Aaron squeezed Colleen’s hand and gave her a smile before he left. He doubted he’d ever see her again unless he failed, but failure wasn’t an option. Megan was his priority and Colleen would probably survive whatever was in store for her with or without him. But Megan might not if he didn’t get out of this place fast. Aaron followed the soldier, relieved to see that the man trusted him enough to lead the way rather than force him at gunpoint like the militia guys had. That confirmed his assumption that he wasn’t their prisoner too, but he was also quite certain he wouldn’t be allowed to just walk away to wherever he wanted to go. The other good thing was that it was still dark, even though he knew it wouldn’t be for long. Aaron scanned the rest of the camp around him as he followed along, pretending to hold pressure on his non-existent wound in order to stop the bleeding. All the soldiers he could see were busy. They were checking the dead for weapons and gathering up whatever supplies were not going in the burn piles. Since the camp was practically already in the edge of the woods, Aaron knew he wouldn’t have to make it far to be out of sight and back in his element. He slowed his pace to create some distance between him and the man leading him, and then he turned and bolted as fast as he could run, aiming at the darkest shadows he could spot beyond the perimeter.
He heard someone else shout out an alarm and then an order for him to stop, but Aaron didn’t slow down and didn’t look back. If a bullet cut him down for his efforts, then so be it, but he wasn’t going to be taken away to some other camp by these soldiers. He flinched when he heard two gunshots in rapid succession but felt nothing and heard no whiz of bullets going past his ears, and seconds later, the dark forest had swallowed him up. Aaron didn’t know whether the soldiers would come after him or not since he wasn’t one of the enemy, but he was taking no chances by slowing down. If they did search for him, they had the advantage with their bright lights and probably night vision equipment as well. Aaron’s only chance was to put as much distance between himself and the camp as possible, but he was also aware of keeping his bearings too. He’d fled the camp heading west, which was nothing but roadless wilderness, but he knew he would have to circle back to the north and then east in order to return to the trail where he’d last seen Megan.
It was a good thing he wasn’t actually wounded, Aaron thought, because his good health and fitness were all he had. He’d thought to put on his shoes when the shooting first started, in case there was an opportunity to run, but other than that and the clothes on his back, Aaron had nothing but his skills to help him survive. It was bitter cold in the predawn dark, but the steep uphill hike out of the valley and away from the camp warmed him enough until the morning sun knocked back the chill. By that time, Aaron was confident that the soldiers weren’t in pursuit. He figured one refugee wasn’t worth the bother to them, as their mission had obviously been to eradicate the militia camp. Aaron wondered what those men who’d captured him had done to bring down the wrath of the Army, but he’d seen this on a lesser scale when Gareth and some of the other idiots from the resistance camp had shot up that supply convoy. How they thought they’d get away with it was beyond Aaron, and he had successfully convinced Megan that it was time to get away from that maniac. Colleen had filled him in on what happened next though, telling him about how Gareth talked her and Brett, as well as Jeremy into coming after them. She didn’t know what happened to Gareth and the others, but it was their fault she’d ended up held hostage by the militia. Aaron hoped that Gareth got what he deserved, just as their former captors had, but he figured he would never know, so he gave it little more thought. His task for today was to get back to the rock overhang where he’d last seen Megan. It took him until late afternoon because of the circuitous route he deemed necessary to avoid being seen, and when he got there, he found what he’d expected.
Megan was long gone, of course, but the two saddles and some of the packs were still there, tucked away behind the rocks so that anyone that wasn’t specifically looking for them would pass by without seeing them. She’d taken only her backpack, which was the reasonable thing to do, along with as much of the food as she could carry. She’d taken most of the foods that could be eaten without cooking, things like the nuts and peanut butter and jerky. But she’d left their cooking pot and bags of rice and some of the canned beans and other non-perishables. Aaron quickly opened a can and scarfed down some of the beans. He was starving from putting down all those hard miles, not to mention he hadn’t been fed well the entire time he was being held.
