Spore Series | Book 4 | Exist

by Soward, Kenny

  “So, she could have killed you at any time?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Bryant frowned with wounded pride, “but she’s damn good.” He chuckled and nodded at Jessie’s mask. “She doesn’t like it when you come to my rescue.”

  She reached up and felt the front of her visor with her fingers. The blade’s point had punched through the plastic but not far enough to scrape her skin. “Talk about lucky,” she said with a heavy breath.

  The ache in her shoulder returned with a vengeance, and she grimaced and closed her eyes, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. It felt like someone had wrenched her arm out of its socket, threw sand inside, and put everything back together.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She opened her eyes and searched the floor, spotting something in the mess. She walked over and picked up a bottled water, holding it up to Bryant. “I’m going to grab a pain pill and wash it down with this. Want one?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. Then he nodded at her shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

  Jessie examined herself and saw her jacket had fallen off her shoulder, and her wound bled through the bandage and her T-shirt.

  “We’ll deal with it after we finish the run.” She shrugged the jacket on and shuffled back to the pharmacy in search of some relief.

  Chapter 14

  Moe, Chinle, Arizona

  Moe sat on the edge of his cot and stared at his dirty socks. His legs and back ached from riding, and his head hurt from the all-night meetings with the Chinle elders.

  It was the most stress he’d felt in his entire life. Even more stressful than a long haul requiring him to drive fourteen hours a day.

  He needed a big cup of black coffee. But that meant he had to get up and find it. He took a breath of dry morning air. The wind blew lightly across the desert floor to the edge of the canyon where they’d situated the South Rim scout camp.

  It was a cluster of ten-by-ten canvas canopies, pegged to the dirt near a trail that wound down to the basin. The trail was one of five paths connecting the upper world to the lower. The primary ones were the North and South Rim paths, guarded by the scout camps. The other three were deeper east, to be used as escape routes if necessary.

  All together, they had one hundred and thirty-two miles of canyons and basins to guard from a possible incursion. It was a lot of ground to cover, but it also gave the Navajo people plenty of places to hide and defend.

  The camp bustled in the early morning. It was around 9am, judging by the position of the sun. The smell of eggs and bacon cooking set his stomach to growling.

  He pulled his boots on as he recalled the previous night’s meeting. Aside from the run-in his team had with Carver’s people, the North Rim teams had seen action, too. They’d exchanged fire with the enemy, though no injuries were reported. In other news, two ATVs had broken down and needed to be repaired.

  It had only been two days and Moe wasn’t sure how long they could keep up the rigorous schedule. Several teams working in shifts, driving the ATVs and wearing out the horses. He’d told Ahiga that much last night, but the sheriff was stubborn and wanted to keep pressure on Carver.

  Moe knew the Navajo people would adjust to living in and around the canyon. They routinely camped and spent summer nights sleeping outdoors, staring up at the stars. Roughing it wasn’t an issue.

  He tied his boots up and stood, looking around. Several scouts on his shift slept in their cots, protected from the desert wind by tarps hung from the canopy sides.

  Moe stretched his arms over his head and caught sight of Aponi approaching. She’d pinned her waist-length hair into a bundle atop her head, revealing her graceful neck.

  She carried two cups of coffee in her hands.

  “Hey, Moe.” Her voice was naturally quiet, but to Moe, she sounded chipper.

  “Good morning.” He nodded at the cups she carried. “I sure hope one of those is for me.”

  She handed him one of the cups. “I didn’t know how you took it, so I stirred in some cream and sugar.”

  “You’re my angel of mercy.” Moe sighed and sipped the coffee. Then he walked out from the canopy’s protection to lift his face to the warm sun. “It looks like a good morning, unless you‘re going to tell me different.”

  “The scouts reported nothing new overnight. One of the ATVs has been repaired. We’ll add it back into the rotation.”

