Valley of Vengeance: Book Five in The Borrowed World Series

by Franklin Horton

  “There!” Barnes jabbed the screen with his finger.

  “Where?” Sword asked, his eyes still on the drone.

  “By the drug store.”

  Sword turned the drone in that direction.

  “Angle down,” Barnes ordered. “Can’t see shit.”

  Sword slowed the drone and angled the camera.

  “You got it,” Barnes said. “Don’t move.”

  “What is it?” asked one of the bystanders.

  “Looks like a truck and side-by-side ATV,” Barnes said. “Pull back, Sword. Don’t spook them.”

  Sword did as he was told, pulling the drone back and taking it up. Barnes and the men beside him watched the screen in silence, tracking the movement of the two vehicles through town.

  “I think they’re coming this way,” Barnes said. He lifted his radio to his mouth. “Rooftop, this is Barnes.”

  “Rooftop here,” replied the sniper Barnes had stationed on top of the building. He rotated through several positions over the course of the day, monitoring the surrounding roads, fields, and parking lots through rifle scope.

  “I’ve got a truck and a UTV that may be headed this way. They’re travelling together. We’ve got the drone tracking them and I want you to keep an eye out. If they pass by, get tight on them and tell me what you see.”

  “Roger that,” Rooftop replied.

  “They’re definitely coming this way,” said another of the men. “They’re going to pass right by the store.”

  A tone sounded from the radio, then a voice. It was Rooftop. “I have visual.”

  “You want me to keep on them?” Sword asked.

  Barnes nodded. “Hang back a little but don’t lose them.”

  “I have a Kawasaki Mule,” Rooftop said. “Two occupants. An older man and a teenager. Behind them I have a big Chevy diesel with two occupants. Both male. Both vehicles are hauling trailers packed full of crap. Looks like someone is moving.”

  “Recognize anyone?” Barnes asked.

  “That’s a negative,” Rooftop replied. “I can get you a tag number on the truck.”

  “Lot of fucking good that does,” Barnes said. “You know the system is down.”

  “They’re turning off the main road. I’m losing them. They’re headed down the creek road.”

  “You hear that, Sword?” Barnes asked.

  “I’m on them.”

  “Get in closer,” Barnes ordered. “I don’t want to lose them.”

  “I’m not going to lose them,” Sword said. “Does it look like I’m losing them?”

  “Shut your mouth and do your job,” Barnes barked.

  Barnes kept his eyes glued to the portable monitor, watching from above as the vehicles followed the winding road, moving in and out of shadow, getting lost beneath trees for fractions of a second.

  “They must not live down that road,” said another of the officers. “If they did, they’d know the road had been blown up.”

  Barnes shrugged, continuing to watch.

  “They can’t go much further,” the other man said. “They’re less than a quarter mile from where the road ends.”

  “They slowing down!” Barnes said.

  The vehicles slowed, then turned left through an open gate. Both vehicles pulled through, then the passenger of the rear vehicle got out and closed the gate. The man walked briskly back to the truck and climbed in. The Kawasaki Mule proceeded on, fording the shallow river. The Chevy began to move too, then its brake lights flashed and it stopped.

  Both doors on the truck flew open and the men sprang out.

  Barnes looked confused. “What the hell?” Flashes indicated that rifles were being fired in the direction of the drone.

  “Get that thing out of there!” Barnes yelled. “Pull back! Pull back!”

  The microphone on the drone picked up the whizzing sound of bullets narrowly missing the drone. Sword worked the controls, managing to maneuver the drone out of danger before it was hit.

  “We lost them,” Sword said.

  “That’s okay,” Barnes replied. “We know where they’re going and how they got there. We’ll wait for things to cool off and send the drone out exploring again later.”

  “I’ll recharge it,” Sword said.

  “Rooftop?” Barnes said, speaking into his radio.

  “Rooftop here.”

  “If you see any of those other cops heading toward the creek road, take them out,” Barnes said.

