Mountain Man (Book 2): Homecoming

by Jones, Nathan

  So far the device was giving them nothing but background radiation, same as you'd see anywhere. Looked as if they might've wasted money on those hazmat suits after all. He certainly hoped so; no way was he bringing Skyler within a hundred yards of radiation, suit or no suit. And, truth be told, if they did detect radiation around the cache that wouldn't bode well for Miles's treasure being safe.

  Walking twenty or so feet behind him, a distance he'd chosen to keep Skyler at in case the Geiger counter warned of danger, the boy was practically dancing with each step, face lit up with eager anticipation. “You're really looking forward to this, huh?” Tom asked, unable to keep from grinning himself.

  “Are you kidding?” Skyler said. “When Mom said we were moving to Newpost I thought I wouldn't see this treasure until I grew up and could come back for it. But I get to see it right now!”

  Tom snorted, jerking his head towards the two shovels he'd had the boy carry so he could handle the Geiger counter. “Once we've done a bit of digging, you mean.”

  The ten-year-old laughed infectiously. “You know how much fun I had digging that secret fort after we finished the outhouse? Digging for buried treasure is going to be a hundred times funner!”

  He had to admit he was anticipating it more than he'd expected as well. But that didn't stop him from carefully circling the clearing with the device, then going over it in a grid pattern. To his relief, there was only one spot that spiked above background, and even then not to dangerous levels. Unfortunately, it was one of the spots marked as a cache.

  Well, of the six Miles had left, having to steer clear of one wasn't bad. Especially since Kristy's notes said it was one of the first the man had gathered, mostly stuff scavenged from the houses of wealthy people: useful tools, firearms, jewelry, and coin collections and other such valuables. Nothing he'd feel too bad about leaving in the ground.

  Although it did serve as a caution about where all this stuff had come from. Which was why Tom spent extra time at each cache location going over the ground at the counter's most sensitive setting. He also stopped the digging every few minutes when they got started on the first cache, to check the bottom of the hole.

  Skyler was impatient about the precautions, especially when they got all the way down to the sealed tarp his dad had used to cover the cache and they still hadn't gotten any warning blips from the device. He was even more impatient when Tom spent a few minutes running the counter over every square inch of it, then insisted on hauling the surprisingly heavy bundle, almost more than he could lift on his own, out of the hole and once again thoroughly going over every side of it.

  Only then did he allow the boy to tear away the sealing tape, with all the eagerness Tom remembered from opening Christmas presents as a kid himself. That eagerness was slightly frustrated by another sealed tarp beneath the first, a sensible precaution, but after a bit of tugging and cutting with the skinning knife Tom had given him Skyler finally got the tarp opened, the flaps pulled away to reveal the contents inside.

  At which point they saw why the bundle had been so heavy.

  Kristy's notes had said this one was filled with precious metal bars and coins, mostly gold and silver, but also some that looked a bit like silver but were labeled platinum and palladium. There was also a staggeringly large quantity of jewelry of all types, haphazardly jumbled in waterproof bags that Skyler was quick to tear open and dump out, with only a few of the most valuable pieces stored in their own cases.

  It was apparently all scavenged from coin stores, jewelry shops, and private collections. The notes suggested Miles had had a great deal of success finding these valuables, but Tom hadn't anticipated quite this much.

  He had to admit he'd held some small doubts about whether there'd even be anything in these caches, not so much because he distrusted Kristy as that he hadn't quite believed Miles could get as much as Kristy's notes suggested he had, even from an untouched fallout zone. So he'd also assumed that if there was anything here, the young woman had exaggerated how much there'd be, just going on what she'd been told.

  But now that he'd finally laid eyes on the first of the caches, he realized that if anything, Kristy had underestimated how much her husband had managed to scavenge. An unbelievable amount, a fortune that would have them living in luxury the rest of their lives. And their kids. And their great-grandkids, maybe, assuming there was still hope for his relationship with the flaxen-haired woman. And this was just one cache, although admittedly by far the most valuable one.

