“Join the others,” Greg said. “I can’t let the bandits get close. The trail takes us down into the ravine, but there’s no cover. It’ll be like a shooting gallery. I have to buy enough time so you guys can reach the bottom and hide among the rocks.”
“Do you have another gun?” Darryl said. “Let me help you. We’ll pick them off as they come through the trees.”
“No, this is all we’ve got,” Greg said, waving his rifle in the air. He turned and gave Darryl an intense look. “I’m counting on you, son. Get the family down the trail as fast as you can. I’ll hold them off as long as possible. You have to do this.”
“Dad…” Darryl tried to think of some other plan, something that didn’t involve his father risking his life yet again. But they had no time. He saw Sasha coming through the trees toward them, then another bandit on the left, and a third on the right. They were moving fast. And they were all armed. Finally, Darryl laid a hand on his father’s back. “Okay, I’ll make sure everyone gets to the cabin safely, Dad. I promise.”
“I know,” Greg replied, giving his son a smile and a nod. “I trust you. You can do this.”
And then he turned back around and fired another shot at the approaching bandits. They scattered, seeking cover behind the trees. Darryl knew he couldn’t delay any longer, though he felt a terrible dread fill him. Finally, he turned, spotted his family picking their way down the trail, and hurried after them. The baby had begun to wail. All of the loud gunshots had finally proved too much for the little guy.
31
It had been a half-baked plan from the beginning due mostly to the fact that Greg hadn’t known what to expect. Unfortunately, when he’d finally caught up to his family, the terrain hadn’t cooperated with him, making escape even more difficult. As he knelt at the top of the trail, using the ground for cover, he realized that if it hadn’t been for Horace, they would have been in real trouble.
Well, it was the best I could do, he thought, and as long as I buy them a chance to escape, it will have been worth it.
Sasha moved swiftly from tree to tree, using them for cover in an attempt get close to the trailhead. Another one of the bandits, a woman draped in handmade leather, moved the other way. Beyond them, there were others, all taking up positions. Greg raised the Winchester, trying to catch one of the bandits as they shifted position. He decided to take a bold approach.
“Throw down your weapons,” Greg shouted at them. “Take the cattle and leave, and I’ll spare your lives.”
He dared a quick glance over his shoulder. Darryl was guiding the family down the slope at a furious pace. They’d already reached the first switchback. Unfortunately, it was all open ground until the bottom of the ravine.
“You’re outgunned,” Sasha replied, and, as if to prove it, she fired a wild shot in his direction. It pinged off the rocks somewhere to his right. “We’re not going anywhere, so why don’t you throw down your weapon.”
“Not going to happen, Sasha,” he replied.
At this, she grew quiet for a moment. Greg heard one of the bandits shifting around behind a tree, and he pointed the gun in that direction. He saw the edge of a leather coat for a second. Somehow, he needed to flush them out into the open. Maybe if he could push them to act irrationally.
“How do you know my name?” Sasha asked.
“Oh, your friend Daniel told me,” he replied. “Yeah, he told me all kinds of stuff about you shortly before he leapt off a cliff to his death.”
Sasha hesitated again, and when she spoke, her voice had tightened even more. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Greg said. “Desperate to get away, I suppose. He hit a big block of ice on the way down. Last I saw, he was floating face-down in the river.”
“I’m going to kill you for that,” Sasha replied. “I was going to kill you anyway and let your other family members lead me to the cabin, but now it’s settled. I was too compassionate from the beginning. It went against my better judgment.”
“Okay, quit talking about it and do it,” Greg said. “You like to run your mouth, don’t you?”
The woman with the leather coat was inching out from behind the tree. Greg saw more of her long coat, so he decided to flush her out. Aiming carefully, he took a shot. The bullet hit a corner of the coat, making it sweep back. This startled the bandit, who stepped backward out into the open, fumbling with her gun to point it in his direction. They fired at the same time. Greg heard the bullet sizzle over his head. In turn, he hit her in the leg, and she yelped and went down. She dropped her gun and grabbed her thigh.
