by Nathan Jones
He also saw, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of movement from the bottom of the chimney, then a grizzled Sangue face popped into view.
For an eternal instant they stared at each other. Tom was the first to respond, angling his rifle down the narrow chute of rock and pouring automatic fire at the man. “They're in the chimney!” he yelled over the roar of rifle fire, grateful the soldier had only shown up after Skyler was already in the clear.
Above him he heard the pop of gunshots as Skyler joined in. “It's clear!” his son shouted after a second. “I've got you covered, let's get a crossfire going!”
Tom peeked down the chimney at the still body down below, then edged out cautiously to glance at the canyon. He saw a solder huddled into a hollow in the rock across the canyon, hiding from the withering fire coming from above. Skyler couldn't hit him from that angle, but Tom could.
And did.
He ducked back, ready for another withering hail of bullets in response, but none came. “They're retreating!” his son shouted down to him, voice full of relief.
Sure enough, aside from flashes of movement at the far end of the narrow crack below, gone too quickly for Tom to aim for, the enemy seemed to be gone. He awkwardly slung his rifle on his back while lying on his stomach, trying to stay out of sight even though the danger might be past, then made for the chimney.
A soft slithering sound from above turned out to be a rope dropping down towards him, and Tom actually groaned with relief. He hadn't realized Skyler packed that along with the other necessities in his pack, which was unfortunately pretty spare since most of his things had been in Surly's saddlebags.
Although from the looks of things, the teenager hadn't been able to pack much; only twelve or so feet stretched down to him, enough that he wouldn't have to jump from one side of the chimney to the other. Still, to his exhausted muscles it was as good as a ladder.
With Skyler covering him, Tom swung into the chimney and began to climb, forcing his weary limbs to hold his weight as he struggled to get to the end of the rope dangling tantalizingly overhead, seeming just out of reach. Given how quickly and easily the teenager had managed to make it up, it was almost embarrassing how long it took to make it that ten or so feet, clinging to narrow holds and trying to use his legs to spare his rubbery arms.
Once his hand finally closed on the rope, it was a temptation to put his full weight on it. But he hesitated. “How solid you got this tied?”
“You could hang a horse on it,” Skyler replied, tone something between amusement and wounded pride.
Tom swung his other hand to the rope and hauled himself up until his feet were planted against the rock wall. Then he began walking his way up the wall, hand over hand, making sure his grip didn't slip and not looking down at the daunting drop below.
Skyler knew better than to try to help by trying to haul him up on the rope, but he was waiting at the top to grab his wrist and help pull him up and over. With his son's help and a final surge of motion, he hurled himself onto the top of the cliff and rolled twice, then sprawled on his back panting.
He only gave himself a few seconds to indulge in the luxury of immobility. “Come on,” he said between desperate gulps of air, stumbling to his feet and starting down the steep slope in front of them. “Let's join up with Gray and get back to Camptown.” And figure out some punishment that might have a hope of keeping you from pulling a stunt like this again, he added silently. Assuming one even existed that could keep the headstrong teenager from running wild.
Skyler must've caught some of what he was thinking, because he shifted uncomfortably as he hurried to follow. “So on a scale of one to ten, just how much trouble am I in?”
Tom shook his head grimly. “Guess we'll have to drag you back to your mom and find out.” At the moment he was more curious about how much trouble he was going to be in. Sure, he hadn't known what his son was doing or had any part in it, but try explaining that to a mother out of her mind with worry.
* * * * *
It didn't take long to track down Gray and his militia, then join up with them.
“Trapper!” the sheriff called, voice thick with relief as he hurried forward to grip his hand. “We were sweating a bit when you ran into that box canyon with bloodies hot on your heels.” He nodded to Skyler; if he was surprised at the identity of the sniper who'd saved them, he didn't show it. “You and the boy both. But we figured if anyone could find a way out of that, you could.”
“Took a bit of climbing,” Tom replied, smiling wanly as he turned to accept handshakes from a few other militia fighters.
Although the hero of the hour was his son; the kid was getting mobbed by men eager to shake his hand and clap him on the back, grateful for his timely intervention. Even Gray waited in line to pump Skyler's hand and then tussle his hair in a way that almost, but not quite, annoyed the embarrassed but proud young man.
There was a bit of awkwardness to the shows of thanks, since most knew the teenager wasn't supposed to be there and they didn't want to encourage disobedience. But they expressed their gratitude even so. And it was hard to argue Skyler deserved it, for covering their escape and very likely saving some or even all of their lives.
“With your shooting, you should definitely consider joining the militia once you're a bit older,” a fighter named Benny, who was only a few years older than Skyler, told him with a grin. “You'd give some of our best marksmen a run for their money.”
Skyler definitely seemed to like that idea, and Tom felt a moment of annoyance. Well, at least the young militia member had stressed when he was older.
They kept the reunion short, pushing on to keep ahead of the Sangue riders who were doubtless going around the rugged terrain to pursue them, or possibly even climbing the cliffs and narrow pass like they had.
