by Ellis, Tara
Ethan nodded. “Good. I just wanna get to the ranch. Grandma’s going to be seriously worried.”
Tom grinned at the understatement. Still, of all the people he knew, his mother was perhaps the best person to handle things, mentally. Physically managing the ranch without the help of anything motorized was another story and he figured their neighbors would have their own hands full. “I want to get back, too,” Tom said, his grin fading. While his map-reading skills weren’t the best, he was still pretty sure they had close to three hundred miles to go. At that moment, with the sun burning down on them and the endless sagebrush, it felt like a thousand.
A blue sign came into view, indicating a rest area two miles ahead and a smaller brown sign under it announced a public river access. “We’ll stop there,” Tom called to Ethan, who waved a hand over his head in response.
Shifting in his saddle, Tom looked back at the dark smoke that had settled over Idaho Falls. In less than three days, he’d already become so used to seeing abandoned vehicles, that he didn’t give them much thought. But in the open landscape, he could see miles of interstate, and the empty shells littering the road leading into the crumbling city reminded him of a barren, otherworldly reality.
The ability to adapt was what made the human species so strong, but history had proven that with it also came the capacity to forget. Tom wondered what other atrocities they’d witness in the coming days…months…possibly even years. Would neighbor be pitted against neighbor and then be able to forgive them later for doing what they had to in order to survive? He shook his head. They just had to make it through the next week or two and get home. Once on the ranch, he could protect his family and they’d be able to take care of each other.
The exit leading to the rest stop was lined with oak trees and the shade offered some welcome relief from the heat. While there was a semi-truck and two other cars in the parking lot, there didn’t appear to be anyone there. With literally twenty to thirty miles of vacant land around them in every direction, Tom wasn’t surprised.
Ethan led Tango to a wide path that was marked as the trailhead to the Snake River. Tom watched them go and was tempted to take back his ambitious travel plans and suggest they make camp there for the night. Sighing, he instead followed. Based on where the sun was on the horizon, they still had a good three hours or more of light left.
“Dad!”
The trail curved to the right and sloped down into a thick cluster of trees along the river’s edge. As Tom caught up with Ethan, he saw that his son had dismounted and was approaching a man laying across the middle of the path. Something wasn’t right.
His hunting instincts warned him of the danger before he was aware of what it was, and Tom grabbed at the .45 at his waistband without hesitating. “Ethan, stop!”
Ethan was already reaching for the man when he paused and looked back. At the same time, Tom withdrew the gun, but a shot rang out before he had it raised.
It came from behind him and something with the force of a freight train punched through Tom’s right arm. The Kimber fell from his limp fingers and he flew forward off the horse, landing with a sickening thud in the middle of the trail.
“Get off me!”
Tom managed to raise his head enough to see that the man who’d been sprawled out was now wrestling with Ethan. The fall had knocked the breath from him but he sucked air back into his lungs with ragged gasps and pushed up onto his elbows, wincing at the searing pain in his right arm.
“Let him go.” Tom’s voice was hardly demanding, and came out as a cracked whisper.
The cold barrel of a gun pressed at the base of his skull. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be giving orders.” The man’s voice was a nerve-wracking mix of steel and calm.
Tom spread his hands out on the ground and lowered to his stomach under the pressure against his head, while locking eyes with his son. “Take what you want,” he said steadily. “There’s no need to hurt anyone.”
The man kicked at Tom’s arm, unleashing a fresh wave of pain. “Oh, I’d say it’s a bit late for that.” He walked around his head and bent to pick up the dropped Kimber a few feet away.
Tom noticed the tan coveralls first, and as the man squatted down in front of him, the handcuffs dangling from his thick wrists confirmed his identity. His breath was stolen again as he realized they were dealing with cold-blooded killers.
“We will take what we want,” the convict confirmed, a smirk making his bruised face even more grotesque. Standing, he ran his beefy hands down the neck of Tom’s horse and flinched when it tossed its head.