  “Cops?” Rooftop asked. “You want me to take out cops?”

  “Yeah,” Barnes replied. “That a problem?”

  There was a hesitation before the response. “No sir.”

  “Let me remind you we’re on an open channel,” came a voice from the radio. It was a Hugh. “You can be overheard by other local law enforcement monitoring this frequency.”

  “I hope they did hear that,” Barnes said. “Maybe it means they’ll stay the hell away and we won’t have to kill any of them. If there is a tanker, it’s ours.”

  Chapter 17

  The Valley

  Buddy had gotten out of Jim’s truck to shut the gate when he heard the high-pitched whine. For a moment he thought he’d stepped on an underground yellow jacket nest. Then the whine changed pitch and Buddy knew it was one of those drones. He didn’t know much about them, but it was a noise you didn’t forget, kind of like a flying weedeater. He tried not to react, continuing on to shut the gate just as he’d planned, but as soon as he got back in the truck he told Jim.

  “We’re being followed,” he said. “There’s a drone hovering behind us.”

  “Shit!” Jim said. “Grab your rifle. Let’s see if we can shake them up a little.”

  The two men burst from the cab of the truck and raised their weapons. Jim had the little AR pistol but it had a thirty-round mag. He shouldered it, placed his red dot on the drone, and began dumping the mag as fast he could pull the trigger. Buddy was carrying his lever-action and sent several carefully aimed rounds at the drone but neither managed to hit it, although they did succeed in driving it away. Jim figured it might be hard to get replacement parts for the device. The owners wouldn’t want to see it damaged.

  “Who do you think sent that?” Buddy asked.

  Jim shook his head. “I don’t know. The regular cops, the bad cops, or some other group that we got no fucking clue about. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They returned to the truck, secured their weapons, and climbed in. Jim put the truck in four wheel drive, going as fast as he could, which was not very fast at all. The farm road they were travelling was meant for tractors and ATVs. It was not meant for speed. Behind them, the trailer bounced and rattled.

  In a few minutes, they reached the gate that took them to Jim’s house. Pete had left the gate open and Jim drove through, shutting it behind them. Pete and Pops had stopped in front of the house and were waiting on Jim and Buddy.

  “What were you shooting at, Dad?” Pete asked.

  “A drone.”

  “Really?”

  Jim nodded.

  “What the heck is a drone?” Pops asked.

  “It’s like a toy helicopter,” Pete said. “The good ones have cameras and can fly a long way.”

  “Why is the drone following us a big deal?” Pops asked.

  “Someone might have heard that we have a tanker and is trying to find it.”

  Pops frowned. “I mentioned the tanker to that young man that pulled us over. You think he might have mentioned it to someone?”

  Jim took a deep breath. He didn’t want to get frustrated with his dad. He let the breath out. “That tanker is probably the most important secret in town right now. If word of it spreads, we’ll be having company on a regular basis.”

  Pops looked concerned now. “I didn’t think I was giving away anything important. I was just making small talk with the man.”

  “We have to be very careful what we say from now on,” Jim said. “Even small talk can be dangerous if you say the
wrong thing. People will kill us to take what we have.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pops said.

  “It’s okay,” Jim said. “We’ve all done things we shouldn’t. This is new territory for all of us. Let’s just make sure to maintain operational security in the future.”

  “What’s that?” Pops asked.

  “It means keep your big mouth shut,” Pete said, grinning.

  Pops reached over and clouted Pete playfully.

  “How about we see if we can fit these trailers in the barn for now,” Jim said. “It looks like it might rain and I’m not ready to unload all of this now.”

  “I miss those weather apps,” Pops said wistfully.

  “I miss video games,” Pete said.

  “I miss pizza,” Jim added.

  “I miss the Frostie Bossie,” said Buddy.

  Pops snorted. “They’ve been closed for thirty years.”

