Escape From the Badlands

by Dana Mentink

  “Hey,” he yelled. Unwilling to give in, he pushed on until both of them were hurtling toward the narrow opening. She shot him a quick look and lowered her head, driving hard on the pedals. They were only a few feet from the gap, and she showed no signs of slowing. He caught a feverish look on her face, a focus so determined it seemed to exclude everything around her.

  Two feet to go, and they would smash into each other. Anger humming in his veins, Shane slowed and let Betsy by. She shot forward through the gap and disappeared into the trees. As he rolled down onto the shaded path, he wondered about the look on her face.

  Betsy Falco was determined to win.

  Deadly determined.

  He filed the thought away as he navigated the various logs and stumps that lined the route. They were a good ten miles into the race. The river was nearly full, rushing along, a companion to him as he went. He savored the rich smell of damp earth and leaves, especially considering that the next section would take him out of the river valley and into a bone-crunching climb in a barren moonscape. Betsy and Gleeson were ahead on the trail somewhere. He wondered who would back down if they met in a similar showdown. Gleeson was tough as nails. His bearing spoke of a military background. There was a lot more to him than met the eye. Somehow, Shane knew that Gleeson had an ulterior motive in the Desert Quest, just as he did. As the miles passed, he came no closer to figuring it out.

  The last few miles, the geology shifted in front of his eyes from lush and green to arid and parched. He’d ridden a relatively flat section for almost an hour, passing a racer repairing a tire and looking as tired as Shane no doubt did. Now the route began to rise quickly. It was past noon and the sunlight illuminated the jagged rocks, which shone golden. He thought about a phrase he’d heard once about the Badlands, that it was the land God forgot, but watching the rich palette of golds and browns glittering around him and the vibrant blue sky atop it all, he had an unfamiliar stirring inside—a strange feeling of awe that did not in any way fit the circumstances of his life or Kelly’s at the moment. He felt something he could only identify as gratefulness, a surge of glory at being there, forging through the fantastic landscape.

  He weighted forward and, as the slope grew steeper, his progress slowed until each stroke of the pedals was a great labor. The shrubs grew spotty; soon there was hardly a plant to be seen anywhere as he passed pinnacles of rock, twisted like arthritic fingers. As he stood on the pedals, grinding his way up the harsh path, the walls seemed to close in like giant stony fists, painting Shane in gloomy shadow. Ahead he could hear the occasional squeak of a laboring bike, but he could not see Betsy or Gleeson, nor could he hear any of the racers that he knew must be a couple of miles or so behind him.

  He felt alone, swallowed up in this bizarre gullet of stone. A sensation pricked his neck. He scanned all sides, but saw only rock.

  He didn’t dare stop to listen closely and lose whatever momentum he’d managed to gain on the almost vertical climb. Ahead the trail narrowed even further, steep walls rising up on either side. He pressed on, sweat pouring down his face.

  A crack sounded from above. His head snapped around, and for a moment he saw nothing. Then a rock the size of a hubcap came crashing down. There was no way to speed past it. He did the only thing he could, throwing himself off the bike and rolling himself into a ball, covering his head with both arms.

  The rock hit the spot just above his head and glanced off his helmet, peppering his arms and neck with shards that cut into his skin before it continued to bounce along, until it cleared the side and careened away into the sunlit air.

  He didn’t take the time to catch his breath. On his feet, he tried to pinpoint where the rock had come from. They were in dangerous country. It might have been loosened by the movement of the racers passing along. That was the most plausible explanation.

  But somehow that didn’t satisfy the suspicion humming through his body. He walked his bike up the remaining fifty feet or so to the apex of the trail, listening carefully for any sound of falling rock. He heard nothing, so he continued on, wiping at a scrape on his forehead that now oozed blood. Even in late afternoon, even in October, the temperature was hot, and Shane found the going rough. Just before he reached the top, the click of a camera startled him. Devin Ackerman appeared over the crest.

  “Come on, Matthews. Walking your bike? You’ve still got another eight miles to go.”

