Joshua eyed the chains. “You should wait till dad gets back.”
“I made fifty-two trips up that trail. I’m hot and sore. I need a shower.”
Joshua lifted pliers and a wrench from a drawer. He placed them on the counter and backed away. Karla undid one end of each chain. She stepped to the bathroom and slid out of her clothes. She preferred to change when Marcus was gone, which was often. She turned on the water and stepped into the shower.
Karla washed quickly and stepped out. Joshua watched her as always. She grabbed a towel.
“Dad says you gotta do what we say.”
Karla ignored him, not liking the tone, and slipped into her jeans.
“Teasing the boy?” Marcus stood just beyond the doorway.
She pulled on her top. “I carried down the wood. I needed to clean up before cooking.”
“Yeah. You should do it more often. Kid enjoys it.”
She took a step for the door.
“Put the chains on her, Joshua.”
* * *
Marcus broke his promise in the night. Karla could do little but plot her revenge. Fighting him was useless and would bring on restrictions, making her escape only more difficult. She felt strong enough to go. The wood was the test of her condition. She judged it not great. But willpower still meant a lot.
Marcus brushed her cheek with his hand and kissed her tenderly. Then he rolled out of bed and put on his boots. A good morning kiss. Karla thought he actually liked her. But trust and respect were not present. She listened to him scrape together food for breakfast, and then don heavy weather gear. He carried the rifle past her doorway on the way out. He spent a lot of time hunting for what little he brought back.
Joshua came next. Always after Marcus left. He unhooked the bed chain from Karla’s legs and stood back. With the slack, she undid her hands, then pulled up her jeans.
“Breakfast?” she asked.
Karla warmed cornbread, drizzled it with animal fat, and put it on plates.
“The chimneys leaking a bit. We need to do repairs before winter. Today would be a good day for it.”
Joshua ate the cornbread.
“There are trowels in the cave and mortar in the supply shed.” Her goal was to split them up. She’d rather Joshua went to the cave. The run from the supply shed was closer. But she’d go either way.
Karla slipped a blanket she’d turned into a poncho over her head. She put on a ball cap and work gloves. “Let’s get it finished.” Karla stepped for the door.
“Hold it. I’m not ready.”
She gambled. “Catch up or get the ladder ready.” She opened the door and walked out, waiting for a bullet.
The snow was deeper. She trudged toward the storage shed, reached it and looked back. Joshua hadn’t yet come outside. She broke for the car, the snow and small steps holding her back.
Chapter 113
Ray stepped into the committee room, a former bedroom suite in building three. The members were seated at a wooden table—Lamar in a leather office chair. The others in vinyl arm chairs. Ray dropped to one of six hard plastic chairs in front of them.
Lamar said, “Your resignation from maintenance has been accepted. We can put you first on the list for either medical or food. Do you have a preference?”
“Danny wanted me for security. We had a deal.”
Cameron showed a tiny smile. She brushed a raven hair from her rounded face. “The committee has doubts about your willingness to follow our directives.”
“Meaning?” Ray said.
Lamar took it up. “We believe you are skeptical of our rules and do not support us. That is not acceptable for a security officer.”
“You believe. My word’s not good enough?”
“You walked out of the meeting. You turned down a position of authority to take a subordinate position in a different department. We have to suspect your concerns are not with the community.”
Ray stood. “You pick it.” Then he stomped out.
Chapter 114
Joshua called after her. Karla had made half the distance to her car. She had hoped for more time before he caught on. She plowed ahead through the trees. He couldn’t see her, but neither could she hide. Her tracks would lead him straight to her, if he hadn’t figured out already where she was headed and taken a more direct route. He shouted once more. The game was on. One of them would die in a very few minutes.
She fell into a rhythm. Her lungs ached. She was out of shape and in high altitude. But rest would be eternal if she stopped. Tromp. Tromp. She cleared the end of the meadow and caught a glimpse of Joshua, coming at her straight across. He raised his rifle and fired in the air—a signal to his father.
