After the riders disappeared, she urged Tess across Thunder Road and down onto the desert floor, then dismounted and led the chestnut mare along, weaving slowly among the mesquite and Joshua trees, letting the horse nibble at clumps of hardy spring grasses.
Alex felt as if her head might explode as she thought about Carlo. Here she was, falling for a confessed killer, promising to help him destroy an enemy, even though she had nothing but Carlo’s word that Justin Martin was a murderer. Was she being foolish? At the intellectual level, she knew this was true, but her instincts said otherwise, and through long, hard lessons, she had learned that her instincts knew best.
She patted Tess’s muzzle, then put her foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Eric was still her primary concern, and as she continued across the prairie, guilt began to weigh her down. She should never have left him alone at the camp, not after the way her old partner, Jack Matthews, had disappeared. You knew better than to leave Eric alone, but you did it anyway. Could you have acted any more selfishly?
Bitter tears of self-loathing rolled down her cheeks and she drove them away by thinking about how much she’d like to wrap her hands around Dole’s neck and squeeze the truth out of him.
Beneath her, Tess chuffed and stopped moving, her ears flicking back. “What’s wrong?” Alex turned her head and scanned toward Old Madelyn Highway, but saw no movement. Behind her, Thunder Road remained equally deserted. The horse snorted, and Alex glanced left. The day was rain-colored drab, the desert foliage half-hidden in low mist, but something didn’t look quite right. “Come on, Tess.” She urged the reluctant horse eastward, toward something that at first appeared to be a large, oddly shaped boulder. The horse protested again, but kept moving as Alex squinted at the object.
“Dear God,” she whispered as it suddenly came into focus. It was a vehicle, a green jeep, smashed up against a stand of Joshua trees. Dole’s CJ-5, or one like it.
Dismounting, she tethered Tess to a mesquite bush, then walked determinedly toward the wreck, her steps faltering when she recognized Dole’s license plate, catching her breath when she saw the body slumped forward over the steering wheel, its arm dangling loosely at its side.
“Colonel?” she called, still ten feet away.
“Help.”
The voice was a mere croak, but it galvanized Alex. She ran to the jeep, then grimly studied the way the steering column had shot forward to press into Dole’s chest, trapping him against the seat. The misshapen swellings on his face and head looked critical. “You’re pinned,” she said, her emotions a confusion of pity and hatred. “I’ll have to get help.”
The military man stared up at her with bleary bloodshot eyes. “No,” he whispered. “There’s no time. It’s over.”
“You don’t know that—”
The eyes glared through the pain. “I know I’m dying, Dr. Manderley. I knew that when the girl left. Did she send you?”
“What girl?”
Dole coughed, and thick blood bubbled between his lips. “Little girl,” he managed at last. “Eve.”
“Eve Halloway?” Alex asked, instantly suspicious. “What did you do with her?”
“I rescued her, Doctor.” His eyes closed briefly, and when he reopened them, they were full of pain but not malice. “Sinclair’s people kidnapped her mother, and she was on the run. I was taking her back to town when they attacked. They stoned me, Dr. Manderley. Stoned me. Isn’t that something?”
“What happened to Eve?”
“She was fine, a good little soldier. Obeyed my orders. She hid until it was over. I sent her toward town, told her to keep off the road, to hide. You haven’t seen her?” His eyes opened wider, worry behind the pain.
“I’ve been up in the canyon, Colonel, not in town. I hope she made it. It was raining too hard to see well.”
“She should’ve sent help by now if she made it,” Dole grunted. More blood bubbled, this time from his nose.
“I’ll alert the police,” Alex promised. “Someone will be here soon.”
“Dr. Manderley,” Dole growled. “I’m dead already. Why were you in the canyon during the storm?”
“We were searching for my assistant, Eric Watson. He disappeared,” she added, anger boiling away her sympathy for Dole. “He disappeared. Why don’t you tell me what you did with him? And with the samples?”
