The teen’s eyes glittered. “You’re going to crucify somebody?”
“You bet. Two people, in fact. We’ve captured one already, but we need another. And we need someone with your cunning to do the job.” Wondering why he didn’t bother telling the boy about the shepherdess, he spread his hands. “I’m afraid Elder Blandings just isn’t the man for the job. He keeps making mistakes.”
“You want me in charge?” The boy was beaming now.
“Yes, Justin.”
“Are you going to kill the people on the crosses?”
“No. We expect the world to end, remember?” Caine smiled. “I suppose God will kill them. Of course, you might be the hand of God in this case. If you’d like.”
“I can have both of them after?” Justin grinned broadly, and added, “Assuming the world doesn’t end.”
“Absolutely. We’ll give you a safe place to do . . . whatever it is you want to do with them, all the privacy you want.”
“Who’ve you got already?”
“The tattooed whore.”
“Cool. I’m going to skin her.”
Caine smiled sickly. “All right.”
“Can I choose the other one?”
“Of course, young man. I expect you to use your discretion.”
“Alex Manderley.”
“Who’s that?”
“A UFO researcher. I was gonna do her anyway.” He snickered. “I was practicing when you walked in.”
“She sounds perfect. Can you bring her to us tonight?” Caine watched the wheels turn in Justin’s head.
“And I get to do whatever I want with her after?”
Caine plastered on his salesman’s grin. “Absolutely!”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Justin asked, his eyes narrowing again.
“Easy, son. I’ve told you we kidnapped the tattooed woman. If I told on you, you’d tell on me.”
Justin hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there tonight, but you’d better keep your word.”
“Don’t worry.”
“You go now. I have work to do.” He grinned to himself, his eyes bright and glittering. “Man, this’ll really impress him.” So saying, Justin turned and walked through the drapes without looking back.
Hannibal let himself out the back door, careful to wipe his prints from the knob. He’d gotten out of that rather neatly, he thought, and getting rid of Justin once he appeared at the compound would be simple.
109
Alexandra Manderlep
AFTER LEAVING MADLAND, THE SIX-PERSON SEARCH PARTY HAD split into three pairs, Tom Abernathy and Henry Running Deer taking the treacherous Spirit Canyon, and Shorty Sykes and Red Fitch, the Olive Mesa area. Alex had accompanied Mad Dog Steinberg into Rattlesnake Canyon, and despite several deluges, they stayed on their search.
She and Mad Dog, who told her he acquired his nickname because he could look crazier than Jack Nicholson when he wanted, sat on their mounts and looked down into the meadow where Marie had had her close encounter. The valley floor was covered with muddy water. There was no telling how deep it was and they hadn’t gone down, searching instead with binoculars from the relative safety of the ridge trail. They found no sign of Eric, Marie, or the missing boy.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Alex.” Mad Dog stared up at the clouded sky, and rain ran off the back of his Stetson. “Storm’s getting worse. It’s really going to break loose soon.”
“Are you certain?”
“Hell no, but we’re risking our luck.” He tapped his watch. “The other parties will be heading back about now. Who knows? Maybe Tom and Henry will have Eric with them.”
“You’re right.” Even as she spoke, the rain fell harder.
It took nearly half an hour to reach Thunder Road, and when they did, they found Shorty and Red waiting for them.
“We’re empty-handed,” Shorty called. “There’s nothing around the mesa.”
“Us too,” Mad Dog commiserated, then pointed toward Spirit Canyon. “Look!” A lone rider on a dark horse appeared as the rain momentarily let up. “It’s Henry,” Mad Dog said. “He’s got something slung across his saddle. Let’s go!”
The five met just east of the rain-filled Old Madelyn Trail, and as they neared, Alex’s stomach knotted. Whatever was thrown over his saddle was wrapped in black, and might very well be a body.
“Henry!” Shorty asked. “Where’s Tom?”
“He’s still in the canyon, the darn fool.”
“What’s that?” Alex forced herself to ask.
Henry looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “A body. We found it before we got into the canyon, but figured it’d be best to stash it and go ahead with the search. We think it was buried and the rain washed it up. Tom asked me to fetch it back now, in case of flooding.”
