Traveler

by David Yates

I gave him your message. He got a kick out of it. His orders are for me to kill her first. He does not tolerate traitors.

  Braden read the email slowly a second time. He glanced up at Sam, but she was looking out through the windshield and sipping her cocoa. He felt the rage building inside of him again, and it must have been visible.

  "Calm down, Braden,” Manny said. “He's trying to make you angry enough to make a mistake, and it seems to be working."

  Braden snapped his head around and glared at Manny. “Don't tell me to..." Braden started. He caught himself and closed his mouth. Manny gazed impassively at him. Braden slowly regained control of himself.

  "Sorry, bro,” he said to Manny. “You're right. I can't let him control my actions."

  Manny nodded. He said, “He's going to try at every opportunity to get under your skin. It's the best weapon he has to use against you. Don't take this the wrong way, but he knows the same thing that I do. You're intelligent but you're young. With youth comes impulsiveness. Don't let him use your own impulsiveness against you. You're more intelligent than he is, but he's wiser, if you understand what I'm saying. With age comes wisdom, and he can use that to his advantage. You can negate much of his wisdom by curbing your impulsiveness. You see?"

  Braden sat down next to Manny, nodding. “Yeah, I do."

  "That will be especially important to remember should you meet him face to face,” Manny continued. “If and when that happens, you must exercise self-control. Don't let him get to you. If he does, you're as good as dead. And if you're dead, we're dead.” He paused and added in a low voice, “She's dead,” nodding his head toward Sam.

  Braden turned his head and looked at Sam. She was still sitting in the driver's seat, looking out the windshield. A semi growled slowly past as he watched. “Has she seen this email?” Braden asked in a hushed voice, turning back to Manny.

  "Yes,” Manny replied.

  "How did she take it?"

  Manny shrugged. “Pretty well, I guess. She didn't seem shocked or anything like that."

  Braden held up the PDA and said, “If this email is true, we'll really have to watch out for her. She absolutely cannot leave our sight. If she leaves the RV, I'll have to go with her. But I would rather have her stay inside with us as much as possible. It'll be safer."

  Braden placed the PDA back on Manny's desk. He turned and looked at Sam again. “How can a father kill his own daughter?” he mused. Turning back to Manny, he added, “Do you think he would really do it?"

  "I don't know,” Manny said. “There have been documented cases of parents killing their children. In most of those cases the guilty parent was just crazy. I don't really know much about Anson, but I don't think he's crazy. I do think he's evil and heartless, and if he doesn't have a heart, then he won't care about anyone but himself.

  "I guess if a person has enough evil in them, they're capable of just about anything."

  "Hey, I think we might have a problem,” Sam said.

  They were rolling south on I-85 in western Georgia. Braden was driving the RV in the right-hand lane. He turned to Sam in the front passenger seat. She was sitting bolt upright and staring out the windshield.

  "What kind of problem?” Braden asked.

  She pointed to the highway in front of them. “That red SUV that just passed us. I think I saw Silas in the passenger seat."

  Braden's eyes snapped front. The red SUV was a little ahead of them and in the left-hand lane. Manny rolled up behind them. Archer, who had just awakened, came up behind Manny. All four of them were peering forward.

  "How sure are you?” Manny asked.

  Sam replied, “Well, I'm not 100% sure, but it certainly looked like him."

  The driver of the red SUV had apparently backed off of the accelerator. The RV was now slowly catching up to it. Braden eased off of his own accelerator. The RV matched speed with the SUV. Sam was staring intently at the SUV, trying to see the front seat passenger.

  The SUV slowed again. Now its rear bumper was aligned with the RV's front bumper. Sam got a clearer view of the front seat passenger. She sat back in her seat suddenly and gasped.

  "It's him,” she whispered.

  "You're sure?” Braden asked.

  Sam nodded her head but didn't say anything. She appeared to be slightly shocked.

  "I'll be damned!” Manny exclaimed. “How does he know where we are?"

