Spore Series | Book 5 | Torch

by Soward, Kenny

  Symptoms included high fever, a raspy cough, hoarse speech, and the telltale black dots around the airways, sometimes in the eyes. Moe knew them well, which made him a prime candidate for screening duty.

  The contamination seemed limited to three water tanks where they’d found clusters of mold floating. Their bottled water supply and Many Farms reservoirs appeared untouched. How it had gotten into the three tanks was a mystery.

  He glanced to his right to see Rex and Casey helping at another pair of tables. More stations lay spread across the basin. Volunteers had examined the scouts at the north and south rims and all the guards, replacing sick ones where they could. Sometimes the replacements were kids who’d never fired a weapon or ridden a horse.

  Discouraged, Moe stared at the long lines extending as far as he could see. They’d only gotten through a quarter of the people. They still had almost three thousand to go. With a sigh, he reached for his coffee, pulled his mask down, and sipped before turning to the next person in line.

  The sounds of ATV engines touched his ears, and he craned his neck to see a pair of quads race from the west toward them. One rider he didn’t know, though the other was Waki. He spotted her by the white bandage on her head, bright in the sunlight.

  Moe turned and gestured for a nurse to take over while he stepped to the side and greeted the bikes. Waki wove between boulders, plunged into the creek, and fought her way out of a patch of mud. She shot up the shallow bank and angled toward him, darting fast across the treacherous ground. He waved as she flew in and braked hard, kicking up a dust cloud.

  “Greetings, sis.” Remaining a safe distance, Moe raised his surgical mask and placed his fists on his hips. “What’s so important that you’d risk breaking your neck to get here?”

  Waki lifted her face and pulled down her dirty goggles so they hung around her neck.

  “Brother. I’ve got some news.”

  “I’m listening,” he nodded.

  “The one who contaminated our water. They found her.”

  Moe clenched his fist, anger forcing his jaw to tighten. “Where?”

  “They have her at the South Rim camp. We think she’s one of Carver’s people.”

  Moe looked around for Copper but realized he’d left the horse with Sage.

  “Get on,” Waki said. She lifted her goggles over her eyes, revved her engine, and scooted forward to make room.

  *

  Fifteen minutes later, Moe dismounted from Waki’s quad and stood on shaky legs. To say his sister was a daredevil would be an understatement. They’d raced through the basin much as she’d arrived, quickly and skillfully, leaving Moe breathless.

  They’d driven from Canyon Del Muerto to Canyon De Chelly, taking the twists and turns along the south rim. Waki had navigated the gully to the scout camp like a woman possessed. She maneuvered the quad over impossible terrain, punishing the suspension like it had disrespected her. Moe clung to her thin frame with his thick arms and leaned into the turns to help her keep balance.

  “You should take it easier on these machines.” Moe hobbled toward the camp canopies. “You’ll run through all our ATVs in a week driving them that way.”

  Waki shrugged and pulled down her goggles. “I thought you’d want to meet the person who poisoned hundreds of our people.”

  “I do,” he agreed. “I’d just like to be alive when I get there.”

  Judging from the crowd gathered out near the canyon rim, they were holding the saboteur there. A dangerous mood radiated off them, and Moe smelled bloodshed in the air.

  They’d not had time to find a replacement for Aponi, though Deputy Whalen from Moe’s first scouting mission was there. The rangy 50-year-old former rancher was easy to spot as he stood several inches above everyone else. He kept the angry crowd back from the prisoner.

  The Navajos simmered quietly with their arms folded across their chests, scowls twisting their faces. Some cursed. Others glared. Moe didn’t blame them. Whoever sat at the deputy’s feet might be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. Maybe even thousands by the time they stopped the spread. He wondered how Whalen had kept them from tossing the captive over the canyon’s edge.

  Moe felt his own rage boiling up, and he held his arms stiff at his sides as he shouldered his way through the crowd.

  Whalen caught sight of him and raised his hands. “There’s Moe. Everyone step aside and let him pass.”

  The crowd parted, people cursing and calling for justice.

