Nothing Short of Dying (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“S
tand the hell up, Barr. We got to get.”

At different times in my life, I'd been trampled, tossed, torn, cut, shot, and beaten. And I'd usually bounced back pretty fast. Sitting there on the ground, though, looking at Zeke, it occurred to me that sometime recently I must have crossed an invisible threshold into middle age, because just the tension of entering the compound, taking out those guards, and lugging Jen back up the hill had left me completely exhausted.
C'
mon, Clyde, suck it up
,
I berated myself.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I'm up. Help me move my sister.” Together, Zeke and I took an arm and carried Jen up to the horses. A burst of adrenaline helped me along.

“What the hell's
wrong
with her?” Zeke asked as we maneuvered Jen around rocks and trees.

“Pills,” I said, hoping that was all. Ducking under a low branch, I saw Zeke leer at my sister.

“Still a looker, though,” he said. “Glad you got her, but what else did you find down there? You got any rewards for your buddy?”

It was time for me to show my acting chops. “I pretty
much tore the main trailer apart looking for Lance's stash,” I said. “Couldn't find any green or drugs.”

“Then you still owe me, and I do need to get paid,” Zeke threatened.

“I'll make you whole, don't worry. Martyrs like me don't welsh on our debts,” I said, smiling.

“A dead man's marker ain't worth nothing,” Zeke complained.

“Then I'll have to stay alive, won't I?”

At that Zeke simply spat on the ground.

Allie watched as we carried Jen up and sat her on the ground by the horses. “Christ,” she mumbled, walking over and kneeling next to her. She whispered into her ear, then went and retrieved my bag. “Give me a hand, Barr,” she said as she dug out a shirt, pants, and coat. I helped her wriggle Jen's near limp body into warmer clothes; then we set her down in a soft leafy recess next to a tree.

A few seconds later I was back on the edge of our rocky perch, staring at the compound through binoculars. I scanned slowly. No more patrols. No trucks returning. No chatter on the radio that I'd forgotten I still had. I tossed both the earpiece and the receiver in a chokecherry bush.

Zeke came up behind me. “They figure out that Miss Sleepy Pie is missing yet?”

I shook my head. “Not that I can tell.”

“Then let's get the hell out of here. Your sister's still out of it, but the horses are itchin'. I can hold Jen on my horse if you want.”

“No. I'll put her in the saddle with me. You don't get to touch her.” Zeke smiled at me and turned to walk back to the girls and the horses.

A minute later he called out, “Mount up,” and climbed aboard his stallion.

Allie helped me lift Jen to the front of my saddle; then she went back to her horse and awkwardly mounted. She rubbed her eyes, then nodded at me to let me know she was ready. We kicked the horses into a trot and headed back.

The horses moved fast, despite the rough terrain, as any horse will do when it knows it's headed home. Jen's eyes were still half-closed. It was clear she was heavily drugged. Whether or not someone else had done it or her condition was self-inflicted didn't really matter at this point. I had to use all the energy left in me to hold her upright as the horses wandered down the steep trails and wove through the trees. Her head wobbled, her dark hair swished across my saddle horn, and it was all I could do to keep us both on the horse.

It felt different, having my tired arms around her waist, embracing her as I hadn't since we were kids—proof that neither of us were those children any longer, hadn't been for years. Yet it brought back memories of why I owed her, why I'd come when she called.

FOR A YEAR AFTER MOM
died, Jen and I kept track of Paxton. The bastard rarely left his parents' house, and when he did it was only to walk to a small corner store for 3.2 beer and cigarettes. Every time I saw him, while I hid behind a corner or fence or the dash of Jen's car, I seethed with rage. I was glad the cops hadn't found him, because I wanted to be the one who watched the life fade from his eyes.

That anger drove me to get bigger, stronger, and smarter. That summer I worked every menial job I could find. The harder the better. Bucking hay bales, throwing grain sacks, construction labor, anything to bulk up. I ran two miles a day. And I read everything I could in the library about conflict.

