She let out a long sigh. "Sure. But you're gonna have to help me. I can't hop the whole way. I like the wrench, by the way. Neat idea."
Hick shoved the first aid kit and as much food as he could into his pack and swung it over his shoulder. Then he did the same with Cassie's.
The howling from above got louder. More coyotes were joining the attack. Hick wondered where the cattle were now. Sure as hell they weren't nearby with this pack on the hunt.
"C'mon," Cassie said, gasping as she pushed herself upward.
Hick helped her up, staggering under the weight.
Her tears glinted in the reflected light as she hopped, one arm on his shoulder, toward the wall, gasping with every step.
"D'you want another morphine?"
"Oh my God, yeah," she hissed. "But only if you want to carry me the rest of the way."
Hick glanced back at the hole she'd fallen through and shook his head. "We ain't got time."
"Then I'd better suck it up, hadn't I?"
"I guess so."
Inch by inch, foot by foot, they made their way along the tunnel until they were in sight of the first rockslide. She would have to crawl up there and somehow get herself through the gap at the top.
Suddenly, the howling rose in volume. It seemed to be coming from all around them and was punctuated by yapping and barking,
"The leader's come down," Cassie said. "Reckon the others are working themselves up to follow. Better get your gun. I'll get myself up there."
He eased her down and she began hauling at the rockfall.
Hick peered into the black, sweeping his flashlight left and right, following the beam with his Glock.
Scampering in the dark and a warm rushing, stinking wind. Teeth glinted. He fired, piercing the night for an instant and saw them coming. He pumped shot after shot into the gloom, and they turned tail and ran.
Then, just as he turned to join Cassie, a shape jumped at him, fastening on to his arm and driving him to the ground, ravening as it shook his arm. He roared as hot pins penetrated him. He pushed the furious creature away, and heard above its growling rage, the patter of many paws.
Something flew from above him and the beast fell away. He looked up to see Cassie sitting with her arm flung back and a small rock in her hand. "Come on!"
He didn't need to be told twice. Hick spun over and scrambled up the rock face as the coyotes gathered around their leader, who was moving back and forth dully shaking its head and moaning.
"Go!" he said as he reached her.
With a yowl of pain, she pulled her injured leg through after her.
Without looking back, Hick followed her. A jaw fastened itself around his boot as he pulled himself through. He kicked back with the other boot and Cassie yanked on his hand until he was on the other side of the rocks. A bloodstained gray head appeared in the gap and he lifted his weapon and blasted it backward.
With the last of his energy, he filled the gap with rocks until it was completely blocked. He slid down the other side and breathed out.
"How's your arm?" Cassie had propped herself up on a rock and taken the flashlight from him.
He pulled off his coat. The arm was bruised, but he wasn't bleeding. "Felt like he'd hit me with a hammer."
"It was prob'ly a she. And prob'ly with pup. That makes 'em cranky."
He smiled as he put the jacket back on. That was gonna hurt, but right now it wasn't too bad. Hick looked back up at the plugged gap. Could he hear them trying to dig through or was it his imagination?
Cassie was thinking the same. "We'd best get farther in."
"There's another rockfall up ahead."
"Oh, great."
It took another hour or so before they finally made it to the end of the tunnel. "I suppose the good news is that the coyotes are probably all trapped inside here, so I can go get help without bein' torn apart."
"You're a drama queen, Paul Hickman."
Hick helped her down onto the floor and dumped the packs beside her. "I think I'm entitled to be after today, don't you?"
He looked back at her as he climbed through the gap he'd made in the rocks blocking the entrance of the mine. He'd scavenged scraps of dry wood from inside and outside the tunnel and had made a small fire to keep Cassie warm while he scouted in the early morning light.
She had recovered a little from the pain and blood loss, and he'd warmed a can of soup on the fire that had brought some color to her skin again. But he had no choice other than to go for help. Chances were that her wound would get infected, and struggling across the broken ground between here and Hope would only aggravate her injury. No, he had to go on his own.