In a stroke of good luck, the one man the enemy had hit in their attack had taken the bullet in the vest; he sported a massive, ugly purple and black bruise across his back and left side, and a small puncture wound where the bullet had pushed the kevlar through his skin. But in spite of his obvious discomfort, he staunchly insisted he was fine.
With Tom guiding the group they got safely clear of the area, with no signs of immediate pursuit as he led them farther west into terrain horses would have trouble traversing. He would've liked to have them push right on to Camptown, but the distance was still too far, especially with the precautions they'd have to take to make sure no one was following.
He just didn't have the strength to make it the entire way, and he wasn't the only one; the militia were all still weak from their death march across three states, even after days of good food and rest, and pushing hard for so long without sleep was more than they could handle. And Gray, hollow face set in determination as he forced himself to keep the pace, didn't look as if he could go much more than a few steps.
All the same, it would've been nice to catch up at least to Mitchells and the others who'd gone ahead. But they were farther east and likely much farther north, and hopefully hadn't been found by the riders who were currently occupied chasing his group. Or the two squads of bloodies on foot who'd been coming up the ranch valley.
So Tom finally gave in to weariness, hoping Sangue didn't punish them for it, and started looking for a good place to camp.
There was a collective groan of relief about a half hour later, when he returned to the group to announce he was guiding them to a spot he'd scouted out. It was not only secluded, but would be a good defensive position if the Sangue riders caught up with them. It even had an escape route if things really went south.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, pretty much everyone just sprawled in exhaustion, grateful to finally be off their feet. More than a few even dozed off. Skyler, one of the only people who still had the strength to stand, got to work building a concealed, smokeless fire.
Once everybody finally stirred, Gray's militia proved to be quick and efficient when it came to setting up their tents and preparing a mea
l for everyone in a big pot over Skyler's fire. Tom wearily set up his own tent, then when he finished joined his son and the sheriff sitting around the fire.
For a few moments they kept a companionable silence, then Skyler cleared his throat. “So aside from the near disaster of Sangue pulling horses out of their butts to chase us with,” he began in an optimistic tone, “this attack went off almost without a hitch.”
“This attack,” Gray agreed grimly. “What do you think the fallout from it is going to be?”
Tom snorted, although he lowered his voice to make sure the people around them couldn't hear. “Fallout? More like a direct nuclear strike. The bloodies have been pressing us harder and harder ever since we announced our presence at Gerry's Ravine. After we just took out their main resupply outpost in this area, they're going to come swarming back with a vengeance. Those riders were just the beginning of it.”
The former sheriff of Grand Junction shook his head, voice bitter. “You don't have to tell me about the full force Sangue can bring to bear if they've got a good reason, believe me.”
Skyler shook his head, obviously not liking what he was hearing. “Emery was a major victory for us! We killed almost two hundred bloodies between there and the ranch, and took enough supplies to feed ourselves for months, all with only a few losses in comparison. And the heavy weapons and explosives we captured! We should be celebrating, not acting all doom and gloom about what comes next.”
Tom just shook his head. Actions, even successful ones, had consequences. The boy had to have learned that lesson after rescuing Jenny and the other women; commendable as that had been, it had given away Camptown's existence and started this entire mess in the first place. And wiping out a Sangue outpost was going to have serious consequences, so what was there to celebrate?
Well, everyone being able to eat tomorrow, for one thing. And the next day, and the next, for at least a little while. Hard to complain about that.
Besides, things weren't completely hopeless. “Say they come at us,” he said. “With your people combined with ours, Gray, and all the preparations we've made, the bowl valley is a bristling hedgehog. And now we've got heavy machine guns, RPGs, enough weapons to arm pretty much everyone who can hold a gun, and even C4. Sangue is going to have to send a ton of soldiers across very difficult terrain to cause us any trouble.”
“They've got a lot of soldiers to send,” the sheriff replied grimly. “Especially since if Sangue's own forces aren't enough, the invaders' main army will come in and do their thing, like at Grand Junction. Sangue is just the vanguard playing at being bandits, remember.”
Not far away Benny, who'd apparently been listening in, swore softly. “You two sure know how to spoil a celebratory mood.”
“Seriously,” Skyler muttered, pushing to his feet and stalking off. Probably to scout; Tom knew he should call his son back, not let him do anything dangerous since that's what Kristy wanted. But considering how they'd just climbed a cliff while being shot at, sitting hidden in the dark watching for enemies seemed mild by comparison.
“So what do we do?” Tom asked as the teenager left.
Gray shook his head. “We know we can't meet them toe to toe, so the only thing we can do is make sure they never find the bowl valley, since then they'd finally have a place to concentrate all their forces. It would take Sangue hundreds or even thousands of soldiers to scour this entire area with us constantly ambushing and harassing them, and that would take an unimaginable amount of resources. Resources they might not be able to spare for that long while they're fighting elsewhere.”
Tom had to admit that was reassuring to hear. Even hopeful.
Benny perked up a bit, scooting over to take Skyler's seat. “Not to mention that this high in the mountains winter will be coming in, what, two months? They'll leave us alone after that, right?”
“Probably closer to three, if you're talking about snows bad enough to inconvenience the bloodies, and if they let themselves be deterred,” Tom said. “But winter can be hard to predict, and it's certainly just around the corner.”
