“I’m thinking you can head to Provo and sneak into town. Maybe get close enough to take this Lucas and Elliot out.”
“Provo’s a long ways from here.”
“You can start riding at daybreak. I’m assuming you have your horse.”
“Yup.”
“You pull this off and you’ll get your brother’s share of gold, plus a big bonus. Five more ounces. Manage that right and you’ll be…golden.”
Eddy gave Snake a sour smile. “That’s if I live.”
“You’re a survivor. You will.”
They returned to the camp, where Elijah and Benjamin were still up. Snake explained his idea, and Benjamin nodded.
“Place the size of Provo will have a radio or three. You should contact us once you’re in and have scoped out the situation.” He gave him a transmission frequency. “We monitor that in Denver. Just use my name,” he said. “Benjamin. I’ll go write it down for you and be back in a second.”
Eddy regarded him without expression. When Benjamin left, they stood around awkwardly in silence waiting for him to return. He was back in two minutes and presented Eddy with a slip of yellowed paper with the frequency and his name, and a short list of code words to use. He explained how to frame possible messages, and then returned to the tents with Elijah, leaving Snake and Eddy to talk in private.
“You really think I can do this?” Eddy asked.
Snake frowned. “You have to if you want to be rich by the end of all of this.”
“They’ll be suspicious.”
“You’re a traveler. Escaping from violence and chaos. That’s not exactly a strange story.”
Eddy slumped. “I’ll hit the trail in the morning.” He paused. “How do I know you’ll have the gold for me if I pull it off?”
Snake felt in his pocket and retrieved a single gold coin. He passed it to Eddy and stepped closer, his posture menacing.
“You should know better than to question me by now. Now go find someplace to sleep. We’ll eat at dawn, and then you ride. Just do the job and you’ll win big. Don’t, and your brother’s death will have been in vain.” He tapped Eddy’s chest with two fingers to drive home his point. “And you’ll have missed out on the chance of a lifetime.”
Chapter 15
Provo, Utah
A knock at the door startled Sierra, who peered through the window into the night before moving to the entrance and opening the door a crack.
“Elliot! What are you doing here?”
Elliot nodded a greeting. “Can I come in?”
“Lucas isn’t here, if you want to talk to him.”
“Not necessary. I actually came to see you.” He looked over her shoulder. “Are Eve and Tim asleep?”
“I put them to bed an hour ago.” She stepped aside and he entered, pulling the door closed behind him.
“You want anything? I have some herbal tea I bartered from Janice this morning, and I can heat up some water.”
“That would be great. Gets chilly at night here as the weather turns.”
Sierra busied herself in the kitchen at a wood-burning grill while Elliot settled onto the couch, his expression unreadable. She brought him a steaming cup a few minutes later, and Elliot took an appreciative sip as she sat across from him, the glow from the LED lantern on the table warming her features.
“Is this about Lucas? Or Eve?” she asked.
“Eve. I spent most of this evening reviewing the data I’ve been able to assemble with the primitive lab I set up here. There’s definitely a progression, and it seems to be accelerating.”
“What do you mean, a progression?”
“Her immune system is battling something that’s got me stumped. It’s unlike any of the usual bugs, and her white count is through the roof, but with no obvious signs of an infection site. It’s showing up as fever, chills, swollen lymph nodes, and so on.”
“You think it’s a flu? Or…something worse? Could it be something they did to her in El Paso?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, Sierra. I’m sorry. To really understand, I need access to a real lab – something like what the Illuminati must have, to have been able to engineer and modify the virus in the first place. Nothing like that exists that I know of other than in their territory. Maybe in D.C. or New York.”
“What about the Crew lab in Houston, or El Paso? They seemed pretty advanced.”
“They’re a long way away, Sierra. And far behind what we’d have to consider enemy lines,” Elliot said, but his face radiated doubt.
“So…what can we do? What does this mean? Will she be okay?”
“I’d love to tell you yes, but the truth is I just don’t know. She’s young and strong, but she’s presenting with what appears to be an autoimmune disorder, where the immune system attacks the host – mistaking it for a foreign intruder. I just don’t have the systems here to narrow the cause down. I’m sorry.”
Sierra ran her fingers through her hair. “God. She’s already been through so much. Poor thing…”
“Yes. It’s unfair.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do to help her? Why now? What could have triggered it? You think it’s contagious?”
“We don’t want to make it worse. Without understanding what’s causing it, anything we do beyond trying to keep her comfortable could worsen it. Besides, it’s more of an annoyance at present than anything life-threatening.”
“But that could change.”
Elliot shrugged helplessly. “Of course. But it could also slow, or reverse. We’re dealing with an unknown, Sierra. We have to accept our limitations.”
“Easy for you to say. She isn’t your family.”
Elliot rose. “Sierra, I know it’s worrisome. But that was uncalled for. I’ve treated Eve like my own daughter, just as you have.”
