The Ties That Bind

by Andi Marquette

  "It's a car engine," Kara informed us. She sounded relieved. After all, dealing with bad guys driving cars was easier than dealing with something that may or may not have supernatural powers. Humans and cars I understood. Navajo witches I didn't.

  I listened for a few seconds. Definitely an engine. And revved up, coming closer. No headlights. What was up with that? Was the vehicle even on this road? Or was it on the highway and we were just freaked out and assumed it was on this road?

  The noise increased in volume, like it was coming closer. Still no lights. The Very Bad Feeling urged me to get into the rental car and drive very far away, in the opposite direction. "Okay," I said, "If it's on this road, the driver's got no lights on and might not see us." And thus will plow right into either the rental car, River's truck, or both. And all of us, as well. That scenario did not please me. River flicked on his headlights and left his door open so that his dome light was on, as well. His headlights lanced into the night, but nothing beyond the road and slices of desert on each side broke their field. The noise of the approaching engine was much louder. Definitely on this road and headed right for us.

  "It's almost here," Kara stated in a monotone I recognized as her "I'm trying not to freak out" tone.

  River joined us, holding a rifle in such a way that it pointed at the sky, resting against his right shoulder.

  "Holy shit," I blurted. "What are--"

  "Get out of the way," he shouted. "Everybody, move." He grabbed Kara with his free hand and yanked her off the road, pulling her past the rental car and into the desert.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SAGE GRIPPED MY arm and dragged me after River just as two headlights lasered past the boundary River's had established. I tried to watch over my shoulder as Clint Monroe's truck barreled straight for our vehicles and an inane thought flashed through my mind, that I wished I'd bought the optional insurance coverage at the rental car place. Fuck. And then I tripped and stumbled, trying to regain my footing in the soft dirt beyond the road. Sage let go of my arm as I fell onto something sharp that jabbed me in the right thigh. No time to deal with it. I started to get up and Sage's hands were on me again, hauling me to my feet but I didn't run. I stood, staring, waiting for Monroe's truck to slam into the rental car, bracing for the sound of metal on metal and the explosion of glass.

  Instead, Monroe's truck went into a full skid as the driver tried braking then it veered off the left side of the road, barely missing the front end of River's truck. Dirt and rocks flew through the air, swirling in the glow of River's headlights, obscuring my view. I thought Monroe's truck was airborne for a second as it sailed off the berm that separated the side of the road from the desert before I heard it slam to earth in a cacophony of groaning and rending metal mingled with the scrape of rock, dirt, and brush and then an aftermath of grating, crunching, and wounded creaks as the truck settled into its own wreckage like a dying animal.

  Dust and dirt billowed over River's truck and then the rental car, dissipating before it engulfed us. Nobody moved. Instead, we all seemed to be holding our breaths, waiting for something to happen. Long moments passed and I thought maybe we'd end up finding a dead guy behind the wheel of a bunch of mangled metal that had once been a vehicle.

  "Goddamn--" came a voice from the direction of the wrecked truck. "--Christ..."

  I exhaled in relief. Good. One live guy, at least. River started moving in the direction of the wreck, brandishing his rifle like someone who'd had long experience with it. Visions of a shootout flashed through my head, with River braced against the bed of his pickup, his rifle trained on whoever had been driving Monroe's vehicle.

  Kara, Sage, and I followed him. He stopped at the front of his truck, waiting. I peered past River's pickup, my gaze drawn by a lone headlight pointing north, toward the highway we'd come in on. From what I could tell, Monroe's truck rested on its side, driver's door to the sky, maybe a hundred feet from us. Had he rolled the truck? Or did his momentum tip it that direction after he skidded, hit the berm, then landed, still traveling? And speaking of the driver, what was he doing?

  "Hey," River called, into the darkness. "You okay?"

  We all kept quiet, waiting for a response. Something that might have been scrabbling in dirt caught my ear. "Sounds like he's opted to keep quiet," I muttered.

  River tried again. "Driver! You all right?"

  Silence. River adjusted his stance, which made me even more nervous.

  "Guess we'd better go check on him," he said.

