“The pistol too,’ directed Laroche. “We’ve all seen what you can do with that thing.”
Not liking his demanding tone, Bowie started toward Laroche, a deep growl emanating from his belly.
Mason leaned down and placed a hand on his back.
“Now’s not the time for that, boy.”
“It most certainly is not,” teased Laroche. “The pistol, get rid of it, or I start carving Miss Brooke like a Christmas goose.”
Mason hesitated as he looked for a shot. There wasn’t one, and that put him in the worst kind of bind. If he surrendered his pistol, Laroche would simply retrieve the weapons and kill them both. Unless, of course, he wanted to keep Brooke as his concubine, in which case, she would only wish that she were dead.
On the other hand, if he refused to give up the pistol, Laroche would feel compelled to prove that he was serious, perhaps slicing off an ear or the tip of her nose. And women rarely appreciated losing parts of their face.
The only option that might lead to an acceptable outcome was to try for a head shot. At twenty feet, it was certainly possible, albeit dangerous, given their position atop the bed. If Laroche shifted even so much as an inch, Mason’s bullet might kill Brooke instead. That, of course, assumed that he didn’t just miss outright, as no man was infallible. It was a high-stakes gamble that he gave no better than even odds.
Laroche pressed the knife against her throat, and Brooke screamed as a thin trail of blood appeared.
“I can assure you, Marshal, I will cut her pretty little throat.”
In the end, it came down to what was best for Brooke. Mason had sworn to protect her, and the best way to do that was to buy her a little more time. Recognizing that it took more courage to lay down the gun than it did to take a risky shot, he slowly drew his Supergrade and placed it on the floor in front of him.
Bowie sniffed the weapon and then looked up at Mason for an explanation.
“Kick it towards me,” ordered Laroche.
Mason feigned an awkward kick, sending it skittering about four feet—too far to kick again, but well within his reach should he decide to dive for it.
Laroche eyed the weapon, quickly doing the same internal calculation that Mason had. Not wanting to risk having him get closer to kick it again, he slid to the edge of the bed and shoved Brooke away. Before Mason could move for the Supergrade, Laroche revealed that he was holding a Walther PPK in the hand that had been hidden behind her back.
Shit. That complicated things significantly.
Brooke hurried over to Mason, and he caught her in his arms.
Fish in a barrel, he thought to himself.
“I should have known not to trust you,” Laroche said, putting his knife away and leveling the PPK at them.
“I did what you asked. Your precious trailer is outside.” Mason didn’t bother telling him that the weapons had been unloaded, save for a few empty crates to help protect McCabe and his men during the chase.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Either way, it does nothing to change how this ends.” He motioned for Brooke to step aside. “No need for you to die here, mademoiselle.”
Brooke turned and faced Laroche. “Please. There has to be some way to work this out, something you want.”
“My dear, I can already have anything I want. And right now, I want him dead.”
Laroche raised the pistol and fired. As he did, several things happened at once. Bowie bolted toward him like a greyhound out of the gate. Mason dropped to one knee to retrieve his Supergrade, figuring that if Laroche’s bullet didn’t kill him, he might still have a chance. And Brooke, poor beautiful Brooke, stepped directly in the line of fire.
Both Laroche and Mason paused as if time stood still, Brooke falling to her knees as a neat bloody hole appeared in her chest.
Laroche started to say something but was cut short by Bowie clamping onto his forearm and flinging him to the ground. The PPK fell from his grasp as the dog’s teeth snapped both the radius and ulna. Laroche reached for his knife. He would have gotten it too, had Bowie not changed targets, clamping his jaws around the man’s slender, milky white thigh.
Laroche screamed like a man caught in a woodchipper as Bowie shook his leg. The force of the motion was so great that it not only tore away his quadriceps, it broke the femur to send a thick shard of bone spearing through his flesh. Laroche flailed wildly, but nothing helped him to escape the horrible mauling. Eventually shock settled in, his blood pressure dropping until he gladly surrendered to unconsciousness. Bowie growled and shook his leg a few more times before finally releasing him.
Resting on her knees, Brooke teetered for a moment and then fell back into Mason’s arms. The bullet had pierced her left breast, and a wet circle of blood now spread out across her shirt. He gently laid her onto the floor and placed his hands over the hole, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
It didn’t help. Blood bubbled out from between his fingers, a sure sign that one of the arteries around the heart had been cut.
“What did you do?” he said, trembling.
Brooke placed her hands over his, and when she spoke, there was a peacefulness to her voice.
“I chose you.”
Mason felt his eyes cloud with tears.
“I’m the one—” his voice broke. “I’m the one who was supposed to protect you.”
She smiled and stared into his eyes.
“Tell me you love me.”
He swallowed hard. “I love you.”
“Tell me you forgive me.”
“I forgive you.”
She shuddered as she pulled in her last breath.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay.”
Before he could reply, her head tipped sideways, and she was gone.
Mason leaned down and kissed Brooke on the forehead.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter 21
Tanner and Samantha did two things before returning to the Voice of God compound, and both involved hay. First, they used Major to drag several rolls in front of the silo entrance, effectively trapping all those inside. And second, they fed a few rolls of hay in through the narrow silo doors, stoking the fire within. By the time they left, huge plumes of thick caramel-colored smoke billowed out into the night sky.