  Once through, he nodded to Whalen and peered down at the woman tied to the stake. She was young, early twenties, wearing a pair of army green shorts and a T-shirt scrawled with the name of a faded college athletic team. Plain white tennis shoes adorned her feet.

  She was oddly quiet, as if waiting patiently for her punishment.

  Moe turned to Whalen. “What happened?”

  “One of the scouts caught her trying to flee back to Carver’s camp.”

  “Slinking away like a snake!” someone shouted.

  A slow grin spread across her face but quickly vanished when the crowd grumbled in anger. A woman tried to kick the prisoner’s leg, but Whalen pushed her back with a stiff arm.

  “How do you know she poisoned the supply?” Moe asked.

  “She had a storeroom pass in her pocket. They only give those out to the people who count and stock our food.”

  “Did she have access to the water tanks, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Moe squinted at her. She had dirty blonde hair and a pale complexion, so she wasn’t from Chinle. He might have mistaken her for an average college girl on Spring Break. He tamped down his boiling emotions. While his instinct was to pass swift judgement, he didn’t want to jump the gun and accuse the wrong person.

  Her life hung in the balance.

  Moe squatted in front of her. “What’s your name?”

  “Victoria,” she replied, pushing back against the stake.

  “Look, Victoria. Don’t worry about the people behind me. They’re angry, and they have every right to be. If you didn’t do this, then we’ll prove your innocence and--”

  “Oh no,” she smiled and nodded vigorously. “I did it. I infected your water tanks.”

  Moe’s mouth hung open at the quick admission. Angry curses and murmurs bubbled up behind him like a cauldron.

  He shifted his weight and lowered his head, facing her straight on. “Can you tell me how?”

  “I incubated spores in a water bottle until it grew into a thick crust on top.” She smiled. “Then I shook it up and poured a third into each of your tanks.”

  Moe leaned back, shocked by her audacity. The ease with which she’d assassinated hundreds of people. It took him every bit of self-control to keep from striking her. “Why?”

  “I did it for him. The One Who Walks in the Light.”

  “Carver?”

  Victoria slowly nodded.

  “Why didn’t you do all the tanks? Why only three?”

  “He said I should leave some alone, so you’d know it was one of us. And so a few of you would remain to bear witness to his power.”

  Moe shook his head, raising his voice plaintively. “Did you infect anything else? Any of our food stores or supplies?”

  “I’m not tell-ing.” Victoria sang the words like a child might, her tone teetering on the edge of insanity.

  Moe stood and stared at her, his face screwed up in a twist of resentment and anguish.

  “What should we do with her?” Whalen asked, looking uneasily at the stirring crowd. “People want to see her punished. They want justice.”

  While the deputy’s words sounded sharp and full of vitriol, he stopped short of suggesting they kill her outright. Moe didn’t blame him. It wasn’t easy ending another human being’s life. He’d experienced the dread and self-loathing firsthand and had gotten used to it.

  “Yeah, I know.” Moe gazed at the canyon as if it might give him an answer. “And we don’t have a jail.”

/>   “Even if we had a jail,” the deputy said, “I don’t think she’d last long.”

  “You’re probably right about that.”

  “I did what I was supposed to do.” Victoria called to the sky, her voice filled with reverence. “Let me return to Carver. I want to see him standing in the light.”

  “Toss her off the cliff,” someone grumbled.

  “Stake her and leave her in the desert,” another yelled from the back.

  Moe clicked his tongue as he entertained several ideas, none of which were pleasant. While he understood his people’s thirst for revenge, it was a dark path to go down. Executing this girl wasn’t a healthy solution for their hearts and minds.

  “What should we do, Moe?” Whalen’s eyes drifted across the boiling crowd. “You want to just turn her over to them?”

  “No, please.” Victoria pleaded and strained against her bonds, kicking her heels at the warm dust. “Let me go home.”

  “I’ll do you one better,” Moe growled. “I’ll take you home myself.”

  *

  Moe galloped Copper across the desert with Waki driving her quad behind him. He stopped at the top of a shallow rise and drew his horse to a halt.