“For God’s sake, Henry,” Mad Dog said. “Quit the dramatics and tell us who it is.” He gave Alex a sympathetic smile.
“It’s the missing kid, we think. Matches the description the chief gave us. You want to see?”
“No, we don’t wanna see.”
“Do you?” Henry asked Alex.
“A lady don’t wanna see a dead body,” Red Fitch put in, then spat a wad of tobacco.
“She’s a doctor,” Henry explained impassively. “This body’s weird. Some skin’s gone.”
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Alex said, her mind reeling. “But what do you mean, some skin is gone?”
“Big square of it on the stomach is cut out. You okay?”
“Fine,” she managed. “I’m fine.”
Thunder clapped and lightning flashed behind them over Rattlesnake Canyon. “Let’s get out of here,” Mad Dog said, “before all hell breaks loose.”
110
Tom Abernathy
TOM ABERNATHY HAD A HUNCH, AND THAT’S WHY HE’D STAYED IN Spirit Canyon despite the danger of flooding and mountain slides. He didn’t know what the hunch was about exactly, but it was strong, and he couldn’t leave.
He’d spent most of his time checking the treacherous area near the campsite, but he had found nothing. Now he sat on Belle, letting the rain wash over him, his eyes closed, just letting his mind wander toward the hunch.
After they found the boy, he’d had a bad feeling that whoever had done that killing had also attacked Eric, maybe even Marie, but even now, he couldn’t give up. Not as long as the hunch remained strong.
Finally he opened his eyes and, without thinking about what he was doing, rode farther into the canyon, turning off on a short trail that led to another primitive campsite.
He rode to the edge of the steep cliff and peered over from a safe distance, seeing only water filling a narrow gorge formed by this and three other hills. Thunder clapped and Belle whinnied.
“You oughta be used to that noise by now, girl,” he soothed.
She whinnied again, and then he thought he heard something else. Listening hard, he waited, watching the horse’s ears. They cocked as he heard the sound again. It sounded like a human voice. “Belle, I think you’re on to something.” He jumped down too quickly and slipped in the mud, barely managed to keep on his feet. “Stay,” he told Belle, and moved closer to the cliff’s edge.
Below, barely in view, was a man’s lower leg. “Eric!” Tom called at the top of his lungs. “Eric Watson!”
“Help!”
The voice was weak, but the leg moved. Tom lay down flat on his belly and looked over the edge. Eric was pulling himself up, but even from here, Tom could see that his other leg was broken. “Stay put!” he ordered. “Wait for the rope.”
Without waiting for a reply, he went to Belle and took his lariat from the saddle. Quickly he fashioned a slipknot, then secured the other end to the saddle horn. Returning to the cliff edge, he squatted. “Here it comes!” he called, lowering the end of the rope. “Grab it!”
It only took a few tries before Watson caught the rope. Quickly he slipped it around his waist, then twisted it through his hands. “Re
ady!” he cried.
Tom mounted Belle and slowly, slowly, she backed up, continuing until the boy was up and over the edge of the cliff.
Tom trotted back to the young man and helped him free himself from the rope, then propped him up. “I was about to give up on you. Good thing Belle found you.”
“Your horse found me?”
Tom nodded. “You gotta listen to your horse. They sense things you wouldn’t even know existed. Like your whereabouts, for instance. Listen, Eric, have you seen anything of Marie? She’s missing too.”
Eric’s eyes closed for a moment, then reopened, slightly unfocused. “Sorry. What did you say . . . ?” His words trailed off, and his eyes closed again. Concerned, Tom felt his pulse—weak and rapid, but there nonetheless. “Eric?”
He didn’t answer.
“Best you sleep through the ride anyway,” he said, picking him up. “Otherwise you’d hate my innards for how much I’m gonna make that busted leg hurt.”
By the time he got the unconscious boy on the horse, then himself, Tom was exhausted. “We’re going home, Belle,” he said. “But we’re going the back way so we can get Eric to Doc Hartman’s a little sooner.” They rode out of the campsite and Tom tugged the reins, indicating direction, then let the horse have her head for the long, slow ride.
