Thunder Road

by Thorne, Tamara

  “You did?” she whispered in surprise.

  “This is where you like to camp, isn’t it?”

  “You remembered that?”

  “Course I did.”

  “That’s sweet, cowboy.” Her voice went kind of soft and nice. “I like that.”

  “I’m sorry I made you mad.” The words came easily; he knew she was going to accept the apology since she’d given him back his nickname.

  “Have you figured out why?” she whispered.

  “Something to do with the story I told. But I wish you’d tell me exactly what so I don’t go and say it again.”

  She sighed. “Later. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. There’s a storm coming, you know.”

  “I know. It’s slowed down some.”

  That was true; the thunder was as loud as ever, but the storm seemed to have settled in for a rest just behind the Madelyns. “So what are you doing here?”

  “Hiding. You see anybody on your way here?”

  “Not a soul.”

  Quickly she told him about the sheep, the samples, and the helicopters. “They left two guys behind. They’ve been searching the valley floor. They’re over there, I think.” She pointed toward a fold in the mountains across from them as a flashlight beam shot out from behind one of the folds. “Until a little bit ago, they were way too close for comfort. I was just getting ready to sneak out of here when you showed up.”

  “Let’s go before they get out in the open again.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  Thunder began to roll again, and as it did, Tom led the way out from under the shelter and up the trail. “Don’t look back,” he whispered. “And don’t worry. They won’t see us. Good thing you’ve got a black horse.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Behind her, Rex nickered softly.

  Ten minutes brought them to the ridgetop, and in another minute, Tom was untying Belle while Marie squatted behind it and peered down into the valley.

  “I think they saw us,” she said softly. “They’re walking across the valley, coming this way.”

  “Then let’s get out of here. They’ll never catch us, and I’m sure they don’t know who we are.”

  “They’re military,” she reminded him. “They know.”

  “They can’t do anything to us, Marie.” He mounted Belle.

  “They’ll take my samples,” she replied as she swung onto Rex.

  Tom studied the sky. “No storm clouds yet. How about we ride over to Alex’s camp and give them to her straightaway?

  She smiled at him. “You’re one of the good guys, cowboy.”

  “I aim to please,” he replied, his face heating up.

  After the slow descent, the horses eagerly moved at a trot after reaching the sheep trail. They made good time, keeping to a narrow trail that led behind Dead Man’s Hill toward Spirit Canyon.

  The back trail ended and they moved onto Thunder Road for the rest of the trek into Spirit Canyon. “I think Belle’d fancy a little gallop,” Tom said. The truth was, he fancied it too: The thunder and lightning were closer now, and those military types weighed heavily on his mind.

  “Let’s go-

  The horses ran easily up the slightly moonlit road, not slowing until the ascent into the mountains. From there they moved at a moderate trot, and in a few minutes, turned down the narrow trail to. Alex Manderley’s camp.

  “The Bronco’s gone,” Marie said as they approached the campsite.

  One tent, lit from within, still stood, along with a chair and the card table, but everything else appeared ready for stowing.

  “Alex?” Tom called.

  A shadow crossed the tent and then a head stuck out. “Who’s there?” called Eric Watson.

  “Tom Abernathy and Marie Lopez,” Tom replied as they rode up and dismounted. He grinned at Marie. “At least Eric’s not pointing a gun at my head.”

  “I shoulda shot you, cowboy.”

  “I like a feisty woman.”

  “What are you two doing all the way up here?” Eric asked.

  “Making a delivery,” Marie said, handing him the samples and the roll of film, and explaining about the sheep and the military choppers.

  “This is incredible,” Eric raved, lighting a lantern on the card table and holding the bag of blue gel up to it. “Just incredible. I wish Alex were here. She’s going to be in heaven over this!”

  “Will she be back soon?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know.” Eric smiled. “She’s having dinner with Carlo Pelegrine.”

  Tom and Marie exchanged surprised glances. “Well, I’ll be doggoned,” he said. “I didn’t think Carlo’d ever spark to anyone.”