Distantly, he heard the cry of the baby echo out over the ravine, and he felt a sudden, poorly timed swell of pride.
I’m a grandpa, he thought. I’m so grateful I got to see the little one.
Bandits were moving again, shifting positions. They had spread out, practically surrounding the trailhead. At least a few of them were down. Three had been shot, another trampled. He estimated about five were left, all armed. He decided to prioritize targets, so he turned his gun in Sasha’s direction. At the moment, she was well hidden behind a fat pine tree.
“Jen, can you still fight?” Sasha called.
The injured woman gave a wordless groan in reply. Greg dared another glance behind him. His family was practically flying now. Darryl was lugging Horace on his back. Emma and Marion were helping Justine and the baby. They’d reached the second switchback, heading into the third and final section of the trail.
I bought them some time. It’ll have to be enough, Greg thought. He felt a strange calm come over him then.
“Now,” Sasha said, a little bark of a command. “All at once. This is it.”
The bandits all leaned out from behind their respective hiding places and took aim. Greg had one clear second to see their faces. One man and two women, plus their fearless leader. Sasha was directly in front of him, holding his own Remington rifle. He noted sunlight glinting off a pair of fancy ski goggles, which were pushed up to the top of her head. The dark eye of the rifle was fixed upon him.
Make it count, he thought. This is your one chance.
Pushing off the ground with his right foot, he charged at her. The strange calm endured, even in that mad moment. Greg Healy felt a great swell of love for his family. They would live. He believed it. And then guns began to fire on all sides.
The next few seconds were chaos. He opened fire at Sasha, bullets striking the tree, shattering the glass of her goggles. She fired back once and ducked out of sight. She missed him, but a bullet from the right side hit him in the arm. He felt it, a sudden sharp stinging sensation just above his elbow. Instantly, the arm lost strength. Reaching down with his left hand, he managed to grab the Winchester before he lost his grip on it. Then he turned, even as the bullets continued to come in.
He saw two bandits immediately to his right. Corporate types, he thought, in their former lives. Either that or they’d raided a Saks Fifth Avenue for winter wear before setting out on their mountain trek. Greg fired at the nearest one. As he did so, he felt sudden heat in his shoulder. He’d been hit again.
The bandit stumbled backward, turning her face as blood erupted from her left eye. She went down. A third bullet struck Greg just above the knee. He felt his quadricep detach from his knee with a pop, and he fell. However, he managed to land on the good knee, shifting the gun to the next bandit. The woman realized she was the target and spun around, heading back behind her tree. Greg struggled to operate the gun with his injured right arm. Pulling the bolt was the hardest part, but he managed it through sheer hateful will. He shot the bandit between the shoulder blades, and she collapsed in a heap.
Finally, Greg turned back around to the place where Sasha was hiding.
“Well?” he cried. Sharp, burning agony was quickly filling his body. He knew he couldn’t hold up long. “What are you waiting for, Sasha? I’ve killed most of your people. Are you just going to die up here like a coward? You’ve faile
d. Your whole corporate life has led up to this one shining moment of failure. Think about it!”
“Damn you,” Sasha snarled in return. “I should have killed your entire family the second I laid eyes on them. I should have smothered the baby and threw it into the river.”
“Well, you can start with me,” he replied. “I’m right here. Or do I have to come back there and get you?”
He tried to rise, but it was no use. The right leg wouldn’t bear any weight. Still, he thought he could see just a small edge of Sasha’s padded shoulder. He took aim. Pain was making his arm shake badly, but he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the trunk of the tree, casting out a spray of bark.
Sasha appeared suddenly, lunging around the other side of the tree. She opened fire with the Remington, even as Greg returned fire. He felt the first bullet pass within inches of his right cheek. As he returned fire, his shot went wild, cutting through tree branches high above his target.
