Nightwalker 4

by Frank Roderus

  When Charles came back he nodded and said, “They’re gone now. Pulled out for Daniel’s compound.”

  Wolfe turned to Jason and said, “Do they do this very often?”

  Jason shrugged. “They come through about once a month to check on us. I was afraid they might spot you as a stranger, but I guess they didn’t.” He chuckled. “I don’t think they are really very much interested in us. What they really want is to get to Daniel’s bunch.”

  “Why would they do that?” Wolfe asked.

  “Women. The girls who went with Daniel are on the wild side. The FedComs always make it a point to reach Daniel in the evening. They spend the night there and move on in the morning.”

  “Really,” Wolfe said, thinking. After a minute or so he said, “Where exactly is Daniel’s compound anyway?”

  “It’s a couple miles east of here. The place used to be a dude ranch. A real ranch before that. They know we’re no threat to them and we all used to be neighbors so they leave us alone.”

  “How many are there?”

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Forty or so would be my guess.”

  Wolfe smiled. “And three FedCom police tonight to go with those forty.”

  “For what that’s worth, yes.”

  “Thanks.” Wolfe finished his meal quickly, excused himself from the usual after-dinner conversation and returned to his room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wolfe closed the dog inside his room. It was not that he worried the animal would give him away. His concern was that the dog might feel compelled to take a bite out of someone. Better to leave well enough alone, he thought.

  Once it was full dark out, Wolfe slipped his goggles down around his neck, freeing his vision to probe the night and make possible the little journey he had in mind for the evening.

  With a quiet smile tugging at his lips, Wolfe left the former school building and, carrying no weapons except his knife, started east.

  By the time he had gone two miles he could see a glow a half mile or so ahead. He walked toward it, but cautiously now. When he was a few hundred yards distant he could hear the sounds of revelry. Someone was having a party, and he could guess who that might be.

  Daniel’s compound was a collection of cottages, sheds and a large barn. The barn was where the party was taking place.

  There was – Wolfe was surprised – electric light streaming out of the wide-open barn door.

  Intrigued, he looked for the source and was pleased when he found it. A small windmill, probably originally intended to be a garden decoration, was turning a generator taken from an automobile. The lights then were likely twelve-volt bulbs scavenged from a car or truck.

  And it worked nicely. Wolfe intended to take that suggestion back to the tribe at the school. They could surely make their own arrangement.

  That, however, was not what he had come for.

  He found the vehicle the FedCom police had arrived in. It was a small van, electric, which could transport prisoners in a cage in the back.

  The police had left their rifles inside the cage. The cage was secured with a padlock and hasp at the rear.

  Smiling, Wolfe took hold of the padlock and pulled, applying pressure until something inside broke.

  He removed the padlock and set it aside on the rear bumper of the little van then helped himself to an M16 and a vinyl container that held, or so the lid said, fifteen hundred rounds of .223 caliber cartridges.

  He took the rifle and ammunition then carefully replaced the padlock in the hasp. Likely when the lock was discovered broken they would think it had been defective to begin with. Until the rifle was found to be missing, that is. Then all Hell would break loose in Daniel’s compound.

  Wolfe set the carton of cartridges aside and took the M16 into one after another of the cottages until he found a civilian AR15 imitator of the M16, took it and left the stolen M16 in its place.

  When the switch was discovered it would cause confusion at the very least and criminal charges at the worst. But whatever happened, it would be Daniel and his tribe who were blamed.

  Wolfe tucked the AR15 under his arm, returned to the FedCom van and collected the carton of cartridges.

  Behind him the party continued to rock in the big barn. There was even loud music courtesy of the automotive electric system and a CD or MP3 player, also automotive.

  Yes, sir, he thought, Jason’s tribe was really going to like all this.

  Carrying his nocturnal ‘purchases’ and whistling a merry tune under his breath, Wolfe walked back to the former school building.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “My God, Wolfe. Two rifles! And all these cartridges,” Jason enthused. “I can’t believe you would just give them to us.”

  “Minus a couple hundred rounds of ammunition that I’m keeping, but you get the rest,” Wolfe said. “I want to keep those. But I do have spare M16s. I’m going to leave those with you too. I thought it over, and you folks can use these rifles. If you use them judiciously, the ammo should last you quite a while.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that you use up cartridges on small stuff like squirrels and rabbits, but you can bring down antelope…excuse me, pronghorns I think they are properly called…and the deer you can find in the brakes. Lots of meat on those.” He smiled. “I think your people will be eating better from now on. I hope so anyway.”

  “We owe you,” Jason said.

  “Not at all.”

  “Actually, Wolfe, we talked this over while you were gone. We would like you to join our tribe. You would be a most welcome addition.”

  “That’s nice of you and your people, Jason, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I have to at least try to make it back to Florida. I have no idea if my wife and son are still alive and, if they are, where they are. But I have to look for them. I have to find them if they are alive somewhere and looking for me to come to them.”

  “You’ll be leaving us then?”