111
Moss Baskerville
“ANY SIGN OF SHIRLEY YET?” MOSS BASKERVILLE LET GO OF THE button on the two-way handset and static crackled out the radio.
“No, Chief.”
Goddamned storm. He had barely heard Ken Landry’s words for all the interference. He and Al Gonzales had been running themselves ragged between idiot tourists getting stuck in the mud, car accidents, and looking for missing people.
Between downpours, Moss had ventured up Old Madelyn to Tom’s, but Davy informed him that no one was back from the search yet. Nor had Cassie and Eve shown up at the ranch as planned. Alarmed, Baskerville had left for Cassie’s, sighing with relief when he turned in to the driveway and saw her yellow Honda. He shook his head; he should have known she wouldn’t leave her house. She was hardheaded that way.
Now he climbed out of the mud-caked cruiser and walked to the front door, getting ready to try to cajole her into going to the ranch, but he stopped cold when he saw the broken door hanging ajar. Shit! Drawing his gun, he plastered himself against the wall next to the doorway. Slowly he edged over the threshold, into the house. “Cass?”
Silence. His foot hit something and he looked down, saw Eve’s toys in a jumbled pile. They were getting ready to go, but something happened. Dear God, that was probably hours ago!
He quickly checked the other rooms, coming last to the kitchen. The back door was open. Across the threshold lay Evie’s favorite rag doll. “No,” he whispered, picking it up. It was wet and smudged with dirt from someone’s shoe. “Dear God, no.”
112
Marie Lopez
MARIE HAD HIDDEN IN THE DARKENED ROOM UNTIL HER EYES adjusted, then she began to explore. According to every rumor she’d ever heard about the compound, it was honeycombed with tunnels. She hoped to find one that would lead her out.
To that end, she’d begun exploring the building, her bare feet making no sound. The place was a maze of dimly lit corridors and stairwells, and she’d long since lost her sense of direction when she came down a flight of stairs into a windowless corridor. Gun ready, she took the dimly lit right-hand hallway, keeping close to the wall, her gun ready.
She’d seen no one so far, and she guessed most of them were out doing a little last-minute raping and pillaging in the name of God. Grimacing, she rounded a comer into another corridor and there saw another descending staircase. She waited in a shadowed doorway, and as she was about to sprint across the hall to the stairs, she heard footsteps. Pressing herself into the shadows, she watched as a single white-robed, hooded figure passed by and turned down the stairwell.
She followed. The stairwell, barely lit at the head, led down into near-total darkness. As the Apostle neared the bottom of the stairs, Marie silently moved closer, holding the gun by its barrel. The robed figure reached the bottom step and reached a hand around the comer. Just as light bloomed in the room, Marie bashed the gun butt into the back of his head.
Without a sound, he crumpled to the floor.
Quickly she stepped around the body, taking the feet and dragging it out of sight. Glancing around, she saw that she was in a Sunday school room, with felt boards and blackboards and tiny chairs.
Marie bent and turned the Apostle over, smiling as she recognized the bullish Amazon who’d given her so much grief.
Quickly she stripped the robe off the woman and slipped it over her head. It was far too long for her, but she found some string in a desk drawer and cinched it in. The woman wore blue tennis shoes, and Marie took those, too, surprised when they actually fit. Beneath the robe, the woman wore cammies, and Marie struck gold when she went through the pockets and found a key ring and an odd-looking credit card. She took them both, then pulled the woman into a storage closet and locked the door.
“Hello?” called a young man’s voice. “Anybody here?”
She didn’t answer until she heard him coming down the stairs. Quickly she pulled the hood over her hair, then greeted him with a smile. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
Taking the offensive worked. Embarrassed, he waved a credit card like the one she’d taken from the Amazon. “Elder Blandings asked me to bring him some boxes of clips.”
“Oh,” she said authoritatively. “That’s fine. Go ahead.”
The blond youth crossed the room. Holding her breath, Marie watched, her gun ready within the robe’s wide sleeve in case he opened the closet where she’d stashed the Amazon. She exhaled as he passed it by and instead opened what looked like a broom closet. Holding the card out, he stepped inside. She heard a soft sliding noise. Then he was gone.
