“You have to trust him,” Owen says. He twists his mouth in pain as Big Ed tapes a square of gauze beneath his chin. “He’s your only hope of finding Jakob before it's too late.”
“Your brother needs some rest now.” Big Ed screws the top back on the tube of antibiotic cream. He pulls his jacket from his pack and fluffs it up under Owen's head.
I take the pot of cold stew to a bench by the back wall of the cabin and sit down. “What is this anyway?” Big Ed asks, sniffing the pot warily when he joins me.
“Some kind of fish,” I say. “Tastes great.”
He raises the ladle to his puckered lips and sucks at the congealed broth. “Not half bad. For cold stew.”
I lean back against the wall, shattered from the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been through in the last few days. “Do you think Mason’s okay?”
Big Ed looks at me sideways. “Seems to have a few lives up his sleeve. I wouldn’t worry about him.”
“He’s setting Rummy up, isn’t he?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
I drop my gaze. I’d like to give Rummy a piece of what he did to my brother and me, but kill him? That’s what Diesel will do to him if he thinks Rummy’s double-crossing him. I pick at a shred of fish wedged in my teeth. I’ve learned firsthand that revenge is hard to live with. “You’re okay with Mason doing our dirty work for us?”
Big Ed runs his fingers slowly over his mangled hand. “We’re all in this together. No one’s hands are clean, Derry. Never forget that.”
I shiver. How can I ever forget? Do us all a favor, Mason, why don’t you?
I gesture at his hand. “What happened to you? You never talk about it.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
He grunts and appraises me for a moment. “Time and regret. Funny how those two go hand in hand." He lets out a heavy sigh. "I worked for a rancher named Wild Gulch when I was ‘bout your age. He was uglier than a rattler on steroids when he hit the bottle. One night, when I’d been there a year or so, he caught a ranch hand stealing liquor from him.” Big Ed shudders, as if a blast of cold air just went through the cabin. “Marched that ranch hand right out to the woodshed and shot him square in the chest. I was sleeping in the back, saw it all go down.”
I widen my eyes and wait for him to continue. I don’t want to appear over eager now that he’s ready to talk.
“I popped right up and told him I was going into town to fetch the sheriff. Gulch just stood there, hands on his hips and smiled wide at me. Then all of a sudden, he grabbed a pitchfork from a rack, and pinned my hand to the wall with it. Told me I weren’t going no place ever again if I didn’t swear we was hiding in the wood shed, fearing for our lives when that drunken ranch hand doggone attacked us.”
My eyes dart to his mangled hand. I shudder at the thought of how much he must have suffered.
“Gulch told everyone he killed the ranch hand in self-defense. I backed him up that night, never said nothin’ to nobody ’bout it after that. But I knew then what he was capable of and I kept my distance.” He breaks off and stares at the floor.
I lean in toward him. “What is it? Did something else happen after that?”
He throws me a startled look, scrubs his hand over his face. “Couple years go by and Gulch marries a young woman named Kitty March from the town o’ Riggins. Kindest-hearted woman I ever knowed. From the get go he beat on her something awful. I saw her face all swelled up big as a melon, more than once.” He pauses for a moment before he straightens up and continues. “One night, I heard a noise in the barn and when I went back to check on the horses, there she was with a rope hooked up ’round her neck, ’bout ready to jump off a stool.” His voice catches. “I talked her down off it, and I promised I would fix it so Gulch would never hurt her again.”
“What did you do?”
Big Ed scratches hard at his cheekbone. “Snuck in while he was sleeping.”
I wait, averting my gaze when he wipes a finger along the underside of one eye. Minutes go by and he sinks into himself, trancelike.
“And … so you shot him?” I prompt.
He turns and fixes me with a piercing stare. “Took off his head with an axe.”
Chapter 16
My breath scrapes up my throat. I grip the bench tightly with both hands.
I can’t connect the Big Ed I know to the story he’s telling me. It sounds like something Diesel would be capable of. But not the gentle, mountain man who's become one of my closest friends. Seems we’re all only as good as the secrets we keep. I don’t even trust my own heart anymore.
