Redzone

by William C. Dietz

  There was no reaction. Each minute felt like an hour. There were no more howls, and Lee was left to ponder the meaning of that. Had the pack lost her trail? Were they off chasing a rabbit? Or were they only twenty yards away—preparing to charge up the narrow corridor?

  The answer came in the form of a huge beast that attacked from above. Having found its way up onto the rocks, and done so silently, it dropped into the passageway not six feet away. Lee tried to pin the green dot on the target and fired. Both bullets went wide.

  Lee didn’t know if that was as a result of her failure to zero the laser sight earlier or a bad case of nerves. Whatever the reason she resolved to rely on her natural talent and triggered the flashlight. The dog was airborne by then. Lee fired and saw a splash of blood where the bullet struck but knew that the mutimal would hit her. It did. And the force of the blow drove all of the air out of her lungs. Had a second dog attacked the fight would have been over. Fortunately, none did. And as Lee tilted the flashlight down she saw that the dead dog had a white spot on its back. It twitched, and she shot it again.

  Silence settled over the scene. Lee checked her watch. It was 10:22. Dawn was still a long ways off. Should she venture out? Or wait for sunrise? Daylight would even the odds quite a bit. With that in mind Lee resigned herself to spending the rest of the night where she was. The first order of business was to reload the Glock—plus the magazine that had been in the Glock.

  Once that was accomplished Lee took an energy bar and a bottle of water out of the pack, put them off to one side, and turned the flashlight off. The batteries were relatively new, but she didn’t have any backups. Then, with the Glock and flashlight within easy reach, Lee ate the energy bar and drank half a bottle of water. The air was cold . . . And she was wearing everything she had.

  There was the sleeping bag, though, which she could unzip and drape around her shoulders. That helped, but as the adrenaline began to fade, she felt sleepy. A sudden chorus of bloodcurdling howls took care of that. Lee suspected that the pack knew that one of their members was dead—and this was their way of mourning him. She braced herself for another attack, but none came.

  The minutes and hours seemed to crawl by. Lee heard movement from time to time and was on guard against another drop-in. But it appeared that the dogs were smart enough to avoid making the same mistake twice.

  Then the sun rose. And as the lavender light found its way down into the passageway, Lee got a better look at the animal sprawled in front of her. And that was when she noticed the collar around the dog’s thick neck. What did that mean? That the big brute was a stray? Probably. Such things were common. There were tens of thousands of such dogs in Pacifica . . . And police officers had to shoot hundreds of them each year.

  As the light level continued to increase Lee knew that the time had come. She held a pistol in each hand as she stood. Everything else would be left behind. Assuming she won the battle, the supplies would be there waiting for her. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Maybe someone would find her badge and mail it to LA.

  There was a queasy feeling in the pit of Lee’s stomach as she stepped over the body and made her way forward. She paused just short of the open area and took a careful look around. There was no sign of the dogs other than piles of fresh feces. Had they left? Or were they hiding? There was one sure way to find out.

  Lee sprinted out into the very center of the open area, brought both weapons up, and started to turn. The targets seemed to materialize out of nowhere. They were crouched low, teeth bared, ready to attack. If Lee had a gift, it was the ability to shoot. One-handed, two-handed, it didn’t matter. But with four dogs coming at her from different directions that talent might not be enough. Add to that the necessity to put at least two slugs into each mutimal, and the task was even more daunting.

  But Lee knew that the trick was to let go, and she did. The Smith & Wesson seemed to go off of its own accord. The first bullet entered the dog’s open mouth and blew a large chunk of meat out through the back of its head. The second clipped an outstretched paw but did no additional damage.

  Lee wanted to fire at the first animal again but knew that would be a mistake. So she sidestepped the incoming body even as she fired three rounds from the Glock. The first bullet missed the dog charging in from the left. That meant it was only four feet away when she fired three slugs into its hindquarters. One of them severed the mutimal’s spine, causing it to fall. It snapped futilely as it tried to sink its teeth into her.