  Wolfe nodded. “As soon as I can collect my things.”

  “If you reconsider…”

  “Thank you. Really. Thank you very much, all of you.”

  “Will you think it over at least?”

  “There’s nothing to think over, Jason. I have to get home. Or die trying. I hope you understand that.”

  Wolfe spent a few minutes explaining what he had seen of the electric lights and music and how to get them. He thought more about it and although he wanted to leave right away, there was one last bit of unfinished business.

  “Grab that bucket and follow me,” Wolfe said and walked away. The two went to the station where Wolfe thought he could get some of the diesel fuel from the tank. Although it would not be any good for a vehicle because it would go bad, it would burn just fine in a lamp. They pried off the cap for the underground tank. Wolfe stuck his face over it and breathed deeply. He closed his eyes and embraced the smell of diesel fuel. It brought good memories. When he opened his eyes, he found Jason staring at him.

  “I drove long haul. Smelled a lot of diesel in my day. Grab that garden hose over there and let’s see if we can get this thing done.”

  A one hundred foot hose would be tough to make work, but Wolfe wanted to give it a try. The good people trying to make a go at a new life deserved better than to sit in the dark. Wolfe dropped one end of the hose into the tank and then pulled it back up.

  “Eight foot drop,” he guessed. By the front of the station between it and the road, there was a ditch. “That should do it. We need this end to be lower than the one in the tank. Hold this in place.”

  Jason held the hose steady, letting it settle a few inches into the diesel. Wolfe stretched the hose until he was at the bottom of the ditch then he started swinging the end around in a circle, faster and faster. After about twenty seconds he heard the gurgle and then the fuel started spraying out. He slapped the end into the ground so it stayed lower than the tank, hurrying to get the bucket under it. When it filled, he lifted the hose to funne
l the remaining fuel back into the tank.

  He explained to Jason how to do it, and they traded places. Once Jason showed he knew how, they shook hands and returned to the school. Wolfe headed for the room where the dog and his gear were waiting.

  Wolfe wanted to resume their march south.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Jim. Wait.” Melinda was standing in the hallway when Wolfe and the dog emerged from his room.

  “Jim, please.”

  “What is it, Mel?” He softened his expression a little and then smiled. “Is it all right if I call you that?”

  Melinda laughed. “Really, Jim. We slept together last night. It isn’t like we need to be formal with each other now. Of course it is okay. You can call me pretty much anything you like. Just listen to me for a minute.”

  “All right.” He set his backpack on the floor and leaned his rifle against it. The dog settled on its haunches beside the pack, guarding its master’s gear, not that anything needed guarding here, but the dog was ready if need be.

  “I understand about your wife, Jim. You’re a good and faithful husband, and I admire that. I really do. There aren’t many like you anymore. But surely you know that your family was killed in the war.

  “Florida is loaded with military places. Was loaded, I mean. Surely the whole state was blasted to smithereens by all those atom bombs.

  “But, Jim, if you give me a chance I can be a good wife to you too. I’d be faithful. I would do everything for you. Everything. Anything. Just name it and I will do it.

  “Stay here, Jim. Stay with us, and let me be your wife. We can get Jason to…I don’t know. Give you a declaration as a single man, then marry us if that makes you feel better, or I would live with you as if a wife in every way. But stay here, I’m begging you. Stay with me.”

  Melinda took him by the arm and peered up into his face, her expression intense. The woman clearly meant what she was saying.

  Wolfe leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead, then just as gently removed her hand from his arm.

  “You may be right, Mel. You probably are. But until I know different, I am still married to my Lurleen, and nothing can really change that.”

  Tears began to flow from Melinda’s wide-open eyes. Her crying seemed somehow even more intense for the fact that she wept in complete silence, without sobbing or otherwise displaying the misery that overtook her.

  “I’m sorry,” Wolfe said. He picked up his pack and slung it onto his back.

  A quick motion of his hand and the dog was at his side, both of them eager to be on their way and make the most of what was left of the night.

  “Good-bye, Mel.”

  Melinda did not answer as Wolfe turned away and left the relative comforts of Jason’s tribe.

  He had done what he could to help them in the few days he had spent with them. It was up to them to use what he had given them to better their lives, whether hunting big game with the rifles, small game with the blowguns, or working under diesel-fueled lamps.

  Within minutes they – and Baggs – were out of sight behind him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Those are good people back there, dog,” Wolfe said as he marched resolutely on. “I wish them well.”

  The dog responded to his voice with a wag of its tail.

  Near dawn, with the eastern sky beginning to pale, Wolfe exchanged the rifle in his hands for his bow and a brace of arrows. He strapped the rifle to the side of his backpack where the bow had been.

  “Now to find us some breakfast.” He smiled. “Or supper, depending on how you want to look at it.”

  The dog wagged some more.

  They walked on, but slower now, until Wolfe spotted three rabbits grazing in a clearing. He motioned for the dog to sit, which it obediently did.

