Smith and I again dressed in combat jackets, baseball caps and strapped on the gun holsters. This time we both took a Russian made, MP- 443 Grach handgun each and a couple of loaded magazines. I saw Dovey amongst the crowd. He looked determined and had a vehicle battery jumper strapped over his left shoulder and an Armalite rifle slung over his right. McElroy threaded his way through the mob, approaching Smith and I.
“You got the maps, Big Man?”
Smith nodded and tapped his chest. “What’s with all the extra guys, Mac? A big crowd could attract some unwanted attention.”
McElroy smiled almost ruefully. I sensed he didn’t like his tactics being questioned.
“Well, I figured we could use a few more bodies than we’d normally take. People are getting a little pissed off with being cooped up in here. Hopefully, we can find a couple of vehicles, get them going and while one team head off to reconnoiter the airport, the other team can ferry the rest of these people off the plane and somewhere more comfortable for them to stay in this town of yours. What’s it called again? Sturdy Butts or something isn’t it?”
“Study Butte,” Smith corrected. “And I don’t think it’s a big town, Mac. I don’t want to start promising these people shelter in a comfortable, five star hotel if it ‘aint there.”
McElroy smiled again and slapped Smith on the shoulder. “That’s what we’re going to find out, Smudger. Don’t worry yerself, man.”
McElroy turned away and Smith groaned quietly. I shared his apprehension. We didn’t know what we were going to be faced with out in the wilds of the desert and I didn’t want to see anybody hurt or worse. We’d lost too many people in the past and I had no desire to witness somebody being needlessly killed through having too many numbers and forming a target or through somebody’s sheer incompetence. Some of the guys in the group weren’t experienced enough on these kinds of dangerous jaunts.
Dante approached me as we made our way to the exit door. It took me a while to understand what he was jabbering about but I eventually got the gist of the one sided conversation. He was going to stay onboard the plane and assist the Russian engineers in trying to fix the navigation system. Why he was telling me this was anybody’s guess.
It seemed to take an age for everybody to climb down the rope ladder. Smith and I loaded our weapons as we stood in the plane’s shadow, inhaling the fresh morning air while watching the sun rise and waiting for the rest of the group to follow us down to the ground.
When everybody was down and weapons loaded, I counted thirty-one bodies in all, including Smith and I. Some of the faces didn’t even look familiar to me and I wondered who the hell they were. So much for a small, well organized, tight knit, quick moving team.
I noticed Wingate gave Smith a wide berth and didn’t even glance in his direction. She seemed utterly pissed off with him and I suspected the problem ran a little deeper than the plane blowing off course. That was for them to figure out. I had enough problems of my own. Batfish still hardly acknowledged my existence and she was about to give birth to my child in the very near future. I’d take a minor spat over my situation any day of the week.
Smith took out his map and pointed the direction he figured we should be heading. We set off along the trail in a ragged line with some of the guys laughing and fooling around as though we were on a damn school trip. Anderson and Dovey led the procession with expressions of grim determination etched on their faces. Wingate stayed close to McElroy as though she was trying to arouse a sense of jealousy within Smith. Smith and I hung back at the rear of the line, distancing ourselves a little from the rest of the group.
The fresh morning air soon gave way to the blistering desert heat and the trail shimmered in a haze in the distance. We ambled past the sign I’d briefly seen when the plane awkwardly landed the previous day. Anderson rubbed sand from the sign’s face and the faded lettering confirmed we were at the edge of Big Bend National Park.
Smith consulted his map while the rest of us huddled around the signpost. He glanced up and surveyed the landscape towards the horizon.
“That should be Maverick Mountain to our right and this road should be the 118,” Smith said, gesticulating in each direction. “This road right here should lead us straight into Study Butte town.”
“Come on then, let’s go,” a tall, ginger haired guy yelled. “What the hell are we waiting for?” His accent was broad Glaswegian and I guessed he must have been with us for a while, since we’d fled Scotland.
