Idols by Margaret Stohl Read Free Book Online

reads over her shoulder. “What, some guy just got to name a town after himself?”
    “Guess so,” Tima says. “Some guy named Hank.”
    Ro snorts. “Yeah? Well, when we finish kicking the Lords off this planet, I’m going to take the biggest Embassy I can find and name it Ro-town.”
    “Is this really what you spend your time thinking about?” Lucas snorts.
    “I bet you will, Ro.” I struggle not to smile.
    Lucas shakes his head. “So if we can follow the roads, and if Doc is right, this line—here—should take us to the Idylls?”
    Tima nods.
    “Which means Fortis did know where it was,” Lucas says. “The Idylls. We’ve been heading there all along. Why didn’t he just tell us?”
    Ro snorts again. “Merk melons. Who knows what goes on in that wacked-out brain of his?”
    “You’re one to talk,” says Lucas.
    I don’t want to think about Fortis and his melon. I don’t want to imagine what the Lords are doing to him now—or what they’ve done.
    What they will do.
    How quickly we abandoned him.
    How naturally self-preservation, the will to keep our own selves alive, supersedes all else.
    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have to get control.
    It’s only been a few hours and already I’m going out of my mind.
    “Transport?” I ask, forcing myself back to studying the map. “In this Hanksville place? That’s where we’re supposed to find it?”
    “I imagine so. An operative vehicle. That’s what Doc said.” Tima folds the map, sliding it back into the metal case. “I wonder what sort of vehicle he means.”

    “Jackpot. We scored this time, my compadres.”
    Lucas glares at him. “We better have.”
    Tima and I are too tired to speak; we’ve walked all night, and this is now the sixth abandoned wreck of a building we’ve tried this morning.
    “Oh yeah,” Ro says. “This is the one. I can feel it.”
    I roll my eyes. He pulls a dusty canvas cover off what looks like bales of hay hidden in a rotting wooden barn. It’s as dark and cool in here as it is warm and bright outside, but even so, I can see one thing.
    It’s not hay.
    It’s a vehicle, all right. I don’t know if it’s operative, but I recognize the basic shape beneath the dust.
    “It’s a car?”
    “Not just any car.” Ro rounds the side of the sleek black machine. “Chevro,” he reads, where a few ancient, rusting letters poke through the dust. “I bet somebody loved this old girl.”
    “Will it work?” Tima looks impatient. I can’t blame her.
    Lucas pries open a flat piece of metal that seems to be hiding the mechanical heart of the transport. “Simple petroleum engine,” he says. “Much more basic than a Chopper.”
    “But doesn’t it need—”
    “Petrol?” Ro holds up a dented red canister, covered with dust. He wiggles it, and I hear a splashing sound coming from inside.
    “Even better,” I say, pulling a dusty box from the shelf. “Omega Chow.”
    “Is that food?” Tima takes the box from my hand.
    “Dog food,” I say.
    “Food is food.” Ro rips open the box, shoveling a handful of the brown, desiccated lumps into his mouth.
    Lucas shouts from the other side of the vehicle. “There’s a pump.”
    I hear the squeaking of ancient joints, moving for the first time in who knows how long.
    “Water. It’s brown as Porthole Bay, but it’s definitely water.”
    Handfuls of dog food and liquid mud have never tasted so good. Brutus seems to agree.

    Ro shoves open one door, Lucas the other. The metal hinges complain, groaning like Ro when he had to feed the pigs in the morning, back at the Mission. Lucas retreats to Tima, who hands him the red fuel canister.
    “Doc,” calls out Ro, from inside the car. “I need Doc.”
    “You want the Lords to come after us? You looking to take a ride on the No Face Express?” Lucas looks at Ro like he’s an idiot.
    “No, I want to take a ride in this car. Let’s call it the Ro Face Express. But I don’t know how it works.”
    Tima flips open