  “Alex is the same way,” Eric supplied. “She never stops working. Until now.”

  “I think it’s great,” Marie said.

  Tom nodded and turned to Eric. “You’re planning to get out of the canyon before the storm gets going?”

  “Yes. As soon as Alex gets back, we’ll go into town.”

  “Good. We get some real gully washers around here. You wouldn’t be safe up in the hills. One might wash down right on top of you.”

  “Does it flood here?”

  “Not often, but it can, and those clouds look like they’ll move in long enough to do the trick. There’s nowhere for the water to go, so it just sits on top of the land. Nasty stuff.”

  “If you like,” Marie offered, “I can drive back up here and you can throw your gear in my pickup and wait for Alex at my place.”

  “That’s nice of you,” Eric said, “but I’ll wait here. Alex won’t leave me to wash away, and there’s always a chance of a UFO flying by.”

  “Well, you be careful,” Marie told him.

  Tom nodded. “Real careful. We’d best be on our way. Give Alex our regards.”

  “I will.”

  The ride back to Marie’s was uneventfully pleasant, but the minute they trotted into the driveway, they saw that the stable doors hung open.

  “Dear God!” Marie whispered, seeing the padlock that lay on the ground. It had been sliced through with bolt cutters.

  “I locked the sheep in the stable!” Marie cried as they approached the open doors.

  “I know,” Tom said dully. “I went in and fed them, but I locked it up again, on my honor.”

  She glanced at him. “Thanks; I wouldn’t doubt you, Tom. Some son of a bitch broke in. Dorsey?” she called. “Bill?”

  In the distance, a dog barked in reply.

  “God,” she said, riding into the stable and flipping on the light. Red 666s were splattered all around, and the sheep’s stalls were empty. She looked at Tom. “I gotta find them.”

  “I know.”

  They rode to the end of the stable and found the body of one of the collies. There was a horrible dent in its skull, and its flank was painted with the devil’s symbol. Beside the corpse lay a two-by-four, matted with blood.

  “Marie,” Tom began.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, eyes glistening. “Poor old Bill.” Her lip trembled. “I have to get my flock rounded up, Tom. You go on home. Better check your own stables.”

  He shook his head. “Davy’s there, and we’re loaded with alarms. I’m not going anywhere.” He rode to the wall where a battery-operated lantern hung, lifted it off its hook, and turned it on.

  Marie pulled her flashlight from the saddlebag, and they rode out of the stable and into her pastureland, a handful of acreage sandwiched between a strip of land owned by the Apostles and Tom’s property.

  A dog was barking as Tom’s eyes adjusted back to the dim light, and he saw the lone collie frantically trying to herd the sheep. Marie took off, Tom following, and in a few minutes they had the sheep back in the barn.

  “One’s missing,” Marie said, after a head count.

  “Let’s find it.”

  They saw nothing as they moved in larger and larger circles over her land, then Marie pointed. “What’s that? Over there, on yo
ur side of the fence?”

  Tom squinted. “Can’t tell.” He rode closer, then dismounted and leaned on the wooden fence. “It’s one of the mustangs,” he told Marie as she approached.

  In an instant he’d climbed the fence and run to the animal, Marie right behind him. He squatted, holding the lantern up, cringing as he saw the slices in its belly, the missing ear, the blood. His eyes burned and he wiped them roughly.

  Marie’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “That’s not like the sheep, Tom. The sheep looked like somebody took a laser to them. This is human-done.”

  “Those damned Apostles.” He rose, looking at Marie. “It’s revenge, like as not. I had a little fun with them at the park today,” he told her bitterly. “One tried to poke me with his umbrella, so I ran him down and roped him. The old coot in charge swore revenge.”

  Marie turned to him, putting her arms loosely around his waist. “I’m sorry, cowboy. I know how much you love those horses.”

  His hands came out to cup her shoulders and he pulled her close. He looked down at her, seeing the tip of her nose barely came to the middle of his breastbone, thought about losing her, as he’d lost the mustang. He couldn’t bear the thought. “We’ll call Moss after we find your sheep,” he said roughly. “Come on.”