Sierra sighed. “I’m sorry, Elliot. You’re right. That was inappropriate. But the stress of all this…between Eve and Lucas…” Her expression hardened. “I made him promise to stay with us, Elliot. It’s the best thing for the family. I know you were talking to him about it today.”
“I understand how you feel,” Elliot said. “I truly do.”
“But you still were trying to convince him to go, weren’t you?”
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t think it’s for the best if he does, Sierra. But I spoke my piece. He’s a big boy with a mind of his own, and he’ll draw his conclusions and take appropriate action. You’ve got your point of view, and I have mine. Let him decide.”
She tilted her head. “It almost seems like you’re trying to break us up, Elliot.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth. I just see a clear and present danger to all of us that’s not going to go away, and I believe that should be the priority rather than domestic bliss. But as I said, I’ve shared my reasoning, and I trust he’ll do what’s right.”
Her eyes darted to the side. “That sounds like you think you’ve convinced him.”
“Not at all. I hope I have, but you also make a compelling case. It really will be up to Lucas.”
“Why would you want him to risk everything again? Hasn’t he done enough?”
“That’s not the question. Of course he has. More than enough.”
She stood as well. “I wish I could be as certain as you are that I’m right.”
“That’s one of the burdens of leadership, Sierra. Sometimes all you’re faced with are bad decisions, and you have to choose the one that’s the least harmful. But make no mistake, they’re all bad. If you get your way, Lucas will stay here with you, but it’s only a matter of time until our enemies come for us. It’s not a question of whether they will, but when – that’s certain. I agree that if he goes on the offensive, there’s also tremendous personal risk. Neither of the alternatives are good ones. He’s an adult. He understands that.”
“Elliot, I’m sick of everyone intruding into our life because they think they know what he should do. I don’t mean to offend you, but that’s the
truth.”
“I don’t blame you a bit. I’m sure I’d feel the same way.”
They faced each other like tired boxers in the tenth round, and then Elliot held out his arms. “I only want the best for everyone. I don’t mean to cause you undue distress. I hope you know me better than that by now.”
She nodded reluctantly, her lower lip trembling. “I’m not trying to be selfish. But it seems like the solution to everything is always Lucas and me sacrificing our time together so he can go off on some wild-goose chase. I’m sick of it. Eve and Tim need a father and some stability. And I need my man by my side.”
“I completely understand. This is one of those times where there’s no good answer.”
She walked around the coffee table and accepted a tentative embrace before pulling away. “It must be horrible being you sometimes.”
Elliot made his way to the door. “You have no idea.”
Chapter 16
Provo, Utah
A night bird called plaintively from a tree on the empty boulevard. The evening sky was as black as a banker’s heart, the only light around the jail seeping from a pair of lanterns near one of the windows. The area was still; the evening wind off the lake had abated and the residents long since retired at the late hour.
A thin blanket of ground fog clung to the street as two shadows edged along the darkened doorways, their movements slow and deliberate, avoiding even the slight illumination from the stars by hugging the building façades.
The whinny of a horse a block away stopped them cold, and the pair remained immobile for thirty seconds, waiting for the animal to come into view. When nothing appeared, the two continued toward the jail on silent feet, rifles in hand, the fog deadening any sound from their boots on the cold pavement.
Both had bandanas tied around their heads to cover their faces. When they reached the entrance, they stood on either side, and the one on the right removed a rusty can from the pocket of his trail jacket, dropped a few small chunks of rubble he scooped up from the road into it, and tossed the can on the sidewalk with a loud clatter. A few moments later, the door swung open and two armed men stepped out, guns pointed at the street.
“That’s far enough,” Henry warned, the barrel of his rifle trained on the closest guard.
“Right. Nobody needs to get hurt,” Steve said from the opposite side. “Just put your guns on the ground and stay cool.”
The guards exchanged a glance. “You won’t get away with this. You gotta know that,” the taller one said. “Those bandanas don’t fool anyone.”
“No way we’re going to let him rot in here,” Henry said.
“He shot a man.”
“Who, word is, will make it just fine. We don’t have no problem with him paying for what he done. But his daughter needs him. She’s in a bad way.” Henry paused. “You both got kids. Give us a break and put down the guns before we do something we’ll all regret.”
The taller guard slowly lowered his weapon. “There’s no way the council’s going to sit by and let you break him out without going to war. You should know that. You’re crossing some serious lines, boys.”
“That may be,” Steve agreed. “But it’s our problem, not yours. You want to get yourselves killed to prove a point?”
Henry motioned with his rifle. “Last chance. Drop ’em.”
“They won’t do it–” the shorter guard began, but the stock of Steve’s rifle slamming against the side of his head silenced him. His knees gave and he dropped to the ground; his gun clattered on the pavement beside him. The taller guard’s mouth fell open, and he knelt and placed his weapon on the sidewalk.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he growled.
“We don’t have all night.” Henry indicated the prone man. “Drag him into the building.”
The guard did as ordered and then straightened to glare at them.
“Where you keeping him?”
“In the back. Where else?”
“Show us.”
The guard led them through a heavy steel door. When they arrived at the first holding area, Steve indicated the empty cell. “Where are the keys?”