  Braden took his foot completely off of the accelerator. “He obviously doesn't know exactly where we are, but he does know we're in the immediate area somehow. He's searching for us.” The RV was slowing appreciably. “Doc, get up here and drive,” Braden added.

  Manny rolled backwards and Archer came around him. Braden got up out of the seat, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Archer slid quickly into the seat and took the controls. Braden turned to Sam.

  "Move to the back,” he told her. She got up and quickly moved to the living area, seating herself on the sofa. Braden knelt down just behind the driver's seat and kept an eye on the SUV.

  They had slowed to about 35 miles per hour. The SUV was still in front of them, but not by much. Its driver had slowed too, and now Braden could see Silas’ face for himself. Silas was turned around in the passenger seat and looking back over his right shoulder. Not looking directly at them; just looking around. Braden couldn't tell how many people were in the SUV. All of the windows from the rear door back were heavily tinted.

  They rolled slowly past an exit sign. Braden said, “Doc, take this exit. Let's see what they do."

  Archer followed the ramp as it split from the highway. The SUV was still southbound in the left lane, but moving slow. Traffic was beginning to back up behind the SUV. Due to the down slope of the ramp, they lost sight of the SUV as the ground rose up and blocked their vision. However, just before they lost sight of it, Braden saw the brake lights on the SUV come on.

  "Turn right,” Braden said as they approached the end of the ramp. Archer turned right onto a two-lane state highway and they headed west, toward Alabama. “Keep going unless you hear different from me,” Braden said, rising to his feet. “I'm going to watch our back door.” He trotted off down the hall to the master bedroom at the rear of the RV.

  Braden reached the rear window and parted the curtain just enough so that he could peek out with one eye. So far, the road was clear behind them. He could see the I-85 overpass fading into the distance.

  Sam stood in the bedroom doorway. “Are they coming?” she asked apprehensively.

  "Not yet,” Braden answered, and as if on cue, Braden saw a red vehicle careening off of the northbound ramp and turning in their direction. It was still too distant to tell if the vehicle was an SUV, but Braden knew. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

  Sam must have heard it. “What is it?” she asked.

  "It's them,” Braden said. “They're coming. Tell Doc to just keep going."

  Sam disappeared on the run. Braden turned back to the window. He tore the curtain down, throwing it on the bed. He slid the window sideways on its track and punched out the screen. Then he drew his guns and waited.

  The SUV gained on them quickly. As it approached the RV, its driver moved to the oncoming lane in preparation to pass them. Braden raised his guns and fired, aiming for the right front tire of the SUV. He fired two shots. His aim on the first shot was thrown off by the movement of the RV, and the bullet went into the right front fender of Silas’ vehicle, just above the wheel well. But his second shot was true. The right front tire of the SUV exploded. The SUV immediately pulled hard to the right, slid sideways in the road, and flipped. As the RV continued westbound, Braden watched the SUV roll over several times, coming to rest in a cloud of dust on its roof. The SUV spun slowly in a half-turn in the grass at the right side of the road, and came to a stop.

  "Stop the RV!" Braden yelled. He ran down the hallway as Archer slowed quickly. Before the RV stopped rolling, Braden was out the door and striding toward the SUV, a gun in each hand. He heard someone cal
l his name. Without breaking stride, he glanced back and saw Sam's face in the rear window of the RV. It was joined by Archer's. He faced forward and continued to approach the SUV.

  An old pickup truck rolled by in the eastbound lane. The truck slowed and the farmer driving it leaned out the window. “Hey, fella, want me to get some help?” Before Braden could answer, the farmer saw the guns in Braden's hands. With an almost comical look of fright (he looks like Don Knotts in that old Western movie, Braden thought), the farmer floored the accelerator. The old truck wheezed and rattled as it was being asked to do something it hadn't done for many years; break the 40-mile-per-hour barrier. The old truck passed the SUV and disappeared into the cloud of dust still hanging over the roadway.