  Shane looked him over. He was in the perfect location to have snuck around and loosened the rock. “Rock fall.”

  “Really?” Ackerman cocked his head. “Didn’t hear any of the racers radio that in.”

  “Just me,” he said as he continued to push the bike.

  “Bad luck, man. You seem to have a target on your back.”

  Shane didn’t answer. And you’ve got one, too, Ackerman. You just don’t know it yet.

  NINE

  Kelly watched as the sun set into a glorious golden pool behind the pinnacles. Darkness fell quickly, and a chill crept through the rocks. She glanced at her phone again. No messages. With a deep sigh, she kept her eyes trained on the horizon to spot the first racers. They were required to check in with her after this leg of the race, so she would be here another few hours until all fifty racers had made it back.

  She looked at the leaderboard again. Each racer carried a satellite GPS that sent location based signals to the online leaderboard, which they could view in real time. Gleeson was number one, followed by another participant, then Betsy Falco and Shane. Behind them was a considerable gap, and then many racers clumped together. At least Shane was safe and moving forward, no potentially deadly accidents this time.

  She suppressed a shudder, remembering Betsy hurtling through the air. And Shane was convinced the accident had been intended for him. It was crazy, too crazy to believe, but why had the bike disappeared?

  A biker appeared around the last turn. Gleeson’s face was a mask of concentration as he pumped toward the finish line. Crossing it, he raised a fist in victory, passed Ackerman and Chenko, and pedaled slowly over to Kelly, breathing hard.

  “Great job,” she told him, offering him a bottle of water and visually checking him over. “Any problems?”

  “Nah,” he puffed, taking a swig. “Where’s Shane?”

  “Leaderboard has him in fourth.”

  Gleeson nodded. “We’re still okay then.”

  He rolled to a flat rock and eased himself off the bike as the next racer arrived. Chenko and Ackerman greeted him, too, and checked over the satellite information as it downloaded the racers’ final times.

  The man, a thin wiry fellow with dark hair, approached Kelly, a smile easing the exhaustion on his face. She matched his race number with his name. “Tim Downing?”

  He nodded. “Whew. Seemed a lot harder than last year. I must be getting old.”

  She remembered why the name sounded familiar. She’d seen his name in the files when she’d read through them earlier. The names had been catalogued by date the applications were received. His name had been the next one after Ellen Brown, implying that they’d entered at the same time. “Did you race on Ellen Brown’s team last year?”

  He managed a nod. “Yeah, but we had to pull out when Ellen left. We all finished the race, but not officially.” He held the cool water bottle to his sweating forehead.

  “I heard she got sick.”

  He nodded. “Too bad. She was really enjoying the whole thing. Making lots of friends…good friends.”

  Something in his tone caught her attention. “What kind of friends?”

  “Close friends of the male persuasion. Wish it was me, but I don’t have Devin’s panache. I’m just a mechanic, not a race official. Too bad for me.”

  Kelly wanted to ask him more questions, but her attention was distracted as Betsy Falco rolled in, a hand raised in triumph. When she turned back to Downing, he had already moved off to talk with Gleeson.

  With a sigh, she approached Betsy, who seemed energized by the race s
he’d just endured.

  “Fantastic,” she crowed. “Best race ever.” She pointed a finger at Gleeson and Downing. “Next event, you two will be seeing the back of me as I cross the finish line ahead of you.”

  Gleeson arched an eyebrow. “Competition brings out the worst in you, Betsy.”

  She flashed him a defiant smile. Gleeson watched her move on, and Kelly noted the contemplative look on his face.

  Shane finished next and Kelly could see, even at a distance, that he had a gash on the head. Her pulse sped up as he approached.

  “What happened?”

  There was no cocky reply or witty joke. He pulled off his helmet. “Rock fell.”

  She pulled out an antiseptic wipe and pressed it to his forehead, positioned to block Gleeson and Downing’s view of their conversation. “Accident?”