“Over on the dispatch desk.”
Steve nodded. “Both of you inside.”
The guard returned to the lobby and dragged his partner into the cell as Steve watched over them. Henry returned from the dispatch area with a key ring and locked the door, and Steve moved closer to the bars. “Where’s Eric? I thought you said he was here.”
The guard pointed at another door at the far end of the wing. “He’s back in the jail section. This is holding.”
“Same keys work there?”
“Yes.”
“You the only two here at this hour?”
“That’s right.”
Steve looked at the unconscious man on the floor. “Tell your buddy we’re sorry we clobbered him. And you’d both do well to say you couldn’t swear who it was that did this because our faces were covered.”
The guard nodded unconvincingly, and Steve grunted. “Come on. Let’s find Eric,” he said to Henry, and they took off down the corridor. The largest of the brass keys opened the cellblock door, and they found Eric seated on the floor in the second cell, snoring softly, his back against the gray concrete wall, his bandage soaked through with rust-colored blood.
“Eric!” Henry exclaimed.
Eric blinked several times as Steve unlocked the door, and Henry pushed past him to his brother.
Eric looked up at him foggily. “What–”
Steve stepped in behind Henry and pulled his bandana down so Eric could see his face. “How bad you hurt?”
Eric grimaced. “Not terrible.”
“Can you stand? Walk?”
“You bet your ass.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t understand. They’re letting me go?”
Henry threw Eric a dark look. “Not exactly. We’re breaking you out.”
Steve reached out his hand, and Eric took it and struggled to his feet. “There’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Probably. But we can negotiate once we’re clear of here.”
Eric followed Steve to the hall and stopped at the cell threshold. Henry paused beside him.
“You okay? Need some help?” Henry asked.
Eric didn’t reply, but instead snatched Henry’s .357 Magnum from its holster and bolted down the hall before Steve or Henry had registered what had happened. He stopped at the cell at the far end and, as his brothers ran toward him, squeezed off six shots, emptying the pistol. The shots were deafening in the echoey corridor.
Two men lay in a lake of blood on the cell floor. Eric spit on the nearest as Henry snatched his gun away from him.
“Jesus…” Steve whispered.
Eric turned to him. “Those are the two who raped Melanie,” he said in a low voice. “May God forgive me for what I’ve done. But justice has been served.”
“Forget justice,” Steve said, and swallowed hard. “It’s the council we’re going to have to worry about.”
“No. I’ll hit the trail. You had no part in this.”
“You’re free because of us.”
“It’s me they’ll want, not you.”
Steve shook his head. “You’re a fool, Eric. We’re all responsible for what you did. That’s how they’ll see it, and they’ll be right.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Nobody’s gonna miss a pair of rapists.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Henry said, holstering his spent pistol and clutching his rifle. “Those shots are going to draw somebody.”
The brothers retraced their steps to the main entrance and paused just inside to survey the street. Seeing nothing, Steve leaned into Eric and whispered, “Our horses are a couple of blocks away. You can ride bitch on mine.”
“Steve, I’m sorry…”
“Too late now. Just follow me and keep to the shadows.”
Steve nodded to Henry, who stepped into the
street, trailed by Steve and Eric. They were fifteen yards from the jail when a shot rang out and a divot of pavement flew into the night sky a yard in front of Henry.
A voice called out, “That’s far enough. Hands in the air or we’ll cut you down.”
Henry cringed and began raising his rifle, but Steve’s viselike grip on his arm stopped him. “No.”
“But…”
“No. It’s over. Drop it.”
The voice called out again. “No more warnings. You got two seconds and then you’re dead men.”
Henry and Steve tossed their rifles onto the sidewalk. Three men with guns emerged from the darkness ahead of them, weapons trained on the brothers. The speaker’s face could have been carved from mahogany, and the badge pinned to his vest that announced him as the town’s top lawman glinted in the reflected torchlight from the jail.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the Olsons. We kinda figured you might try something. Seems like your luck ran out tonight.”
“My brothers didn’t do anything–” Eric started, but the sheriff cut him off.
“We’ll figure that out in time. For now, let’s see those handguns, nice and slow, and no tricks.”
Chapter 17
Provo, Utah
The council meeting theater was packed with angry townspeople who’d heard about the brutal attack in their jail the prior night, and the discussion was contentious and often difficult to make out due to shouted interruptions. After several threats to clear the building if the group didn’t comport itself in a civil fashion, the meeting continued in a more reasoned manner until Art and Lucas appeared with Elliot, at which point Glenn had to make good on his threat and hustle all but the twelve council members out of the theater.
With guards posted at the exits to ensure they weren’t disturbed, Glenn eyed Art warily before asking the obvious question. “Do I need to ask to what we owe the pleasure of your presence?”
Art’s complexion was gray in spite of years spent in the sun. His usual ruddy coloring had been replaced by an unhealthy pallor, and his face was drawn and haggard. When he stood to speak, his usual forceful delivery was muted.
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