts, plates piled with bacon and eggs and everything else that Seth usually tried to avoid. He felt sore all over. The bed-and-breakfast had modern, firm mattresses, but Seth was used to his old sagging bed at home. His back was hurting—probably from the workout Kathy had given him. He hadn’t fallen asleep until after 3:00 in the morning.

  To hell with it, Seth thought. “Bacon and eggs,” he said. “Hash browns and…” He tried to visual his heaping plate.

  “Pancakes?” the waitress tiredly suggested.

  “Lots of pancakes,” Seth agreed.

  He tried to engage the people seated on either side of him while he waited for his breakfast. The businessman in the worn suit and out-of-date necktie to his left merely grunted in reply, but the grizzled old guy in the cowboy hat on his right was more forthcoming.

  “Yeah, I was here for the Aporkcalypse,” he drawled. “But I stayed inside with my shotgun and never saw much. Would have blown any peccaries to kingdom come if they’d tried to get in.”

  Seth could tell that it was bluster. The man’s tense jaw and red face implied the cowboy was remembering something frightening.

  The guy in the suit cleared his throat warningly, but it was too late.

  “Aporkcalypse? Is that what you call it?” Seth asked.

  “Just my little joke,” the rancher dude said uneasily.

  “Just shut up, Conrad,” the businessman said. He slid out of his booth, gave both of them a glowering look, and then stalked off.

  Conrad waited until the man was gone, then said in a low voice, even though the diner was now almost empty and the waitress was in back, “Listen, the people you want to talk to are up at the Pederson barn. Barry and Jenny Hunter. They were in the middle of it. Talk to them.”

  The rancher seemed to feel he’d said too much, because he suddenly looked away uneasily, his eyes darting to the windows as if checking to see if anyone was watching.

  Seth tried to ask a few more questions, but the man got up and paid his bill without saying another word. The diner began to get busy again, but the waitress met each customer with urgent whispers, and even though the rest of the diner was soon filled, the seats on either side of Seth remained empty. Everyone in the place was obviously studiously ignoring him.

  Seth had run into such shunning before—usually when the people involved were guilty of something. Kathy’s right, he thought. Something happened here, and no one wants to talk about it.

  He finished his coffee and added an extra fifty percent to his bill as a tip. A few more such generous tips and maybe the waitress would lighten up. He’d learned long ago that that people were much more forthcoming the next time he showed up if he left a big tip.

  Back in his room at the Sagebrush Inn, he looked up Barry and Jenny Hunter’s address. At the last second, he looked up the name Pederson too, and jotted that down underneath the Hunters.

  Kathy was in the shower when he got back. Seth waited until she came out, in all her naked glory, before brushing past her and taking his turn in the shower. She preferred to walk around naked whenever possible. No one could take her clothes off faster than Kathy Comfort, who lived up to her name at every chance. She was totally unashamed of the extra small rolls that were hidden by her exquisitely tailored suits.

  He got an erection thinking about her. What the hell? But…well…she really was sexy, no matter how he tried to think otherwise. Even her immodesty was a turn on, sometimes.

  She’d left the water running, which was their routine, but it was already turning cold. Seth hurriedly shampooed and soaped up. He gritted his teeth as he rinsed off in the increasingly freezing water. Typical, he thought. Using up all the hot water.

  Kathy was on the toilet when he got out. He looked away, concealing a grimace. Seth preferred to have the bathroom to himself: Kathy didn’t give a damn. She had no shame, either in her private or in her public life.

  He told her about the Hunters as he brushed his teeth and took his myriad pills. For once Kathy listened instead of mocking him for his hypochondria. “We’ll head on out there just as soon as I have breakfast,” she said. Her face glowed at the prospect, and Seth suspected it wasn’t the bacon and eggs she was thinking about.

  “He wasn’t there,” Seth blurted. “Or he stayed in the kitchen, which means he doesn’t want to talk to us.”

  “Who?” she asked innocently, but she wasn’t fooling Seth. “Oh, you mean the owner?” She shrugged. “Well, I still need to eat something.”

  While she headed off to the diner, Seth booted up the computer and read the articles that had come out at the time of the rabies attacks. The Aporkcalypse, he reminded himself. His jaw dropped when he saw that the Pederson the locals were referring to was none other than Lyle Pederson, who was on all the Top Ten Richest Men lists. He’d made a fortune starting tech companies and then investing in venture capital with some of the biggest names in Silicon Valley. Nobody had been able to get an interview with the man in years.

  Seth had heard that he’d been killed in a ranching accident, but he’d always imagined the cause of death was something like an accident while three-wheeling through one of his vast estates in Colorado.

  Barry and Jenny Hunter, it turned out, had inherited the Pederson fortune. No one seemed to know why, except that Pederson had had no family of his own. There were lots of raised eyebrows over that in the financial press, though no one out and out made any accusations. Still…who were these people? And why were they continuing the cloak of silence bit?

  Kathy returned as he was copying the last of the articles. He’d read them again later, because for some reason he remembered stuff he read on paper that he didn’t remember reading from a screen.

  “I got directions to the Pederson place,” Kathy said. “Though I practically had to beat it out of the waitress. Good thing you softened her up with a big tip.”

  “I did a little research,” Seth answered. “Found out some interesting things.” He tried to hand her the sheaf of papers he’d printed out. Kathy preferred to read hard copy whenever possible. But this time she waved him off.

  “Just tell me,” she said. She was obviously in a bad mood—which probably meant that she hadn’t managed to corner her prey in the diner. She wouldn’t give up that easily, he knew. Andy Wallace was her target, and Kathy rarely missed once she put her mind to it.

  She che
ered up as he related what he’d found out. “Sounds suspicious as hell to me,” she said jubilantly. “Couple of middle-class snowbirds who just happen to be neighbors of one of the richest men in America but don’t know him in any other way suddenly inherit his fortune? Wonder what kind of scam they pulled? Let’s head out there. I can’t wait to get these people in front of a camera.”

  Kathy was convinced that the camera made people blurt out the truth, or revealed dissembling that was normally well hidden.

  Gary was waiting in his room, dressed and holding the camera as though he’d been waiting for them. He didn’t say a word, only grunted at Seth’s greeting. The cameraman was incredibly loyal to Kathy, but paid little attention to anyone else. Sometimes Seth caught Gary staring at him. I bet she screwed him, Seth thought. So is he grateful or jealous that I took his place?

  They headed out of town. They’d come into the valley by way of a two-lane highway. The same road continued through the town, over the river, and into the foothills on the other side. According to the map, the highway came to an abrupt halt at the end of the valley.

  A perfect trap, Seth thought, and shuddered at the thought of the landslide that had closed off the valley.

  They passed a subdivision on their left that looked completely abandoned.

  “Turn down there,” Kathy ordered on a whim, and Gary swerved over without slowing down, barely missing a beat-up sign that said Javelina Heights. Just over the hill, out of sight of the highway, they came across a neighborhood of McMansions, all of them apparently deserted. Even stranger, at least two of the houses were burned to the ground. They got out in a cul-de-sac and walked around a little.

  It was eerie. It felt like one those gold mining ghost towns, with sagebrush and juniper trees, old rusting hulks, and piles of tin cans and broken brick. These buildings were new, but they were already falling apart from neglect. Weeds and grass pushed up through the cracks, turning the road into broken asphalt.