Megan had taken the .45 auto pistol that Vicky’s grandpa had given them, and Aaron was glad to see that she had. His rifle had been taken from him when he was captured, and they’d been carrying no other firearms, so he was going to have to continue south unarmed, but at least she’d left some of his other gear behind. His sleeping bag was there, as well as his jacket, and digging through the packs he found a large pocketknife she’d probably overlooked. Aaron had hoped she would leave him a note or something, but of course she hadn’t, and he knew it was probably because she had witnessed what happened and had no reason to believe he would escape to return to this place. He was glad she had the wisdom not to try and interfere when he was captured, because it would have surely led to her capture too, but he knew she must have been devastated at the prospect of being left out there alone with no way to help him. Aaron had emphatically told her when they first left that she was to go on without him if something happened to him along the way, and that was why he’d given her the details of where to go and who to talk to on the reservation. He just hoped she’d done as he asked, because they’d already come so far, and she had nowhere else to go unless she turned back to the ranch. Considering that possibility, Aaron backtracked a bit on the trail to the north before it got too dark to see, looking for tracks or any other sign Megan had gone back. When he found nothing, he went back to the rock overhang to get some sleep. He would continue looking as he made his way south, hoping he would catch up to her before she reached the reservation boundary, or she fell into the hands of men like those who’d captured him.
When he began his journey the next morning, Aaron had rigged one of the saddlebags to serve as a backpack, loading it with all of the remaining food Megan had left behind. He would still have to find more along the way, considering how far he had to walk, but Aaron wasn’t overly concerned about that. He would be crossing trout streams along the way, and there was always the possibility of taking small game like rabbit or grouse with a well-aimed rock or simple throwing stick. Aaron knew he could do this because he’d practiced it before when roaming the backcountry with his uncle and cousins. He was much more worried about Megan, attempting a hike like that alone. Even if it weren’t for the threat of being attacked, the mountain wilderness held so many dangers for someone so inexperienced and ill-equipped, especially this time of year. His only hope that she might survive the trek was that they had spent many hours discussing the various what-if scenarios and he’d done his best to teach her as much as she could absorb in the short time they’d been traveling together.
Perhaps the most serious danger he’d emphasized to her was the storms that could hit the mountains this time of year. Getting caught at higher elevations could be fatal, and just two days after resuming his journey, Aaron had to follow his own advice and leave the trail for the shelter of a heavily-forested drainage on the east side of the divide. The snow was enough to close all the higher passes, forcing him to seek alternate routes that took him days out of his way. The extra travel time guaranteed that the food he was carrying wouldn’t last, but Aaron pushed on, reducing his eating to the minimum necessary to keep walking. Every day he saw mule deer that would have been easy pickings if he’d but had a rifle, but there was no point in wishing for the impossible. Aaron instead spent an afternoon at a small stream crossing stocking up on trout that he found in the deeper pools among the rocks. He missed many more than he managed to impale on the spear he carved from a small sapling, but even so, he soon procured mo
re than he could eat, splitting the rest and hanging them on racks he built near the fire, so they would dry, and he could take them with him.
Aaron had always been fascinated with the reputation his ancestors had for living off the land. While all the Native Americans had lived close to the land in the days before the Europeans came, the Apache were particularly adept at surviving in even the harshest regions of the inhospitable southwest. And they could do it while traveling great distances and raiding and fighting. Aaron knew all the stories of the legendary Apache war chiefs like Geronimo and Cochise, and how they defied the entire U.S. Army even when operating in small bands of just a handful of warriors. Aaron knew it was that intimacy with the land that allowed them to do it. They didn’t need to be burdened with supplies to cover great distances, because they knew how to find food and water in places no outsider could. Aaron had always wanted to be like that, but no Apache he knew in modern times really was. His uncle was as close as anyone he’d ever met, and he had taught Aaron a lot when he was growing up on the reservation, but most of the old ways and skills were forgotten, and few of the youth could care less anyway. Aaron certainly cared though, and even if he could never be like those warriors of old, he was justifiably proud of himself as he sat there by the fire with his catch, traveling the same country they’d surely roamed as he drew closer to what was now the Colorado-New Mexico border.