“Do you think we got them all?” she asked, shifting around to get comfortable on the saddle. “A few might have made it out before we barricaded the door.”
“A few misfits never hurt anyone.”
“You would say that.”
He grinned and urged Major to get a move on.
“I wonder if Reverend Purdy will really give us a whole truckload of gold.”
“He better.”
“I think he will. He seems like an honest man.”
“There are no honest men, Sam, only men who tell fewer lies. Remember that.”
She shrugged. “Well, maybe he’s one of those.”
“We’ll see.”
The ride back took less than twenty minutes, not because of any urging from Tanner, but because Major seemed unnerved by the dark. Peter was still standing guard out front, shifting from one leg to the other while singing softly to himself to help pass the time. When he saw them approaching, he offered a friendly wave.
As they climbed down off the horse, however, the thick crust of dried blood covering Tanner’s bare chest caused the young man to shrink away.
“What happened to you?” he said, his mouth twitching.
“We had to squeeze him through a hole that was this big,” Samantha said, using her hands to show just how narrow the gap had been. “Believe me, it was a tight fit.”
“It looks more like he squeezed through a cheese grater.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks. Tanner took a sponge bath in blood to help him get through.”
He cringed. “A sponge bath… in blood?”
She shrugged. “He does that sort of thing just to gross me out.”
�
�Not true,” said Tanner.
Samantha silently mouthed, “Yes, it is.”
Peter unclipped the radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth.
“Reverend Purdy, they’re here. They came back.”
Two minutes later, the reverend and his bodyguard Tyler both hurried out of the building. Purdy was dressed in navy blue pajamas that were a couple sizes too big. Tyler looked exactly as he had earlier in the day, either not yet having gotten ready for bed, or more likely, just choosing to sleep in his clothes. Once a soldier, always a soldier.
“Did you do it?” exclaimed Purdy. “Did you find the hive?”
Tanner nodded. “Burned it to the ground.”
“Actually, it was already in the ground,” clarified Samantha, “but you get the point.”
“And the creatures? They’re dead? All of them?”
Tanner nodded again. “Without the silo to shelter them, the few that weren’t caught in the fire should die off in a few days.”
Purdy extended both hands, cupping Tanner’s.
“We can’t possibly thank you enough.” His eyes went to Samantha. “Both of you.”
Tanner’s eyes narrowed. “Sure you can.”
“Yes, of course, the gold,” he said, flushing. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our end of the bargain. It’s late though. You should stay the night.” His eyes drifted to the dried blood covering Tanner’s chest. “Also, the ladies are boiling water for evening bath, should you be so inclined.”
“Oh, we are!” exclaimed Samantha. She sniffed her shirt, which was spattered with blood and urine from the hydra. “A fresh change of clothes might be nice too.”
Purdy smiled and ushered them toward the building.
“Of course, it’s the least we can do. Please, come.”
Tanner lay naked in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water and just enough soap to cast a glossy sheen to its surface. Given the amount of blood and filth covering his body, the women had insisted that he be the fourth and final user of the bath water. His chest and back both stung from the gouges, and his ribs felt like they had been tenderized with a meat mallet and then sprinkled over with a bit of sea salt just for good measure. Still, all in all, he felt pretty darn good, and it wasn’t because he had helped Purdy and his followers. Everyone knew that chasing good deeds was hopping an express train to the graveyard.
No, Tanner basked in a warm feeling of satisfaction for one reason and one reason only. He was closer to reuniting his family. There was a chance that things might still go awry, maybe even better than a chance, knowing his luck, but things were definitely looking up. Once he handed over the gold to Mother, she would have no reason not to release Issa. Mother had demonstrated genuine affection for her, and Tanner was confident that she understood that Issa’s place was with her husband and child.
He closed his eyes and smiled. For once, things looked like they might actually work out.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
“Enter,” he said, anticipating the embarrassed blush of one of the women who had drawn the bath.
The door opened a few inches, and Samantha’s head poked in. Her hair was wet and pulled back into a ponytail.
“You okay? There’s a running bet out here that you drowned.”
Tanner sunk a little lower in the water.
“A little privacy if you don’t mind.”
She grinned. “Yeah, like you’re modest. Just hurry up, will you? I think they’re eager to dump the slop you’re soaking in.”
He swished his fingers through the blood-stained water.
“Can’t remember the last time I had a bath.”
She waved a hand in front of her nose.
“Believe me, no one can.”
Tanner reared back to toss a wet rag, but she was already gone.
“Smart ass,” he grumbled as he got to his feet. “No rest for the weary.”
After Tanner dried and dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, he was reunited with Samantha in a room not much bigger than a closet. Two mats lay on the floor with a small battery-powered lantern resting between them. A five-gallon bucket sat in the corner—no doubt for relieving oneself in the middle of the night.
Samantha wrinkled her nose, “Not quite the Hilton.”
Tanner patted the dust from his mat and flopped down.
“We’ve stayed in worse.”
She turned and inspected the door.
“There’s no way to lock it.”