  She pulled her machine up nearby and cut the engine. Then she dismounted and gestured for Victoria to step off. The woman held her bound hands up, looking around uncertainly.

  “Come on.” Waki commanded. “Up and off.”

  “Why am I tied up?” She shook her hands. “I thought you were going to let me go.”

  His sister made an aggravated noise and grabbed Victoria by the arm. She jerked her off the seat and dropped her in the dirt, drawing a wounded cry from her. Waki then untied her hands, retied them behind her back, and gripped the bonds tight.

  The distant sound of another quad reached them. Moe scanned the distance to see movement ahead. The ATV bounced over a shallow rise and wove down the other side.

  As it drew closer, Moe spotted two familiar figures. He turned and nodded to Waki. “They’re sticking to the agreement. Just Carver and one other.” He’d expected Cash to be the driver, though he wasn’t surprised to see Susan behind the handlebars.

  When they were fifty yards off, they parked the quad and dismounted. Then they strolled toward them with casual ease. Carver looked cleaned up, wearing sandals, loose pants fashioned from light material, and a pair of beaded necklaces. Susan wore a mixed outfit of blue jeans, combat boots, and camo T-shirt. A tiara of desert grass rested on her brow, and an AR-15 hung from her shoulder.

  They stopped twenty yards away.

  “Good to see you again, Moe,” Carver said. “You don’t look good, but I guess you’ve been through a lot lately.” His eyes shifted to Waki, and a slow smile drew his lips wide. “Now, who is this? Very pretty, but I can tell she’s a feisty one. I think I see a family resemblance. Maybe a sister or cousin of yours?”

  Before he could reply, Carver’s gaze switched to Victoria. His face brightened, and the creepy smile changed to one of delight. “Vicki, baby. It’s good to see you again. But it looks like you’re in trouble with the tribal authorities.”

  “I miss you, Zane.” Victoria strained forward, but Waki jerked her back hard. The woman hissed over her shoulder and then turned back to Carver with a bright smile. “Take me to camp with you and Susan and the others. I want to come home.”

  “You’re staying put,” Waki said. She took out her pistol and placed it against her spine.

  Carver assumed a mockingly confused expression. “If you’re not here to return our precious Victoria, then what... Ah, I understand. You want to work out terms for bringing your people into my camp.”

  “No,” Moe growled.

  “Then I have to say I’m at a loss.”

  “You told her to poison our water supply.” Moe forced his words through clenched teeth.

  Carver’s eyes bounced back and forth between Moe and Victoria. He shifted and raised his finger. “Now, I didn’t say that specifically. I told her to get into some mischief, but I left the rest up to interpretation.”

  “I did perfect, Zane,” Victoria sang, grinning and nodding vigorously. “I put spores in their water. A bunch of them are sick--”

  Waki jerked her bonds, forcing her to her knees.

  “I did suggest that,” Carver acknowledged. “I wasn’t sure if she’d actually do it--”

  “We stopped the infection in time,” Moe tensed, “but we need to know if she poisoned anything else. Make her tell us what she did.”

  The cult leader’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a free spirit with free will. I don’t command anyone.”

  Moe had expected as much. He drew his pistol from its holster and placed the barrel against the woman’s head. Susan stepped in front of Carver, gripping her rifle tightly.

  “Make her tell us what she did,” Moe repeated, staring holes through the man. Inside, guilt and uncertainty clashed. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Too many lives were at stake. Could he do what was necessary?

  “I can’t make her do anything, man,” the cult leader said, and he rested his hand on Susan’s shoulder.

  Moe gripped the weapon tighter, pushing Victoria’s head to the side. “Tell us what you did. Tell us the truth.”

  “Ow, you’re hurting me,” she said, wincing.

  “Tell me!”

  Victoria lifted her eyes to Moe, her lip curling in disgust. “I’m not telling you anything, mister. You can’t make me, and you sure as hell aren’t going to shoot me.”