  He took her hand, the feeling of protectiveness amazing and overwhelming him all at once, and he held it until they reached the fence. They mounted the horses and rode on until they finally saw a white form lying on its back, legs pointed to heaven.

  The lamb, very young, had been cut up the same as the horse, in a poor imitation of the other mutilations. Marie dismounted and examined the animal, then glanced back at Rex, took his reins, and led him closer. He allowed it. “Rex shied from the ones in the canyon. Wouldn’t go near them,” she said as she took a blanket rolled behind her saddle and wrapped the lamb in it. Tom helped her lift it up in front of the saddle horn. They rode back in silence.

  While Marie found another padlock for the door, Tom took a shovel and dug a deep hole out back, a grave for Wild Bill. Marie returned and insisted on covering the collie herself.

  “Ashes to ashes,” she murmured, crossing herself. “Dust to dust. Come on inside, Tom. I’ll make some coffee.”

  81

  Justin Martin

  JUSTIN HAD PULLED OFF THUNDER ROAD AND HID HIS CAR BEHIND some rocks and mesquite about a quarter mile west of the fort. No one had noticed him or the Mustang, and he walked into the desert, then dug for two hours to make a deep enough grave to hold the kid and the bike.

  Under cover of night, he carried the corpse to the grave and dropped it unceremoniously beside the hole before unwrapping it. In the dim light, he lifted the kid’s pullover shirt and carefully cut an eight-inch square of flesh from his abdomen. After rolling it up like a parchment, he cut a piece of the plastic and wrapped the skin up in it, then rolled the body, facedown, into the grave.

  He’d gone back for the bike, nearly falling into the grave when he tried to lower the bike into it noiselessly. Then he’d begun shoveling the sandy dirt back into the grave, but stopped briefly when he heard horses. He lay down on the ground and watched, saw the pale silver horse and the other, so black it was nearly invisible, pass quickly westward. The riders—Abemathy and a woman—didn’t notice him, and he went back to work, finishing the job quickly. He tamped down the soil and looked up as lightning blazed in the sky. He had the feeling that the Voice that helped guide him was displeased with this waste, but at least the rain would remove the traces of his work. Exhausted, he picked up the roll of skin and returned to the car.

  He backed out, lights off, then turned the car around, timing the move to a roll of thunder. His next stop was in Spirit Canyon to pick up his keys. After that, he had decided, he would return to town the back way so that it was less likely he’d be noticed.

  He glanced at his watch as he turned down Old Madelyn. Good old Mom and Dad wouldn’t be home yet, so he decided to stop off for a shower and a change of clothes before going to Alex’s camp. That way, if he was seen, no one would wonder about his appearance.

  82

  Eric Watson

  ERIC WATSON FINISHED PACKING UP THE SECOND TENT AND THEN stacked it with the rest of the gear under the overhang in case the rain began before Alex returned. Then all he’d have to do was fold up the card table and chair and pop it all in the back of the truck.

  The wind had turned frigid and he hoped she’d be back soon. Pulling his windbreaker tightly around him, he sat down at the table and picked up one of the sample bags Marie and Tom had brought and held it up to the lantern. The clear blue material within might be anything from watery gelatin to a military invention to something from another world. He could hardly wait to get it to the lab and find out. The fact that the sheep had reappeared so mysteriously also fascinated him, and he suspected that the government might be involved in some way: Chances were the blue material was a red herring. Or blue herring, in this case. Whatever it was, it was a clue.

  A single drop of rain splatted against the outer edge of the table just as he heard the roar of an approaching vehicle. It didn’t sound like the Bronco and he rose, listening, but a thunderous rumble muffled the sound. Concerned that it might be Colonel Dole or one of his minions, Eric stashed the samples in the nearest duffel bag just as headlights flashed across the campsite.

  Shielding his eyes, Eric walked out to meet the vehicle and saw that it was Justin Martin’s black Mustang. He groaned, then decided that the teen was at least preferable to Dole. Thunder cracked and a flash of lightning tore the sky. A few more drops of rain stung his face.

