Veil of Destruction (Kessler Effect Book 3), page 18
“My plane is a 1939 Bücker Jungmann BU-131,” Blaine said. He was an old man, skin thin as tissue paper, age spots peppering his hands and neck. He spoke with a heavy European accent. “I can get you there, and I don’t advise walking like the girl suggested because the gangs in San Angelo have been on the prowl, if you know what I mean.”
Blaine didn’t waste any time. Opening the trailer, he shouted to Patches that he’d be back and not to eat the furniture. Akule’s heart rate notched up and her palms began to sweat.
There were seats for the pilot plus one more. Akule could cram into the second seat with Joshua. A third person would have to sit on the floor in the back. “Looks like I’m riding cargo,” Dylan said, climbing into the back before she could argue with him.
Not that she planned to argue with him.
At least her seat had a seatbelt.
Before she could think of a really solid reason not to do this, one that even Dylan would agree with, Blaine was in the pilot seat, flipping switches and murmuring sweet nothings to his vintage aircraft. Joshua stood in front of the plane. When Blaine gave him the signal, he pulled down on the propeller.
The engine roared to life.
Blaine hollered, “Get in,” and Joshua scrambled onto the wing, then squeezed into the seat with Akule.
She didn’t need to worry about the seatbelt. She was packed in tighter than mackerel in a barrel. Blaine could turn his little plane upside down and she wouldn’t fall out.
She prayed he wouldn’t turn the plane upside down.
The plane shook. The noise was tremendous and the air was absolutely frigid. Akule had the bizarre mental image of flying inside a refrigerator.
The landing, on a remote airstrip outside the state park, was even more terrifying than the take-off. She couldn’t get out of the back seat fast enough. Joshua shook Blaine’s hands, making a suggestion for how he might improve the plane’s rocky ride. Akule resisted the urge to kiss the frozen ground. As for Dylan, he crawled out of the back pulling his pack behind him and pushing his trusty Stetson onto his head.
Thirty minutes later they were walking down Perkins’ dirt lane, passing the piece of plyboard with the large red letters which still read—
Stop and turn back
Trespassers will be shot
“Watch your head, Dylan.” Akule tried to pass it off as a joke. In truth, this place was already giving her the creeps and they were barely on the property.
“Very funny.” He pushed his Stetson more firmly down on his head, as if it could protect him, and grinned at her.
“I trust you’ll explain the joke to me one day.”
“Yes, Joshua. We absolutely will.”
But her stomach again felt nauseous, as if this were the critical point in their journey. It wasn’t. They’d made it to the metroplex and back. This shouldn’t be that hard.
Somehow though, she suspected it would be.
The walking path was still uncomfortably narrow, crowded with old farm equipment to the right and left. They’d continued for another five minutes when an all-too-familiar person appeared around a curve in the lane, still riding a horse, still sporting a cocky smile.
“You two again.”
“Yeah, it’s us again. Before you move to bash me in the head, we’re here because your boss wants to see us.”
Akule’s hand was on her hip holster. “Bash him in the head again, and I’ll shoot you.”
“Chill.” He jerked a chin toward Joshua. “What about him?”
“He’s with us. So just lead the way, okay?”
And surprisingly, he did.
Chapter 19
They walked to the main house and were ushered onto the same back porch where the same old lady was sitting in the corner and a fire once again burned in the chiminea. She didn’t seem surprised to see them, didn’t look up at all from her bird-watching.
Dylan stared at the couch. He couldn’t resist the urge to press his fingertips to the back of his head.
“Everything’s good back there,” Akule teased, but her voice was tight.
Joshua walked over to the chiminea, pulled off his gloves, and held his hands out to the fire. “This place is just as you two described it.”
They heard Douglas Perkins before they saw him. Boots across the Italian tile. He appeared in the doorway between the back porch and the living room, filling the space with his bulk and condescending attitude.
“Back sooner than I expected.”
“We’re here for the animals,” Akule said. She’d already pulled one of the boxes of equine supplies out of her pack. Now she set it on the table in front of the couch. “Zinc oxide cream, Betadine, dewormer, and ophthalmic ointment—basically a first aid kit for horses.”
Dylan thought Perkins must have been a great poker player in his previous life. He didn’t look surprised in the least. Didn’t step toward the precious supplies. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and pinned his attention on Akule. “That’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it. Now, where did you put our animals?”
But Perkins was shaking his head.
Dylan had a nearly irresistible urge to slug the guy.
“Not so fast. An equine first aid kit for three horses and a mule? Do you realize what I can sell those animals for?”
“Those aren’t your animals to sell.”
Perkins shrugged. “You know what they say about possession being nine-tenths of the law.”
Dylan drew his gun without fully realizing what he was doing. “I know what they say about the Castle Law.”
“You’re standing in my house, son. The Castle Law would only apply to me.” But Perkins looked worried. He hadn’t expected Dylan to draw down on him.
“Your house. Our animals. And I see you have a pistol in that holster on your hip, which meets the requirement for aggravated robbery. Where are the horses?”
“And the mule,” Akule added.
“And the mule.”
It was Joshua who walked into the middle of the stalemate—literally. He stepped between Dylan and Perkins.