Marie went to the teacher’s desk at the other end of the room and opened a drawer. There was a sheaf of papers covered with childish writing, so she pulled that out, along with a red pencil, and sat down to wait. As soon as she heard him return, she looked up from the papers and smiled. The man was carrying boxes of clips as well as an AK-47.
“Loaded for bear,” she said, still smiling.
He paused, a flirtatious look in his eyes. “We’ve got a big mission in a little while.”
“A bloody one?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“Could be. I’ve been a member for five years, but I just moved here two weeks ago. My name’s Fred. What’s yours?”
“Wilma.” The word popped out unbidden, so she smiled coyly to cover.
“You’re cute, Wilma.” He winked to show he got the joke. “We could use another hand on the mission. Would you like to go along? Maybe afterward, we could get together for coffee, and, well, you know, tomorrow’s the end of the world and all . . .”
Marie bit her tongue and made herself smile. “Maybe.” What a line! She studied the automatic weapon. “Who are you going after?” She hoped her voice sounded casual.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but we’re supposed to bring one back alive.”
You’re going to be sorry you ever talked to me. She put the pencil eraser to her lips and studied Fred. “Who are you going to shoot, then?”
He shrugged. “Maybe nobody. Elder Blandings wants us to be ready for anything. He was a lieutenant in the Korean War, and he’s a really tough old bird.”
“When are you going?”
“Half an hour. We’re meeting out in the parking lot. By the white van.”
“Well, maybe I’ll come along.” She smiled. If she didn’t find a passage out, she could leave with the group. “I could use some fresh air.”
“Great!”
A moment later, he was gone. Quickly Marie pulled out the credit card key and crossed to the broom closet. Inside, at eye level, was a slot, and she pushed the card through it. A green light flashed on, then the back of the closet
slid away to reveal another stairwell, lit from below.
It was an armory filled with more weapons and ammunition than she had ever seen in one place before. Thank God the sweats she wore had big pockets in the top and two smaller ones in the pants. She went around the room, taking half a dozen grenades, smoke bombs, clips for the pistol, a revolver and ammo belts, and finally, an M-16 and extra magazines. “Rambo, eat your heart out,” she whispered, as she grimly hid everything except the M-16 under her robe.
The weapons weighed her down, but she figured that having them would be well worth it. Satisfied that everything was secure, she examined the room, hoping to find a hidden door into a tunnel. No such luck. With a sigh, she climbed the stairs and closed the broom closet, then walked confidently up to the main corridor. The few people she passed didn’t give her a second glance. She thought about trying to find Cassie, but she had no idea where to look, and her friend would never be able to get out with her. No, it would be smarter to get out and call the cavalry.
After fifteen minutes of wandering, she found her way outside. Relieved to see that the rain had let up again, she walked briskly up to the knot of Apostles gathered near a white van. She was happy to see there were at least two dozen of them, since that would allow her more anonymity.
Fred saw her and waved. She joined him, keeping her hood low over her forehead. A few raindrops fell, and Fred and a few others raised their hoods as well. “So what are we waiting for?” she asked finally.
“Elder Blandings and Lorraine Ferguson,” Fred said. “Here comes Blandings.”
The old coot stomped up, an automatic rifle in his hands, his toupee askew. “Where’s Ferguson?” he barked.
No one knew.
“Well, we can’t wait all day. Let’s march, double time!”
113
Alexandra Manderley
SITTING IN TESS’S SADDLE, ALEX WATCHED THE STUNTMEN RIDE briskly down Old Madelyn Highway. At last she was alone with her thoughts arid worries.
The deluge they’d expected had lasted less than a minute. Despite intermittent thunder and lightning, the sky seemed to have run out of rain, and since there were no Apostles in sight, she had told Shorty, Henry, Mad Dog, and Red to go back without her. They hesitated, all four of them glancing at the plastic-wrapped body on Henry’s saddle, then at one another. Finally Mad Dog cautioned her to keep heading in the general direction of her destination—Tom’s ranch—then tipped his hat and rode off with the others.
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