  All of which was good—but not good enough. What felt like a sledgehammer hit Lee in the back. The force of the blow threw her forward. She hit the ground hard, the Glock popped loose, and skittered away.

  There was barely enough time to turn over before the remaining dogs were on her. One of the slavering beasts straddled her body and was about to go for her throat when the .357 magnum went off. The stubby barrel was only an inch away from the animal’s rib cage so the hollow point made a small hole going in and a big hole coming out. The dog died instantly and collapsed on top of her.

  Lee struggled to push the body off, and the corpse served as a temporary barrier between her and the last dog. It was a big beast with one ear and a black muzzle. It growled at her. And Lee, whose weight was resting on her left elbow, growled back. “Eat lead, asshole.”

  The bullets hit One Ear in the nose, an eye, and his throat. He went down in a welter of blood. Lee swore, rolled free of the body, and stood. Her legs were wobbly, and she felt dizzy. That went away after a moment, and she was about to return for her belongings, when she heard a whining noise. It came from the dog with the severed spine.

  As Lee went over to look at him she was surprised by the way she felt. The formerly frightening dog looked pitiful now, its brown eyes pleading with her as it tried to pull itself forward. “I’m sorry,” Lee said. And was surprised to discover that she meant it. She pulled the trigger, and the report echoed off the face of the nearby cliff.

  For the first time Lee had an opportunity to look north. A huge open pit mine was located directly in front of and below her. As she looked on, toy-sized earthmovers were being used to load the trucks that would haul the raw ore to the railroad for shipment west. Lee could hear the distant growl of their engines and imagine how hot the pit would be by midafternoon.

  The town of what she assumed to be Heartbreak was laid out grid-style, and consisted of low one- and two-story buildings, very few of which appeared to be homes. No, based on what Lee could see, most of the local residents were living in the shacks that clung to the slopes of the valley west of the mine. Was that where she would find her mother? Lee was determined to find out.

  Lee made her way back into the passageway where she had to step over the dead dog in order to retrieve her belongings. She hauled everything out into the open where it would be easier to repack, and was busy stuffing the sleeping bag into its sack, when she heard a distant buzzing sound. As Lee turned toward the sound, she saw that a small helicopter was flying straight at her from the west end of the valley. Her first impulse was to run. But she wasn’t ready to depart—and there was no place to run to.

  So Lee turned back to the task at hand and was finished by the time the chopper circled the top of the hill. Sunlight glinted off the aircraft’s bubble-shaped canopy—and she could see two people inside.

  By that time it was clear that the helicopter was going to land on the flat area adjacent to the sprawl of bodies. All Lee could do was stand and wait as the chopper settled onto its skids. The rotors made a whup, whup, whup sound as a man got out and paused to survey the carnage. Both barrels of his shotgun were resting on his right shoulder as he came forward to speak with her. But Lee knew that he could level the weapon in a heartbeat and fire just as quickly. He was wearing a cowboy hat, a fleece-lined leather jacket, and jeans. And once the man was closer Lee could see that he was walleyed. The face mask was ready, and she pulled it on.

  The man stopped. “You’re a norm,” he stated flatly.
/>   “Yes.”

  “We don’t get a whole lot of norms out this way,” the man said conversationally. “What did you use on the dogs? A machine pistol?”

  “Nope. A Glock and a .357 revolver.”

  The man uttered a low whistle. “That took some fancy shootin’. The old man’s gonna be pissed though . . . Them were his dogs.”

  “I thought they were wild.”

  “They are wild,” the man replied. “Or they were. But that don’t matter. The old man owns everything around here. And that includes the wild dogs. When they went off-line, he sent me out to take a look.”

  Lee frowned. “Off-line?”

  “You didn’t notice the collars? And the trackers? She-it, girl . . . Those animals were part of the company’s security system. So I’ve got to ask you to surrender those pistols. Then we’re gonna have a little meet and greet with the old man. Maybe you can work the cost off at the mine.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  The shotgun dropped so that both barrels were pointed at Lee’s chest. “Then I’m going to blow you in half.”