  How long had Miles been doing this for? And how lucky was the poor guy that it had taken him so long to get a lethal dose of radiation from his irresponsible gathering?

  Tom thought with a brief pang that, had the man's eyes not been bigger than his stomach, he could've collected enough wealth to let Kristy and Skyler live comfortably, without ever facing the risk of leaving them without a husband and father. How much pain could he have spared them, if he'd just called it quits a few months earlier with a modest fortune instead of an obscene one?

  For a few minutes, they both just sifted through the treasure, not quite believing it was here in front of them. But after a while, he noticed Skyler had paused in his search and was now holding a beautiful gold ring, inset with a large emerald bracketed by two slightly smaller diamonds. It was one of the higher end items with its own box, the quality of the craftsmanship and the size and cut of the stones plain to see.

  “Fancy wearing that?” he asked wryly; it was way too large for the boy's fingers, not to mention not really being what you'd call men's jewelry.

  Skyler flushed in obvious embarrassment. “I was thinking of giving it to Lisa.”

  Tom wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed by that. “You know we can't let anyone besides us and your mom know about this, not even the Hendricksons.” At the boy's indignant glare he continued firmly. “I trust Bob, Vicky, and Lisa completely, you know that. But the only way to keep a secret is to not tell anyone, even people you trust.”

  The ten-year-old still looked unconvinced, and Tom crouched in front of him, expression serious. “This is a very, very big secret, Skyler. The sort of secret people would murder us for. It's easy to let something slip without thinking, even if you have the best intentions. The best way to avoid that is to try not to even think about this treasure, once we've got it moved down to the mountains and hidden away again, and also by making sure just the three of us know.”

  He put a hand on the ten-year-old's shoulder. “Your mom and I trust you with this secret. We're trusting you with all our lives here. So I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone, not even Lisa, and you also won't do anything to even hint that we might have hidden wealth. That includes giving out lavish gifts.”

  “I promise,” the boy said solemnly. Then he hesitated. “But can I keep this ring, just in case I can finally tell Lisa someday? I'd really like to give it to her.”

  Tom's instinct was to say no, but this treasure was Skyler's birthright. “Keep it hidden,” he said after thinking it over for several seconds. “I'll help you sew a pocket into your shirt for it, and you should leave it there. Don't take it out, even when you're alone.”

  “Okay.” Skyler suddenly hugged him. “Thanks, Trapper.”

  He briefly hugged him back, then cleared his throat and straightened. “Well, let's get back to work.”

  They continued searching through the cache. Tom did have to admit the boy had been right about the idea of a gift, and spent a couple of minutes searching through the jewelry for a ring of his own to give Kristy. It seemed a bit gauche to give the woman something scavenged by her dead husband, but engagement rings didn't exactly grow on trees.

  Once he got to the point of proposing to her, that is. If he ever did considering this mess between them.

  At first, he foolishly picked out the most lavish ring there, another one with its own box that had an obscenely big diamond ringed by smaller diamonds. Then he felt stupid for giving advice and then immediately ignoring it;
anyone who saw that gaudy monstrosity would wonder where it came from, which would lead to a lot of uncomfortable questions.

  Besides, while Kristy certainly deserved something that fine, it didn't really seem like her style. So he picked out one with a more modest diamond, some might say practically microscopic, as well as a couple of plain gold wedding bands.

  The sight of those three rings resting on his palm, and more importantly what they represented for his future with the young woman, stirred a lot of feelings in him. Longing, mostly; a life with her, on their own ranch, hopefully with a bunch of kids running around, was everything he wanted.

  Tom just hoped the possibility was still on the table. Even if it meant one of those kids was Vicky's, and obviously fathered by a South American invader under horrific circumstances.

  He'd talk to Kristy, he firmly decided. The moment they met up again, the moment he had the chance, he'd convince her to hear him out and somehow clear the air between them. He couldn't bear the gulf that had separated them for the last ten days, didn't want to let it remain for another second if he could help it.

