Desolated

by Lou Cadle

  Curt was staring at her, waiting for her to speak on the matter.

  She shrugged. She wouldn’t say a word, but Curt could if he wanted.

  They were in her yard now. She said, “Curt, you’re a great father. And C.J., I’m really proud of you. Do what your dad says today, and don’t get hurt. I love you both.” She turned away.

  “Sierra,” Curt said.

  She turned back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything I should be sorry for. And grateful for everything I should be grateful for. You be careful too.”

  She smiled at him, raised a hand, and turned again for home.

  She saw the dog kennel sitting by the back steps up to the deck. She’d known Pilar would find it. It’d work, though Brandie would have to pad it really well to keep the eggs intact while she walked up into the mountains with it.

  “Dad?” she called.

  “In here,” he said, emerging from the hen house. “Collecting eggs. Life goes on, I guess.”

  “I’m here for supplies.” She changed direction to meet him.

  “C.J. was just here for rope. Cleaned us out.”

  “We’ll get it back.” She hoped they were still around at the end of the day to care about matters like rope.

  He picked up the egg basket and opened the gate to the hen yard. The aggressive hen took a run at him.

  “You know,” she said, “that hen is getting old. This year is her last year anyway.”

  “Yeah?” he said, walking along. They fell into step together.

  “We can use her in the battle. More confusion.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Someone who’s good with a sling can launch her at Vargas.”

  Her father laughed. “I’m not sure that’d do much good.”

  “Don’t horses spook easily?”

  He quit laughing. “Some do, I think.”

  “They might rear back from a squawking hen. Bring it up with Dev, next time you see him, if you see him first. Truth be told, I’ll be glad to see the end of that hen. I think of stewing her nearly every day.”

  “How’s the dummy project going?”

  “Great, thanks to Curt and his mechanical skills.”

  She stopped when they came to the deck. He climbed the stairs, holding to the rail.

  She watched his stiff movements for a moment. “Pilar?”

  “Yes?”

  “When it’s time to run, don’t hesitate. I’m afraid you won’t be able to run very fast. Not for long. So you go first, okay? You, Emily, and the two kids.”

  “I’ll slow them down,” he said.

  “Then send them ahead. Or go first. If you know we’ve lost, and we’re going to retreat, retreat first, okay? I’ll catch up with you when I can.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  If he wouldn’t do it for himself, he’d do it for his family. “Take C.J. with you. I know how important Zoe is to the battle, but I’d like to think that if I die, at least one of my children will survive. If you survive, I’ll know C.J. will be looked after. Please.”

  “Sweetheart, don’t talk like that.”

  “You know I’m only being realistic. It’s going to be dangerous. None of us can predict the outcome, and none of us knows we’ll be alive at sundown.”

  Pilar looked very sad. “If someone dies, it should be me. Us old people have had our lives.”

  “You have wisdom and experience we can’t lose. Whoever survives will need you. And my son needs at least one person who is personally invested in his long-term survival. That has to be you. So please, if the time comes, take him. Follow the path Joan is laying up into the woods, and get your grandson to safety.”

  He stared at her for long seconds, a worried expression on his face. “I want you to be there to take care of him.”

  “So do I. I’m not going on any suicide missions, believe me. But my mind will be in the fight, my focus better, if I’m not worried about both of my children.”

  “All right then. You’ll survive the day. I know you will. You have to. But if things get rough, I’ll get going ahead of the group with C.J.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and she turned for the barn.

  “Sierra,” he called to her when she was halfway across the yard.

  She turned. “Yeah?”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  She nodded and turned before he could see her eyes brimming. She knew this morning would be full of saying goodbyes, in whatever ways they could all bear to. By the time Vargas’s men arrived, she wanted everyone she cared about to know she did care. There was no reason to save it all up for another day that might never come.

  Gustavo was in the barn, changing his shirt.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I thought it’d be better for me to match the tree trunks more. This is tan.”

  “Good thinking,” she said. “How’s the mining of the highway going?”

  “Dev and Arch seem to know what they’re doing. But it all depends on those grenades working.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re running tripwires too, though Arch says the horses wouldn’t be likely to trip on them, just men.”

  “With what?”

  “Some fishing line?” he said. “There was another word they used, but I’d never heard it before.”

  “Monofilament?” she guessed.

  “That was it.”

  “Do you all have your assignments then?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to be on a tripwire with Luke, and I have to be ready to grab a gun if one falls and get it to you or Dev.”

  “Did Dev and Arch explain how to shoot one if you need to?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can,” she said. “Point, aim, squeeze the trigger. That’s it.” She started hunting for the wire. Why wasn’t it next to the fence pliers? She grabbed those for cutting the wire.

  “But I’ll get any gun to you as soon as I can, because you really know how to do it.”

  “Don’t risk your life doing that. I mean, if you need to shoot, shoot.”

  “Arch says not to go crazy with it. He says there won’t be many bullets in each, and to save them for you and Dev, or whoever has experience.”