The pace gathered speed, the group trekking at a brisk pace. Everybody in the party seemed in high spirits, talking loudly, laughing and joking. Maybe it was the wide open space, warmth and the clear blue sky. No obvious dangers prowled nearby. No undead shuffling after us or the potential of any dangers lurking and unseen.
Something just felt odd to me and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe my mind was so screwed up it would take a while to decompress from all the tension I’d suffered over the past few years. Perhaps we’d inadvertently landed in some kind of utopia, barren though it was. We’d still have to find food, water and shelter as a bare minimum and in the Texas desert, that wasn’t going to be easy.
We’d walked for around an hour when some buildings became visible in the distance. McElroy stopped the troop and ordered some sort of silence. He took out his scope and put it to his eye. Smith and I moved closer to McElroy and stood each side of him. I noticed Wingate shuffling sideways amongst the crowd.
“What do you see, Mac?” Smith asked.
McElroy studied the low standing buildings, sweeping his scope from left to right as we waited for his response. All we could see was rectangular shapes amongst the dust and the glimmering heat haze.
“I can’t see any movement over there,” McElroy finally said. “It looks all clear from here. But you’re right Smith, this ‘aint no big town.”
“Mind if I take a look, Mac?” Smith rumbled.
McElroy handed the scope to Smith, who lifted it to his right eye.
“Anything look like a concern to you over there, Smudger?” McElroy asked.
“Looks clean to me,” Smith said. “There are a few big old buildings that look as though the rest of the crew can hold up in for a couple of days. I guess we should check it out but let’s not go thinking we’ve won the jackpot just yet.”
Smith handed the scope back to McElroy.
“I hear you, Big Man,” McElroy said. “We’ll clear out the town with extreme caution.” He turned to the rest of the party. “You hear that, fellers?”
A murmur of acknowledgment rumbled through the rest of the mob.
“Okay, no crazy, shit until we know it’s all clear, boys,” McElroy instructed. “And no shooting before telling everybody you’re going to do so.”
McElroy was definitely taking the lead. It seemed weird to have to conform but these guys were his people. We’d have to be cool with that scenario but it grated on me a little. These new guys under McElroy’s command were not of the professional caliber of Dunne, Duffy, McPherson and McDonnell. We’d lost those guys at Saint Miep in the Caribbean and they couldn’t be easily replaced. I figured McElroy was trying to forget his former crew by surrounding himself with these half hearted, would be warriors.
We moved forward in a tight huddle with guns drawn, approaching the small town. Cactus trees sprouted amongst the shack like buildings, spread across the dusty landscape. The sun faded signs above the rooftops claimed a general store, a motel with an RV park and an Inn with a few more smaller dwellings scattered around the main hub of the town. The whole place looked deserted and like a ghost town from a bygone age. I knew Texas was full of these small communities, miles from the glare of the cities and big towns.
McElroy led the procession towards the largest building in the center of the town, set back a little from the roadway. I could just about make out the faded letters on the motel signpost. The building itself was a huge rectangular shaped structure, with a sun bleached asphalt tiled roof and walkways
running around the outside perimeter, which were hemmed in by waist high, red metallic railings. The parking lot stood to the right, with a few SUVs abandoned in spaces towards the rear. I guessed the RV Park was located around the back of the motel, where a faded arrow pointed to on the signpost but the lot wasn’t visible from our position.
McElroy organized some of the guys to head around the back of the motel while he’d lead the charge to storm through the front door.
“You guys okay to stand guard out front?” McElroy asked Smith and I.
“Sure,” Smith answered. “Whatever you want, Mac.”
“Can we borrow your scope?” I asked McElroy. “We can keep an eye out on the distance while you guys are rampaging through the motel.”
He nodded and handed me the cylindrical shaped spy glass. “Don’t lose it or break it, will you?”
I scowled. “Of course I won’t. What do you take me for, Mac, some kind of donut?”
McElroy flicked his eyes skyward. “Just look after it, Wilde Man, okay?”