  I licked my lips and stared hard at the shape of the overturned truck. What if Monroe had a gun? What if Surano was with him and they both had guns? I glanced at Sage, who was looking at me, a question in her eyes. I shrugged, not sure what to do.

  "They don't know who we are," Kara said. "We're just concerned Samaritans, wanting to lend a hand." She looked over at me.

  "True," I said. "Flashlight?" I asked River.

  "Yeah. Hold on." He leaned into his truck.

  "You okay?" I asked Sage.

  She nodded. "He's going to go over there," she stated, pissed.

  "Probably. I'll go with him." I said it before I'd even thought about it. "Excuse me?" my rational self asked. "You're going to do what? Why don't you just throw yourself off a cliff?"

  "Ready?" River held up the flashlight--a big, heavy Maglite-- and I took it from him. "Maybe you'd better stay here," he said to Sage. "Simmons'll be here soon."

  She frowned.

  "Look," he continued. "If they're hurt, we're assholes for not helping. And if they don't know who we are, then we'll be okay."

  Sage looked at him with an expression that I swore I'd seen in a movie, on Godzilla right before he fried something.

  "Nestor could be over there." He was almost pleading, a younger brother trying to get his implacable older sister to agree with him.

  "River's got a point." Kara inserted herself between River and Sage. "Somebody's got to check on the truck, and somebody's got to stay here in case Simmons comes. I don't think anybody should go over there alone, and I don't think anybody should stay here alone. So River and K.C. can check on the truck and you and I can stay here, running interference."

  "This is messed up all around. But that's the most logical solution." I looked at Kara to avoid Sage's Godzilla eyes and flicked on the flashlight. "We'll be right back," I said, then started walking. Please don't let that be my "famous last words" line, I thought, as River joined me and we started picking our way around the sage and cactus toward Monroe's truck.

  "Be careful," Sage called after us.

  "We will," I called back, thinking that I really needed to pee, that I wished I'd never heard of Farmington, and that I had super powers. I thought of Chris, then, and hoped that when this was all over, she'd still speak to me.

  "Anybody there?" River directed the question to the truck, a dark hulk looming about thirty feet distant against the night sky. "Hello?" He was holding the rifle in such a way that he was prepared to use it. I swallowed hard and shined the flashlight's beam on the truck. It was, indeed, lying on its side, driver's door to the sky. The roof was facing us, so we couldn't see into the cab.

  "Shit," I muttered. We'd have to go closer so we could look inside the cab through the windshield. I shined the flashlight over the back. No sign of anyone, and that creeped me out far more than if I saw a body.

  "Hey," River tried again. "Anybody in there?"

  We both stood, waiting. Something that might have been a soft groan greeted us.

  "Nes--" River started.

  I smacked him on the arm, preventing him from tipping either Monroe or Surano off, if they were in the truck.

  "Ow."

  "No names," I said in a voice just loud enough for him to hear.

  "Anybody?" He called.

  Another groan, this one louder.

  I clenched my jaw and glanced back at Sage, who was silhouetted in the headlights of River's truck, watching. Please don't let anything else happen, I thou
ght. I re-focused on the truck and River and I walked toward our right so that I could shine the flashlight into the cab. The beam picked up what looked like a crumpled heap of clothing in what would have been the passenger side, except now it was lying on top of the passenger side window, given the position of the truck.

  The clothing moved and I suppressed an urge to run. And then the clothing grew a head. Or rather, the person wearing the clothes moved a little and in the flashlight's beam, I recognized the yellow tee. Surano. I shined the flashlight on the truck's steering wheel. No driver. Maybe Surano had been the driver and he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. No sign of Nestor, either.

  "Hey," I said, moving a little closer, ignoring the growing urge I had to pee. And flee. Kara called it the "pee and flee response." I had it now. In spades. "Can you hear me?"

  Surano groaned. "I'm hurt," he said.

  "Can you move?" River pushed past me and squatted outside the windshield, trying to get a better look at Surano's position.

  He groaned again and untangled his arms. Blood smeared his forehead and splotched his shirt. Not a good day for Mr. Surano.

  "Does the truck have a back slider window?" River asked me.

  "I think so..." I checked anyway, in case my memory was off. "Yeah."

  "We can bring him out that way." River handed me his rifle and assessed the back window. "It's open," he said aloud.

