The signs were crudely made, but the messages were clear.
Justice had never been particularly pretty when a person was found guilty, but a year ago such justice would have been delivered away from the public eye. No one really wanted to know what the day-to-day life in prison was like. No one wanted to see an execution up close. It was easier to rest in the comfortable knowledge that things were being taken care of and go about your day. They’d become somewhat immune to the concepts of justice and punishment.
Justice had always been harsh—it was just that they had managed to move it out of the public eye, out of the town square. Perhaps that had been a mistake.
Gabe toggled the radio twice. They’d decided to maintain radio silence in case anyone happened upon their frequency. The two beeps, like a private Morse code, signaled for them to tighten their formation and stop.
Their group stepped out of the vehicles—all seven of them. Hugo and his men remained handcuffed within.
“We’re actually going to do this?” Shelby asked.
“We are.” Gabe’s voice sounded rock solid. It brought Max back to his senses. This wasn’t an apocalyptic movie or a Western novel. There was nothing exciting or romantic or remotely heroic about leaving three thugs outside the gates of this town. And there was no question as to what would happen to them once they were found by the authorities.
Max understood that Hugo and his men had murdered and robbed. There were no longer any courts to hear their case, or appeals to be filed, or lawyers to hire. There was this desolate stretch of road, their nightmarish reality, and the guarded gates farther ahead.
“And we don’t want to walk them in? To explain to the authorities why…” Shelby pushed black curls away from her face. “Why we’re leaving them.”
“Trust me, that won’t be necessary. The only question is why someone from Wichita Falls hasn’t taken care of them before now.”
“Probably they knew enough to stay away from the town,” Patrick said. “Instead, they preyed on those making their way to and from.”
Bianca turned in a circle. “But where do we leave them?”
Patrick nodded toward a four-plank wooden fence that bordered the highway. On the far side in the distance, Max could make out horses grazing. Bluebonnets lay across the field like patches on a faded pair of blue jeans.
“That will do,” Gabe said. “Let’s get them out and be on our way.”
Hugo began shrieking when they pulled him out of the Hummer, kicking his feet and twisting back and forth.
Patrick came within an inch of his face as Gabe and Max held his arms. “We still have the stun gun, and there’s just enough juice in it to give you a good buzz. Is that what you want?”
Hugo went slack, all of the fight sucked out of him.
Not that he helped them in any way.
His body hung like deadweight between them.
They dragged him to the fence, cuffed him around a post, and went after his buddies. When they were done, all three men sat facing the road, their arms pulled behind them and cuffed to the fence, their legs secured together with a rope, a space of eight feet between them.
It was Bianca who stopped, turned to face them, and said, “If you believe in God, now is the time for you to make your peace with him. It may be the only chance you have left.”
They all turned and walked back to the vehicles, resuming their original places. Gabe in the Hummer with Lanh and Carter. Bianca and Patrick in the Mustang. Max and Shelby leading in the Dodge.
As a lawyer, Max would have preferred a trial with a judge and jury. But some time in the last nine months, he had accepted that trials were a thing of the past—for now, not forever. They were a land, a people, based on laws. He prayed he would see the day when they returned to those laws, to a place of justice and fairness, where a person was innocent until proven guilty.
There was no doubt that Hugo was guilty. They’d seen it with their own eyes. They’d heard it with their own ears.
Still, it was a relief to drive away. Max didn’t speak. Shelby wrote furiously in her journal, as if she couldn’t get the words on the paper quickly enough.
He spared one last glance in the rearview mirror at the men who would soon pay for their deeds, and then he turned his attention to the road ahead.
THIRTY
What if we can’t find a way to cross the border?” Shelby clutched her journal in her lap.
“We’ll find a way.”
She’d been writing in the journal since they’d left Hugo handcuffed to the fence. She was writing down every detail, and that was good. Max didn’t want to forget the things they’d seen or the things they’d done. He didn’t want anyone to forget what life had become, because if they forgot? Then they could lose sight of what society had been, of what a civilized justice system looked like.
“If we can’t find a road across, an open road across, then what?”
“We’ll leave the Dodge and the Mustang and continue on in the Hummer. Gabe could drive that thing through any roadblock, and maybe…if we found a shallow enough spot…even across the river itself without the help of a road.”
“Sounds like a bad idea.”
“Which is why we won’t do that unless we have to.”
Shelby nodded and stuffed her journal into her pack. Max was aware that she already knew the answers to her questions, but sometimes asking them aloud helped.
The Red River ran for more than 1300 miles, and more than 600 miles of that was in Texas. He couldn’t remember the exact numbers. It was a tributary of the Mississippi and Atchafalaya rivers. Originating at the Minnesota and North Dakota borders, it flowed east across the Texas Panhandle and through Palo Duro Canyon. His parents and Shelby’s parents had taken them on vacation there once—to hike the trails and camp for five nights.
He glanced over at Shelby, and in his mind he could see that younger girl, the one who had tagged along until he’d realized she wasn’t a girl any longer but was becoming a young woman. He’d fallen head over heels for Shelby Sparks his senior year of high school, and his biggest regret in life was that he hadn’t held on to her when he’d had the chance.