“All right, so we delay them,” Gray said. “That's at least something to shoot for. And while we're struggling to survive a mountain winter, which I'm guessing will probably feel like nuclear winters in Grand Junction just after the Ultimatum, we can make plans for what to do next spring.” He spat off to one side. “So how do we delay them?”
Tom had a tough time thinking up a good answer for that. “Well for one thing, have you thought about that request for skirmishers I brought up earlier?”
The militia's leader scratched his jaw. “Like Gerry and his people were planning? We've definitely used tactics like that in the past, and it would slow the bloodies down and make it harder to find us.” He nodded resolutely. “I've got a man who should be perfect for that sort of thing, and we can pick out a few dozen others he can lead out as quick as we can organize things with Gerry. I'll put the wheels in motion once we get back to Camptown.”
Tom felt his shoulders loosen slightly. A few dozen skirmishers wouldn't be much more than buzzing flies if Sangue came in the hundreds or even thousands, but it might buy them time to organize their fighters to turn aside the threat. “Good. I'll find you some of my volunteers who know the areas where your people will be skirmishing, and they can join your squads.”
As he said it he glanced around for Skyler, half expecting the kid to burst out from behind a tree and volunteer for the job. But he didn't; maybe he was learning after all.
Not likely, but hope sprang eternal.
Chapter Seventeen
Deserted
Lisa Hendrickson stared at the vast panorama before her, visible from the top of the gentle grassy slope that seemed to stretch on downwards for miles into the distance, where another slope that was just as expansive climbed back up to the top of another rolling hill.
It was a view to take her breath away, but the reason she was holding her breath at the moment was because there wasn't a source of cover anywhere in sight. If they wanted to keep going north, they'd have to go down this hill and up the next.
And they'd probably find another hill beyond it.
Seated atop his horse nearby, her dad grunted sourly. “We must be in southern Wyoming by now, seeing as how we've reached terrain that's a lot of empty, open nothing.”
Riding her mare on Lisa's other side, her mom shot him a disapproving look and hugged Bryant a bit tighter in her lap. “No need to be so disparaging. Country like this is a rancher's dream.”
Lisa glanced back at the herd ambling their way, mostly goats but with a few cows. The animals had certainly been happy enough in this terrain, eating their fill of the long golden grass. Better than some terrain they'd had to cross on the long trek here from Central Utah.
Her dad seemed to be in the mood to see the glass as half empty, which wasn't too unusual for him; she sometimes wondered if she even remembered when she'd last seen him laughing and happy, carefree. “Country like this is a bandit's dream, more like,” he groused. “Especially of the four-wheeled variety.”
Lisa's own mood soured at the reminder of that specter looming over all of them. The one that seemed like it had been there for half her life. Just because her family was here in the first place fleeing Sangue and their vehicles and slave camps, that didn't mean they had to constantly be thinking about them.
The few people they'd dared to speak to on the way north had told them Sangue was swarming up in this direction, moving a lot of troops and supplies for some reason. One man had even mentioned an army of bloodies, troop transports from horizon to horizon, although that seemed like an exaggeration to Lisa.
Those warnings might've made them change their plans, but her dad had decided that the invaders were already surrounding them in all directions, and their best bet to find safety was still to keep heading north until they found a place where Sangue wasn't. Personally, she thought they'd have to keep going until they hit tundra in that case, since even horses co
uldn't outrun trucks and ATVs. Especially not while herding livestock.
But in spite of her fears, they hadn't seen hide nor hair of Sangue for over a week now. In fact, they hadn't seen signs of anyone for days, and in terrain like this if there was someone out there, they should've.
Maybe that's why her dad decided to risk heading straight down the hill and up the next one ahead. “After all,” he said as he chivvied their animals up over the rise and into open view; or at least, more open view, “we're a long ways from any road, old pre-Ultimatum town, or anything else.” He snorted. “For all we know, we may be in a fallout zone right now.”
Lisa shivered at the thought, remembering the sight of Skyler's dad wasting away from radiation poisoning. Then she felt a pang of loss for the friend she'd left behind. The more than friend.
Her mom gave her a reassuring look, and an irritated one for her husband. “We're nowhere near any major city or military target, downwind or no. Let's quit with the doom and gloom and focus on moving the animals.”
They all spread out in position to herd the livestock, listening tensely over the sounds of bleating goats and mooing cows for a distant rumble that would warn of approaching disaster. It seemed almost wrong that such a vast, breathtaking place like this could have lurking danger, but Lisa didn't let that lull her sense of caution.
Although after days of constant stress and worry moving through similar terrain, and weeks and months before that with the threat of Sangue looming over them, it was hard to stay completely vigilant. Fear could only take a person so far.
Hope for what lay ahead, some distant place where they could finally be safe, maybe sooner than any of them thought considering how barren this entire area was, was a better motivation. Although Lisa had trouble with that, too, a lot of the time.
She missed Skyler, and all their friends back in the valley. Sometimes, she wondered to herself whether it had been such a good idea for her family to go off with just the four of them, into an unknown and dangerous world.