  Moe nodded and had another sip of coffee. He smacked his lips. “I’m thinking about cutting one person from each team to give them some rest. I don’t know how long we’ll have to keep this up, but we need to conserve energy, food and fuel.”

  “The teams are over-staffed,” Aponi nodded. “We could stand to cut them down from five to two easily, but I know Ahiga won’t like it.”

  “The sheriff wants the teams to have a lot of firepower on hand if Carver’s people catch them.”

  “We won’t need it,” she said. “As we proved yesterday, we’ve got maneuverability and speed on our side. They might as well be riding elephants the way they move in those Jeeps.”

  Moe chuckled then sobered his expression. “Could they get their hands on some ATVs in town?”

  “It’s possible, but Cynthia ordered everyone to bring all the ATVs and horses with us to the canyons.”

  “They’ll have mostly Jeeps and Humvees,” he agreed. “I like the idea of cutting the teams to two scouts each. We could double them up when we need to cover more ground. I’ll talk to Ahiga. Do we have enough radios?”

  Aponi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “That might be a problem, but we’ll figure something out.”

  “Put it on the list for the scavenging team. Two-way radios.” Rex and Casey Harvey were assembling a group of three trucks to travel to the neighboring towns for food, fuel, and other supplies. Moe couldn’t imagine they’d find a wealth of goods, but he’d take anything at that point.

  Aponi nodded her understanding, and together they walked to a canopy in the center of the cluster. Inside, six stones held down a map on a foldout table. A man sat on one side with five two-way radios lying in front of him. Each used a different channel and had a number taped to them to monitor incoming messages from the scouting teams and the North Rim folks.

  The man was leaning forward, forehead laying on a notepad in front of him. Moe peered at the scrawled notes there. Then he put his coffee cup down and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, shaking him gently awake.

  He jolted, head jerking up as he looked around in a daze. He’d left a small puddle of drool on the paper. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, lifting them to Moe and Aponi.

  “Sorry, Moe. I guess I fell asleep. My relief was supposed to come...” The man shook his head, still groggy.

  “It’s okay, Peter,” Moe said. “We’re only two days in. We’ll get better. Aponi, can you check on his replacement and why they didn’t show up?”

  The woman pointed to her temple. “I’ll add it to the list.”

  “Thank you.” Moe started to turn back but hesitated. “And thank you for being so strong. Especially after...”

  “My husband and father-in-law were shot?”

  “Yes.”

  The tall Navajo woman straightened. “I carry on for them. For their memories. They’re all I have left.”

  Moe nodded slowly and turned to a table with a map of the three-pronged canyon region spread out. Aponi had marked the places where they’d interacted with the cult and had added a black stone if shots were fired.

  The base operator stood and joined them. He pointed to three places close to Chinle. “We spotted headlights near Tsegi Overlook, but none went farther east than that.”

  “What about North Rim?”

  “They moved in as far as here.” Peter pointed to a spot north of Cottonwood Canyon up near Highway 64.

  Near the foot of the canyon at Chinle, a shallow gully broke off and turned north like a rugged spike. No vehicles could cross it, so Carver’s people would need
to swing wide if they wanted access to the North Rim.

  “Carver might think it’s a waste of time to send his forces that far north. Maybe we can use that to our advantage, spare some scouts from the North Rim to help us here in the south.”

  “Noted,” Aponi said.

  Moe stood from where he’d been leaning over the map, considering all that they’d discussed. He gazed northwest toward Chinle, wondering what Carver might do next. Should he send in a team to get a closer look? Should he try some harrying tactics, or wait for the perfect time to perform a massive strike?

  “I’ll need to talk to Melissa,” he said, turning to Aponi. “We need to see what Window Rock wants to do. Can you set the new scouting schedule right away?”

  “Will do.” The woman excused herself from the table, pulling her own radio from a clip on her belt. She used a channel to communicate to the folks in the basin. She spoke in Navajo, half-coded so Carver’s people couldn’t intercept the messages even if he captured a native speaker and forced them to translate.