“Let’s try to keep this civil.”
“Who are you?”
“He’s our friend,” Akule said.
“He’s family,” Dylan clarified.
Perkins sighed heavily as if they were interrupting his busy schedule, walked over to the old woman in the corner, bent down, and said something to her. Then he escorted her out of the room. For a fraction of a second, Dylan saw an expression of compassion flit cross Perkins’ face. So, there was a human heart beating somewhere inside the man.
When Perkins returned, he walked over to the table, picked up the kit, and stared at it. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know where you got this, but it’s not enough.”
“We had a deal,” Akule reminded him.
“Yes. Our deal was that if you returned in thirty days—”
“Which we did.” Dylan really wanted to punch Perkins in the face, erase the smirk if only for a moment.
“And if you brought something of value to cover the cost of the animals’ feed, then I would return them.”
Akule dropped her pack, unzipped it, and pulled out the whiskey and honey. “Your wife wanted these for her medical supplies. We’re also giving you equine supplies that you can’t find anywhere else. I’d say that’s a fair trade.”
“How long do you think this single box of supplies will last?”
“That’s not my problem.”
“But our trade parameters are your problem, and I’m telling you this does not cover what I spent feeding three horses and a mule.”
Joshua once again raised a hand, held it out, and pressed it down three times as if to pat the aggression out of the air. “What would be fair?”
“I don’t know. But this isn’t.”
“A bit ambiguous.”
Perkins stared at Joshua and maybe for the first time he saw more than an old man with a gray beard. Maybe, Dylan thought, he saw a man who knew things. A man who might be able to solve a problem.
Joshua jerked his head toward the window. “I noticed three guys standing around your pump house.”
“And?”
“And I suspect that means your pump is broken.”
Perkins didn’t speak. He waited, his attention now pinned completely on Joshua.
“I’ll fix the pump, and you’ll return the animals and the saddles Akule and Dylan left here. You return every single piece of equipment that was tethered on those horses. And we’ll need to see the animals first, to confirm you’ve given them adequate care.”
“You think you can fix my pump?”
“If I can’t, no harm no foul. We’ll be on our way and you can keep the animals.”
“Joshua—”
Joshua silenced Akule with one shake of his head.
“Deal.” Perkins held out his hand. Joshua grasped the man’s hand, and as he did, he said, “Be true to your word, Mr. Perkins. Otherwise, we will take what is ours, by force.”
Ten minutes later they dropped their packs in the pre-fab home—the same small dwelling they’d been in before. Their saddles and pads were still stacked against one wall.
Akule walked to her saddle and ran her fingers across the leather. Dylan wondered if she would say what they were both thinking or push her concerns back down. He didn’t have to wonder for long.
“What if you can’t fix it?”
“I should be able to.”
“Should?”
Joshua spoke calmly, reasonably. “He wasn’t going for it, Akule. We would have had to take the animals by force. At least this way, there’s a chance that he will keep his word. And I’m sure these people need water. I don’t mind spending a few hours fixing their pump.”
It took more than a few hours.
That afternoon, the next day, and the day after that, Akule and Dylan cared for the animals, visited with Franklin who wanted to know more about Alpine, and paced the small living area.
“Joshua will get it working,” Dylan assured her, and he hoped he was right. He didn’t see Akule leaving the animals. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to a shoot-out. They were vastly outnumbered. Fighting Perkins was one thing. Fighting his entire group of survivalist friends was another thing entirely.
But it wasn’t necessary.
Joshua fixed the pump.
Perkins begrudgingly said they were free to go.
Three days later, they were saddled up and riding away from San Angelo. The weather had turned again, sleet spitting down on them, temperatures miserable.
They could have looked for a place to hunker down, but by that time they could practically smell Alpine around the corner. It was a unanimous decision.
Brave the weather.
Push through to Alpine.
It was a decision they would question for the rest of their lives.
Three hundred miles.
They pushed the horses as much as they dared. Rode through the weather. Slept as little as possible. Stopped for only a few hours each night. Crossed I-10 at Sheffield. There was no need to skirt Dryden, or so a teenager they’d passed on the road had claimed. The teen was correct. A large part of Dryden had burned since they’d been through. The small town appeared to be completely deserted.
Two-thirds of the ride was behind them.
Sanderson was twenty miles away. They’d stop there. Sleep properly. Check on Stella and Jimbo, Lester and Dorothy.
The weather deteriorated even more. The temperature plummeted and the rain turned to sleet. What little light there had been began to fade.
Six miles west of Dryden, as they were passing what had been the regional airport, they were surprised by a young woman standing in the middle of the road, waving her arms.
“Stop. Please stop.”
Akule reigned in her mare. Dylan and Joshua did the same.
The woman was slight, with stringy hair, ragged jeans, and mismatched tennis shoes. The coat she wore hung on her slight frame like clothes on a scarecrow. She ran toward them. Akule instinctively backed up and put her hand to her weapon.
Dylan did the same.
Joshua hollered, “Don’t come any closer, ma’am.”
When she stopped, he added, “What’s the problem?”
“My boyfriend. He was thrown off his horse.”