The following fall, when finally I felt a match for the man, Jen picked me up and we went to Paxton's. He left his house at nine, and we knew the route he'd take walking back. He never varied. Jen parked the car a block away, and I made her promise to stay in it, no matter what happened.

I met the son of a bitch in an abandoned lot full of dead elms, tall grass, and shredded plastic sacks. I thought of the rebar, and the sights and smells of my mother dead on a bloody floor. The anger and the adrenaline and the fear mixed into a potent potion that nearly blinded me and made me shake worse in the wind than the dead leaves in the trees. When he saw me he laughed.

He put down the twelve-pack and paper bag, still laughing. He stopped laughing when I rushed him with the knife. I blocked his predictable haymaker and plunged the knife six times into his stomach. Then he knocked the knife from my hand. I remember that number, six, because he only hit me three times before I fell. I'd inflicted twice as much damage, hadn't I? Except I couldn't get up. The last of the three blows had broken something, and I couldn't stand.

Paxton spit on me, clutched his stomach, and bent to pick up the knife.

His hands were about to close on it when the gunshot boomed, and the side of his head blew out.

I turned my aching head to see Jen, standing on the sidewalk at the edge of the lot, holding a pistol. And smirking.

CHAPTER THIRTY

J
en stayed in a semiconscious state for most of the return trip from the compound, due to the magical powers of modern pharmaceuticals. Only once did she become coherent enough to acknowledge my presence, issuing a soft, questioning, “Clyde?”

I stroked her hair and told her, “I'm here, Sis. I made it. Everything's going to be okay.” Even as I said it, I had a foreboding that everything
wouldn't
be okay. I'd pissed too many people off, thwarted too many best laid plans. It was only a matter of time before someone would show up to deliver payback.

By the time we'd gotten to within a mile of Zeke's place, he'd regaled us with story after story of dumb tourists, dumb cops, and the occasional women dumb enough to stay with him, though eventually they ran away screaming. He was in the middle of one of the latter stories when a strong wind lifted off his hat and he dismounted to get it.

I took the opportunity to focus on Jen. She'd started mumbling, and her eyes twitched back and forth under the eyelids. I called to her again and she mumbled my name, so I dismounted and helped her onto the back of the saddle,
then clambered back on. I positioned her arms around me and called over to Allie.

“What now?” she asked.

“Do me a favor and reach into my saddlebag and dig out a long blue strap I have there. I want to get Jen more secured.”

Allie found the strap, which had a clamp on the end, and asked, “What do I do with this?”

“Loop it around us at the waist. It'll be backup in case she loses her grip.”

“Why the heck do you have that thing anyway?” Allie asked as we got the strap fastened.

“Well, if you want to know the truth, I wasn't sure if we'd be hauling back a body. I'm sure glad we're not.”

Allie exhaled and nodded. Then she walked over to her horse and climbed back on.

I whispered to Jen. “Do you remember when you stole the Harley from Mom's boyfriend Reed?” She didn't open her eyes but mumbled something close to yes.

“I want you to hold on like I did then. When you started elbowing me and screaming that I was going to break your ribs.”

I could have sworn I saw a smile, and I felt her arms tighten just enough to stay on. I kicked the horse back toward Zeke, felt Popcorn's massive hindquarters bunch and push, and was relieved when Jen didn't fall off.

Behind me Allie seemed subdued. Perhaps she felt the same foreboding I felt? Was rescuing someone from the devil
this
easy? We'd find out soon enough.

Our horses cantered along for another mile until finally we reached the outer gate of Zeke's spread. I continued to ignore Zeke's yarns as we passed through the gate and rode into his ranch, thinking distractedly of where Jen should set
up once we got back. I certainly wanted her steering clear of Spike and his ilk. She'd have to find a new place and . . .

I was so trail worn that I didn't register until it was too late the Land Rover parked neatly next to the ranch house and the three men standing next to it, cradling assault rifles in their arms.

A wiry man dressed in slacks and a polo shirt walked around the Rover and stood next to his men, a smug look peeling back his lips. He walked with an air of competence and arrogance, gliding to a spot in between us and the car. He strode like someone who truly believes he rules his world.