Dole studied her. “Looking for a deathbed confession, Doctor?”
“What have you got to lose?”
“I did retrieve the samples last night. But your assistant wasn’t present. I found them in the second duffel I checked. Right on top.”
That jibed with the two open bags Alex had found. “Are you telling the truth? Eric wasn’t there?”
“On the honor of the United States, he was not there.”
Visions of Oliver North danced through Alex’s head, but she pushed them away.
“Doctor, we’re not enemies, no matter what you think.”
“Then you’ll answer my other questions?”
“If I can.”
Alex pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away the blood dripping into Dole’s eye. “Jack Matthews,” she said, watching Dole’s eyes. “And don’t tell me you don’t know the name.”
He studied her. “He was your partner. He disappeared in New Mexico during a close encounter.”
Alex nodded. “What did you do with him?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.” Dole’s breath rattled through his lungs. “We let you assume we were responsible for the disappearance, but we had nothing to do with it. Jack Matthews was abducted by ...” His words trailed off, then he finished dryly, “A flying saucer.”
“Why would the military take the blame?”
“First rule of espionage, Doctor. Always pretend to know everything. We couldn’t let other countries think we weren’t in control.” His laugh was a painful bark. “We couldn’t even let you think we had no control.” He hesitated. “I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done in the name of God and our country, Doctor. Threats. Blackmail. Assassinations. All to keep our secrets—and our ignorance—to ourselves.” His eyes closed.
“Colonel?”
Eyelids fluttering open, he gazed at her. “Yes?”
“Is the military flying any UFOs?”
“A few, or so I’ve heard. I know the ones we’ve seen here aren’t terrestrial in origin, nor were those in New Mexico. Doctor, you must understand something.” He paused, catching his breath, and one ice-cold hand reached out and gripped hers. “I’m nothing but a glorified grunt. I follow orders. The people in charge of UFO research aren’t part of the regular military. I take orders from them.”
“They’re not military?”
“I don’t really know what they are. The president doesn’t know. Congress doesn’t know. We refer to them as the Secret Government. Whoever they are, they’re dangerous. They do anything they want, and if you cross them, you’re dead. They would eliminate me for telling you this much, and they’ll eliminate you if you open your mouth. Do you understand?”
Overwhelmed, Alex whispered, “Yes.”
“They didn’t take Jack Matthews,” Dole continued, choking as blood flowed freely, filling Alex’s nose with its metallic smell. “I know that, because they’re still looking for him.”
“They think he’s alive?”
Dole nodded almost imperceptibly. “If he is, they want him to talk to them, and only them. After that, he’ll be eliminated.”
“Do you know where he might be?”
“Peru. He was spotted in Peru.”
Blood gushed suddenly from his mouth, spraying Alex, but she barely noticed. “Are you sure this Secret Government didn’t take Eric?”
“Yes. They would’ve taken . . . the samples.” The eyes shut and his breathing stuttered. Alex started to pull her hand free, but the grip instantly strengthened. Dole’s eyes opened. “I’m not the enemy, Doct
or.” His gaze drifted from her to the sky. “They are.”
And with a quiet sigh, he was gone.
114
Eve Halloway
SOME TIME AFTER THE RAIN ENDED, EVE HALLOWAY FINALLY poked her head out from her rocky shelter. She’d never found Madland or Tom’s house, though she’d tried and tried. Finally, when the rain was pounding down so hard that she was sure she would drown, she practically stumbled on the huge mountain of boulders.
Though she could barely see it, she knew where she was: Dead Man’s Hill. Her parents had brought her here to climb and picnic dozens of times. Relieved, she found her way to her favorite path. Slipping and sliding, she climbed the rounded stones, stopping halfway up at the Cave, which wasn’t a real cave, but a jumble of monstrous rocks forming a small, dry grotto. There, she curled up and waited for the rain to die down enough for her to walk down Old Madelyn. Exhausted and bruised, lulled by the storm, she had fallen asleep.