Hick climbed backward down the pile of rocks, then brushed himself off when he reached the bottom. Every part of him hurt, either from the initial fall into the mine or from the fight with the coyotes. But there was no sense delaying things. He turned to gaze down over the pristine beauty of northern Nevada and wished he could appreciate it. To him, it looked like a landscape full of obstacles that he would have to negotiate.
Something moved to his right and he brought the gun around. On the slope beneath him, a cow was picking at the ground in the shadows cast by the mountain, as its calf followed behind. There was something on its back. At first he thought it was a crow, but then the cow moved into the light and he found himself looking eyeball to eyeball at Roger. How had he gotten out of the cave? Hick was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't be better off letting Roger lead the expedition.
He made it down the slope to where the cow waited. What was he supposed to do with it now? It was going to be hard enough making his way across country as it was without Ermintrude, her calf and Roger following him.
Then the idea hit him like a blow to the head. He climbed wearily up the scree again and began pulling away at the rocks, careful not to have them fall inwards.
Cassie's voice echoed out. "What are you doin'?"
"Arranging some company for you."
Soon enough, he had a cow-sized opening in the entrance and with a little encouragement, he was able to get Ermintrude into the cave. Now that daylight was flooding in, he could see a rusty trough in one corner and so, having blocked up enough of the entrance to keep the ruminants inside, he went hunting for a water source.
He found it at the foot of the slope; a small stream that ran down the mountain. Four trips later, he put the final rock back in place, sealing Cassie inside with her animal companions. He'd insisted that Roger stay behind.
Finally, he was ready to set out. The sun had risen to its highest point on a spring day and he set off with the mountains behind him as he descended to the plain again and headed for Hope. Finding at least some of the cattle and beating off the coyotes had made him feel that, just maybe, their luck had changed, but he was soon cursing as he stumbled along. He knew where the road ought to be, but it seemed to be getting no closer as the hours went by.
Hick stopped to take a drink and consume an energy bar. He'd left most of the food and water with Cassie, though he hoped she wouldn't need it, but he was beginning to regret traveling so light. He reckoned he was half the man he had been on the night of the firestorm.
"Ha!" A crow emerged from behind some rocks as he laughed out loud. He was pretty confident he knew what the Paul Hickman of seven weeks ago would make of this new edition. He'd suggest that he'd lost more from between his ears than off his waist. Here he was, stumbling through the desert in the hope of making it back home so a girl he barely knew could be rescued. After all, it had been her fault she'd gotten into the mess in the first place.
But his heart wasn't in the cynicism. If there was one emotion he could empathize with, it was the fear a father has for his daughter, and Elwood Miller had experienced enough grief these past few weeks that Hick had no wish to make matters worse for him. Besides, if he wanted Hope to be safe for his own daughter, he needed people like Miller on his side.
He got up and moved on. And he was rewarded soon after by a sight of
the highway. It turned out not to be as far away as he'd expected, so he picked up the pace. It was now just after two and Cassie had been alone for five hours. He guessed he could be back in Hope before nightfall and he'd taken good care to keep landmarks fixed in his mind so he could guide them back in the morning.
"What the?" Something was moving along the road, from the direction of Ezra. He was now barely fifty yards from it, so he ducked down. It was a white pickup exactly like the one he'd borrowed from Ward McAndrew. The same one he'd given to Libby.
It was her! She was alone in the car. He didn't give any thought to why she would be on the northward road when she'd gone to find out about her mother. Maybe she'd heard the worst and decided to go back to Hope. He didn't care, he just leaped out from behind the rock and ran toward the highway.
She saw the movement, swerved a little, then plainly recognized him because she brought the car to a halt and jumped out.
"My God, you look awful!" she cried out as she ran to him. "And you smell bad too."
She hugged him. "Ouch! Easy there. But Libby, we gotta go rescue Cassie."
He told her what had happened, the words tumbling out like confetti. "Let's go get help from the folks in Hope. We can't do it on our own."