After leaving the panhandle, the river formed the border between Texas and Oklahoma. Strange that now so much depended on their being able to cross it. They had to cross it to travel into Oklahoma, to make it to the Flint Hills of Kansas. The Hummer might have been able to descend the nearly vertical bank, but the Dodge and Mustang didn’t stand a chance. Yet once down, could the Hummer cross water? Max had no idea. He understood that the better option was to find a bridge that still allowed access.
The most direct route across the river was I-44. They didn’t hold out much hope that it would be open, but all other routes were a substantial detour. They’d voted to give it a try.
“Looks like another roadblock,” Shelby said.
Max immediately braked. They were still a good distance back. In fact, he wouldn’t have seen the barricade if it hadn’t been for sun glinting off windshields.
He picked up the radio and keyed up Gabe and Patrick. “Go around?”
“We need to know what we’re up against here.” The Hummer was in the middle of their small caravan. Max could look in his rearview mirror and see Gabe scratching his jaw.
He glanced at Shelby, who was still staring through her binoculars. “I’ll volunteer,” he said.
“Take someone with you.”
“I need to stretch my legs.” Bianca was out of the Mustang and walking toward them before Max could argue.
“Looks like you get to ride with Patrick.”
“Never turn down a ride in a Mustang.” Shelby unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, and then turned back to him. “Be careful.”
“You worried about me, Sparks?”
“Always.”
Bianca took her place.
“Why are you so eager to head into trouble?”
“You might need my translation skills.”
“Actually, that’s a good point.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada.”
She rolled her eyes at his terrible accent.
“We’re going to follow you until you’re fifty yards out,” Gabe said. “Just as a sign of support.”
Bianca pulled the radio from Max’s hand. “Please don’t start a gun battle with us in the middle.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, sweetheart.” Patrick’s voice was smooth and confident, but Max wondered how much of that was for show. It didn’t matter how many times they faced danger. His own reaction was the same—pulse racing, heartbeat thumping in his ears, sweat running down the back of his neck. It wasn’t something you got used to—at least he hadn’t.
He, Patrick, and Gabe were all progressively minded and wouldn’t have thought of suggesting the girls stay back while the men took care of the bad guys. How could they? Bianca and Shelby had earned their spots on this trip. They were each as good a shot as Max, calm and steady when pressured, and quick to assess a situation. Carter and Lanh had also matured in the last year. They were a solid team, and that was the way they would cross into Oklahoma—as a team.
Which might be easier said than done by the look of the barricade in front of them. Max and Bianca stopped well back from the guards standing directly in front of the roadblock. Unlike most of the other blockades they’d come across, this one wasn’t a straight line across the road. Cars had been pushed into position so that the way through was a zigzag, and there were sentries at every turn. Even if they made it past the front guards, which they wouldn’t, they would have to deal with a new threat at each zig and zag.
“Don’t come any closer.” This from a man in his thirties with an enormous belly, bald head, no neck to speak of, and large ears. In spite of the fact that he was holding what looked like an AK-47, he reminded Max of Shrek. Paint him green, and you’d have an identical match.
“Fair enough.” Max held up his hands to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon, though it was plain there was one in his holster, and he wore his pack, which had his rifle. Bianca was similarly armed.
“We’d like to cross here,” Bianca said.
“Sure.” Shrek nodded toward the maze behind him. “We’d be happy to open it up.”
Bianca glanced at Max, and he knew what she was thinking. It couldn’t be that easy.
“All you have to do is pay the toll.”
The two goons beside Shrek snickered, and Max’s temper began to spike. “You do realize this is a public road.”
“Was. Isn’t no more.”
“And I guess you decided that.”
“Me and my rifle. Which would you rather argue with?”
Bianca took a step forward. “What’s the toll?”
“Both your packs, and whatever is in them, plus your weapons. Give us that, and we’ll let you and your friends through.”
Max was considering shooting the guy. He knew it would be a stupid move, but the temptation was just so strong. His hand actually twitched in an urge to touch the butt of his gun when a jeep traveled through the maze, pulled to a stop next to Shrek, and a Hispanic man stepped out.
“Do we have a problem here?”
“They don’t want to pay the toll, boss.”
“Is that so?” Then in a low voice he said, “Está bien. No te preocupes.” He half turned to his goons and continued speaking in Spanish, causing the men to laugh and catcall.
Max’s Spanish was rudimentary at best, but he caught the words for momma and babe and good time. It didn’t take someone fluent in the language to catch their meaning—that and the way they were ogling Bianca, which probably explained why she lost her temper.
Stepping forward, she shouted, “It is a problem. Queremos cruzar por aqui.”
“Pagar el peaje?”
“No hay necesidad. It’s a public road!”
Max reached out to pull her back at the same time Shrek raised his rifle.
“We need to talk to our friends,” Max said. “We’ll see what we can work out.”
“Bien por mi. And take that hot tamale with you before she gets you killed.”