“Sure,” I muttered.
McElroy turned and led half a dozen guys up the steps to a shaded veranda at the front of the motel. Wingate went with McElroy’s brigade while the others headed off around the parking lot to the rear of the building, leaving Smith and I standing alone in the glare of the sun.
I waited a beat for McElroy and the others to move out of earshot before I spoke.
“You think Mac is trying to cut us out of the loop?” I asked.
Smith grunted. “It’s a strange world, kid.”
He lit a cigarette and offered me the pack. I took one and noticed he was staring along the road into the distance.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Hand me that damn scope,” he muttered. “I can see something up ahead. And whatever it is, it looks like it’s heading our way.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Smith held out an outstretched hand towards me, still staring down the road. I handed him the scope. He took it and put the lens to his eye with the lit cigarette drooping from his mouth. Smoke curled around his head as he studied the expanse of desert in the distance. I glanced out to where he pointed the scope and saw a plume of dust rising in a fast moving line further down the road.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
Smith kept the scope to his eye. “Can’t see clearly. Whatever it is, it’s throwing up too much dust. It looks like it’s veered off the road and heading across the terrain. It’s moving too fast to be a bunch of undead.”
“You think it could be a herd of animals or something?” I asked, feeling a rising sense of concern in the pit of my stomach.
“No idea, but it’s a possibility,” Smith rumbled. “Wait…it’s stopped moving.”
I shielded my eyes from the sun’s glare with my hand before realizing I’d slid the dark sunshades on the top of the peak of my cap. I put on the shades and waited a few seconds for my sight to focus. The blue haze became clearer but all I saw was a hanging dust cloud in the distance.
“You think we should let Mac know?” I asked.
“Wait just a god damn minute,” Smith growled. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with here first.”
I waited impatiently for a few seconds before Smith handed me the scope.
“Take a look,” he said.
I put the scope to my eye and scanned the landscape. The dust still swirled around but I saw a figure half inside and half hanging out of a skeletal framed four wheeled buggy of some kind. The figure held a pair of black binoculars to his eyes and he was definitely studying us right back. Long, dark greasy hair hung to the tops of his shoulders and a pair of protective goggles sat on top of his scalp. He wore an oil stained denim jacket, black leather pants and a pair of big black boots. A long barreled rifle poked above the back of his right shoulder and a black strap crossed his chest.
“He’s armed,” I whispered.
I kept watching the guy. He let the binoculars drop to his chest and then he reached around his back, sliding the rifle off his shoulder. He raised the weapon, brought the butt into his shoulder and I saw a big scope fixed to the rear sights. Panic pulsed through my body.
“Shit! Smith, he’s going to take a shot at us,” I yelled.
“Get down, kid,” Smith roared.
He shoulder barged me, knocking the wind out of my body and sending me crashing into the dusty ground. I heard a clinking sound and caught sight of a small puff of dust erupt from the motel roof. I rolled on my side, gasping for air and looked through the scope again, holding the implement with a shaky hand. The shooter guy actually grinned then broke out into a laugh, even though I couldn’t hear him. He replaced the rifle across his back then slipped the goggles over his eyes. The dust sprayed around the large tires of the buggy as he revved the engine, turned the vehicle and sped off back the way he’d come into the wilds of the desert.
“He’s gone,” I gasped. “He was a shit shot, even with that damn scope. He hit the fucking roof.” I let out a shrill giggle, which on reflection wasn’t a good idea. The laughing hurt my ribs.
Smith stood, dusted himself down while he gazed in the direction where the buggy speeded off. He shook his head. “Nah, that was just a warning shot, kid. He was simply sending us a message.”
The smile immediately fell from my face. “That’s why the bastard was laughing. He was laughing at us.”
Smith nodded and offered me his outstretched hand. I took it and he hauled me to my feet. I still held McElroy’s scope and slipped it into the top pocket of my jacket before I dusted myself down.
“Who the hell was that goon?” I asked.
