Counting time in her head, she concentrated on a steady rhythm of footfalls. The baked ground beneath her feet was hard as concrete. Each running step vibrated the soles of her tennis shoes and jarred her shins and knees. Tomorrow her body would pay in pain, but it was a small price compared to the loss of innocent lives if she failed to get there in time.
The sandstorm waned as she neared the camp, but instead of slowing down, she raced faster, her legs pumping. She didn't stop until she stood a dozen feet from the black tent. Kelly wondered if Von had survived the bullet his wife had shot into his back.
The wind had dulled to a mild roar, but she listened for any sign of an ambush. The camp lay still as a ghost town. Her pulse quickened, and she strained to hear the generators. A rumbling hum sifted faintly through the blustering wind.
Leery of any stray cultists who might be lurking, she poked her head inside Valya's tent. A shallow fog of exhaust fumes crawled along the floor. On a small cot between Valya and Von's prone bodies lay Lynette, her narrow chest and thin little legs strapped down with leather belts. Her arms struggled to free themselves, and she twisted her head to stare at Kelly. The child's deep gray eyes were round with fear, but she didn't utter a sound. A cloth gag ensured her silence.
****
Sam rummaged through the spilled tools from his toolbox. He grabbed a pair of wire cutters and shoved them in an inside pocket of his jacket. He snatched up his crude-but-workable crutch and set off at a fast limp toward the camp.
After about a hundred yards, his armpit burned from constant chafing by the rough bark at the crook of his crutch. The wood had torn through the seam of his jacket sleeve, and splinters now poked into the sensitive skin under his arms. He tossed the crutch aside and hobbled on.
He suspected the moist warmth running down his leg wasn't sweat. A thin trail of blood had trickled down his bare leg to disappear into the tops of his boots. Nothing he could do about it now. The bleeding would stop when he did. He forced himself to move faster.
The storm was a fickle one—whirling sand one minute, a mild breeze the next. He had watched Kelly fly through the worst of it, her long, coltish legs sprinting in graceful strides across the baked desert floor. Thinking about the possible danger she faced lit a fire under his feet, and he blasted into overdrive.
He glanced left to right as he hurried ahead, keeping his eye out for Jake. The moment the generators were stopped and Lynette was safe, Jake would become his first priority. In the meantime, he felt certain Cody would find him and keep him safe.
Sam finally arrived at the camp's perimeter, and the rumble of generator engines lured him on, guiding him toward a crude shack built of wood scraps and old tent canvas. Two hoses snaked across the ground and disappeared into both large tents. The hoses were bolted to the ground, and he considered trying to free them of their moorings, but that would take too long. He'd stick to his original plan. Reaching into his pocket, he found the wire cutters that would put an end to Star Mothers' death wish.
The sound of fast footsteps came a second before a pair of arms locked around his knees. Thrown off balance, he slammed face-first to the ground.
Using his one good leg, he kicked at the man holding him down. "Are you crazy? Get off me. Everyone will die if I don't shut these down."
"Not die," said the breathless sentry. "Transmigrate. And I'll join them right after I take you out."
"Like hell!" Sam slammed a booted foot into the man's face, knocking him backward.
The wire cutters clutched in his fist, Sam jumped to his feet. Pain shot through his injured leg. He ignored it and lurched for the shack. He tore away a ragged plank of plywood to reveal the idling generators that pumped poisonous exhaust into the tents. But not for long.
He ripped a scrap of canvas from one of the shack's walls, and muted light flowed inside. A gust of wind tossed sand in as well, obscuring his view of the spark plugs he searched for. While waving his hands to clear the murky air, he was again tackled from behind.
He landed on his right side, the impact shooting a blaze of fire through his leg. He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth against the pain.
The sentry wasn't much of a fighter, and he used only his weight to hold Sam down. The whale of a man grunted with effort, his labored breathing testament to a sedentary lifestyle. One of Star Mother's notorious hackers, no doubt.