Aaron wondered now if he’d made a terrible mistake talking Megan into leaving with him to go to his tribal lands. Had he done it out of pure selfishness, because he had a crush on her and wanted to be with her? Aaron didn’t want to think so, but if he didn’t find her there—if something happened to her out in this wilderness—then who’s fault was it but his? She had already told him that even if she did go with him to the reservation, she had no intention of staying there long-term. He kept believing she would change her mind though, once they were there, and give up on the foolish idea of trying to travel all the way to south Florida after all that had happened. If even part of what they’d heard about the hurricane that hit there at the end of summer was true, then Aaron doubted there’d be anything left for her to go home to. He knew she didn’t want to think about it, but there was a good possibility her mother and her stepfather and stepbrother were dead. And if they weren’t, how would she get there and how would she ever find them? But when they left the ranch together, Aaron had told her that he would do everything he could to help her figure that out if it was what she wanted.
At least New Mexico was one step closer, he’d said. And the reservation lands would likely provide them some insulation from what was going on out in the rest of the surrounding countryside. Aaron felt sure that the tribal council would mobilize and add more police or form a tribal militia to protect their people and land. He doubted the government forces would interfere so long as the people kept to themselves, and the others fighting to bring down the country would have no quarrel with the natives, nor would there be much of value on reservation land to attract the opportunists. Aaron was confident the reservation was one of the safest places in the entire region in which to take refuge, and he’d convinced Megan of the same. But now he’d failed her by foolishly letting his guard down, leaving her alone in a wilderness with no way of knowing that he was free again and back on route to their planned destination. He hoped that Megan somehow made it there before him, but if she had, what was she going to tell the people? All she had was his name and the names of his aunt and uncle. Aaron didn’t know if they would believe her or not when she told them what happened, and even if they did, he doubted his uncle or anyone else from the reservation would be able to go and try and find him. And even though Megan didn’t know where they’d taken him or how many other armed men were in that camp, she had to know that it would take more help than just his uncle to rescue him, and Aaron really doubted the tribal council would authorize such an expedition off the reservation given the circumstances. He hoped they wouldn’t, of course, because he wouldn’t be there anyway now, and his captors were all dead, but the real question was whether Megan ever got there or not at all.
Aaron reached the reservation boundary some two weeks later. He didn’t have any I.D. on him as the men who’d taken him captive had stripped him of his wallet after they took his rifle and searched him for other weapons. Aaron wasn’t worried though, because he knew a backdoor route that would take him into the area where his uncle’s land was located. The canyon trail was far from any of the roads entering the reservation and there was no water along the route, so it was seldom used. Aaron’s uncle had taken him there several times to show him some ancient sites where the people who’d inhabited the canyon long before the Apache had left their stories painted on the rocks. Aaron paused to look at them for a moment and to give thanks that he had made it back to the lands of his people.
When he reached the low sandstone bluff overlooking the adobe dwelling belonging to his uncle, Daisy, the black and white border collie that watched over the place spotted him and began barking immediately. Aaron called out to her as he made his way down, and once she verified his identity with her nose, she rushed out to greet him, jumping up onto him like they did this every day. Aaron gave her some attention for a moment and then looked past her to the closed front door of the house. He knew if his Uncle Ethan or Aunt Ava were home, they would have heard Daisy’s barking, but no one opened the door, and when he walked around to the front of the house, he saw that his uncle’s newer Dodge truck was gone, but the old rusted-out Toyota 4x4 was still parked out by the road. Aaron knocked on the door anyway to be sure no one was inside, and when he got no response, he reached up to feel over the top of one of the front window frames for the hidden key.