  “He has a point. But I don’t want you to die just to get me the gun. Sometimes, a single shot in their direction will make them run for cover. And that’s your chance to find cover for yourself.”

  “I can’t believe you all did this. I mean, really did this for months and months. Fought wars.”

  “Neither can I, honestly,” Sierra said. “It seems like three lifetimes ago to me. The last lifetime is counted since you and the guys moved into the barn and became part of our family.”

  “You were good to take us in.”

  “No,” she said, finally finding the coiled wire. “Nothing good about it. We benefited too. It’s wonderful having you all in our lives.”

  “I think we did more. Benefited.”

  She faced him. “I’m so sorry you lost your parents.”

  “Yeah. I miss them now, more than ever.”

  “Maybe Joan and them are right, that there’s an afterlife, and that they’re looking at you right now.” She said, “I know they’d all be proud of you if they could see you. When we took you in, Pilar and I expected at least one of you to have major problems, emotional and behavioral both, but not a one of you was any trouble.”

  “We were all terrified we were going to starve to death. You saved us, and you treated us with kindness. You even made sure we got more book learning. We were grateful, and we’re still grateful.”

  “No reason to feel that now. You’re just part of the extended family. Gratitude is beside the point with family. There is just love and loyalty.”

  “I don’t think so. I think gratitude is even more important with family. So thank you and Pilar both.
”

  “You’re more than welcome,” she said. “Now I have to get back to those dummies.”

  “And I need to get out and help set more traps. The animal traps, I mean.”

  “Don’t forget to warn everybody else where those are. I don’t want to trip over one myself!”

  “Mostly, stay off the main highway, and the first ten feet of our road, right in the center. If you have to walk at the end of our road, stay right at the edges. Arch said to focus the traps there. The horses won’t make it through the scrub easily, and he says the mounted men are more of a danger.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” she said, and she left the barn and headed back to finish her first task. There were more, in decreasing order of importance, and the morning was wearing on.

  Vargas and his men might be on their way up the hill right now.

  Chapter 16

  C.J.’s voice came to her from the road. “Sierra?”

  “Here,” she said, standing up. She was in the grain field, along with Zoe, waiting for Vargas and his men to arrive.

  “Brought you lunch. And Zoe too.”

  “Zoe? You hear that?” Sierra said.

  Her daughter popped up. “Good. I’m hungry. And bored, though I hardly believe that.”

  “They’re arriving later than we thought,” Sierra said. “Maybe they had problems elsewhere, though it’s a lot to hope for.”

  Her children were far enough apart in age that Zoe and C.J. hadn’t ever been that close, but they’d never fought either. Zoe was more like an aunt to him than a sister, living in another house as she had.

  “You want to sit down and eat with us?” she asked C.J.

  “I have other food to deliver.” He was carrying a half-full sack. Inside were wrappers woven of green corn husks. He handed over their share.

  “Thank you. If you hear the signal from your father, get off the road,” she said.

  “I know,” he said, irritated at her. He walked away.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “You keep doing that,” Zoe said, taking a boiled egg and peeling it.

  “What?” Sierra said.

  “Telling everybody you love them.”

  “I do love them.”

  “It’s like saying you’re planning on one of us dying today.”

  “Zoe,” Sierra started. She didn’t finish. “Sorry if it gets you down.”

  “The thought of my mother or father dying? You think, what, that I’m one hundred percent perfectly fine with that?”

  “Of course not. No more than I am with my daughter being in the middle of the fight.”

  “Try not to think about it. Do your job, and let the day play out.”

  Sierra bit into a boiled egg. “I’ve never been able to get used to these without salt.”

  “I barely remember salt. And don’t start in on the last cupcakes again.”

  “Do I tell that story a lot?”

  “Yes,” she said. “So does Dad. I can’t tell if I remember eating them or not anymore, you and Dad have mentioned it so often. Like, is that a real memory? Or is that me painting a picture in my head after hearing the story so often?”

  “You do remember your grandmother cooking for you though.”

  “Yeah, she was good at it. Had more to work with though. Apples, some spices that ran out years ago. The rabbits.”

  “I’m glad you were old enough when she died to remember her. She was always so good to me.”

  “To everyone. And she was the only one who could handle Gramps all the time.” She took a tomato and leaned over slightly, biting into it.

  Sierra took a tomato as well. “He’s been pretty good today. Of course I haven’t had to work with him.”

  “No, he has been. He’s letting Dad take the lead. Surprised me.”

  “Maybe he feels his age,” Sierra said, picking up a cucumber and breaking it in half. She gave half to Zoe. “I feel mine, so I can only imagine what Arch and Joan and your other grandfather feel like.”

  “What do you mean, you feel it?”

  “I get stiff. I wake up slightly stiff every morning. And if I hurt myself, if I strain a muscle, it takes longer to heal. And I think my close-in vision is starting to go, though it’s hard to say for sure.”

  “Does that happen to everyone?”

  “I think so. At least, it’s happened—”

  The signal came from Curt, the sharp high song of the California Quail. But it wasn’t a quail. It was definitely Curt, telling everyone the men were coming.