It was the same attitude I'd seen in puffed-up African warlords, a smugness based on assumed power and control, backed by mindless thugs. By themselves the thugs were weak, but a mob of weaklings could be more than a little dangerous.

When my mind clicked over to the reality of what was happening I went for my pistol.

“Don't,” Zeke said, dismounting. He waved his .44 at my chest. “Let me handle this.” The gunmen watched closely, their rifles held loose but ready.

The wiry man walked over to stand in front of Zeke. His men followed, rifles aimed at the ground, spreading out in a semicircle behind him and Zeke. The men looked mean and hard, well trained, and deadly.

Zeke spoke first, his .44 pointed at the ground. “I thought we was gonna meet in town.”

The wiry man laughed, a smug and contemptuous guffaw. When he did, I felt Jen's arms tighten and tremble.

“Trust isn't my strong suit,” the wiry man said. “You said you'd have Mr. Barr, so I came to collect him here. Your place
happened to be on my way.” He shook his head solemnly. “I'm disappointed that you had other plans.”

Alvis. The man
had
to be Alvis. This was bad. I stole a glance back at Allie, who looked panicked.

Zeke shifted, visibly nervous for the first time since I'd known him. “My plan was always to deliver Barr to you. You're not doin' what we agreed,” he said, his thumb moving slowly up the side of his revolver.

“This is
my
mountain now,” Alvis said. “I've grown tired of placating you with shipments of willing women. And I'm afraid I won't be able to compensate you for Mr. Barr now that I know you've helped him create havoc at my facility. In fact, you've so thoroughly disappointed me that I've decided you're going to have to die.”

Zeke took a step away from his horse and pointed the revolver at Alvis. “I've never been afraid of dying, but I promise you, Alvis, if I go, you go, too. Here's my offer: I let you live and you clear out of here.”

Rifles bristled behind Alvis, all pointed at Zeke. Alvis continued to smile and said, “Point that gun in another direction. I
will
take back Jennifer and Mr. Barr, and you will be shot.”

There wasn't much time. My stomach clenched as I frantically tried to calculate a way out of this.

There was a long moment of silence with fingers tightening on triggers. Then Zeke grinned. “Fine,” he said, and let his revolver fall to his feet. I recognized Zeke's mental wheels turning. He wasn't done yet.

Alvis gestured to his men. “Escort both the lovely bartender over there and Mr. Z to the soft dirt in front of the barn. Then shoot them both.” He pulled a Glock, walked to my horse, and aimed it at my head.

The men motioned to Zeke, keeping their distance. Zeke
walked over to Allie's horse and ripped the reins from her hands. As he started to tug the horse toward the barn, he said, “We could have had fun, you and me.” He patted the horse's neck, then Allie's thigh. She tried to kick him, but Zeke just dodged and laughed. Some of the gunmen chuckled as they walked behind the two toward the barn.

I tried to control my breathing, tried to will my heart to slow down as the gunmen ushered away the condemned. I'd expected some underhandedness from Zeke, but definitely not this. He'd obviously had betrayal on his mind from the get-go and miscalculated by getting doubly greedy. He'd wanted a payday from both me
and
Alvis.

Now it was Allie, Jen, and me who'd be paying. And yes, Zeke as well.

Alvis had one hand on my horse's bridle, the pistol in the other. “Last smoke?” I asked. He nodded. I reached slowly into my coat and brought out the smokes and my lighter. “Thanks,” I said, then shook out a cigarette and lit it.

“It's a shame,” Alvis said. He glanced briefly toward the barn. “That dumb miner provided a valuable service. Despite his depravities, he kept the hikers and hunters from stumbling on my facilities. Long-range recon patrols, if you will. I've been told you did something like that, somewhere far away.”

I took a drag and shrugged. Jen's grip tightened every time the man spoke.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Barr. You and I did similar work. I'm just better at it.”

We have
nothing
in common
, I told myself. I kept silent and smoked. Watched Allie and her horse move closer to the barn, led by a lunatic.