  I tried not to freak out, the smooth wood of the gun's stock in my palm. I held it by the butt end, my right fingers looped through the cocking lever and I had it pointing at the ground, which only made me feel marginally better. Had River cocked it? Jesus, I hoped the safety was on. My stomach lurched and I breathed through my mouth, positioning myself so I could shine the light on the window so River could see what he was doing. Why was it open? Would Monroe have been driving down this road with that window open? It was a new truck. He'd use air conditioning, and he wouldn't want Nestor yelling for help. Had Monroe been driving and bailed through the window?

  River put his head and shoulders through the opening and tried to help Surano maneuver into a different position. Somebody else had to be in the truck with him when it crashed. My money was on Monroe, who seemed to have extricated himself and...and what? Where the hell did he go? Keeping the light trained on the back of the truck, I surveyed the darkness around the vehicle. And if he did get out, why would he keep quiet?

  Carefully, and with a whole lot of grunting on Surano's part, River pulled him out the back window, his hands under Surano's arms, crossed over his chest.

  "Shit," Surano swore. "Fuckin' hurts." River lowered him to the ground. They both rested a moment and I shined the light on Surano's chest, just underneath his left shoulder, where I suspected Tonya had shot him. The bloodstain on his shirt glistened. "Hit the goddamn windshield," he said, touching his forehead.

  River stood and I handed the gun back to him, like it was a live snake.

  "Thanks." Surano was sitting down, legs in front of him, leaning against the truck's cab. He tried to get up, winced, and settled back down. "Gotta get out of here," he managed. "Might need some help walking."

  "Help's on the way," I said, not relishing the idea of Surano draped either on me or River. Or both of us.

  "Still gotta get away from here," he insisted, trying to get up again. "Before it comes back."

  It? I looked at River, but he was focused on Surano. "Was there somebody in the truck with you?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Where'd they go?"

  Surano braced himself on the cab and with a mighty effort, gained his feet. He stood now, but he still leaned against the truck. "Don't know."

  "He's shocky," River suggested, sounding uncertain.

  "Who was driving?" I pressed.

  Surano touched the blood on his head again before responding. "Clint. Bastard. Left me with that...thing runnin' around out here. Ran us off the road. Fast fucker, that's for sure."

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up again, but I did not want to pursue any line of questioning that dealt with a fast thing running around in the desert. So instead, I asked, "Where's Clint?"

  "Don't know. Doesn't matter. I'm not going out there to find him."

  River adjusted the rifle's weight.

  "That won't do much good against whatever it was back there." Surano pointed at the gun then slumped back against the truck.

  "Against what?" I had another Very Bad Feeling.

  "Fuckin' thing. Chased us..." his voice faltered. "Not feelin' so good. Fuckin' Clint."

  River stepped closer until he was a foot from Surano. "Where's Nestor?"

  "Back there." Surano gestured in the direction of the wash. Then he seemed to realize what River had said. "Wait. Who the fuck are you?" He glared at River and in the beam of the flashlight, Surano's face appeared downright malevolent all of a sudden. I looked around, even more nervous.

  "What the hell did you do to Nestor?" River asked again as he took a step closer, and Surano drew himself up a bit.

  "He's okay," he said, defensive. "We just wanted to scare him a little."

  "Like what you did to Bill?"

  "River." I grabbed his arm.

  "What the fuck? Who are you?" Surano's tone had turned belligerent.

  "I'm about to be your worst goddamn nightmare," River said in a tone that I'd never heard him use, and he shoved the barrel of his rifle under Surano's chin.

  Holy shit. "Hey--" I put my hand on River's forearm. "Don't." I turned, looking for Sage. Maybe she could calm him down. I couldn't see her, though. She must've been standing between the two vehicles on the road.

  "Hey, hold on, man." Surano said through clenched teeth. "I swear, we just wanted to scare Nestor. He's back at the wash, probably on his way here now."

  "Funny guy, aren't you, considering Nestor can't walk too well. What about Bill?" River must have pushed on the gun, because Surano's head moved back a little. "Just wanted to scare him, too?"

  Surano didn't respond.

  "River, knock it off," I said, this time with more force.