  Braden continued walking toward the SUV. As he approached it, raising his guns, an absurd and irrational thought crossed his mind. What was the name of that Don Knotts movie? He stopped about thirty feet from the SUV and crouched down. He could see the driver upside down behind the wheel, either unconscious or dead. Silas was moving around in the passenger seat, apparently stuck there in his seat belt. “The guy kills for a living but still wears his seat belt,” Braden muttered to himself. He still couldn't see into the rear of the SUV; the windows were still intact.

  Braden came out of his crouch and slowly walked around the rear of the SUV. He went to the passenger door and crouched again, aiming one gun at Silas. He holstered the other gun. Silas turned his head slowly and locked his eyes with Braden's. His empty hands came up (well, actually down). Braden grinned and made a “roll your window down” cranking motion with his empty hand.

  After a moment, Silas reached to the door and rolled the window open. His hand went back to its original position. Braden could now see that the driver was bleeding to death. There was a piece of twisted metal sticking out of his neck, and blood jetted from his carotid artery in regular pulses. The jets of blood were striking Silas repeatedly, but he seemed not to notice.

  Braden said with mock shyness, “You know we have to stop meeting like this. People will talk."

  Silas said nothing.

  "I guess you were right, though,” Braden said conversationally.

  "About what?” Silas asked.

  "You did see me again soon,” Braden replied. “Although it was sooner than I would have thought. By the way, how did you know where we were?"

  Despite the situation, Silas managed a hard smile. “I'm not at liberty to say."

  Braden shrugged. “Fair enough. Hey, do you remember the name of that old Western movie starring Don Knotts?"

  Silas looked at him blankly. “What?"

  "You know, the one where Don Knotts is supposed to be a tough gunfighter, but he spends the whole movie scared out of his wits?"

  Silas stared at Braden as if he were some odd new species of animal life.

  Braden shook his head. “Never mind. It's not important. But what is important is Sam. I mean, I know she's not important to your boss, but she is to us. To me."

  Braden leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Now, we need to have a serious discussion, you and me. This may be a very good time for you to consider a career change, because if you continue on your present course, I can promise you that your career will come to a screeching halt. Dying's not much of a career. There's not a lot of money in it."

  Silas said coolly, “I'll take my chances."

  "I can promise you something else, too,” Braden continued. “If anything happens to her at your hands, you'll never be dead enough for me."

  Silas smiled his hard smile and said, “Are you finished?"

  "Almost,” Braden said, and suddenly lashed out with his right hand, striking Silas in the face with the barrel of his gun. The gun sight cut a ragged, four-inch-long groove across his cheek. He recoiled from the impact, and then glared at Braden. It did Braden's heart good to see that the smile was gone.

  "That's for what you did to Sam before.” Braden stood and looked down at Silas. “Now I'm finished."

  Braden looked back toward the RV. A look of sudden comprehension dawned on his face. He looked back down at Silas and snapped his fingers. In that tone of voice reserved for one who has just remembered something he has been trying to remember but couldn't, he said, “The Shakiest Gun in the West!"

  And before Silas’ widening eyes, Braden faded away to nothingness.

  Braden reappeared about two hundred yards away, beside the RV. He opened the door and stepped inside, holstering his weapon. He looked to the left and saw Manny wheeling his way toward him; Sam and Archer were following him up the hallway.

  "Let's get moving,” Braden said to Archer.

  As Archer headed for the driver's seat, Sam asked, “What happened back there?"

  Braden said, “I warned him to lay off, but I know I was wasting my breath.” He flopped down onto the sofa.

  "So he's still alive, I take it?” Manny asked.

  "Very much so,” Braden replied. “He didn't have a scratch on him.” He thought about what he had just said and added, “Well, not before I got there, anyway."

  "What did you do?” Sam said.

  "Not enough, if you ask me. I wanted to put a bullet in his head, but I think he's just smart enough to know not to try me."

  "Where are we going?” Archer asked.

  Braden said, “Cross into Alabama and take U.S. 431 south. We'll stay off the interstates for awhile."

  "Did you find out how he knew where we were?” Manny asked.

  "Nope,” Braden answered. “He wasn't ‘at liberty to tell me'."

  "It wasn't me,” Sam said quickly, defensively.