She had come suddenly awake and panicked, almost hitting her head on the top of the cave as she jumped to her feet. Then it came back to her, all of it, her mother, Officer Dole, the bad men. Now, as she peered out, she saw a vehicle way down on Old Madelyn. It was slowly coming this way. She’d be saved! Glancing toward the Apostles’ church, she gasped at the sight of at least twenty white-robed figures marching down Thunder Road, coming her way. Instantly she squatted down, out of sight, and began reciting the only prayer she knew by heart.
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.” She peeped out, saw the Apostles moving closer, the vehicle—it was a light blue van, she could tell now—drawing near. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.” She watched, repeating the words over and over, a litany against her terror.
115
Marie Lopez
MARIE LOPEZ AND TWO DOZEN APOSTLES MARCHED DOWN THUNDER Road. She was careful to stay out of Blandings’s line of vision—he would certainly recognize her. Others might, too, so she kept her cowl up and her head low, walking at the rear of the group, the annoyingly horny bastard Fred right beside her. Fortunately, Blandings had ordered silence, so Fred had to content himself with leering grins.
When they passed her ranch, it was all she could do not to bolt, but she knew she had to wait. Now they were nearing the Old Madelyn junction, and she hoped she could disappear behind a rock, a bush, something, anything, soon. Then she’d get to town as fast as she could.
A pale blue van approached, and an instant later, Marie recognized it as Janet Wister’s. She’d seen it many times because Janet and her Space Friends group frequently parked along Thunder Road. They would unload their chaise longues and folding chairs, their binoculars and signal lights, and spend many evenings UFO-watching by the rocks. Now that the sky was clearing, that’s probably what they were up to now.
“Halt! Weapons ready!” Eldo Blandings commanded in his wavery old man’s voice. “Block the road! Move it! Double time!”
Dear God, help them! Marie waited as the pack of Apostles strung out across Thunder Road, and exhaled with relief when Janet’s van didn’t turn toward the compound. Instead, it turned right, Space Friends gawking at them from the windows, and proceeded another fifty feet to Dead Man’s Hill. There, it pulled into a hard-packed turnout and parked.
“Follow me!” Blandings ordered. “Weapons ready.” He started marching, almost goose-stepping, passing Old Madelyn, heading for the rocks, the group of gun-toting Apostles right behind him. Marie moved along with them, her hidden weaponry weighing her down, her mind reeling as she realized she was about to participate in a kidnapping.
The doors of the van opened and people piled out. Marie recognized Janet and several of the others. She counted ten Space Friends and they all stood watching as the Apostles hustled into the turnout.
Despite the clearing sky, thunder boomed overhead.
“Fan out,” Blandings ordered, and immediately the group formed a large half circle around the Space Friends. He turned to them. “In the name of God and the Living Savior, do you repent your sins?”
Janet Wister put her hands on her hips. “What are you? Rabid Jehovah’s Witnesses?”
“We are the Chosen,” Blandings boomed. “We are the Apostles! Join us or die, for the time of reckoning is at hand.”
A long-haired man standing by Janet laughed. “And people think we’re a bunch of nuts!”
Blandings, hood back, face red with anger, turned to his Apostles. “These are unrepentant sinners! They work for Satan!” He turned back to the Space Friends and pointed at Janet. “Take her alive. Kill the rest of these devil worshipers.”
“Hey,” Janet Wister yelled. “This is a free country—”
A hulking Apostle named Clayman opened fire, then others followed suit. The long-haired man screamed and whirled as a bullet took him in the chest. The others began to scatter, running for cover, Janet heading behind Dead Man’s Hill. Beside Marie, Fred raised his AK-47 and glanced her way. “Let’s kill us some sinners!”
She lifted the M-16 and fired at nothing. She had to do something, but what? If she turned her weapon on the Apostles, they’d cut her down instantly. She couldn’t reach the grenades, and in horror she watched as Apostles fired and the Space Friends danced spastically in the rain of bullets. Beside her, Fred chuckled as he took out a tall, well-groomed man. After he went down, Fred kept shooting and laughing as the body convulsed under the bullets.