  “And I’ve missed them for all thirty of those years,” Buddy said. “I can still taste their chocolate milkshakes.”

  “While you all reminisce, I’m going to back this trailer into the barn,” Jim said. “Then I’m going to run to Gary’s and get this mattress off the roof. While I’m gone, you all stick your trailer in the barn.”

  “You want us to unload the Mule while we’re at it?” Pete asked.

  “Go ahead and unload it in the house,” Jim said.

  “You need me to go with you, Jim?” Buddy asked.

  “Nah, I’m just going to unhook and run. I don’t want this mattress to get wet if it starts raining.”

  Chapter 18

  The Valley

  After helping Pops and Pete unload, Buddy returned to his house to find a half-drunk Randi and a half-drunk Lloyd sitting on the front porch. Two empty mason jars sitting on the porch told the whole sordid tale. Randi worked a rocking chair, her eyes half-closed, the creaking chair having lulled her into a stupor. Lloyd was creaking in another chair, plucking at the banjo with his remaining fingers, easing out some tune in an odd key that Buddy didn’t recall ever hearing before.

  He’d barely beat the rain. In fact, he could see it pursuing him across the fields of tall brown grass. It moved as a sheet, sweeping toward him as he hurried up his driveway. He reached the shelter of his porch as the first large drops fell on his warm shoulders. It felt good but the deluge appeared substantial enough that it would turn him into a drowned rat in short order if he didn’t get out of it.

  He scrambled up the steps and the train-like roar of the rain grew. There was no wind so it came straight down, pounding the metal roof of the little house.

  Randi nodded at him. “Afternoon.”

  Buddy smiled. “I might start to think less of you if you don’t improve the quality of the company you keep.”

  Lloyd played on, oblivious to the world around him. His eyes were closed. Wherever the tune had originated, elsewhere in time and place, Lloyd was there.

  “I’ve been here a while but I didn’t want to leave until I had a chance to talk with you,” Randi said.

  Buddy held up his hands. “If you want to file a complaint about Lloyd, there ain’t nothing I can do. I tried to raise the boy right and it just didn’t take. You know how it goes. They pick up the banjo, make a deal with the devil, and it’s downhill from there.”

  Randi continued to smile. It was the calmest, the most at peace, that Buddy had ever seen her. Or maybe she was just drunk.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lloyd you want to talk about, what can I do for you?”

  Randi looked him in the eyes. “I need your help.”

  Buddy took a seat on the edge of the porch, leaning back against a support post at the foot of Randi’s rocking chair. “At your service. What can I do for you?”

  Randi sighed as if resurrecting the story would take some effort. “I tried to make what I thought was the best decision for my family. I decided to let Lisa Cross go and put that feud behind me. I didn’t want to get killed and leave my family with no one. They’ve already lost too much.”

  “But you can’t do it, can you?”

  Randi paused, searched for words she couldn’t find, then just nodded at him.

  “I understand,” Buddy said. “No explanation needed.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “Did Lloyd tell you what I did?”

  Randi shook her head. “He said you had some experience in the vengeance department, but that was it.”

  Buddy’s face sagged, as if the recollection drained him. “There was a man I felt was responsible for my daughter’s death. From the moment she died until the moment he died, it was like I didn’t have control of my body. I was being driven by outside forces and I couldn’t stop them. I knew the only thing that would make the world right again was to kill that man.”

  “Did you?” Randi asked. “Did you kill him?”

  “I did. And I made him suffer. I made him wait for his death. As I walked away from the smoke of his burning house, it was like the fog around me was clearing for the first time since Rachel’s death. I came back to my senses and barely knew where I was or how I got there. The Lord shaped me into an instrument of his wrath. Until the full stroke of his fiery sword was complete, I had no control of my body or mind.”

  “I know completely what you mean,” Randi said. “I feel like I’m moving contrary to the forces of the world. Like I’m holding back the rain when all a thirsty world wants is a cool drink of water from the sky.”