Smith shook his head. “I don’t know but hopefully he was just some lone desert rat and not one of a whole pack of vermin.”
“He knows we’re here now,” I said. “If he’s one of a gang, he’ll go back and tell the rest of his guys.”
“Hell, kid,” Smith snorted. “Everybody left alive within a two hundred mile radius from here will have seen that plane coming down. You think he’s the only guy out here to have spotted us?”
I gulped down a combination of gritty sand and saliva. It suddenly hit me. Smith was right. We had been a target since the aircraft had skidded to a halt in the dust. An airplane flying low in a clear blue sky was going to stick out like a turd in a punchbowl. Everybody was going to see it and try and track it. A workable aircraft was a gateway to other places and for the uneducated in the ways of the world, the plane was a tool to get them to what they thought was going to be someplace better.
“Shit, that guy could just be the tip of the iceberg,” I sighed.
“You got that right, kid,” Smith muttered.
McElroy bustled out from the front door of the motel with Wingate and the rest of his crew following behind him. The big Irishman seemed unaware of our latest troubles.
“Not much left in there,” McElroy said, nodding to the doorway behind him. “We’ll go check out the RV Park around the back of the place and see if there are any vehicles we can use.”
“Before you do that, Mac, there’s something you should know,” Smith said. “We just spotted a shooter out there. He was driving one of those dune buggy type things and had a big assed sniper rifle on him. Fired a warning shot into the motel roof before he took off.”
McElroy seemed to physically rear backward and looked aghast. “You didn’t think to raise the alarm, Smudger?”
“The guy was gone before we knew it,” Smith replied. “I think he just wanted to spook us a little. Let us know he’s out there.”
McElroy shook his head. “Well, keep the scope on you, fellers and keep a good fucking eye out in case he comes back.”
“Sure,” Smith rumbled.
I watched McElroy, Wingate and the rest of the crew disappear around the back of the building, heading towards the RV Park.
“Is it me or is McElroy getting a little above his station these days?” I said, shaking my head. “It seems as though he’s taken on c
ontrol of the whole situation and now he’s trying to order us around like we’re his fucking minions or something.”
“Don’t let it crawl up your ass, kid,” Smith said, calmly. “If Mac wants to be a hero and lead his bunch of merry men out into the desert sunset then let him. He’s welcome to leading all these people. Quite frankly, I’m fucking sick of trying to be a leader. I’m just going to go with the flow from now on. Mac’s a good guy, these are his people and we have to respect that, kid.”
I huffed and glanced at the rocky hills in the distance. “I just don’t like people barking orders at me, is all.”
Smith laughed. “Then you wouldn’t have been worth shit in the military, kid. We had to go through that shit all the time. Always some asshole barking orders at you from some angle. Just go with but it don’t mean you have to like it. Let’s just see what happens today without causing a fight, okay?”
I nodded. “All right but things don’t feel right. I don’t like it, you’re right.”
“None of us like change, kid but it’s always going to happen,” Smith said. “It’s just the way of the world.”
We kept our gaze on the horizon, waiting for the shooter guy to return. I couldn’t see anybody in the distance but I had the uncomfortable feeling we were being watched.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The shooter guy didn’t return while Smith and I kept watch from the front of the motel. The desert remained still and quiet. Only the breeze blowing across the sand made a sound. My frustration bubbled over and I had to break the silence.
“I still can’t believe we’ve been relegated to damn watchmen,” I groaned.
Smith sighed. “Just let it go, Wilde Man. Mac is probably trying to keep us out of trouble by giving us straight forward, simple jobs to do. Not even you and I could fuck up watching a stretch of desert for a while.”
I kicked a stone down the dusty road. Standing around doing nothing was starting to annoy me. Smith obviously wanted a little time away from the limelight to mull over his relationship with Wingate. Those two had seriously fallen out. I hoped it was repairable as I liked them both individually and I liked them as a couple.
Left in the Cold (The Left Series) Page 5