  "Nobody said it was,” Braden said, taking her hand and pulling her onto the sofa beside him. He draped his arm across her shoulders. They rode like that in silence for awhile.

  "I wish I could do more to help,” Sam said suddenly.

  "What do you mean?” Braden asked.

  "I mean, I'm doing nothing. I'm just riding along and taking up space. I want to be more useful."

  Braden thought for a moment. “Well, maybe Manny could teach you a few things about his work and you could help him."

  "Yes, I guess so,” she said doubtfully.

  Braden looked at her. “I guess I could teach you how to handle a gun."

  Her eyes lit up. “Really?"

  Braden smiled. “Sure. I could also teach you some self-defense."

  "When can we start?” she asked excitedly.

  "Tonight, when we stop. I think it would be best to start you out with aikido. It has the best defensive techniques, in my opinion."

  She planted a loud smack on his cheek. “Okay, whatever you say, Sensei."

  They stopped for fuel and to stretch their legs at a combination gas station/convenience store in a tiny Alabama town. For a town this small, the store was pretty busy. Sam and Braden were walking hand-in-hand in the grassy area beside the building when Braden came to a sudden stop. He was staring toward the highway.

  "What's wrong?” Sam asked.

  "You've got to be kidding me,” he said in a low voice. Sam followed his gaze.

  At the far edge of the store's parking lot, next to the road, a large dark-colored van was facing them. Its engine was idling. Braden could see the silhouettes of several heads through the windshield.

  Sam's grip on Braden's hand tightened. “It can't be them,” she whispered.

  "Come on,” he said, pulling her quickly toward the RV. Archer had just finished fueling, and Braden steered his attention toward the van.

  "No way,” Archer said incredulously. “Is it really them?"

  "There's one way to find out,” Braden said. “Let's get moving."

  They climbed aboard the RV and Archer got back on the highway, heading south. Braden watched to the rear. When they were perhaps a quarter of a mile down the road, the van pulled out of the parking lot and followed them. Braden slammed his hand against the wall. He ran to the front of the RV and said to Manny, “They're following."

  He rai
sed his voice a little and spoke to Archer. “Doc, just keep going. Don't stop for anything."

  "You got it,” Archer replied. The RV accelerated, the speedometer needle passing 65 and heading toward 70. Braden ran back to the master bedroom and peeked out the window again. The van had almost caught up to them. Braden saw another pair of headlights several hundred yards behind the van. Braden drew one of his guns.

  The van continued to close the distance. Its bright lights came on. It came up behind them close enough so that their bumpers were only inches apart. Braden saw that the second vehicle behind the van had closed rapidly and was now directly behind it. Great, they've got two vehicles this time, Braden thought, and raised his weapon. Blue lights suddenly began to strobe from the roof of the second vehicle. It was an Alabama State Trooper.

  Braden lowered his gun to his side. The van continued for a short distance, then began to back away from the RV. Archer maintained his speed. The van dropped quickly away, slowing. The trooper slowed with it. The van pulled off onto the shoulder and came to a stop. The trooper stopped behind it. The patrol car's post-mounted spotlight and take down lights came on, lighting up the interior of the van. The RV went around a curve and the van dropped out of sight.

  Braden holstered his gun and returned to the front of the RV. He let out a huge gust of air and said, “Thank God for the Alabama Highway Patrol."

  Fifteen minutes later, they rode into a large town. At Braden's direction, they found a well-lit parking lot with plenty of people around. They stopped directly under a bright orange arc-sodium lamp.

  Ever since they had escaped the van with the help of an unknown Alabama State Trooper, the only topic of discussion had been how Anson's men had been able to find them again so easily and so quickly. They had all come to the same conclusion. Manny had been the first to voice this conclusion.

  "The RV has to be bugged,” he had said. “They had to have planted a tracking device of some kind, probably on the outside somewhere."

  "But when would they have done it?” Sam had asked.

  "The more important question,” Braden had said, “is why they would have done it."

  "Well, to follow us,” Sam had replied. “To know where we are."