Her car hadn’t moved but was covered in snow. She opened the back door and removed the seat. She pictured Joshua closing in, then pushed him from her thoughts. She released the hidden hooks on the floor panel. She’d been in this situation before. Stay calm work methodically.
The TAC 50 was disassembled in the compartment below. She mated the stock to the barrel and inserted the screws. She used a ratchet to tighten first the front then the back, using her full strength to achieve the satisfying click.
A bullet whacked the open door, then another. Karla inserted the clip, then pushed across the vehicle. She spilled out the other side and crabbed her way into the trees as Joshua advanced on the Golf. He circled the car, stopped at her tracks and turned to follow. Karla, prone beside a tree, fired as his harsh eyes caught hers.
Joshua jerked backward and collapsed onto his side—a huge hole through his chest—bleeding out and in shook from the impact of the fifty caliber slug. Karla felt no regret at killing him. She no longer considered Joshua a child. She stepped to him, picked up his rifle, and used a bullet to sever the chain between her legs. She couldn’t spread her hands far enough to do the same for them.
She hustled to the car. The shooting would bring Marcus. But where he was made all the difference in locating the sound and how fast he would arrive. Karla rolled Joshua and took his bloody coat. Then she opened the tool box in the car, grabbed a pair of pliers, and ran.
Karla set up in cover a hundred meters east of the car. She had a view of it and of the meadow. She worked on the chain while she waited, releasing it from one hand. Her ears suddenly pricked, sensing Marcus nearby. She had expected him to charge through the snow, maybe shout Joshua’s name. She remembered him at the house the first day. He was just suddenly there. This time, though, he hadn’t gone to the house, or the car. She imagined what she would do.
Karla rolled left and loped through the snow. She would have circled wide and come up behind anyone staking out the car. A bullet smacked a tree as she passed, throwing frozen bark. She ran on, dragging the heavy rifle. It wasn’t made for a fight like this, but it was what she had.
A bullet whizzed by. One, two, three. Karla dropped to the snow and squirmed to face him. Snow puffed in front of her and Marcus ducked behind a large aspen. Karla found it in the scope and wiggled left for a shot.
Karla spotted his boot, then it was gone. She moved left again then looked up from the scope. Marcus ran directly away from her. She shifted again caught him moving through trees. She took a shot and blew apart a three inch sapling. She ran after him and quickly saw that she’d never catch up.
She took another position between the house and the car. She had to deny him shelter. She had to protect her way home. She tried to imagine his thoughts. He spent nearly every day wandering these ridges and valleys. He knew the territory. He was in good condition. He was dressed warmly. She pictured him that morning going out the door. Did he have the night vision for predawn hunting?
He knew what she wanted: the car. His best chance of getting a shot at her while she protected it was from the west ridge. A mile and a half loop for him. She scanned the ridge with the scope. At least 600 meters. She didn’t know his skill as a marksman. But from that ridge, he could move to the cave
without offering her much of a shot, or to the house with a little more risk.
Karla waited. Her hands went numb. Her clothes grew wet. A bullet struck a tree fifteen feet in front of her. She followed the trajectory backward to the ridge. A bullet zinged past. She moved back and dropped the rifle on a snow covered log. A bullet hit ten yards in front of her. She spotted Marcus mostly hidden behind a large rock. A bullet thudded into the log three feet to her right. Karla made adjustments for elevation and wind.
Another bullet whizzed past her head. Karla fired. A puff from a rock six feet below him, a bit left. His next shot wasn’t close; she’d scared him. She hit the rock Marcus leaned on. He pulled back and ran. She took a final shot as he vanished over the ridge.
Marcus wouldn’t try distance again. Karla was sure of that. But what would he do? He was dressed more warmly than her, but he still couldn’t spend the night outside without proper gear or shelter. That left the cave: still cold; the car: colder yet; and the house: toasty warm, but a trap.