  Carver’s expression brightened as if she had revealed a grand revelation. “You can’t do it, can you? Big tough Moe Tsosie. You can take out half an army without batting an eye, but when it comes to a girl like Victoria, you get cold feet.”

  “Last chance,” he said. He shot a glance at Waki to see her tight-set jaw, eyes watering with hatred as she stared straight ahead.

  Moe fixed his attention back on Carver and found the man watching him with morbid amusement. That’s when he realized his plan wasn’t going to work. A man so far out of touch with reality wouldn’t care if someone like Victoria died. She’d served her purpose and had reached the end of her usefulness. And while Moe hated her for infecting his people, he pitied her for falling in with such a venomous snake.

  Moe adjusted his grip on the gun, finger lingering on the trigger. He raised his chin, chest puffing up as if to squeeze out the last fraction of pressure he needed to do the job.

  “Looks like you might be coming home after all, Victoria,” Carver mused. His eyes shifted to Moe, beyond delighted. “Let’s call this one a draw and--”

  A gunshot cracked the air, and Victoria fell face down in the dirt with a smoking hole in the back of her head. Moe half turned to see Waki standing there with her pistol raised, a hard, haunted look in her eyes. Her top lip quivered and became a disgusted sneer.

  Moe shifted his glare to Carver, who seemed as amused as ever. Susan stared at Waki as if not entirely surprised by the development.

  “Come on,” he whispered to his sister. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Together they backed away, retreating to where their transportation waited. Waki mounted her bike, started it, and revved the engine loud. Moe swung his leg over Copper’s saddle and settled into the curved saddle. He spun the horse in a circle, holding off until his sister shot away. Then he gave the reins a tug and squeezed his knees tight.

  The gelding leapt forward, chasing the zipping four-wheeler. Moe rode hard after her, Carver’s soulless flat smile stuck in his mind.

  Chapter 2

  Kim, Zell, Missouri

  The hum of the ventilation system lay like a blanket over her head. The room was chilly and pleasant, the air sterile and scentless. She lay on her side, curled up in a fetal position and chasing a light dream.

  She pulled the sheet to her chin and tried to relax. The doors in the prep room were sealed tight, locked, blocking all other sounds. Riley had insisted on it so her mother could get a good night’s rest
before starting up the day’s driving.

  She caught the dream and clung to it, hoping to drift silently into sleep for a spell longer. But something small grabbed her attention and dragged her back to the surface. It was a vibration in the bottom of the bus. A sound that hadn’t been there before. A rattle that marred the smooth precision of the priceless vehicle.

  A knock. A ding. The first signs of true wear and tear. She wasn’t surprised after everything she’d put it through. Kim had plowed it into other cars, driven it through yards, and hit a spike strip that rattled the frame and ruptured five tires. Richtman had set it on fire and shot it dozens of times. They were still finding pieces of bullets lying around.

  The bus was beat up bad, and they still had a long way to go.

  The worry dragged her farther away from the dream, and her eyes finally snapped open. She held her watch in front of her face and saw it 9:35 AM. She’d slept six hours.

  “Honey?” Bishop’s voice popped softly through the speakers. “Are you awake? I know you told me to wake you up at nine, but Riley wanted to give you some extra time.”

  “Yeah, I’m up,” she said. “How is everyone?”

  “I took my kids on a short scouting run this morning, but they’re pretty bored, hungry, and thirsty.”

  “You locked down the turret gun, right?”

  “I, uh. Yes, we believe the gun controls are locked.”

  “Please be absolutely sure,” Kim grumbled. Then she remembered the way the bullets had chewed up the vehicles and people back in Salina. “And don’t point that thing at the bus.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bishop said, using the tone he reserved for times she was agitated.

  “Let me check on Savannah and the kids,” Kim sighed. “Not necessarily in that order. Give me fifteen minutes, and we’ll start breakfast protocol.”

  “You got it.”

  Kim got to her knees, stood, and pushed her feet into her tennis shoes. She stretched her arms over her head, yawned, and walked toward the lab door. It hissed open, and she stepped into a room of utter silence.