  “Thanks, Peter.” Moe patted the base operator’s shoulder. “We’ll have someone up here to give you a break soon.”

  “I appreciate that, Moe.”

  He picked up his coffee cup and turned away from the table, hoping to find a moment of privacy. He needed to relieve himself before he did anything else.

  He walked through the camp. All forty Navajos and one of Brandi Reemer’s doctors ate breakfast, drank coffee, and chatted softly together.

  To the east of camp, they’d hastily erected a wooden stable with tin roofing for the horses. Another workshop held their parked ATVs and motorcycles.

  Farther east and a little south stood a cluster of bushes they’d designated for privacy. Moe was headed there until Waki stepped in front of him with her arms folded and her flat brown eyes leveled at him.

  “Not now, Waki,” Moe sighed. “I’m going to use the bushes.”

  “I saw you talking to Aponi,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan is to streamline our scout teams to cover more ground and save resources.” Moe squared up to his sister, putting off Nature’s Call to satisfy her questions. Otherwise, she wouldn’t quit.

  “So, we’re not attacking?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking things through.”

  “What if, while you’re thinking things through, those dirt bags drive one of their tanks into the basin and massacre our people?”

  “We’ve made contingency plans for that,” Moe said, conceding her point. He shifted uneasily. The truth was, they were still forming those plans. All they’d come up with so far was run if that happened.

  “It’s just that...” She bit her lip, eyes flitting northward.

  “What, Waki? It’s just what?”

  “It’s just that I want to help so bad.” Her expression grew hardened. “I’ve never even met this Carver guy, and I already hate him. It’s like he’s holding an ax over our heads. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “I know it feels that way, but--”

  Waki’s face suddenly twisted into a pained grimace. She hugged herself tighter, and tears streaked down her cheeks. His sister sometimes cried in anger or frustration, like when they’d found the snake-bitten woman in the desert. But rarely did she shed tears out of sadness or pity. One of the last times had been when they were children, and she’d skinned her knee hard playing basketball. Their mother had told her to be strong, and that crying only got in the way of winning. Since then, she’d always been strong.

  He placed his coffee cup on a table and stepped to her with his arms wide, hesitating and uncertain. Here was a woman who had all but estranged herself to her family. She’d moved away for a better life off the reservation, putting her life before everyone else’s.

  Much like Moe had done.

  “You are helping,” he assured her. “You’re doing a good job.”

  Waki’s chin dropped to her chest, and her shoulders shook.

  Throwing hesitation aside, Moe took a step and leaned in, wrapping his arms around her. She fell against him, her grief-wracked body accepting his gesture. She embraced him back, and all he could do was hold her and offer what little comfort he could.

  Waki broke the embrace and held Moe at arm’s length. She gripped both his shoulders and leveled her gaze in a moment of soul bearing. “After Tobe died, I felt so guilty about Mom.”

  “Me, too,” he replied, seeing a mirror image of his own emotions reflected in her eyes.

  “Why did we do that? Why did we leave her to take care of him when he was sick?”

  Moe shrugged. “Selfishness. Apathy. We figured Tobe would get better and things would work out. We didn’t realize the burden we’d placed on her.”

  She gripped him harder. “Then when Mom died, I didn’t want to see you, because I thought you hated me. That’s why... That’s why I skipped her funeral. Now my heart is full of shame. I’m sorry.”

  Moe’s chest wanted to swell and break apart, but he spoke through the emotions. “We’re both at fault for leaving Mom with Tobe and not visiting as much as we should have.” He nodded knowingly. “We left her alone, Waki. We left her alone to take care of things, and we need to pray that she forgives us.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, searching for the right prayer but unable to conjure one.

  “Don’t forget, Dad encouraged us to get off the reservation and thrive in the outside world,” Waki said. “He never practiced the Navajo ways like mother.”