  “Hi, Justin,” he said as the boy stepped out of the car. “What brings you up here so late?”

  The youth grinned. “I found something I thought you and Dr. Manderley might be interested in.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Well, Christie—that’s my girlfriend—and I went hiking today around Olive Mesa, and we found this really strange piece of something. It’s like metal, but not, and I can’t tear or cut it, and I read in the paper about all the UFOs up here the other night, so I thought I should bring it to you.” He paused, smiling winningly. “I know it’s probably nothing, but . . .”

  “You never know,” Eric said as he wiped several raindrops off his face. “Let’s take a look.”

  “It’s in the trunk.” As he spoke, Justin reached behind the driver’s seat and extracted a long black flashlight. “Come on back.”

  Eric trailed him around the car and waited while Justin opened the trunk. The boy stepped back. “Have a look at this.”

  Eric leaned over but saw nothing. “Turn on the flashlight, will you, Justin?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Something hard cracked against the back of Eric’s head. He reeled, grabbing the edges of the trunk, bright spots dancing before his eyes. Pain exploded in his head as another blow struck him. Then he was aware only of falling forward into a small dark place.

  83

  Tom Abernathy

  FIRST TOM HAD OFFERED TO STAY AT MARIE’S AND KEEP A LOOKOUT in case the vandals came back, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Then he tried to convince her to accompany him back to his ranch and sleep in the guest room, but she wouldn’t leave her flock alone, and frankly, he didn’t blame her.

  Now, as the first raindrops pattered off his Stetson, Tom rode toward Old Madelyn Highway, and home. Lost in his thoughts—about the cruel killing of his horse, the dog, and the lamb, not to mention his feelings toward Marie—he didn’t notice the nearly invisible car, its lights out, coming toward him on Thunder Road, until he saw it turn south at the junction. Realizing it might belong to the vandals, he strained to see it in the darkness, but it was impossible.

  Grimly he continued on, thinking about the feeling he’d had a few days ago, the feeling that something was going to happen. That had certainly turned out to be true, but he’d never expected to get involved. He was a man whose favorite trail was the one of lea
st resistance. He’d never used his fists, and very rarely even got in any kind of argument, let alone confrontation, depending on his way with words to get him through life. He never thought he’d feel differently, but this afternoon, when he’d bagged that damnable Apostle, he discovered an aggressive streak he hadn’t even suspected he possessed. Tonight, seeing what had been done to Marie’s place, and more, seeing his horse, he felt a rage unlike any he had ever experienced. And it was still growing. “Belle, I guess I’m ready to bust some ass.”

  The horse twitched her ears and snorted, as if she didn’t believe him. Tom wasn’t sure he did either, but the anger was undeniably real.

  Just as Tom reached Old Madelyn Highway, a pair of headlights appeared out of Spirit Canyon. This vehicle was traveling at a good clip, and Tom wondered if it wasn’t Alex and Eric coming out of the canyon for the night.

  At the intersection, he halted and waited for the vehicle, deciding to be neighborly and invite the scientists to spend the night at his place. The headlights grew rapidly, their brightness making Belle fidget and snort.

  “Just a minute, girl.” Tom patted her neck as the vehicle came on, not slowing as it neared Old Madelyn. Belle whinnied nervously and backed up, then half reared as the vehicle turned, and Tom saw that it wasn’t Alex and Eric, but that damned air force goon in his CJ-5. A grunt was driving and Dole glared at him from the passenger seat.

  “You bottom-feeding belly-crawling lowlife son of a bitch,” Tom called after the jeep. He nearly smiled to himself, bemused because his mouth seemed to have developed a mind of its own. Shaking his head, he stroked beaded raindrops from Belle’s sleek silver neck. “Let’s get home before the sky breaks open.”

  84

  Alexandra Manderley

  “GOOD NIGHT, CARLO.” ALEX STARED INTO THE MAN’S EYES, barely aware of the rain that pattered around them as they stood beside her Bronco.

  “I have no regrets,” he murmured, as he took her hand and gently kissed it.