Lying prone with his legs pinned, Sam couldn't move anything but his upper body. He twisted to his right, swinging his left arm back to stab the wire cutters into the sentry's thigh. The man howled and rolled off Sam, who struggled to stand on one foot. When the sentry came at him again, he head-butted the man's ample belly. The sentry doubled over as his breath rushed out in a single grunt. Sam plowed into him again, shoving him backward into the shack. The structure collapsed on impact, and the sentry banged into the nearest machine so hard that Sam heard something crack. He couldn't tell whether it was the sentry's head or a part on the generator, but whatever it was knocked the big man out cold. His massive bulk slumped to the ground and stayed there.
His wire cutters slick with the sentry's blood, Sam moved in to snip the spark plug wires from the first generator.
****
Kelly rushed to Lynette's cot. The girl's eyes rolled back in her head, though she appeared to struggle at keeping them open. "Atta girl. Stay with me. I'll have you out in a jiffy." She unbuckled the belts around the child's legs and arms.
Once Lynette was free, it was obvious she couldn't walk on her own. Kelly would have to carry her. She herself was already feeling the effects of the gas. "Hurry up, Sam." Her crude mask was less than adequate protection.
She coughed out noxious air from her lungs then held her breath while gathering Lynette into her arms. The child moaned and lay limp against her chest.
Relieved she had arrived in time, Kelly stood and started toward the tent's entrance. A hand shot out from the cot beside her. It grabbed hold of Lynette's arm.
"No," Valya muttered. Her speech slurred, she added, "You can't... take her. She's mine."
Kelly tried to pull Lynette away, but Valya's grip was too strong. She pried at Valya's bony fingers, but they curled even tighter around the child's arm. "Let go!" Kelly yelled, her head fuzzy, her eyelids growing heavy as she was forced to gasp in the poisonous air.
Valya was weakened from the combination of her drugs and the carbon monoxide, but she managed to concentrate the last of her strength on Lynette. Her glassy, unfocused eyes silently begged Kelly to let the girl go.
Still yanking at Valya's death grip, Kelly dropped feebly to her knees, Lynette still clutched protectively in her arms.
A fog of uncertainty settled in her mind. She struggled to clear it, thinking she could save herself if she wanted to. There was no stopping her from escaping the tent and leaving Lynette to die in her mother's arms. Nothing stopping her but her morals and an indelible conscience. The very idea made her stomach turn. Her instinct to survive be damned. Either she'd leave the tent with Lynette, or she wouldn't leave at all.
Teeth clinched with determination, Kelly heaved back a fist and landed a solid blow to the center of Valya's pale face. With a grunt, the woman fell back hard against the cot and released her grip on Lynette as she lost consciousness.
A smile of triumph tugged at Kelly's lips, but it was premature. She glanced down at Lynette, who lay motionless in her arms. The slight rise and fall of the child's chest was the only sign she still lived.
Fresh air. Need fresh air. It was a single thought, the only coherent one Kelly had, and she clung to it fiercely. Too weak to stand, she dragged herself and Lynette across the floor toward the doorway. It was only a dozen or so feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. Fatigue burned through the muscles in her arms and legs. Darkness nibbled at the edges of her consciousness. She wasn't going to make it.
She sensed a presence in front of her and vaguely recognized a figure in the doorway. Sam? Why wasn't he helping her? She gazed up, co
mmanding her mind to make sense of the blurred image that was more shadow than light. She blinked, and the amorphous shape came into focus.
Her mind could have been playing tricks, but the dark-haired woman in the doorway looked exactly like Sam's housekeeper, Consuela Martinez.
****
Within minutes, Sam had both generators shut down. He knelt beside the collapsed man at his feet and checked his pulse. The sentry wouldn't be making any interstellar trips today. He was still alive.
He yanked a length of twine from one of his pockets and tied the man's hands behind his back. While testing the knot to make sure it held, fast footsteps came up behind him. He stood and spun around to face who he thought would be another sentry but saw Consuela instead. And she held a crying, coughing Lynette in her arms.
Relief washed over him as he limped over to retrieve his daughter. "Sweetie, are you okay?"