The other man, still holding on to Ethan, snorted. “You don’t know crap about horses, Decker. We’d be lucky if we didn’t break our necks, even if we weren’t cuffed.”
Decker didn’t laugh. Glancing briefly again at Tom first, he then stomped over to Ethan and shoved the other man away from him. “You know horses?”
Ethan looked first at Tom and then at Decker, his eyes wide.
“I asked you a question!” Decker shouted, close to his face. “Don’t look at Daddy, look at me!”
Ethan nodded his head rapidly. “Yes.”
“Will this .45 work on the cuffs, Billy?”
Billy appeared nonplussed by Decker pushing him, the smaller man grimacing in response to the question. “I told ya, man. It doesn’t matter what caliber it is, we’re more likely to shoot ourselves than break the chain. I watched a show on it once.”
Tom watched the conversation with a detached feeling of disbelief. He had to do something, but while his bearings were coming back, he didn’t think he’d be able to move his dominant arm very well. Since the men also had his gun, he was both outnumbered and weaponless.
“Bolt cutters,” Billy continued. “I’m telling ya, they’re the only thing that’s going to work.”
Decker glared at him. He was a broad, muscular man with a pock-marked complexion and he clearly didn’t like to be told how to do anything. “Sure, Billy. Bolt cutters. Let me just drive on down to the corner store and pick some up!”
“The keys weren’t there.” Billy sounded nervous. “I took the only ones on the guy’s belt. My guess is that they never had ’em. It would make sense, right? I mean, they have the keys to unlock our leg chains to get on and off the bus, but only the facility at the other end has the ability to unlock our cuffs.”
“Stop blathering.” Decker grabbed Ethan by the back of the neck.
“Ouch!” Ethan tried to pull away, but was forced to his knees.
Tom staggered to his feet. “Let him go! I’ll help you.”
Decker pointed the Kimber at him and pulled back the hammer. It made an audible click that had the desired effect. Tom froze.
“The horses and the kid are coming with us.” Decker tilted his head. “And you, my friend, are a problem.”
“Don’t!” Ethan cried, reaching up to claw at Decker’s hand around his neck. “I’ll go! I’ll do whatever you want, just…don’t shoot him again!”
The last thing Tom saw was Ethan being thrown to the ground as Decker took three long steps toward him. He raised the gun like a club and brought it down against Tom’s temple, stealing his vision and sending him cascading into a deep void.
When he fought back to the surface and managed to open his eyes again, the sun had set and the moon was out, along with the northern lights. Tom moaned and flinched when he tried to reach for his head with his right arm. Then the memories came crashing back.
“Ethan…” He was alone. Tom was actually relieved when he was able to lift his head and confirmed that his son’s body wasn’t there. It meant he was still alive.
Using his left arm to push himself up onto his hands and knees, he saw something in the dirt a couple feet away. Crawling to it, Tom choked back a sob. It was the trilobite Ed had given Ethan. Closing his hand around the fossil, he lifted it to his chest and closed his eyes. “You’re a survivor, Ethan. I will find you.”
Chapter 26
CHLOE
Lewis and Clark National Forest, near Mercy, Montana
The past two days felt like they were never going to end and Chloe was beginning to wonder if Mercy really existed.
“I’m going to need a break soon,” Ripley called out.
She was limping up the trail ahead of Chloe in obvious pain. Bishop had taken to bringing up the rear so he could make sure everyone stayed together. They’d gotten lost twice the day before. The little-used trail they were supposedly on kept getting overgrown and deer trails crisscrossed it, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. It turned out Ripley had the better eye and so far today they hadn’t had to do any backtracking.
“A little longer!” Bishop shouted, eliciting moans from all three teens. “The sun will be setting soon. I want to be on that ridge before then.” He gestured to the crest above them.
Chloe glanced back at Trevor and saw that he was sucking on his inhaler again. She suspected whatever had burned the trees also triggered something that was causing an allergic reaction in her young stalker. She was proud of herself for not complaining about his monstrous breathy sounds she’d been forced to listen to for the past several hours.