  Lee remained as she was. “And you are?”

  “Bruce Heevy. Boss Heevy’s son.”

  “I see. Okay, I’m going to open my jacket real slow and remove the Glock . . . Then I’m going to reach for the Smith & Wesson. It’s holstered at the small of my back. I will place both weapons on the ground and take three paces back.”

  Bruce nodded. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Get serious.”

  “I am serious. I have a badge and everything.”

  “Show it to me.”

  “Okay . . . I’m going to remove it from the inside pocket of my jacket.”

  Once the case was out in the open Bruce crooked a finger. “Toss it here.”

  Lee watched him make the one-handed catch and flip the case open. Bruce glanced at the ID card inside. “Cassandra Lee . . .” His eyes met hers. “What brings you to the town of Heartbreak, Detective Lee?”

  “I’m looking for my mother.”

  “And her name is?”

  “Alala Lee. Or Freedom Lee.”

  A look of surprise appeared on Bruce’s face. “Does she have dark skin?”

  “Yes. Darker than mine.”

  Bruce was silent for a moment. Then he laughed. “She-it! The old man’s gonna have a cow . . . Put those weapons on the ground, girl . . . And welcome to the town of Heartbreak.”

  SEVEN

  AFTER SURRENDERING HER weapons and submitting to a pat down, Lee was ordered onto the helicopter. She had ridden on choppers before—but never one so small. The backseat was barely wide enough to accommodate both her and the pack.

  Once Lee was belted in, Bruce secured her hands with a plastic zip tie he connected to the U-bolt mounted on the back of the front seat. A sure sign that the aircraft had been used to transport prisoners before.

  Then Lee and the pilot had to wait while Bruce retrieved all the dog collars. Would they be used to track another pack? Probably.

  Finally, after Bruce strapped himself into the front passenger seat, the chopper took off. The aircraft angled forward as it sped out over the mine and turned west. Its shadow blipped over excavators, support buildings, and the town of Heartbreak.

  * * *

  It wasn’t until the noise thing was gone that Silver emerged from hiding. She couldn’t comprehend what had taken place—but she was very familiar with the smell of death. And as Silver went over to nuzzle One Ear’s body, she made a whining noise deep in her throat.

  Then, overcome with emotion, she threw her head back and uttered a long, mournful howl. The sound was audible on the other side of the valley. A miner heard it and made the sign of the cross.

  * * *

  Lee’s thoughts were churning. Bruce Heevy was acquainted with her mother! And, more than that, seemed to feel that Boss Heevy would be interested in the fact that Alala had a daughter. Why? Lee caught a glimpse of a castlelike house as the helicopter circled it. Then the structure was behind her as the pilot brought the machine in for a soft landing on a pad just south of the mansion.

  Once on the ground Lee had to wait while the engine shut down and Bruce got out. He gave the dog collars to a man in blue overalls before turning back to Lee. His pocketknife was sharp enough to free her with a single cut. “Come on,” he said. “Word travels quickly in our house . . . And I want to be there when the old man gets the news! You can leave the pack . . . A servant will bring it in.”

  * * *

  The great room was truly great. The fireplace at the north end of the room was at least six feet tall and twelve feet wide. That made it large enough to roast a cow should Boss Heevy choose to do so. Plus, there was enough seating to handle thirty people, all of which was arranged to create interlocking conversation areas. Those walls not devoted to large windows were hung with dozens of hunting trophies. Some of them were nightmarish creatures that owed their existence to B. nosilla rather than the hand of God. Unless one believed, as some did, that B. nosilla had been sent by God to punish the human race.

  But Boss Heevy’s province was at the south end of the vast room, a good seventy-five feet from the fireplace, on a platform originally intended for use as a stage. It had been constructed so that Heevy’s sister could dance while their parents looked on. But Belinda had been gone for a long time—as were the man and woman who adored her.