  And if it turned out Kristy had changed her mind, after all, didn't feel for him what he felt for her . . . well, painful as that would be it was best to know. Like tearing a bandaid off.

  Eventually, Tom decided that as fun as it was to handle a fortune in gems and precious metals, leaving the wagon and horses sitting outside the copse in the relative open made him antsy. Having someone come sniffing around at the moment would be a disaster, and while he had his trusty hunting rifle and revolver with him like always, he didn't really want to get into a confrontation that, considering the fortune involved, would very likely lead to death for either them or their attackers.

  So after penciling down a few quick addendums to Kristy's notes, he grabbed a shovel and started for the location of the next marked cache.

  In spite of Skyler's insistence that digging for treasure was the funnest thing ever, he was so engrossed in searching through the cache they'd uncovered that he didn't leap at the chance to work on the second one. Tom supposed insisting the boy pull his weight would be a good learning opportunity, but to be honest a ten-year-old with a shovel was pretty slow, and he suddenly found himself in a hurry.

  Which wasn't helped by the fact that apparently either the cache had shifted underground or Kristy's drawing was inaccurate, because he had to dig a hole twice as big as the previous one before he finally hit tarp on one edge of it. At which point Skyler decided he was interested again, and eagerly hurried over to help pull the bundle out and open it up.

  After Tom checked it over carefully with the Geiger counter, of course.

  It was much bigger than the previous one, although about the same weight. They also discovered once they got the first one out that the cache was actually five different bundles, all individually wrapped and heaped together, although three of the bundles at the bottom were as small and heavy as the precious metals had been.

  This cache would've normally been Tom's first priority, because it was one of two caches of firearms, ammo (in the smaller, heavier bundles), and spare parts and accessories Miles had scavenged from sporting goods stores, gun stores, pawn shops, shooting ranges, and places like that.

  This one had the rifles, hence his eagerness. Or more accurately, about a hundred rifles of pretty much every make and caliber, and fifty or so shotguns. They were all individually wrapped in plastic, and when Tom cracked a few open to check them he saw to his relief that they were in remarkably good shape after their time underground, as well as the years sitting in whatever place Kristy's husband had originally found them.

  He was also relieved to see that the man had gathered a staggering stockpile of ammo, easily ten thousand rounds in the various calibers, and had also been careful to collect cleaning and repair equipment, spare magazines, scopes, slings, ammo harnesses, and other useful gear.

  Skyler, predictably, went nuts over the guns. “Can I have one?” he asked hopefully.

  “You don't need one,” Tom told him, ignoring his disappointed look. The boy had the AK-47 he'd taken off one of the bandits outside Newpost when he'd saved Kristy from them. “Although we can get you some gear for it, including a better scope and some ammo so you can practice shooting.”

  “What about a shotgun?” the sandy-haired youth wheedled.

  He snorted. “Planning on doing some duck hunting?” Skyler's eyes silently begged, and he gave in. “We'll see, once we get this all home and figure out how we're going to hide it.”

  Tom refused to let Skyler open any more of the guns, since the plastic wrapping would protect them on the trip. Disappointed, the boy agreed to help dig for the next cache, the pistols, which luckily were more or less where the drawing said they'd be.

  There were roughly a hundred and fifty of those in a wide variety of makes and calibers, and also over ten thousand rounds of ammo and plenty of spare magazines, cleaning equipment, and other accessories. Including some that probably wouldn't be too useful, like laser sights whose batteries were long dead by now, and not likely to be replaced without some sort of miracle.

  Tom resolved to take them anyway; the bandits invading into Texas had vehicles, which probably meant they had batteries too. There was always a chance.