  Moe reached out and gripped his kid sister’s shoulders, mirroring her stance. “I regret that I took his words seriously. I regret putting my driving career first and forgetting our heritage. But we can’t blame Dad. He was a good man who did his best. Our penance is to make it up to mom and Tobe somehow.”

  Waki sniffed and grinned. “But we can still blame Dad a little, right?”

  A laugh burst from his lips. He shook his sister affectionately, marveling at her spirited soul and regretting the years they’d missed together. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “I never want us to be apart again, okay?” Waki’s grin died, and her expression grew intense once more. “I never want us to doubt each other or be afraid to communicate. I want us to be a family again. Just the two of us now. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  She offered a sheepish grin. “So, you don’t hate that I’m part of your scouting team anymore?”

  “I never did,” he laughed. “In fact, I wanted you on my team so I could keep an eye on you.”

  Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, but Moe let go of his sister and turned to find Melissa Bryant and one of her soldiers approaching. The captain wore her dark hair down in wavy curls that fell past her shoulders, and her camo T-shirt bore sweat marks around the neck and armpits.

  She nodded. “Hello, Moe. Waki.”

  “Melissa. How’s the radio coming?”

  “That’s what I came to tell you. We got the receiver and antennae set up near the rim in a camouflaged shelter.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s working great.”

  “How great?”

  The pilot grinned. “We got back in touch with Window Rock, and I briefed the colonel. She says she might be willing to talk about some joint operations against Carver.”

  “That’s excellent.” Moe’s heart lifted with genuine hope. “If we can combine our forces and put pressure on Carver, his camp might fall apart on its own. At the very least, we can make him do something stupid. Is that all you have, Captain?”

  A curious look passed over her face. “Actually, it’s not. I managed to reach the military switchboard through Window Rock.”

  Moe put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that mean?”

  “The Army is restructuring their information systems. Simplifying and paring down. Let me tell you, Moe. There’s a lot of activity happening out east. They have a strong base in Washington. There are smaller ones around, holding steady against
the fungal outbreak and rogue forces. And I heard they’re working on a cure.”

  “A cure?” Moe hadn’t considered the possibility or what it might mean to the Navajo. Sage had determined the fungus spread through close contact or by consuming tainted food supplies. So, as long as they monitored their rations and kept a careful watch on everyone, they should avoid an outbreak.

  “It’s not airborne here, but it’s still thick out east. Everyone has to wear air filtration masks. They decontaminate after going outside. The protocols must be insane.”

  “I’ll bet they are.” He shook his head. Moe remembered his experience in Bakersfield, and he knew what the fungus could do at its strongest. “Well, good for them. I hope they beat it.”

  Melissa shifted legs and glanced back at her soldier. “We received some other interesting communications, too.”

  “By interesting, you mean civilian?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Survivors?”

  “Yes. Tens of thousands of them. The military is doing everything they can to bring people in, but their camps are bursting, and they can’t take everyone.”

  “So, people are figuring it out. Like us?”

  “Seems that way.” She shook her head. “We’re getting an automated message on repeat.”

  “Like an SOS?”

  “Not an SOS. Someone reaching out to make contact. The automated system is called AMI.”

  “Is that a military system?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Well, what’s the message say?”

  “It’s a general hail. AMI is requesting help reestablishing communication with Lieutenant Colonel Scott Bryant, Jessie Talby, or Paul Henderson. The military switchboards are circulating the message via satellite, but we received it on shortwave. They must have a fairly powerful transmitter from where they’re sending it.” When Moe didn’t reply right away, she added, “Scott Bryant is my husband.”

  Moe’s eyes grew wide. “Can we reach this AMI system?”

  “I was going to try right after I told you about Window Rock.” Emotions warred on her face. “I’m a little nervous. I… I didn’t know if he was still alive. When all this started, I tried to find him, but...” Her words trailed off, voice shaky and weak.