“So long as we stop before dark this time,” Crissy whined. She planted her feet in the middle of the trail, hands on hips, and turned to face Bishop. “I am not doing that again! Ripley could have been seriously hurt.”
Chloe cringed at the expression on Bishop’s face, a mixture of guilt and determination. They’d lost so much time getting turned around after they left the car the day before that the older leader was frantic to make it up. It’d been well past dark and they were all dead on their feet, when Ripley tripped on a tree root and twisted her ankle, finally forcing them to stop. She swore she could “walk it off”, but it was obviously painful.
“We have enough water for a couple more days…maybe,” Bishop said slowly. He looked down at the defiant teen and then leaned in closer, bringing his nose inches from hers. “Have you ever been really thirsty, Crissy? Because there aren’t any water sources between here and Mercy.”
“I think we’re almost at the top!” Ripley’s urgent cry interrupted the tense scene and they all turned back to see her gesturing excitedly.
Bishop ran past them, nearly knocking Crissy over in his haste. Chloe knew their situation was getting more desperate, yet it wasn’t until that moment that she realized how scared Bishop was. They were going to run out of water before reaching the town. Not wanting to scare her friends, because that was how she’d come to think of them, she smiled at Crissy and Trevor.
“Come on.” Taking Trevor’s arm, she urged him up the trail ahead of her, and then pulled at Crissy. “We don’t want to miss out on the view, do we?” The sun was falling behind the ridgeline above them and it would soon be twilight.
“Yeah, because the next mountain isn’t going to look like every other stinkin’ one we’ve seen,” Crissy complained, but she reluctantly fell in behind Chloe.
“If they’re reading the map right, we should be above the valley where Mercy is,” Chloe explained. She was pretty sure she’d already told Crissy. Instead of berating her for not paying attention, she took a breath and worked on her new nice-girl gig. “We might even be able to see it. Maybe they’ll have lights on.”
“Oh!” Crissy made a little gasping sound. “Do you think so?”
Chloe smiled as she stepped up next to Bishop, when it was quickly replaced by a frown. They were indeed on a ridge, but the valley spread out below them was massive, and they were miles above it.
Before she could come up with a suitable comment, Trevor’s rasping breaths roared from right behind her back. Gritting her teeth, it became too much emotionally for her to handle. She knew she was about to go off and went to take a step away from the group when a hand stopped her. Trevor was grabbing at her.
“You need to seriously let me go—” she started as she spun to face him, but stopped when she saw his face.
“Can’t…breathe…,” Trevor gurgled. His face was bright red and covered with splotches. He held on to Chloe with one hand and clawed at his throat with the other.
“Bishop!” Chloe wailed, catching her friend as he fell to the ground. He began to writhe under her hands and she watched in horror as he made odd sucking sounds and his mouth moved like a fish out of water.
Everything around Chloe moved in slow motion as she watched Ripley rip her backpack off and dump its contents out on the ground. Bishop tore frantically through the items and came up with their standard first aid kit.
“Move!” Bishop ordered as he shoved Chloe aside.
Chloe saw that Bishop had a needle in his hand and she recognized it as an EpiPen. She had a cousin who was allergic to everything and always had one at family gatherings. She’d threatened to stab Chloe with it once when she pushed her down for eating her birthday cake early.
Shaking her head to get rid of the odd memory, Chloe sat holding Trevor’s foot as Bishop jabbed the pen into his thigh. Although she was a near-genius, she didn’t know much about medical stuff and had no idea how the medication worked.
“Come on, Trevor,” Ripley encouraged, kneeling at his head. “Slowly, now. Nice, slow breaths.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Crissy was standing off to the side, crying.