Greg felt a sudden blow to the neck. In the madness of the moment, he thought another bandit had snuck up behind him, reached around, and punched him. Then he felt furious heat and felt wetness pouring down the side of his neck, trickling under the collar of his coat. He managed to draw the bolt and pull the trigger on his Winchester one more time. Then a wave of cold weakness washed over his whole body.
Trying to fight it, he pushed up with his good leg. He managed to get about halfway up before his knee buckled. He fell backward and slammed into the ground, his breath leaving him in a rush. Quickly, his thoughts were becoming indistinct, a dense fog filling his mind. He rolled onto his belly, but as he did so, he heard blood splashing onto the rocks beneath him. Still, fighting through the rising darkness, he dropped the Winchester and used his left hand to pull himself toward the edge of the cliff.
He only managed to inch forward a little bit before he lost all strength. However, it was enough. He was able to look over the edge, gazing down at the sheer drop below. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision, but he saw the trail winding down to the bottom of the ravine. His family was nowhere in sight. He’d bought them just enough time.
Greg felt a deep satisfaction in that moment, and he fell onto his side on the rocks.
I did it, he said. Marion, I did it. All for you. All for the kids. For the little one.
As the weakness swept the pain away, he felt only his love for them. A beautiful blue sky wheeled overhead, a crisp breeze carrying away the scent of blood, and it was okay. It was okay. Everything was okay.
Greg Healy shut his eyes and let the last breath leave him.
32
The trail was treacherous. With every step, Darryl felt loose ground shifting beneath his feet, as if the whole side of the mountain were on the verge of crumbling down into the ravine. Still, he knew they didn’t have much time. As soon as he reached the family, he grabbed Horace by the arm, stepped in front of him, and hoisted him up onto his back. The weight was almost too much, and he felt a little twinge of pain in his lower back. But he didn’t have time to think of a better plan.
Emma was leading the way, picking her way down the steep trail, but carefully considering each step. Justine was right behind her, hugging the rock wall as she descended, the baby carefully bundled in her arms. Only Marion hung back, and Darryl knew she was on the verge of bolting back up the trail to be with Dad. He couldn’t let that happen. Finally, he planted a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push.
“Mom, you have to keep moving,” he said. “They mean to kill us, and if we’re caught out in the open like this, we’re doomed.”
“Why does it have to be your father?” Marion replied, wiping away a steady stream of tears. “Let me go back and take the gun. I’ll hold them off. Hasn’t he suffered enough?”
“Dad would never let you do that, and you know it,” Darryl said. And then, to his sister, he shouted, “Pick up the pace, even if it’s dangerous. We have to get down to the bottom as soon as possible.”
“Can’t you see I’m working on it?” Emma replied.
As he looked below, Darryl saw three switchbacks cutting sharp angles as they headed for the mass of tumbled boulders at the bottom of the ravine forty meters below. He was trying hard not to think, not to feel. He’d left his father to fend for himself! But, no, he’d done the only thing he could do. It’s what Dad wanted, after all.
“We just got him back,” Marion said, though she did start moving a bit faster. “It’s like he came back from the dead, and now he’s…he’s…”
Darryl still had his hand on her shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “He’s saving our lives. He’s giving his grandson a chance at a life! Those bandits meant to take everything from us. This is what has to happen.” He was speaking to himself as much as to his mother. He needed to hear it, because he didn’t quite feel it.
Emma began moving faster, taking big, reckless strides that caused her feet to slide on the rocks. She let her left hand glide along the rock wall to steady herself. Within seconds, she reached the first switchback. As they rounded the bend, Darryl looked back up the ravine. He heard voices then, his father and Sasha, but he didn’t make out what they said.
“Why doesn’t he just take a shot at her and run?” Marion asked. “Why is he having a conversation?”
“He can’t let them reach the trailhead,” Darry said. “We’ll be easy targets from there. Mom, this is what he had to do, okay? I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t so, but this is how we survive.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “I know, but…” And she left it at that.