  "Fuck that," he said between clenched teeth. "This asshole is the reason I'm here, the reason you're here, the reason we're all fucking here." He got right up in Surano's face. "You like hitting guys from behind? Big man, aren't you, when you're behind the wheel." He leveraged Surano harder. "You like running people off the road?"

  "Don't know what you're talking about." He was staring straight up now.

  "Not such a big man now." River's teeth were still clenched and in his tone, I heard years-old rage and frustration and childhood wounds torn open, and I knew that if I couldn't get him to stop this, River would be in as much trouble as Surano. "Not so big now, are you?" River asked softly, dangerously.

  "C'mon, man. This is bullshit," Surano said, but he was straining to talk from the pressure of River's rifle barrel.

  "Bullshit? Running people off the road is bullshit? I know that was you. Wanna know how?"

  Surano's head was all the way back now.

  "River," I repeated, trying to stay calm. "Back off." The last thing we needed was River losing his temper and doing something really, really stupid.

  He ignored me. "That was my sister's car, you son of a bitch."

  Surano said something unintelligible.

  "It's different, isn't it, when you're on the receiving end? Are you scared now? Like Bill was? Or Nestor?" River put more weight on the gun and Surano made a little noise that sounded like a squeak mixed with an exhalation.

  "Enough." I didn't have any love for Surano, but I wasn't going to let River create more problems than we already had. "Simmons is going to be here any minute. Let her handle this."

  River shook my arm off.

  "Dammit, stop it." I gripped the barrel of the gun and pulled and as it cleared Surano's chin, he surged forward, knocking River off balance. I let go of the rifle just as Surano's left elbow caught me in the jaw, rattling my teeth and right eyeball. Pain shot through my skull as I staggere
d backward, dropping the flashlight. I thought I heard Sage yelling, but I wasn't sure. I tasted blood and hoped my teeth were intact.

  The flashlight had fallen so that it pointed at Monroe's truck, casting enough light over the scene to lend it an extra eerie veneer. Surano and River were both standing, grappling for the rifle, pushing and pulling like a couple of bull elk, horns locked in battle, clouds of dust suspended in the flashlight's beam, their shadows shifting like demons on the truck's dark metal. Surano outweighed River by a good fifty pounds, and even injured, he was pretty strong. Plus, the realization that he'd been busted made for good incentive to try to kick somebody's ass, grab the gun, and bail. None of which were appealing scenarios. I had to help River. Head still swimming with pain, I did the one thing that entered my mind. I hurled myself onto Jimmy Surano's back and was immensely surprised when I stuck there. He grunted when my weight hit him but didn't release the rifle. I might as well have been a jacket, for all the impact I made.

  "Get the hell out of here," River ordered, through his teeth.

  I'd love to. Fat chance now, though. I wasn't positioned correctly to pound on Surano's wounded pectoral where Tonya had shot him, so I instead grabbed his hair near his forehead and pulled. He howled and let go of the gun. Mission accomplished. Except now he focused on me. He gripped my hand in one meaty palm and squeezed. "Let go," he said menacingly. "Or I'll break your fuckin' hand."

  He meant it. The bones in my fingers started screaming.

  "Let go," he repeated.

  "No, you let go," River said, and surprisingly, Surano released my hand. I slid off his back in relief and stumbled out of the way, River holding him at bay with his rifle. "Fuck," he muttered and the three of us stood staring at each other, panting. My jaw, head, and hand throbbed. I touched my lower lip. It felt like a couple of marbles had been shoved into it. My fingertips came away with blood.

  "K.C.--" Sage was at my side. "Oh, my god. What are you doing?"

  "Not sure," I said, and whatever else I was going to offer froze in my mouth as a long scream split the desert air, a cross between a wild animal and a man in pain. Every hair on my body tried to run, but my body itself remained in place. Nobody moved or spoke for a few seconds, not even to pick up the flashlight. Kara was closest, but she, too, remained immobile. Whatever had made the sound, it wasn't very far away. Past the overturned truck, out there in the desert. Maybe it was Monroe, I thought, going through the possibilities and avoiding the memory of a strange, feral human-like creature dressed in jeans and a light-colored shirt. Maybe Monroe fell on a cactus out there. I hope it hurt like hell.