  He eased a little closer to the rabbits then sent a carefully aimed arrow flying. The nearest rabbit was skewered; the other two disappeared in a heartbeat.

  “It looks like we have our meal,” Wolfe said aloud. He made a throwing motion and the dog loped forward. It found the dead rabbit and brought it back to Wolfe, arrow and all.

  “Half for you and half for me,” Wolfe said as he set his pack down and withdrew the knife from his belt.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Aaaaaaaa!”

  Wolfe cried out, startled, and grunted when his head hit the ground. Hard. He heard a dull thud that drove deep in his skull.

  The next thing he knew it was daylight, and his goggles were still down around his neck. He must have been out for more than an hour.

  The direct, unfiltered sunlight felt like his eyeballs were being stabbed. He quickly reached for the goggles at his neck and pulled them up over his eyes.

  That was better but he was pretty sure he had broken something. His left leg hurt like crazy, and there was a throbbing in his head along with a sound like buzzing bees.

  The dog was lying close at his side. It whimpered a little when Wolfe stirred.

  “It’s all right, boy,” Wolfe said. “I hope.” He added those last words in a hoarse whisper.

  “Stupid smart aleck,” he chided himself.

  The road he was following south through Colorado zig-zagged down a steep hillside. Thinking to save himself some steps and not really being required to stay on the road, Wolfe had chosen to walk straight downhill.

  That was a mistake.

  The hill was steeper than he realized and the footing treacherous.

  He slipped on the loose rock and fell hard. Worse, trying to avoid falling back on his rucksack and trying to protect the rifle in his hand, he twisted to the side and went down hard on his left side then banged his head against some rocks. All in all, not his best of days.

  “Idiot,” he grumbled aloud and stood up.

  And promptly fell down again when his left leg buckled and a bolt of sheer agony shot through it.

  Broken? Sprained? Deep bruise? He had no idea what the damage was, but he was not going to be walking on that leg for a while.

  “Come here, boy,” Wolfe said, gritting his teeth against the pain and draping an arm over the nervous dog’s back. “Go get Timmy, boy. Fetch help.”

  The dog licked his face, not understanding the command from long before its lifetime, and Wolfe scratched it behind the ears.

  “I think,” Wolfe said, “we’re going to be here for a while.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With the dog for some physical support – and a good bit of comfort as well – Wolfe struggled into a sitting position.

  He removed his backpack with the bow strapped on one side and his blowgun on the other. He pulled the bulky pack around into his lap, laying it across his knees and placing his rifle on top of it. Then he began carefully, slowly scooting down the hill on his backside.

  He thought wistfully about Jason’s tribe of survivors back in Baggs, but he was several days gone from the comforts of human companionship and long out of their reach.

  Melinda would have been happy to take care of him while he healed, he thought with a small smile. More than happy. He sighed and concentrated on the problems at hand.

  It took Wolfe the better part of two hours to reach the bottom of the hill.

  A thin stream, flanked by tall grass and softly marshy banks, ran there.

  When he finally reached the bottom Wolfe again tried standing. With no better result. He simply could put no weight on his left leg.

  He did not think the bone was broken. At least he could feel no break. He certainly could feel extreme pain there, though.

  “It’s no go, dog. Not for a while anyhow.”

  The dog sat close beside him, and Wolfe put an arm around its shoulders for a moment, then lay back and closed his eyes. He needed sleep anyway. And time to heal. He just hoped the leg would feel better when he woke.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Oh, Lord!” Wolfe cried out as a bolt of sheer agony shot through his leg. This time he felt broken bone ends shift, and his leg took
on a curve that Nature had not intended.

  Wolfe passed out cold. When he woke it was night, and he could pull the goggles down.

  He examined the leg as best he could. What he really needed was a doctor and a hospital. Did such things as public hospitals still exist? He had no idea. What he did know was that there was no such thing here where he lay nor any other human he could turn to for help. Whatever he did he would have to do it on his own.

  “Are you hungry, dog? Me too. Don’t know what we can do about it right now though, so tighten your belt and be patient. We’ll work this out. Somehow.”

  That was the optimistic view of things, he realized. Maybe he would work it out. Or maybe he would lie here until he starved to death and the dog could go off on its own.

  “How come you didn’t get Timmy for me, eh?” he said, rubbing the dog’s head and ears fondly. “Or at least bring Lassie. She could do the job. Be a fine date for you too.”

  Wolfe sat up and looked around. On the far side of the stream there was a thick stand of aspen on a hillside. That had the potential to provide him with firewood and perhaps with shelter as well.

  If he could get there.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lord, that creek water was cold.

  In order to reach the aspen, Wolfe had no choice but to cross the stream. And, unable to stand or to walk, he had no choice either except to crawl.

  Damn water was icy cold. And, well, wet.

  Dragging his backpack with his weapons strapped to it, he inched his way into the water and through it to the far side.

  Once on the far bank he continued to crawl, careful to avoid pushing with the broken leg, up the slope and into the aspen grove.

  By the time he reached the aspen he was soaked through and was shivering violently.