“It’s anaphylaxis,” Bishop explained. He sat back on his heals and watched as the teen’s chest started to rise and fall more regularly. “A severe allergic reaction.” He looked up at Crissy and offered a small smile. “The EpiPen helped his breathing. We’ll give him a big dose of antihistamines, too, and hopefully that will get him through it.”
“Benadryl is in the front pocket of my pack,” Ripley said to Bishop. “I should have put the EpiPen there, too.”
“I’ll get my pen,” Bishop said as he dug out the medication. “He might need a second dose.”
“That’s all we have.” Ripley looked concerned.
“I have one.”
Chloe was surprised to hear Trevor speak and she looked at him hopefully. His color was much better, but he was still covered in hives.
“Another EpiPen,” Trevor explained as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I’ve only had to use it once before, for a bee sting. My mom made me bring mine with me. I’ve never needed two doses.” His voice was hoarse, but he was clearly breathing a lot better.
“Were you stung?” Chloe asked, still holding his foot.
Trevor shook his head and coughed. “No. I get hives all the time from like, twenty different things although it’s never been this bad.”
“How are you feeling?” Bishop handed him two pink pills and a water bottle.
Shrugging, Trevor took the antihistamines. “Like my heart is racing and I have a headache.”
“That should go away in a few hours.” Bishop stood and looked around at the spot they were in, taking in the open space and trees. “We’ll camp here. Get an early start in the morning if you’re up to it,” he added, looking at Trevor.
Trevor gave Bishop a mock salute and then allowed Ripley to help him lean against a tree. Crissy sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t ever do that again, dork. You scared me to death.”
Chloe wandered away from the group as Bishop and Ripley pulled out the tents and debated about where to put them. Moving to the edge of the trail she stood on the ridge and took a longer look at the valley.
The sun was setting to their backs so the basin was already in shadow. Shrugging out of her backpack, Chloe found her binoculars and scanned the open space between the trees. She found the one road on the far side from where they were, and followed it in to what must be considered the main street. “So, that’s Mercy,” she whispered, her voice carried by the warm wind blowing up the mountainside.
There were no lights. At least, not counting the scattering of what she assumed were campfires. Sighing, a heavy weariness overtook her. They were in the dark, too. No moving vehicles, no traf
fic lights…nothing.
Chloe lowered the binoculars and closed her eyes, allowing the breeze to caress her face and ease some of the rising anxiety that was tightening her chest and making it hard to breathe. Only, an EpiPen wouldn’t fix it. Looking again at the shadowy valley that was a good two days’ hike away, she turned to leave, then something made her pause.
The sunset was an undramatic event of small splashes of pink staining a few solo clouds high in the atmosphere. But on the horizon, to the south, she could see far beyond the protected valley of Mercy. She had to be close to six thousand feet up, maybe more. It wasn’t the terrain that Chloe found remarkable, but the sky.
A band of orange haze stretched from east to west, as far as she could see. It was too high to be from smoke or fires. It was something else—unlike anything she’d seen before.
Bishop moved up beside her. They stood silently for several minutes before they turned to look at each other. His face was grim, the sun and dirt aging him several years in the past three days. He sighed. “Something’s coming.”
Chloe nodded. “Yes.” She gazed longingly at the town of Mercy, and thought of the people sheltered there, unaware that this was just the beginning.
Chapter 27
RUSSELL
Wyoming State Mental Hospital, Wyoming
Tim’s feet thrashed at the cement floor, the rubber soles leaving streaks of black like some macabre form of art.
Russell wrapped his legs around the other man’s, halting his movement, and increased the pressure of his arm across Tim’s throat. He arched his back in response, forcing Russell to turn his face to avoid being struck, his cheek flush against the cold floor. They lay there, in an intimate backwards embrace, for several minutes as the life drained from the guard.
Rolling out from under him, Russell gazed down at Tim, able to make out his features in the flickering light provided by a candle. It had only taken one more day to convince the man to let him out. He felt no remorse. It was because of emotions that Tim lay dead and Russell would walk free. He learned at a young age that strong emotions were messy—flawed.