  “How can I help you?” he asked. “You just needed to get that off your chest or you need something more practical?”

  She looked at him again. “I’ve killed people, Buddy. I’m not at peace with it, but I know that I did what had to be done. I’ve never stalked a human being. I need to know how to get close to this woman and kill her.”

  Buddy thought this over. “Safest way is for you to shoot her with a scoped rifle. Less of a chance of you getting hurt. She’ll die just the same.”

  “I thought about that,” Randi said. “I’m not sure it would ease the burning inside me. I need to look in her eyes when I do it. I need her to see who killed her. Does that make me a shitty person?”

  Buddy laughed. “I ain’t one to pass judgment and throw stones. That’s how I did it too. I talked to him about it. I explained to him who I was and why I was killing him. I listened to his screams as he died and it almost shames me to say it, but I found great satisfaction in those screams.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “It leaves a mark,” Buddy said. “You kill someone up close and personal, it burns an image into your brain that ain’t so easy to erase. You’ll have to learn to live with it.”

  “I need something burned in there that will cover the image of my sweet mother laying there in her own blood. I would rather be tortured by the image of Lisa Cross dying at my hand than to see my dead mother in my head every day.”

  Buddy nodded. “I can help you. We’ll need to find her first, make sure she’s still living in the same place. We’ll have to gather a little intelligence on her living situation. We need to know who she’s living with, what their security is like, how tightly they’re wound.”

  “How do we get all that?”

  “We go on a recon patrol,” Buddy said. “We could take your horses and maybe set up a camp at your old house. We watch her for a couple of days and figure out her patterns. When we find a vulnerability, we exploit it. That’s when you strike.”

  The volume of the rain decreased abruptly, the tail end of the brief storm passing. It was still raining, but gentler now.

  “You’ll go with me?”

  “We can leave tomorrow if you want.”

  “No use procrastinating,” she said. “I’ll be ready in the morning.”

  “I’ll come by first thing,” he told her. “Saddle me a horse.”

  Randi stood and wobbled. Buddy rose, ready to catch her if she tumbled off the porch. She steadied herself, turned to Buddy, and threw her arms around him. “Thank
you.”

  “You sure you’re okay to get home?” Buddy asked.

  “The horse knows the way,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s still raining.”

  “I like it. Maybe it will sober me up a little. I go home drunk and my daughters will give me shit.”

  She turned to Lloyd, prepared to say good-bye, but found him asleep. She and Buddy had been so engrossed in their conversation they hadn’t noticed the tapering and fading of the banjo music. Lloyd’s head was thrown back, the banjo cradled in his arms.

  She and Buddy both shook their heads in amusement.

  “He’s one of a kind,” Buddy said.

  “Thank God,” Randi said.

  Chapter 19

  Alice

  Alice had never experienced her family farm in the way she was experiencing it now. Despite the fact that they were all alive and they had some livestock and provisions, the entire place was gray and lifeless. The world seemed to filter the light before it reached them, taking away those colors of the spectrum that imparted any beauty and pleasure into their lives. All that remained was dull and draining. She found herself with no energy and no motivation. She couldn’t decide if the problem was with her or with the world. She wondered if she had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It would only be logical that she did have some lingering effects from her experiences.

  Her son seemed oblivious to the collapse of the way things had been. He quickly adapted to carrying a weapon around all the time and performing farm chores from daylight to dusk. He’d never spent very much time on the farm and he was making up for that now. It was like he was born to do it. Pat was sharing a lifetime of knowledge with her grandson and he absorbed it like a sponge.

  Without the convenience of power and plentiful fuel, although Charlie had to do things the old fashioned way, he didn’t seem to care at all. He was just as comfortable digging with a shovel as a tractor. He preferred walking over riding an ATV around the farm. If he had to move two dozen fence posts, he didn’t care to put them on his shoulder, one by one, and walk them to where he needed them. It was like he was made to live at this pace.