  “Okay,” Zoe said, getting to her feet. “We both know what to do.”

  “Right,” Sierra said, biting back the urge to tell her again she loved her.

  “Don’t say it,” Zoe said.

  “I didn’t!”

  “You thought it hard enough for me to hear.”

  “I think it every day.”

  “Okay. I love you too. Now get in position.”

  “Going.” There were only three of the dummies in the amaranth field. Sierra had beaten down a path between them, so it was going to be fast to get from one to another. By that point, they might know the figures up on the hill were dummies too, so it was only her assigned to triggering the dummies down here. And one person, Zoe, with the bow, shooting.

  At men with guns.

  Zoe knew to stay as low as possible when she shot. She knew to hit the ground after shooting. She knew to crawl away immediately from each firing position before loosing another arrow.

  Sierra hoped, prayed, that it was enough to keep her alive.

  The seconds dragged by. The men were coming. Curt was stalking them. The boys were waiting with tripwires, and Dev and three of the girls were up on the rise overlooking the spot where their road split off from the highway. Her father and C.J. were outside the Quinn house, ready to move wherever they were needed.

  All of them, like her, must be tensed and waiting...waiting for all hell to break loose.

  Chapter 17

  Dev crawled on his belly toward a spot where he could see the main highway. The horses’ hooves clacked along the broken and split surface, and he sent up a final prayer that they would win the day. Take me, if you must, but keep my child safe.

  God helps those who help themselves, and Dev could help protect Zoe by doing his job here the best he could.

  He crawled forward as far as he could safely go without exposing himself to rifle fire, and watched. Two horses led, the rifles held in the riders’ hands. He recognized the faces but did not know their names. Then Vargas rode, tall and straight on his sand-colored horse. Four more horsemen, and then the wagon, holding two soldiers, and piled with sacks that might hold food. It was riding low. The boys had told him it had a built-in water tank, and he imagined that was full as well.

  It was good for them that the wagon was laden. No chance of the mine failing to detonate—that is, unless the grenades did not work at all. Behind the wagon were another two riders, and behind that, a line of tired-looking civilians, marching up the highway.

  His heart nearly stopped when he saw two of the civilians were Rod and Misha.

  Of course. One of the groups—Payson or Wes’s—might have offered them up as the draftees. Or perhaps they had volunteered themselves. They both looked tense, and both were looking up his way.

  The wagon wheels squeaked as the vehicle approached the mine.

  A horseman just ahead of the wagon shifted in his saddle as his horse somehow detected the mine and stepped around it.

  Behind Rod and Misha was one last horseman. No one was in chains. The draftees were all walking free. Another pair of horsemen were between the wagon and them.

  The wagon was almost upon the mine.

  The draftees might be out of the range of the shrapnel. Or they might not be.

  He had a split second to decide what to do. As the wagon wheels rolled another inch, another inch, he cupped his hands and yelled, “Rod! Down!”

  Two of the horsemen pulled to a stop immedi
ately, wheeling their horses to look his way, but the wagon was heavy and would not stop on a dime.

  Dev saw Rod grab Misha and fling her to the ground, following her down.

  Then the mine went off.

  Dev couldn’t stop his reaction. He ducked his head and buried his face in the dry forest duff. He hadn’t heard a sound that loud since the ammunition had detonated on its own, and for a moment, he was deaf. Then he heard, as if from miles distant, the sound of horses screaming. On the heels of that, the shrapnel started hitting the highway.

  He looked up to see a rain of wood pieces and asphalt.

  The wagon had been blown into hundreds of pieces. The horses that had been pulling it were dead or dying, their hindquarters nothing more than bloody chunks of meat. The prisoners were cowering.

  As were at least the first rank of horsemen who’d been riding ahead of the wagon, and their horses. One fell, dead or close to it. The other horse stumbled, dropped to its knees, and collapsed.

  Vargas and the riders farther in front were still alive, but all the horses were running or rearing in their fear. Vargas fought his for control.

  Dev saw his chance. He stood, knowing he was visible to the riflemen, and nocked an arrow. Adjusting for his height from up here, the wind, the distance—all that was automatic for him. He let fly, the arrow aimed straight at Vargas. Cut off the head of this monster, and the rest of it would not function right.

  Vargas’s horse reared again, Vargas fighting to stay seated. The arrow flew, but instead of hitting Vargas, it hit the horse in the neck. Dev didn’t stop to see what damage he’d done.

  He turned tail and ran.

  Behind him, the first rifle fired his way. It spurred him on, and then one of the automatic rifles started firing, and the rounds hit the trees just behind him, faster than he could count them.

  He didn’t know he still had that kind of speed in him, but he flew through the trees, swerving to avoid hitting one, hurdling over a fallen oak, and then dropping to the ground as he heard more guns join the first two.

  He lay there for a moment, panting, trying to sort out the sounds. There was only one rifle on full auto, but under that noise several other rifles fired single shots.