  He shrugged. “How are you?” He caught her eye, and the intimacy of it made her look away.

  “No word yet.”

  He let her apply a bandage to his forehead. As her fingers traced over the adhesive, she felt him relax slightly into her hands, as if his body remembered the love that had bound them together in spite of his traitorous heart. Shane, what happened to us? To you?

  As if he could feel her thoughts, he circled her wrist with his fingers. She allowed it for one sweet moment before she pulled away and handed him a water bottle. “I need to tell you something in camp, something I heard from one of the racers.”

  His eyes widened with the question, but another pack of racers was entering the finish area so the discussion would have to wait. She turned to attend to the next group of people, and tried to put Shane and her own fluttering nerves out of her mind.

  The evening passed in a blur, and it was nearly ten o’clock by the time all the racers had reported in. Feeling the effects of her restless night, she finally climbed into her vehicle and followed Chenko and Ackerman as they drove back to camp. She glanced at her phone for messages—again. Nothing. Uncle Bill should have been able to complete his grisly mission by now. The town where the body had been found was only six hours away, and she was sure he’d started out at first light.

  Suppressing the tension building in her stomach, she focused on the events of the day. She’d found Ellen Brown’s race partner, and that was surely a lead. Shane had completed the leg of the race with only a slight head wound. Was the rock fall an accident? Or had someone helped it along? She shook her head at her own thoughts. Shane’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

  Still, she thought as she neared the camp, painted silver by a full October moon, where had the bicycle gone? And what did Betsy mean when she’d said Ellen was a liar? The biggest oddity of all was Ellen’s disappearance. If the woman had been telling the truth, that Ackerman was with her the night of Olivia’s murder, then why the need for her to lie low?

  The tangle of thoughts did not distract her from the larger issue weighing on her mind. Rose. She breathed another prayer as she got out and walked to her trailer. Maybe Uncle Bill had already called and left word with Aunt Jean. Would Kelly see it on her face the moment she walked inside?

  Fear clawed at her as she stood on the porch, unable to open the door.

  Shane caught up with her before she got there. “Thought you might need some company tonight.”

  She felt the inexplicable sting of tears. “I haven’t heard, but I’m…afraid to go in.”

  He took her in his arms and squeezed gently, pressing his cheek to the top of her hair. “If I could do something, anything…”

  The rumble of an engine startled them both. A truck pulled up, and Kelly knew with a thrill of fear who was behind the wheel. Her uncle Bill stepped out, black hair shining like an oil slick in the moonlight. He wore jeans and a tucked-in T-shirt, but he looked every inch the Tribal Ranger, even out of uniform. His dark eyes flicked over Shane before they settled on Kelly.

  She wanted to run to him, but her feet were frozen in place. “Did you find out?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Far away, Kelly heard Aunt Jean open the door and stick her head out. She, too, seemed unable to move any farther.

  “It wasn’t her,” he said. “Not Rose.”

  Kelly would have fallen if Shane hadn’t reached her and hooked an arm under hers. Uncle Bill crossed the space in two long strides and circled Kelly in his arms, edging Shane away.

  She tried to take some deep breaths to steady the shaking in her legs. “She’s okay? Are you sure?”

  “All I’m sure about is that it wasn’t her.”

  Kelly heaved an enormous sigh as she felt her heart returning to a normal rhythm.

  Uncle Bill gave her a final squeeze before he let her go. “Come inside. There are things I want to tell you.”

  Shane started to leave, but Kelly stopped him. “Stay, Shane. You need to tell my uncle what’s going on.”

  She saw the uncertain look that crossed his face—wary, distrustful.

  “Just lay it out and see what he thinks, that’s all.”

  For a moment she thought he would decline, but with a shrug, he followed them into the trailer.

  Shane knew Bill had gotten word of his abandonment of Kelly. He could read the hostility in the man’s broad shoulders, the granite set to his tan face. He knew he deserved every bit of Bill’s censure, and that Bill would likely not believe a word he said about what was going on at camp. Nonetheless, he sat with them at the table as they talked, voices low to keep from disturbing Charlie, who lay sleeping in the big bed.