When he went inside, he could tell they hadn’t been away long. There was a covered pot of beans on the stove, still slightly warm to the touch, and a big stack of corn tortillas wrapped in a cloth. Aaron was so hungry he didn’t even bother sitting down to eat. He found a spoon and began piling beans on tortillas one after another until he was afraid it would make him sick if he kept stuffing his empty stomach. Aunt Ava might pretend to be mad at him at first, but she wouldn’t mind in the end, and Aaron was sure they would be back soon, or she wouldn’t have left dirty dishes in the sink. He walked down the hall to the open door of the bedroom where he always stayed when he came to visit and stopped in his tracks at what he saw inside. It seemed impossible, but Megan’s backpack was laying there open on the foot of the unmade bed!
Aaron crossed the room and picked it up to examine it to be sure. It was Megan’s all right, the same one she’d had since leaving the campus with Vicky and Gareth, and he recognized some of her things inside it as well as one of her shirts draped over the wooden chair in the bedroom, leaving him with no doubt that she’d been there very recently, maybe even that morning. Megan had made it all the way to the reservation on her own! Aaron was ecstatic and amazed. He put the backpack back on the bed and went outside, looking down the desolate dusty road that stretched south to the horizon. There was no sign of a vehicle, not even a plume of dust on that distant plain, but Aaron figured they must have gone to the store in Dulce or somewhere else nearby. He figured they would probably be back later that day, but Aaron was too impatient to wait. He went out to the old Toyota and looked under the floor mat for the key and found it still there. Aaron prayed the old truck would fire up as the starter slowly began to grind, with barely enough juice in the battery to turn over the engine. He stopped before he drained it completely and pumped the gas pedal for one last try. This time the engine sputtered to life, idling roughly, but running, and Aaron put it in gear and drove off.
Fifteen
ONCE HE MADE HIS decision, Eric set a pace that kept both him and the horses at the edge of exhaustion. Most of the miles he covered in the dark, when it was safer to use the faster Jeep trails and other remote roads that paralleled the divide. He stopped anytime the route took him across a particularly exposed open area, scanning the rocks and
surrounding slopes for signs of militia or military patrols. But as far as he could tell, he was the only one braving the nighttime cold. It wasn’t pleasant, by any means, but Eric had a goal and he was used to being uncomfortable. He was getting used to the advantages and disadvantages of the horses too and learning to adapt to planning around their requirements for water, feeding and rest. On the one hand, it was frustrating having to deal with them, but the upside was that he could cover more ground when he was moving and do so with a lot more weight in the form of food as well as his weapons and ammunition. Traveling this way seemed fitting in the landscape he rode through, and Eric felt bad for Bob Barham, whose horses he was now using and whose dreams of a journey like this came to an end with a single load of buckshot.
It was a sad ending for Bob but considering all Eric had encountered since he’d slipped away from that cabin alone, Eric knew he had absolutely done the right thing. There was no way he would have gotten as far or learned as much as he had with Shauna, Vicky and Jonathan tagging along, and he hoped like hell they’d done as he asked and stayed put. He knew Jonathan probably would if it were up to him, but Shauna’s stubbornness still worried him. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if she ran into another bunch of those militia guys, waiting to bushwhack travelers using the trail. It was hard to put it out of his mind, but he kept hoping that Jonathan and Vicky were able to convince her of the wisdom of waiting when she showed them the letter. Eric knew she’d probably ripped it to shreds shortly after, probably while calling him every name in the book, but Jonathan was still unable to walk, and Vicky was dealing with the emotions of having killed a man, and one that had once been her roommate’s boyfriend. Neither of those two would be keen on facing more hardships and danger when they had a better alternative and Eric’s sound reasoning for waiting laid out in his own handwriting. Shauna might sulk and fume, but if she were outvoted, Eric doubted she’d attempt to follow him alone.
Feral Nation Series Box Set 2 [Books 4-6] Page 32