“Charge!” Eldo Blandings cried, and the Apostles ran forward. Fred leaped in front of Marie, going after a thin man as he sprinted away. He fired, and so did Marie. Fred’s head burst in an explosion of blood, brains, and bone. The thin man glanced back and Marie raised her weapon to scare him away. It worked, but a moment later he was cut down by someone else’s bullets.
In three minutes it was all over, the ground strewn with bodies. Nine out of ten Space Friends were down. One man moved slightly, and the hulking Apostle Clayman put a bullet through his brain at close range. “This is for the Living Savior,” he intoned.
All at once the fine hairs on Marie’s body stood on end and she could feel the hair on her scalp trying to prickle up as well. The air filled with an energy that hummed all around her. Just as she looked up, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from above.
It struck Clayman’s shoulder, and Marie’s brain slipped into slow motion as she heard the sizzle, saw the arm of his robe smoke and darken. The bolt passed out his extended fingers into the ground, and with the white robe flying, he looked like a medieval wizard casting a spell.
Thunder shook the earth as Clayman fell. Blandings knelt beside him. “He’s alive. Put him in the van!” As two Apostles moved to follow orders, Blandings turned to the others. “Deploy and find the woman. I want her alive.”
“It’s a sign,” a woman breathed, staring at the sky.
Blandings glared at her. “It sure as hell is. Apostle Clayman fired before I gave the order.” Vulturelike, he peered at the rest of the group. “The rest of you remember that!” He turned slightly, mouth open to say something more, then stopped, spotting Fred’s blood-soaked body.
Marie melted into the group as he approached. “What happened?” he asked, glaring. “Who shot him?”
No one replied. Blandings glared some more, then barked, “We’ll deal with this later. Find the woman!”
The Apostles broke and scattered around Dead Man’s Hill, and Marie saw her chance. She went straight to the rear of the rocks and glanced around, making sure no one was looking. Then she started to climb, the weapons clanging around her. She’d spent her childhood climbing this little mountain, and her feet and hands remembered where to go, what to do.
Just six feet up, she ducked into a hidey-hole and watched as Janet Wister appeared below. She nearly called out to her, but the swarm of Apostles appeared too fast. They surrounded the woman. Then her screams reverberated off the rocks.
“Don’t kill her!”
Marie was glad to hear Eldo
Blandings’s order to cease beating her, and she waited as they dragged Janet to her feet and pulled her away. Marie peered up. Dead Man’s Hill had seen many shoot-outs in its heyday, but she doubted that any were as cold-blooded as this. She stripped off the robe and began climbing, making her way slowly around to the old cave where she and her friends used to play gunfighters. She would wait there until the Apostles left.
Some of the Apostles were dragging bodies out of sight behind the rocks, leaving red trails behind them, as Marie neared the cave. She hunkered down, watching as two others tossed Janet Wister through the rear door of the van and slammed it shut. “Listen up!” Blandings barked. “We have done God’s will, and one of our own has fallen. We will fight twice as hard in his name!”
He went on and on, a little peacock strutting his stuff, and all the Apostles’ eyes were on their leader. Marie moved through the last open area before the cave, then awkwardly hoisted herself over a boulder into the cave, a robbers’ roost where silver thieves a century ago had fended off the law.
The last thing she expected was to see a child rolled up in a ball, cowering in the darkness. “Hey,” she called softly.
The girl looked up and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Shit! “Eve, it’s okay! It’s Marie, remember?”
Eve’s mouth clamped shut, then she exploded out of the back of the fortress and into Marie’s arms. Meanwhile, the Apostles were shouting.
“Stay here!” Marie ordered, then climbed back out and peered down.
“Up there!” one of the bastards called, and instantly an automatic rifle coughed. Marie ducked, shards of stone shrapnel pelting her back.
Thunder Road Page 41