Lynette nodded, still sobbing, and threw her arms around his neck.
He glanced around, looking for Kelly. "Where's Kelly?"
Consuela's dark eyes widened, her expression fearful. She shook her head, then pointed toward the black tent. Her hands clutching her throat, she pantomimed coughing and gestured toward the tent again.
"She's still in there?" Sam asked, panic tightening his chest.
She bobbed her head. Eyes closed, she pressed her palms together and placed both hands to one cheek, cocking her head to the side.
"She's passed out?"
Consuela jerked a nod.
His mouth went desert dry, and he choked out, "The other tent. The people inside. They'll die if they don't get air—"
She held up a hand to sign her response and exaggerated taking deep breaths.
"You opened up the tent to air it out?"
She nodded.
He set Lynette down, and when the child wailed in protest, he told her, "I'm coming back. I promise." To Consuela, he said, "Please take care of her for me." He set off to help Kelly.
Ignoring the pain in his leg, Sam ran full-out toward the black tent at the center of camp. He gasped for air, his throat clogged with fatique and fear. He found Kelly prone on the floor inside the tent, her arms reaching away from her, one knee bent and the other straight as if she were still running.
Sam's heart leapt into his throat. "Kelly?" he whispered, then more loudly, "Kelly? Wake up!" He crouched down beside her, ignoring the white-hot pain that shot through his throbbing leg. He placed two fingers at the pulse in her neck. She was alive.
He grabbed her beneath the arms and dragged her from the tent, hoping that once outside she'd wake up. But when he lay her on her back and slipped the cloth mask down from her nose and mouth, she still didn't move.
He slapped her lightly on the cheek. "Wake up, damn it."
No response.
His throat constricted, and he swallowed the fear that had lodged there. She'd be all right. She had to be. At that moment, he couldn't imagine a day without her. He'd miss her sassy comebacks, would long for her dimpled smile and those luminous blue eyes that captured his soul whenever he gazed into them. She had more heart than any woman he had known. Her bravery surpassed that of most of the men he knew. He realized then that he needed her, truly needed her. His life would be empty without her.
"Kelly," he said in a cracked voice, then pressed his ear to her breast. Her heart beat steady and slow, her chest rising with shallow breaths. "Please come back to me. I..." He swallowed and said the three words he'd never told another living soul. "I love you."
She heaved in a breath and coughed, her upper body rising with the violent force of exhaled air. She gagged, rolled to her side, and retched. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her up. He didn't want to ever let her go.
"Sam?" She pulled back to look at him, her face streaked with dirty tears. "Lynette? Is she—"
"She's fine," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. Cupping her face in his hands, he repeated, "She's just fine. Thank you."
The ghost of a grin settled on her lips then quickly vanished. "I have to tell you something."
He scowled, concern dampening the elation he'd felt only seconds ago. "Is it about what I just said?"
She looked puzzled. "Why? What did you just say?"
"Nothing. Go ahead and tell me what's on your mind."
"I..." The distant sound of sirens brought her up short. "Police? But how do they know?"
Kelly staggered to her feet, and together they ambled toward the camp's perimeter to check out what was going on. When they passed the tent that held the remaining cultists, Sam was relieved to see people rousing from their cots, most of them coughing, some sick as Kelly had been, but all of them alive.
He and Kelly held each other up as they made their way to Consuela, who sat on the ground beside one of the campers. Her arms were wrapped in a comforting hug around Lynette. The child's face looked impassive, and Sam agonized over the extent of emotional damage she had suffered. She would need time to heal, and he'd be there to help her through every minute of it. If he had his way, Kelly would be, too.
He gathered Lynette's limp body in his arms and hugged her. "I told you I'd come back."
She didn't respond, her entire body lax as though unconscious, yet her eyes were opened wide.
"Lynette, sweetheart? Will you talk to me?"
She still didn't speak.
A lump of emotion clogged his throat as he hugged her tightly. "I'm so, so sorry, baby." He breathed deep her child's scent of baby shampoo and what smelled like grape jelly. "When you come back to me, you and I will be a family, the best family you could ever have. I promise."