“They’re likely to shoot us in the back.” Bianca’s face was a dangerous shade of red, and her body was rigid, ready to fight.
“Why would we do that?” The leader cocked his head and studied her as if she were a curiosity, though no doubt he’d done this a dozen times before. “If we shoot you, then your friends would feel the need to shoot my men, and we’d have more bodies to clean up. In case you haven’t figured it out, this is the only road across for many miles. Go and talk to your friends. No se preocupe. You’ll be back.”
But Max knew they wouldn’t be. One way or another, they would find another way across.
THIRTY-ONE
Carter and Lanh rode in the Hummer. Lanh sat up front, holding the radio and monitoring the right side of the road. Carter was scanning the left side, while Gabe kept his eyes straight ahead, attuned to anything out of the ordinary. Capturing and leaving Hugo had been intense. Carter hadn’t felt pity for the guy. Letting him go would only result in more innocent folks being killed or injured, but he did feel a stab of regret at what the world had become. Or perhaps it had always been that way, and he just hadn’t been paying attention.
Twice they’d stopped to leave Hugo’s boxes of food with families—farmers working in the fields, women hanging laundry, kids peering out at them from barns and garages and once from a tree fort. When they asked about a road to Oklahoma, no one had a good answer. The next hour passed in a haze of frustration. Every road they tried, every road that might possibly lead to a bridge crossing the Red River, was blocked.
“Why do they want people to stay in Texas so badly?” Lanh asked.
“There are a limited number of access points, so it’s a naturally good place to set up a toll booth.”
“Is that how you think of it? A toll booth?”
Gabe shrugged as he met Carter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “People will take advantage of a situation.”
“Drastic times…” Carter said.
“And drastic measures.” Lanh scanned the map in his lap. “We’ve tried just about every road except this one, which takes us too far east.”
“If it’s the only way north, that’s the way we go.”
But it too was blocked. The Hummer might have been able to ram its way through the ragtag pile of sedans, but not without a firefight.
“Not worth it,” Patrick had said the last time they’d stopped to discuss it. No one wanted to see more bloodshed.
There had to be another way.
They backtracked again, the day growing darker around them, the air heavy with the promise of rain. They were driving through a wooded area now. At last, the trees parted. They came to a crossroads of sorts and pulled into a parking lot in front of a long-abandoned, burned-out gas station. In fact, there was little of the original structure remaining—mostly charred counters and shelves, plus a small section of one wall.
No roof.
No shelter at all.
Gabe slapped the map on the hood of the Hummer, and everyone circled up. “At this rate, it might be a good idea to drive west, cross along the New Mexico border, and then wind our way north and east back to Kansas.”
His mother kicked at the dirt with her hiking boot. When she noticed Carter watching her, she smiled weakly and said, “What?”
He rolled his eyes and laughed, but then he turned to look for Lanh and caught sight of the western sky.
“Uh, guys. That doesn’t look so good.”
Everyone was still talking about their route and discussing different options, though they all sounded the same because there were only two options: force their way through or keep searching for an alternate route.
But what Carter saw scared him more than anything they were saying, so he put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. When everyone turned to stare at him, he pointed west.
“We h
ave a problem.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Bianca murmured, moving forward to stand beside him. The wall of clouds was massive, and there was a distinctive line between the darker clouds to the front and the greenish ones behind it. “Que Dios nos ayude.”
“Could be only a hailstorm if we’re lucky,” Shelby said.
“It came up all of a sudden.” Patrick’s voice was grave, worried.
But it was Max who got them all moving. “We need to go…now!”
Gabe grabbed the map and tossed it at Lanh, who began folding it up. “Tight formation. Looks like we have ten, maybe fifteen minutes before it reaches us.”
“There was an abandoned farmhouse two miles back.” Max was jogging to the Dodge. They were all running as the day turned eerily dark, though it was only one in the afternoon. The massive wall cloud barreling toward them had blocked all remnants of the setting sun.
“How did we not notice that?” Lanh asked.
“Trees kept us from seeing it.” Gabe clutched the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “And we were distracted. We should have been paying attention.”
The pecan and oak trees lining the road began to sway back and forth, nearly meeting in the middle of the road.
Carter leaned forward, sticking his head into the space between the front seats.
“You’re not from here, are you? From Texas?”
Gabe and Lanh both shook their heads.
“I’ve seen this before—in San Antonio a couple of times,” Gabe admitted. “I grew up in New York, though. Give me a blizzard over a tornado any day.”
“Happened a couple of times in Austin too.” Lanh finished folding the map and stuffed it into his pack. “But we had…you know. Tornado sirens and stuff. I got into the tub with my phone and my laptop.”
“We saw this sort of thing a couple of times a year in Abney, but they were usually small or just skipped over us. The last big one to touch down there was in the ’70s—we had to study about it in school, which I thought was pretty lame.”
A deer darted toward the road, and then it pivoted and dashed back into the woods. Gabe didn’t even slow. They were following Max, and he was going seventy, maybe eighty miles an hour.
Light of Dawn Page 12