For Karla, the choices were clear if painful. She could seek shelter in the house but possibly never go home, or protect her transportation and possibly not survive the night. She had come for Jessie. Karla could do nothing if she was dead.
Karla ran through the open meadow in Joshua’s tracks. She hoped Marcus was relocating and wouldn’t pop his head up in the next ten minutes. And when he did, he might have trouble finding her. She reached the house out of breath, ducked into the entry, and leaned hands on knees for minutes. Then she stepped inside.
The house felt warm. She shoved a chair under the doorknob for what protection it offered. She removed wet gloves and held her hands under cold water. The feeling returned, painfully. She turned on the gas oven and stood in front of it while she changed into dry clothes. She had only the one pair of boots and put them in the oven, briefly.
She searched the house next, for her weapons and ammunition, sure Marcus would have kept them handy. She found the M16 and one of her Ruger 9mms on the floor beneath the lower cabinets, accessed by removing drawers. The body armor and her sleeping bag were in Joshua’s room, under his bed.
Karla dressed for battle, then grabbed her bag and every blanket in the house. She peered through the spy hole in the door: no tracks since hers. She stepped out and climbed into what was left of the rifle pit and made a nest. She hadn’t found the night vision goggles, but she had the day/night scope on the TAC 50. It would have to do.
She went into the house once more before dark. She ate cornbread, drank water, and warmed a little. Then she returned to her nest and worked out her next steps.
Marcus possibly had night vision, but probably not a night scope. So, he could likely track her, but he wouldn’t be shooting at her from any distance. He also had to be cold and tired and hungry. He’d want to come to the house, but wouldn’t. He’d know she’d be watching it for that reason. Unless, of course, he knew she were inside. Then he would be nearby, starting before first light, waiting for her to step out. Karla scanned again for any sign of Marcus.
The gibbous moon rose late. Between clouds, its light reflected off the snow, stretching visibility to several hundred yards—a shooter’s moon, Karla thought. She scanned the ridge and the far end of the meadow with the scope. Then she took the M16 and sprinted the two hundred yards to the base of the cave trail. She clung to the rock, euphoric she hadn’t been shot at.
A fierce wind blew down the gap that was the cave-trail. Karla started up and saw the tracks above. Marcus had sought shelter in the best spot he knew. She climbed slowly, planning her move.
Karla stepped off the trail into a jumble of snow covered rock. She slipped to her knees several times as she continued up the grade. The fireplace, then the mouth of the cave came into view. There had been two beds inside, and she guessed Marcus was on or under one of them. She set the rifle for bursts of three, brought it to the opening and fired left then right. She dropped behind a rock and waited. She popped up and fired single shots.
Karla shivered and stared at the cave’s entrance. The sun climbed above the east ridge but offered no warmth. She crept to the side of the opening, pushed the rifle around the corner and emptied the clip on full auto. She drew back and inserted another clip. She let loose a short burst and vaulted in.
Marcus lay on Brittany’s bed, his beard crusted with ice. His leg was bandaged at the calf and a trail of blood crossed the rock floor. She had hit him on the ridge. Karla stepped closer. A bent aluminum arrow stuck high from Marcus’s left side.
Karla smiled. Dana was still here.
* * *
Karla shoveled snow from the meadow and struck frozen ground. She located the hole Joshua had dug not nearly deep enough. She broke through the icy crust and went deeper. Jessie wasn’t there. She shifted right and tried again. Nothing. She dropped the shovel and walked to the house, needing a few minutes to thaw. She sat in front of the stove and thought carefully about the day she buried Jessie.
She tried once more. The wind picked up and snow began to fall. Two feet right, a foot forward. Karla knew she was very close but still not right. Darkness forced her inside. She stripped the bed and washed the sheets, hanging them in front of the stove to dry. She would not sleep on a bed smelling of Marcus or Joshua.