The child blinked, her thick lashes fluttering over eyes that glistened with tears. She focused on Sam's face, then her chin quivered as her lips opened to release a high-pitched wail of heartbreaking sorrow.
He clasped her to him, tucking her head beneath his chin and feeling her racking sobs against his neck. "You go right ahead, sweetheart. Cry all you want. It's all over now."
He felt a hand on his arm and glanced down to find Kelly standing beside him, her eyes swimming. "She's going to be okay," he said. It took some effort to keep his voice from cracking. "Yes, she's okay."
Three police cruisers rolled across the desert plane toward them, followed by two ambulances and a pair of all-terrain vehicles that rode side by side. When the ATVs stopped, a dog jumped off the back of one and came running at Sam.
"Cody?" he called to the galloping canine. The coyote reared up on his hind legs and planted his front paws on Sam's chest. "Where've you been, boy?"
He barked and licked Sam's face.
"Jake?" Kelly asked, turning in a circle, her hand held up to shield her eyes from the sun. "Jake?" she called out to the sea of officers spilling from the cruisers.
Two more patrol cars pulled up. Still holding a crying Lynette, Sam hurried to catch up with Kelly as she walked swiftly through the crowd of policemen. "Have you seen my brother?" she asked, and was directed to the two ATVs.
Her eyes spilled over with fresh tears, and her voice shook when she addressed the two scruffy young men on their rugged little vehicles. "My brother. He's sick and he's lost—"
"Yeah," said the blond one, who looked fresh out of high school. "We found him wandering out in the middle of nowhere with that coyote glued to his side. Tamest critter I ever seen, but it wouldn't let us get close at first. By the way, your brother is seriously jagged."
Every muscle in her body looked tight enough to break. Sam heard the restraint in her voice when she asked, "Where is he?"
Scruffy guy number two, a red-haired kid with more freckles than there were stars in the sky, pointed at an ambulance. "He's in one of those. After we found him we took him back to our trailer where we got a CB radio. He kept mumbling something about Star Mother and a comet, said crazy stuff about a mass suicide in the desert. The dude wasn't making sense, but he was in bad shape so we knew somethin' was up. That's why we radioed the cops."
"I figure
d this was the place he meant," the blond kid said, waving a hand at Star Mother's camp. "I'd ridden past it after they set up. Everyone wearin' white robes, prayin' all the time. A bunch of freaks."
Without a word, Kelly stalked off toward the ambulances.
"Thanks, guys," Sam said, and shook each of their hands. "You just saved a man's life."
The teens nodded and gave each other a high five. "Yo, dude! We're heroes!"
A police officer approached Sam. "Excuse me, sir, but we need to ask you and your wife a few questions."
Wife? He rather liked the sound of that. "Sure. But she's not my wife. And we've both just been through hell, so if you wouldn't mind bringing us some water and something to eat first, we'd be glad to help. And my daughter needs medical attention right away."
"So do you," the cop said, his gaze directed at the dried blood staining his bare leg.
Sam waved him off. "I can wait, but there's more than eighty people in that tent over there who can't. By the way, you better check on the fat guy tied up out back."
After the cop and several others headed for the recovering cultists, Sam looked for Kelly. He found her in back of the second ambulance, holding Jake's hand. Though filthy from head to toe, Jake looked content in sleep. He might already feel relieved to be free of his bondage to Star Mother. Like Lynette, he had a lot of healing to do.
"The EMTs say he'll be fine," Kelly told Sam without looking up, her eyes trained on Jake's sleeping face. "He's dehydrated so they're giving him fluids. He'll probably need to stay in the hospital a while."
She looked relieved, but exhaustion had taken its toll. Fatigue had made dark circles under her eyes, and despite their victory, she looked defeated. He glanced down at Lynette, who lay drowsing in his arms, and understood exactly how Kelly felt.
Sam jerked his chin toward the camp. "Jake won't be alone in detox."
Desert Guardian Page 22