  That left Heevy to use the platform as he saw fit—and it was a good place for his desk, some guest chairs, and the bookcases located to the right and left. And he loved books. Not for the sort of romantic nonsense that Belinda had favored. No, he liked books about geology, mining, and economics. All subjects that he’d been required to master in order to maintain the company and expand it.

  But who would follow him? Who would take the operation to the next level? That was the question that haunted Heevy. Hoss was too soft for the job, Bruce lacked the necessary intelligence, and James lacked ambition. Yes, the boy could be prodded into action. But when left to his own devices he preferred to play rather than work. Of course he was young, and with the passage of time . . .

  Such were Boss Heevy’s thoughts as he heard a commotion and looked up to see Bruce enter the room. Bruce and a boy, no, a girl, who was wearing a spit mask. An ugly then . . . Someone so hard to look at that she chose to hide her face. Was she the one responsible for killing 90 percent of pack two? No. It would take a group of people to accomplish that. Troublemakers most likely . . . Miners trying to leave the valley without paying what they owed to the company store.

  Bruce stopped just short of the stage so the girl did as well. “I’m back,” Bruce said.

  Heevy stood to circle the desk. His body was normal from the waist up. But his legs were so twisted that two canes were required in order to walk. “Yes,” Heevy said sarcastically. “I can see that. Who is this creature?”

  Bruce was enjoying himself. “This,” he said importantly, “is Detective Cassandra Lee. She’s looking for her mother . . . A woman named Alala.”

  Heevy frowned. “That’s what she told you? And you were stupid enough to believe it?”

  * * *

  Lee took a deep breath and removed the mask. A look of wide-eyed shock appeared on Heevy’s face. “No! It can’t be!”

  Lee pulled the mask back into place so that she could breathe. Now it was clear that both Heevys were acquainted with her mother. “Yes,” Lee said. “It can be—and it is. It seems that you know my mother. Where is she?”

  Heevy had regained his composure by then. His lower lip stuck out farther than the one above. And that gave him the look of an eternally petulant child. He forced a smile. “I’m sorry to say that she’s ill and has been for some time. She’s upstairs in her bedroom.”

  “She lives here?”

  “Of course. All three of my wives do.”

  Now it was Lee’s turn to feel a sense of shock. Married! And one of three wives? T
hat was a surprise to say the least—although Lee knew that polygamy was legal in the Republic of Texas. Her head was spinning. “Can I see her?”

  Heevy made his way down a flight of three stairs. “She sent for you?”

  “Yes. I had no idea where she was until I received the letter.”

  “May I ask what she told you? What brought you into the red zone?”

  “She said that she’s dying.”

  Heevy nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry to say that’s true. I will miss her greatly.”

  As Lee looked into Heevy’s brown eyes, she could see that it was true. Regardless of whether Heevy was good or bad, he was in love with her mother. And that possibility had never occurred to her. That someone could love the person who abandoned her. “I see,” Lee said awkwardly.

  “I will let Alala know that you’re here,” Heevy said gently. “And, assuming she feels up to it, I’m sure she’ll want to see you. In the meantime I have a question . . . Bruce mentioned that you’re a detective.”

  “Yes. With the Los Angeles Police Department. That’s how my mother knew where to find me. She’d seen me on television.”

  Heevy looked skeptical. “Here in the red zone?”

  “Yes. I followed a kidnapping victim across the border. That got some press down in Arizona.”

  Heevy nodded. “I’ll bet it did.” The real question, which was why Alala had chosen to keep Lee’s existence to herself, remained unsaid.

  “She’s a very good shot,” Bruce volunteered. “She took pack two down with a couple of pistols.”

  “How interesting,” Heevy said mildly. “That’s quite an accomplishment—and more than a little annoying. Normally, there would be severe consequences for such a thing. But, since you’re a member of the family, we’ll put it down to a misunderstanding.”