"Does anyone else know where she is?"
He shook his head.
"Look, I'm sorry Paul," she said, moving back from him and drawing a handgun.
"What the hell's goin' on?"
"You've got to come with me."
"Where?"
"To Ezra."
"What? Why?"
"To discuss terms for the surrender of Hope."
Chapter 13: Hopeless
Hickman fumed as he sat in the passenger seat of the pickup and gazed out of the window at the landscape slipping past. He couldn't get the image of Cassie hunched in the darkness as she waited for him to bring help.
"How can you be so heartless?" he said. "I thought you liked her."
Libby kept her eyes on the road, her right hand on the handgun sitting on her lap and pointing at him. "I do, and I'm sorry, I really am. But there's more at stake than the life of one girl."
"Or the life of your mother? The one who wants you dead? Why is she more important than Cassie?"
She shot a poisoned glance at him. "It's not about Mom, not really. Sure, she's deep in the brown stuff, but I'm trying to help Hope."
"Are you kidding me? You got a funny way of showing it."
"You haven't seen them, Paul. If you don't negotiate your surrender, they'll kill hundreds. They're angry, real angry, after the uprising was put down."
Paul's mouth dropped open. "What uprising?"
"Oh, of course you wouldn't know. You were right to suspect Ward McAndrew. As soon as your back was turned, he tried to take over the town."
"And it didn't work?"
Libby shrugged. "So I hear. I got caught almost as soon as I got into Ezra, but when they realized who I was, they sent me north to fetch someone to speak for Hope. Stroke of luck that I found you, wasn't it?"
"Ain't I the fortunate one? But who's this 'they' you're talkin' about?"
"The local leader. A man called Crawford. He was very angry when he heard the takeover had failed. He told me that Hope has one more chance to prevent the bloodshed."
"Surrender?"
She nodded.
"That ain't never gonna happen, so you might as well turn right around so we can rescue Cassie."
"No, I promised to do this. And I've seen them, Paul. We can't fight them off."
He shook his head dismissively. "I never had you down as a coward, but it seems I was wrong. It's a pity. I thought I kinda liked you."
"I'm sorry, Paul. But when you meet them, you'll see what I mean."
Hick reckoned they'd traveled around twenty-five miles south on 93 when Libby pointed ahead. "That's their camp."
A barricade had been built across the road out of burned-out cars, with a central gap blocked by a weighted barrier. It had been cleverly positioned where the mountains drifted closer to the road and the terrain was crisscrossed with broken ground, small gullies and arroyos. Half a dozen soldiers came out of the shadows, rolling down their black masks as they pointed their weapons at the approaching car.
"Don't say anything stupid, Paul."
Hick didn't dignify that comment with a response.
She brought the car to a halt and rolled down the window. A black-hooded face leaned down.
"My name is Olivia Hawkins, daughter of Mayor Hawkins. I have brought the leader of Hope as requested by Leader Crawford." She handed over a piece of card.
The guard's mask was pulled down to below his nose, revealing a chestnut brown chin and thick moustache. A thick aroma of diesel and tobacco floated in with his words. "You are not expected back until tomorrow."
"I like to exceed expectations," she said.
The guard scowled, glanced again at the docket and then nodded. "Proceed."
"They're all like that," Libby said. "Seems they have to shed their personalities when they join the cult."
Hick didn't respond. Dread settled on him as they drove slowly through the gap in the piled cars, and Libby's betrayal had disturbed him more than he'd care to admit. He certainly wasn't going to swap quips with her, not while Cassie waited for him.
Hick gasped as they emerged into the land beyond the barricade. A compound had been built out of high chain-link fencing, though in the far corner, he could see people laboring to erect the last squares to close the perimeter.
"They're building bases like this all over," Libby said. "Like the Romans—they march into a country and the first thing they do is create forts they can fall back to if they need to."
She signaled left and turned the car toward the open gates of the base. Again, a hooded figure leaned down and took her card before waving her through.