“Your horse?” Akule looked left and right. Darkness had nearly fallen, and she saw no sign of a horse or a boyfriend. A memory pricked her mind.
Rain falling.
A trail of blood.
A redbird.
“He’s there, behind that station. We managed to walk over there, but he’s hurt real bad. Can’t you. . . can’t you just look at him and see if you can help?”
Akule looked to Dylan, who nodded once, as did Joshua.
But Joshua walked his mare closer, lowered his voice. “Stay in the saddle though. In case it’s a trap.”
It was the right thing to do—maybe. They were all thinking of Buster and his giant dog Tiny. But this woman wasn’t Buster, and there was no dog, no animal to indicate whether coming closer would be wise or foolish.
“We can’t stay,” Akule said. “But we’ll see if we can help.”
They’d barely turned the corner behind the station when two men attacked. The first pulled a knife and without hesitating, without a warning of any kind, reached up and plunged it into Dylan’s side, then yanked down on the handle.
It flashed through Akule’s thoughts that the pain must have been incomprehensible. Her mind reeled to grasp what was happening even as blood poured from Dylan’s wound. There wasn’t enough light to see well, the sleet had increased, and the horses were frightened. She worked to calm Daisy. They couldn’t lose the horses. They’d die out here without the horses.
Time slowed like the cell phone videos she once took. . . events occurring in slow motion with startling detail.
Fiona brayed loudly and yanked hard on the lead rope.
Dylan managed to stay in the saddle. He swung Texas Lady’s head left, knocked the man off his feet, pulled his gun and shot him.
Joshua’s horse reared at the blast of gunfire. Joshua landed on his backside, popped up, and fought his assailant.
Akule dismounted to help Joshua back onto his horse. She pulled her gun, but she couldn’t decide who to shoot. Too many targets. And what if she hit one of the animals or one of her own group by mistake?
The girl who had laid the trap charged toward her, arm pulled back, hand clenched in a fist. Akule sidestepped and bumped into Daisy who whinnied and attempted to dance away. The woman’s fist slammed into Akule’s eye, causing her head to jerk back and her vision to fill with flashes of white light.
She heard Dylan whistle for the horses.
Akule shook her head, saw Dylan attempting to grab their leads without dismounting. His entire side was slick with blood. She was standing close enough to smell it, to see it saturating his jeans.
They might have won at that point if the two men and the girl had been all there was to fight.
But a third man rode out of the storm, urged his mount into a gallop, and charged directly at Joshua. The horse collided with Joshua, and he sank to the ground like a punctured balloon.
The man turned to charge Akule.
Dylan fired twice.
Akule realized he’d hit the man when his left arm jerked back. Instead of stopping, instead of standing his ground, the man turned and galloped off into the darkness.
Akule took aim in his direction.
Fired. Heard someone cry out.
Dylan used his good leg to urge Texas Lady forward. He made it next to Joshua. “Grab my stirrup. Pull yourself up.”
“I can’t…” was all the old guy managed.
And then Akule was at Joshua’s side, calming Amber and pushing Joshua up into the saddle, grabbing Fiona’s lead, vaulting up onto her horse.
They heard the sound of hoofbeats, and Akule figured asshole number three was heading back for more. But she’d shot him. Dylan had shot him. How was the man still riding?
Maybe it was someone else.
How many were there in this group?
Her terror and confusion gave way to anger. She was all for fighting until the last assailant was dead. But her vision had tunneled to a small speck.
She heard Dylan say, “Grab Fiona’s lead, Joshua. Let’s go. Now!”
They galloped off into the darkness, traveling south of the road, plunging into the sleet and snow and wind. They rode hard. Direction didn’t matter. Surviving mattered. Akule had no concept of how much time had passed, of how much space they’d put between their group and the goons behind them.
Twice she stopped.
Spoke to Joshua in a low whisper.
He simply shook his head. “Later. Let’s put more distance between us.”
Then she went to Dylan’s side, checked the knife wound, told him that he couldn’t die on them now. “Not here. Not like this.”
The expression on his face, which she could barely see by the beam of her flashlight, was a mosaic of concern. She wanted to wipe his worries away. Wanted to kiss him and assure him that all was well. Why hadn’t she kissed him? What would she do if she lost him?
“Can you stay in the saddle, Dylan?”
He didn’t seem able to speak. Possibly he couldn’t find the words. She suspected he was in shock now from the blood loss and the pain. His head sank forward. His entire body dipped towards the saddle.
She pressed a t-shirt against his side, and the jolt of pain brought him back into full consciousness.
“Sorry,” she whispered. Then she was back in her saddle, and they were moving again.
She wondered if they were headed in the right direction.
She wondered if it even mattered anymore.
And then she stopped wondering. Her mind went numb. She had nothing to move forward on—no energy, no bright ideas. Only instinct. It would have to be enough.
Chapter 20
They rode through the night. Stopped to apply fresh bandages to Dylan and Joshua. Rode through the day and into the next night. Marathon was too far. But they couldn’t stop. There was nowhere to stop. They were in a virtual no-man’s land now. The horses slowed to a walk. Then slower still. Barely an amble. Akule understood the animals were as exhausted as they were.