  The last two caches contained the least valuable, although potentially most useful, things: namely, tools. Or that was, one had more combat oriented things like a dozen flak jackets and kevlar helmets, a couple plexiglass riot shields, a pile of telescoping batons, a bunch of handcuffs, and other stuff that might've been lifted out of an abandoned police armory or from police cars in the fallout zone. There were also hundreds of knives of every conceivable size and use, from combat to skinning to butcher to steak. There were even a few switchblades. And there were a dozen or so machetes and heavy kukri knives and even a few honest to goodness swords.

  If Tom had thought Skyler went crazy over the other stuff, here he acted like a kid in a candy store. Tom had to stop him from waving around some sort of sword that looked like a katana, but shorter and lighter and also deadly sharp. And to be honest, he couldn't blame the kid; he'd loved stuff like this before the shortages as well, although he hadn't had anything fancier than a cheap prop sword he'd bought at a state fair once.

  Which was why, although he'd told Skyler they couldn't take too much for themselves, both because they didn't want to draw suspicion and because they didn't really need much of this stuff, he couldn't help but snag a kukri knife for himself.

  As for the tools in the fifth cache, there was a large assortment of shovels, picks, axes, hoes, saws, mauls, crowbars, sledgehammers, and carpenter's hammers. There were also tens of thousands of nails of different lengths, and thousands of screws. Things that might come in awfully handy for, say, building a barn and outbuildings for a ranch.

  All in all, Tom judged even their sturdy wagon would have a hard time hauling all this. It was probably a good thing the sixth cache was unsafe since they couldn't take it anyway, but on top of that, he decided they were going to have to leave some stuff behind. He sorted out the least useful things, then after some agonizing also separated out heavier items like some of the precious metals and ammo that would add too much weight, particularly gold and less useful calibers of bullets.

  Gold, because it would be hard to spend large quantities of it without drawing suspicion, and it wasn't like they could spend all of what Miles had found in a lifetime anyway. Also, in a way, it was good to leave behind a modest amount; wise not to put all their eggs in one basket, and they could always come back for some of this stuff later.

  He prepared a couple of the tarps into a new bundle for what was staying, put it in the hole closest to the untouched sixth cache, and then he and Skyler hastily filled in all the holes and covered them with the dead leaves and other mulch strewn across the floor of the copse, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

  It didn't, unfortunately, but as long as nobody stumbled across this
place anytime soon a winter or two would fix that. And Tom had a hard time seeing anybody venturing inside the new borders of the fallout zone anyway.

  Speaking of which, he ran the Geiger counter over everything one last time, now that it was out of the tarps and he could get at it easier. A few things blipped slightly above background, probably not even a concern, but he still wrapped them in a tarp and tossed them into their own little hole on top of the cache where they'd put the stuff they were leaving behind, cursing himself for not thinking to do it before.

  By that point, it was late afternoon, past time to go check on the horses and wagon. Tom hauled one of the bundles onto his back, silently cursing the weight as he started through the tangled undergrowth, while behind him Skyler carried the shovels and counter.

  “This is going to change our lives, isn't it?” the boy asked when they were nearly to the wagon.

  Tom paused for a second, as much to make sure there was no one in sight beyond the treeline as to consider his answer. “Not as much as you might think, since we have to keep it a secret and be careful spending it,” he finally said. “But we'll be able to start a ranch with this. Next spring we can take a longer trip back up to this area, and other areas of northern Utah, and buy up some more horses and cows, maybe other animals too. Not too many, but one here and one there, enough to get our herds going.”

  “Oh,” Skyler said, hurrying to catch up as Tom started for the wagon. “Will Aunt Vicky have had her baby by then?”

  Tom nearly stumbled taking his last step to swing the bundle into the wagon bed. He managed to get it in place without smashing the rifles inside to pieces, then turned to give the boy a sharp look. “How do you know about that?”

  Skyler rolled his eyes. “I'm not an idiot, I'm ten years old . . . I know what it means when a woman is throwing up every day. Besides, you guys talk about it all the time, and you don't try nearly hard enough to not let me and Lisa overhear you. We can't pretend like we don't know what's going on forever.”