"Where did all these people come from?" he said, gawping at the multitude striding purposefully about the base. Most of them wore standard civilian clothes, but a sizeable minority were clad in the uniform of the Sons. The center of the compound was dominated by military vehicles and a series of metal-roofed huts with olive-painted walls.
"You'd better ask Crawford, though I don't suppose he'll answer you. Be careful, Paul, he's sharp."
She pulled up outside the central hut and waved Hick out of the car. She was explaining herself to the guard when Crawford appeared from inside and walked toward her. "Well, I didn't expect to see you so quickly, Ms. Hawkins. Who do we have here?"
"This is Paul Hickman. He's the mayor of Hope."
"Ah, Mr. Hickman. Yes, indeed. I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter recently. My friend Ward mentioned you most warmly."
"I'll bet he did," Hick spat, ignoring the man's outstretched hand and his mention of Sam.
Crawford withdrew his arm as if he was folding an umbrella. "My name is Crawford. I am leader here. And I'm glad you've joined me because, you see, your position is, if I might say, hopeless. Aha-ha."
Hick glowered at the man, but Crawford seemed entirely unfazed. He was handsome, with coarse brown wavy hair and hazel eyes.
"Come inside and we can talk."
"Do I have a choice?" Hick asked.
Crawford smiled. "Of course. You have the choice to walk away and I have the choice of putting a bullet in your back when you do so. So, shall we sit comfortably while I explain how things are?"
Hick shrugged in a way he hoped suggested he couldn't care less either way, though he suspected his wiry-haired opponent saw straight through him.
The inside of Crawford's office was exactly what Hick had imagined from the outside. It reminded him of a set from the old TV series M*A*S*H, as if Crawford had designed it from a book or film, having never been inside an actual military base in his life. Gas lamps lent an orange light to the browns and olives of the decor. Crawford sat himself in a canvas chair behind a table of dark wood. Maps—some folded up, some open—lay scattered across the table, but pride
of place went to a small green book that Hick thought must be a Bible. Crawford saw him look at it as Hick sat down opposite.
"Impressive. Your gaze falls upon the most important object on this table, Mayor Hickman."
"You're not Islamists, then?"
Crawford swatted the suggestion away. "Some of us are Muslims, some are Christian, others are of all religions and none. And yet we are united in a common aim that binds us far more powerfully than any creed can push us apart."
"And what's that?"
"To save the planet."
"What?" Spittle flew over the table, some of it landing on the green book.
Crawford snatched it up and hid it in a drawer.
Hick wiped his mouth and tried desperately to force his thoughts into a coherent enough shape that he could express himself. "Save the planet? You set fire to it!"
"No, we did not, Mr. Hickman. We set fire to those things humanity has made. Now, please listen to me. It's important that you understand before you dismiss our philosophy."
Hick, who'd opened his mouth ready to strike back, paused for a moment before shrugging and settling back in his chair, the canvas squeaking as he did. He glanced behind him to see that they were alone together, though he didn't doubt that Crawford could call a dozen guards in a moment. He neither knew nor cared where Libby was. She could rot with her mother as far as he was concerned.
"How many humans do you think there were in this world on February thirteenth?"
"Okay, I'll play along. Six billion?"
Crawford shook his head. "Close, but no cigar. There were eight billion, and within twenty years there would be another billion. Too many, Mr. Hickman! Too many!" He banged on the table. "The planet cannot sustain so many and soon enough it would be uninhabitable."
"So it was global then? You killed billions? This is your philosophy?"
A shadow of pain passed over Crawford's handsome features. "It was … regrettable. You know that the planet Venus is Earth's twin in many ways? A similar size and the next closest to the Sun? A few decades ago, scientists believed it was an opulent water planet, a tropical Eden. And then the Soviets landed Venera 9 on the surface and discovered it was as hot as a furnace with clouds of hydrochloric acid. That was the future for Earth, Paul, if we didn't control the human population."
Last Stand: Book 3 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 3) Page 11