They were halfway down the second switchback when he heard gunshots. To Darryl, it was like a punch in the stomach. This was it. The flooded river all over again. The crumbling bank. But he couldn’t let the emotions take root, not now. This was a time to act—to act and not to feel.
Darryl readjusted Horace so the weight was higher on his shoulders and shouted for the others to run. Emma was practically sprinting down the path. Justine couldn’t go quite as fast with the baby in her arms, but she managed to press her back up against the rock wall and slide along, taking long, awkward side steps.
He heard more shouting above him. He tried to look up and see what was happening, but the angle was all wrong. His father was no longer in sight. As they reached the second switchback, he heard more gunshots, more shouting. A woman howled in pain. The bottom of the ravine was close now, and he could see numerous large boulders in the area. Plenty of cover. As he traced the path ahead, he spotted movement in the distance. The mountain pass above dropped down and joined up with the ravine, and not far from that point, Darryl saw a familiar trail curving out of the woods and heading off to the southeast.
He realized then that some of the spooked animals were charging down the slope toward the far trail. He saw both horses running at a gallop, along with a few of the cows. Apparently, they’d had enough gunfights for one lifetime and had decided to set off on their own.
“Keep running,” she shouted down to Emma. “Don’t look back. Don’t think about anything. Just get to the bottom and find cover behind the boulders.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Emma replied, her voice ragged and out of breath. She slipped then, her left foot sliding dangerously close to the edge, but Justine reached down and grabbed her arm. She pulled Emma against the rock wall. Somehow, she also managed to hold onto the baby with her other arm, though the sudden motion made the little guy start crying loudly. Justine shushed him in vain as she resumed her descent.
Just as they reached the final switchback, Darryl heard a terrible burst of gunfire. It sounded like multiple guns all firing at the same time. People were shouting as well, but their voices were buried under the crack-crack-crack of guns. Marion almost came to a stop then, clasping her hands in front of her, but Darryl nudged her with her shoulder.
“We’re close, Mom. Keep going.”
Just as the gunshots ended, and a terrible quiet descended around the trailhead, Emma reached
the bottom of the ravine. She ducked behind the nearest large boulder and waved Justine in after her. The baby was still crying, and all of the chaos wasn’t making things any better. Marion reached the boulder next. Darryl glanced up the sheer rock wall just before joining them. He didn’t see anyone at the top of the trail. In the silence, it seemed as if they all had just disappeared.
Maybe they killed each other in that final shootout, he thought. He felt a twinge of grief. Dad, how could we lose you twice?
But just then, he saw a figure rise above the rocks at the trailhead, and almost immediately, he heard the crack of a rifle. A bullet hit the ground a few feet to his right, casting up fragments of rock. Darryl quickly backed behind the boulder and hunkered down with the others.
“He’s gone,” Marion said.
“You don’t know that,” Darryl replied.
“Yes, I do.” Marion’s face had gone blank, her tears abated. “I felt it. He’s gone.”
Darryl wanted to collapse in grief, but it wasn’t over yet. Pushing past the feelings, he went to Justine and hugged her. The baby seemed to settle down a bit then.
“We’re pinned down,” Darryl said. “Somehow, we have to get to the other trail at the end of the ravine. That’s our way home. We’ll have to move from rock to rock to maintain cover.”
“What happened to the bandits?” Emma asked. She had tears in her eyes, but her jaw was clenched, her eyebrows low. She was pushing past her feelings as well. “How many of them are left?”
“At least one,” Darryl said. “Judging by the shape of her, I’d say it’s the leader, Sasha. She took a shot at me.”
“Then we have to move fast,” Emma said, “before she follows us down the trail.”
“I wish I’d brought the damn papoose,” Justine muttered. “This would have been the perfect time for it, but I left it on the travois.”
EMP: Return of the Wild West Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 69