A foot more snow by morning. Karla dug again, starting early, breaking ground with an ax. In the third hole, she found them. Karla unzipped the top bag and identified Caitlin. She went deeper and pulled up Jessie.
* * *
The Golf was up to its headlights in snow. Karla cleared the back door and placed Jessie across the seat. The snow would be less at lower elevations and she had the winch. She slipped behind the wheel, punched the code, and hit the engine start button. Nothing. She put it in electric mode. The tires thumped oddly as they spun. Karla climbed out and cleared away snow. All the tires were flat, the valve stems cut. She lifted the hood. The battery and cables had been yanked out, gone, buried now in deep snow, she supposed.
Karla threw up her hands and walked stiffly to the house. She was alive, but with no means to get home. She guessed that had been true for some time. Marcus ready for the day she tried.
Chapter 115
Ray walked through the great room to the hallway door in back.
“That’s the girl’s wing,” Mike Brassard said. He had been a security trainee at Lamar’s insistence.
“Last I looked Brittany was.”
“You can’t go in there.”
“Then how do I talk with her?”
“Wait for her or send a woman.”
Ray scanned the room. “I don’t see one.” He moved to the door and pounded. Alexis opened it. “Would you tell Brittany I’d like to speak with her?”
Alexis turned away without answering. Brittany appeared in a few minutes. They walked outside and stood by the garden fence.
“Lamar busted me to orderly.” Ray said. “What’s he got you doing?”
“Pulling weeds. How does he get away with this?”
“It’s a long story. How about Rainy?”
“Security, as of this morning.”
“He’s fixin’ to run me off.”
“How can he? It’s Karla’s farm.”
“She’s not here. Lamar’s got it rigged tight. He’ll keep pushing till he hits the button.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Low profile it a while I guess. Talk to Karla when she gets back.”
“It’s been more than ten days.”
“I never figured she’d manage that.”
“You think she’s all right?”
“Probably worrying about us. Look, I’ve got to go see the Doc. Keep your head down, okay?”
They walked inside and were met by two security men sporting their newly issued uniforms—tan chinos and blue Polos with a shoulder patch.
“We need your guns, Ray. Yours, too, Brittany.” The older of the two had spoken. Burke, Ray thought
his name was.
“They’re ours. Personal property. We brought them here.”
“No one has guns but security. You saw the rules.”
“You taking them from everyone or just us?”
“We’re collecting weapons from everyone who leaves security. There’s a notice for everyone else to turn them in.”
“So basically it’s me and Brittany.”
Lamar drifted to the door, Cameron beside him. “Problem here?”
“Ray says the guns are his,” Burke said.
Lamar faced Ray. “It’s the rules, Ray. We all have to live by them.”
“The guns aren’t community property. We had them before we ever met you.”
“Ray, if you’re not on security, and you’re not on the hunting crew, why do you need a gun?”
“Because they’re mine, not yours, like the rest of my gear. I’ll keep them in my room if that makes you feel better.”
“Ray, do as the men ask. It’s not optional.”
“No chance.”
“Ray, be sensible. If you are not going to comply, what do you expect us to do?”
“Lamar, I’ve been helping protect this place since it was built. Why am I suddenly a threat?”
“It’s not personal, Ray. Everyone knows you were on security. Everyone knows you have guns. We can’t ask for theirs and ignore yours. What would I tell people?”
“You’re good with words. You’ll think of something.”
Danny Vallen and another security man sidled up next to Cameron.
Lamar scanned the growing crowd, his brow wrinkled. “Ray, if that’s the way it is, then there’s only two ways this can end. Either you leave on your own, or we will be forced to put you out.”
“I’ll get my things.”
“Not the guns, Ray.”
“Lamar, I will take with me what I brought. Fair by any man’s standard.”
“You will walk out of here with the clothes on your back.”
Times What They Are Page 43