  Jean’s face was damp from tears. She sniffled and blew her nose. “So we know our Rose is still alive.”

  Bill did not answer. He drummed thick fingers on the table. “No new leads, though.”

  Kelly straightened. “I haven’t tried calling her satellite today.”

  “You won’t get anywhere,” Bill said. “Keep trying, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. I’ve tried dozens of times today. I wonder if she’s left it somewhere, or lost it.”

  “Lost it?” Kelly gasped. “How will we find her then?”

  “We’ll keep looking.”

  Shane saw a fresh glint of tears in Kelly’s eyes. “My phone was ruined. She won’t know how to call me if she didn’t get the text I sent.”

  Aunt Jean stroked her arm. “She knows my number and Bill’s. We’ll pass along your new number if she calls.”

  Kelly shook her head. “The last time I heard from her was a few weeks ago. She promised to be here for Charlie’s birthday. Did either of you hear from her since then?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Kelly shot a look at her uncle. “What are you thinking?”

  “Just got a feeling that she’s in trouble, more than the drinking problem.”

  Kelly nodded. “I have the same feeling.”

  They talked for a while, the conversation eventually leading to Bill’s new wife, Heather. For the first time, Shane saw Bill’s face soften. “She’s doing well. Taking real good care of Tina.”

  Kelly patted his hand. “And taking care of you, too, I see. I’ve never seen you look so happy.”

  “She wants you to come visit, with Charlie, and stay for a while.”

  Kelly smiled. “We’d love that. Maybe when my job here is done.”

  Bill cleared his throat and turned to Shane. “What is it you need to tell me?”

  Shane sighed. “You all have enough on your plates. I think it would be better to keep it to myself.”

  Bill stared, face expressionless. “If my niece knows about it, then you haven’t kept it to yourself. Let’s hear it.”

  Shane related the entire situation to Bill, whose expression got progressively darker.

  “I get that you want to support your brother, but most of the time the crime happens exactly as the cops say it did,” Bill said.

  Shane’s jaw tightened. “I’d think after your sister’s murder came to light, you might not be so sure. Cops were wrong about that, weren’t they?”

  Bill’s
eyes widened, and for a moment, Shane thought Bill might just take a swing at him. After a moment, he relaxed. “Point taken, but disproving Ackerman’s alibi doesn’t prove him guilty.”

  “All I want is to give my brother some hope. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Bill’s black eyes locked on his for a long moment. “I’ll poke around, see if I can find out anything about Ackerman or the girl who vouched for him.” He fixed a steely look on Shane. “In the meantime, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Shane could tell Bill didn’t expect much to come of it, but he appreciated help from any quarter.

  Bill excused himself. “I want to get home before sunup.”

  “No,” Kelly protested. “Stay here. It’s too late to make that long drive.”

  Bill held firm against persuasion from both women. He kissed them both and gestured to Shane before he left the trailer. Shane followed him into the night.

  Opening the door to his truck, Bill turned to Shane. “You’ve caused my niece a lot of heartache, son. I don’t want to hear that you’ve caused her or Charlie any more trouble, understand?”

  “Mr. Cloudman, I understand you perfectly. No one cares about Kelly more than I do.”

  “You got a funny way of showing it.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. He’d shown Kelly betrayal and cowardice. “I wasn’t the man I should have been.”

  Something crossed Bill’s face, a flicker of recognition, the barest sense that he understood what Shane meant more than he would ever admit. “What matters is what kind of man you are now.”

  Bill gave him a long look before he got into the truck.

  Shane watched him drive away until the vehicle disappeared into the darkness.

  He looked toward the trailer, where the soft glow of lights outlined Kelly’s profile at the kitchen table.

  What kind of man are you now, Shane?

  Kelly had chosen to open her arms to little Charlie. Shane had turned his back and walked away. He was the man who had let fear tear him away from everything he loved.