We continued driving west without any coherent plan. As the bleak desert landscape passed outside the window, desperate ideas passed through my mind – ideas with no hope of coming off. I contemplated, for instance, tracking down the other elites named on the USB stick Manek had handed over, and attempting elaborate counter-blackmail plots. But of course, this was futile. I wouldn’t be able to apply pressure any different from Yuelin. On the contrary, I was in a less powerful position, since I didn’t actually have the evidence.
Then, after a while, the outlandish ideas fizzled out, and I focused merely on finding somewhere we could rest. Somewhere remote, but not altogether cut off from the outside world: we’d learned our lesson about cutting ourselves off. And even now, I had the news playing quietly on the radio. Yes, Ellen’s name was being uttered time and again, and this was undoubtedly unnerving for her, especially when news came in, thirty minute into the drive, that she’d been sighted in Fresno. But we need to keep our finger on the pulse.
Besides, Ellen seemed to have processed the original panic, and had fallen into calm contemplation. And I kept shtum. Wanted to let her think things through.
After an hour, I came off the I-80, and started south, through the desolate expanse of Fresno County: a large, sun-scorched part of the world, populated by dwindling communities and ghost towns. The sense of desolation was reassuring. Then thirty minutes later – after passing an ancient roadside reading ‘Welcome to Five Points’ – I found something promising. Because instead of a town, Five Points was nothing more than a five-way crossroads, with a solitary weather-beaten structure on the roadside: a Post Office. And crucially, while there appeared to be no sign of life inside, it didn’t look out of use.
‘How does this look as a place to lay low? Seems empty. Often, in rural locations like this, the post office will only open a few hours a week. But that also means that it’s probably inhabitable.’ I slowed to a crawl. On the front window, a sign indicated it was only open on Wednesdays to Fridays. ‘Apparently it’s not open at all today.’
Ellen was now sitting up on her elbows. ‘It’ll give me a chance to catch up on the hate-mail I’ve undoubtedly been accumulating.’
She still sounded down; but I was relieved to hear her joking. When the world’s lusting for your blood, sometimes only a sense of humor can keep insanity at bay.
I pulled in round the back, so the car was out of sight. We got out, and scanned our surroundings: brown, desolate sand in all directions, under a dismal grey sky.
I approached the back entrance, and since the door was made of decaying wood, it was easy to force. And unsurprisingly, when we entered the staff office space to the back of the building, it was clear there was zero security in place.
The staff space was run-down, and looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the 1940s. It was like stepping into a time capsule but it was comfortable enough. A RCA CTC-11 television sat in the corner – a brown box, with fiddly knobs on the side, which had to be one of the original color televisions in America. Two ancient-looking computers, accompanied by a dial up modem, on a desk. A moth-eaten sofa. A kitchenette.
I walked through the partitioning door. The main post office space was much the same: pokey, outdated, run-down.
But the important thing was: it was somewhere we could stop, think, catch our breath.
I re-entered the staff office, and looked at Ellen, who’d sat on the sofa. And though some of her old resilience seemed to have returned, I could still see in her face a deep anxiety at our lack of direction. And yet, I still didn’t have an answer.
I walked over to the TV, hit the power. And miraculously – after a few long seconds – the screen lit up, and we were in business.
I switched to the news, which was saying nothing new. Then I sat next to Ellen, and put my arm around her.
I wanted to tell her that I was thankful for everything she’d done – for saving my skin yet again in Fresno; for her ingenious play acting, which’d bailed us both out at the very last moment. But I knew she didn’t want to hear any of this. She wanted a plan.
But though I didn’t have one – not yet – I was there for her. I needed her to know it.