“Wedge your shoe under it,” he said with a yawn.
“Will that stop them from coming in?”
“No, but it’ll make you feel better.”
She slipped off her shoe and wedged the toe under the door. It didn’t fit well, and she doubted it would do much if someone really wanted in. Still, it was better than nothing.
She walked over and sat on the other mat, positioning her backpack to serve as a makeshift pillow. Like a gambler expecting trouble, she checked the derringer and then slid it under her pack.
“Too bad you lost your rifle thingy.”
“Yeah,” Tanner said, cutting his eyes at her, “too bad.”
“Sorry,” she said softly. “You could have kept my derringer.”
“Too small for my hands.”
“Maybe Reverend Purdy will give you one of their guns.”
Tanner closed his eyes. “Maybe.”
She cast one final glance at the door.
“You sure no one will come for us tonight?”
“Sometimes, darlin’, you have to let the world do what it’s gonna do.”
Accepting that some things were outside her control didn’t sit well with Samantha, but she eventually clicked off the lantern and settled onto her side.
“Goodnight Tanner,” she said softly.
He answered with a soft snore.
She smiled and closed her eyes, whispering, “Sometimes you have to let the world do what it’s gonna do.”
Samantha awoke to a knock on the door. She jerked upright, her hands feeling around in the dark for the derringer.
“Easy, Wild Bill,” Tanner said, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Killers don’t usually knock.”
Whoever was outside tried to open the door, but when the shoe caught underneath, they stopped and knocked again.
Samantha clicked on the lantern as Tanner got to his feet. He slid the shoe out from under the door and tossed it over to Samantha. When he pulled opened the door, Reverend Purdy stood on the other side, a warm smile on his face.
“Good morning,” he leaned around to better see Samantha, “to both of you.”
“Morning,” she said, smoothing down her hair.
Purdy turned to Tanner. “We just finished loading the gold, if you’d like to come see.”
“You bet I would.”
Tanner and Samantha quickly retrieved their packs and followed Purdy to see their coveted reward. As they stepped out the back door, they saw that one of the flatbed trucks now had a thick green tarp covering its load. Several of Purdy’s men stood beside the truck, their shirts soaked in sweat. Loading the gold had been a hard morning’s work. The only person who was noticeably absent was Brock. He apparently either hadn’t yet recovered from the headbutt, or more likely, had been given some kind of alternate duty to keep tensions from flaring.
“Go ahead,” prompted Purdy. “Take a look.”
Tanner walked over and pulled back one corner of the tarp. Underneath was a pile of gold, neatly stacked four bars deep. All in all, he estimated there might be five hundred bars—a king’s ransom by any measure. Based on how low the truck was sitting, Purdy’s men had loaded it right up to the vehicle’s carrying capacity. And while Tanner would have liked even more, he didn’t dare risk breaking an axle.
Samantha stepped up next to him.
“That’s a lot of gold.”
“Yep.”
She leaned closer and whispered, “I told you Reverend Purdy was one of the good guys.”
Tanner nodded. The whole thing had been painless, easy even, which was surprising, given the fortune that was being surrendered. He lifted off one of the bars, reminded once again that gold was twice as heavy as lead per unit volume. Despite his worry to the contrary, the bar felt exactly as it should.
Still, Tanner’s “Spidey sense” was warning that something was off.
“The truck’s fueled and ready to go,” Purdy said, holding out a set of keys. “Again, we thank you for all that you’ve done.”
Instead of taking the keys, Tanner said, “Have someone bring me an axe.”
“Excuse me?”
“A small hand axe will do just fine.”
Purdy looked confused. “Why?”
“Yeah, why?” said Samantha.
“I thought it was obvious,” he said, raising the gold to his mouth. “The bars are too big to bite.”
Purdy’s brow furrowed. “You think it’s fake? But they’re straight from Fort Knox.” He pointed. “Look, you can still see the stamp.” Purdy was right. Each bar had a four-digit alphanumeric code stamped into its end.
“Even so, I like to know that my paycheck won’t bounce. Now, about that axe…”
Purdy seemed to grow flustered. He started to say something, stopped, and finally turned to one of the men.
“See if you can find an axe.” He turned back to Tanner. “It’s getting hot out here. Would it be all right if we move inside the storage building while you conduct your test?”
Tanner tucked the gold bar under his arm.
“Sure thing, but I’m testing this one.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
Once again, Purdy ushered Tanner and Samantha into the building, and once again, he insisted that everyone else remain outside. Five minutes later, the man he had sent in search of an axe returned. The hand axe looked like something a Boy Scout might carry, complete with the emblem of an eagle blazed onto its shaft.
Purdy waited until the man had closed the door before passing the axe to Tanner.
“I can assure you that we didn’t in any way tamper with the gold. It’s just as it came off the train.” Despite his words, there was a nervous tremor to his voice.
Tanner set the gold bar on a workbench and began carefully chipping away. The gold was no match for the much harder steel, and with only a few gentle chops, he had chiseled away a thumb-sized chunk of metal. It was then that he saw that beneath a thin layer of gold lay a dull silver-looking core.
The Survivalist (Solemn Duty) Page 25