“I enjoyed it, you know,” Alvis said. “The war. I suppose
in some way you must have, too. When I came back I was beyond bored, until I started building on what my misguided little brother had begun. Now I get to enjoy the same things I did over there.”

“I'm guessing a functional vehicle isn't on that list,” I said.

“What are you talking about?”

I gestured with the cigarette. “That flat tire on your Rover.” It was a simple ploy, one that any chimp like me would know.

But it worked. Alvis's eyes darted away from me for just a second, which was all I needed. I flicked the cigarette at his face, catching him in the eye with the glowing red ember. At the same time I pulled my pistol from my coat, jabbed my horse in the ribs with my heels, and ran over Alvis. He didn't fire or move after the horse's chest and hooves hit him. I kept charging toward the men with the rifles.

Jen nuzzled her head into my back, whimpered, but held on tight.

In the distance I saw Allie moving. She'd kicked again, this time connecting with a distracted Zeke, who was busy pulling a backup pistol from under his vest. Allie gathered up the reins, wheeled her horse, and whipped it toward the gate.

I took five wild shots at the guards, saw one go down, and popped another round in Zeke's direction. He shot once at me, missed, and shot four more times at the guards. Another one fell. The third scuttled away on all fours toward the Rover.

Alvis was still down but moving.

Zeke looked for his horse, which had started loping for the pasture when the gunshots started, and then at me. I put another round in his direction, and he took off low and quick toward his house.

Remembering the rifles in the house, I angled my gallop
ing horse to cut off Zeke's loose stallion, grabbed the dangling reins, and whirled back toward the gate at a full run.

I slowed as I got twenty yards from the gate, just enough to see Allie charging up to it on her horse and throwing it open. She'd just passed through when a rifle boomed in the distance and a tree limb cracked to my right.

So the last gunman had finally decided to return fire. Good for him. I turned my horse with a knee and whipped up the .375. I pulled the safety back and aimed a shot toward the ranch. The recoil was bad, but the sound was worse and my horse shied away, spinning hard and shaking its head. Jen hung on tight.

I got Popcorn under control but almost lost Zeke's horse, since I'd dropped the reins to grab my rifle. I cornered him against an H-brace and snatched up the reins. “Okay,” I told the women. “Let's go.”

Jen barely seemed to be holding on as we set out in a trot down the road that led to Leadville. Thank God I'd strapped us together. Allie followed third in line. She stayed quiet for a while but it didn't take long before she started asking questions again. We hadn't made it into the trees, had barely made it into the first grassy meadow, when she asked, “How long until Lance or one of his men kills Zeke?”

“They won't, if Zeke makes it to the house,” I said. “He's got long guns and is a hell of a shot. They don't stand a chance. And Alvis might already be dead.”

“I saw Lance moving when we took off, so he might make it. If he's okay, he and that last goon of his will follow us.”

“I don't think so,” I said. “That guy will be busy trying to get Alvis out of there.” I felt Jen squeeze me harder at the mention of Lance's name. “If he gets Alvis in the Rover, and they try to follow, we'll be off the road, thanks to the horses.”

“Zeke will come, though.”

“Probably. He doesn't like loose ends. And he knows I'll kill him if I see him.”

“Plus there's something else,” Allie said quietly.

“What?”

“Jen and me. Zeke still wants his ‘payment for services rendered.'”

“He's a sick bastard,” I said. “Allie, I'm so sorry I—”

“Yeah, I know, Barr. You thought he was a respected citizen. His shortcomings caught you unawares.”

“Well, I thought he had a code. Strength respects strength and all that.”

“His code is ‘Take and don't stop taking.'”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. Right now, though, we need to find a place to hole up and rest. The horses are tired, I'm goddamned tired, and Jen's mind is somewhere else. She won't be much help until we can clear her head.”

“If we stop, Zeke will catch up with us, right?”

“I'm planning on it,” I said. I listened to the sound of distant gunfire and pulled my horse off the road and into the trees.