“How could you do something like that?” I ask.
Big Ed bows his head, the brim of his cowboy hat hiding what his eyes are saying. He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m not proud of what I did. Back then, I had only my anger to tell me a thing was right or wrong. I thought it was my job to save her.” He blinks up at me, owl-like.
I stare back at him, my ragged breathing resonating in my head. “So you went on the run?”
“It’s hard to find a quiet place in your soul when you’ve killed a man. Moving off grid was the easy way out.” He strokes his beard absentmindedly.
I shift uncomfortably in the silence that follows.
I get why he ran, but the fact is he never paid for murdering Wild Gulch. And now that the world’s fallen apart, he probably never will. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
The door of the cabin grates open. I stiffen. Big Ed scrambles to his feet.
“It’s me,” Mason whispers, closing the door behind him. He strides over to us, leans his M16 against the bench, and lifts the lid from the pot.
“You can have the rest,” I say, pushing the stew toward him.
He shovels it down without stopping between mouthfuls.
“What’s happening out there?” Big Ed asks.
“Nothing, yet. Rummy’s still out scouting.” Mason grins. “I hid the missing ammo in his room at the lodge.”
I frown. “What if Rummy finds it first?”
“Diesel’s men already found it.” Mason wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “They about tore that room apart trying to catch the skunk I let loose in there.”
Big Ed laughs deep in his throat.
“Rummy’s men will side with him,” Mason says, “so be prepared for a shoot-out.”
“Might be our chance to escape,” I say.
Mason gestures at Owen. “He’s in no shape. Best just hunker down and wait for me.” Mason stands and slams the lid back on the empty pot. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe.” He throws his hood up, gives me a two-fingered salute, and slips through the door.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be back,” Big Ed says. “He’s like some kind of phoenix, always reappearing from the ashes.”
I nod, unconvinced. One way or another, Mason’s days are numbered. But it’s not just him I’m worried about. It’s finding Jakob before it’s too late.
Owen lets out a soft moan. I grab my water bottle and hurry over to him.
He pushes the bottle away. “Help me up.”
I grab him under the armpits and drag him into a sitting position. His head flops forward. “Dizzy.”
Big Ed helps me prop him against the bench.
I swig back a mouthful of water and settle down beside him. To my relief, the swelling on his face has gone down some already.
A sudden burst of gunfire hits my eardrums like a jackhammer splitting rocks. I shove Owen back down and squeeze myself between him and the bench. I throw a darting glance around the room. Big Ed is sprawled prostrate a few feet from us. “Stay low,” he says.
“What’s happening?” Owen asks.
“Shoot-out between the Rogues.” I inch a little closer. “Mason planted the missing ammo on Rummy.”
A volley of bullets pelts the cabin, followed by a heavy thud as if someone’s fallen against the door.
I turn to Big Ed. “What if it’s Mason? He could be hurt.
”
“I’ll check it out. Stay with Owen.”
Before I can stop him, he slithers across the floor on his belly. He crouches on his haunches, pushes down on the iron lever and yanks open the log door. I smother a scream when a body topples inside.
Big Ed gets to his feet and hauls the man by the shoulders over to the corner where Owen and I are huddled together.
My eyes widen. It’s the pudgy Rogue with the gold tooth who brought us the food.
I quickly pat him down for weapons. “He’s clean. Must have dropped his gun when he was hit.”
“Is he alive?” Owen asks.
Big Ed kneels and shakes the man gently. “Can you hear me?”
The Rogue’s eyes fly open and he stares at the ceiling. He groans from some place deep inside. I glance down at the ruby-red stain glistening like a silk sash over his belly. I grab the jacket Owen was using as a pillow and press it to the Rogue’s stomach. “You’re going to be fine. Just hang in there.” I throw Big Ed a helpless look. We’ve nothing but a near empty tube of antibiotic cream and a strip of leftover gauze to patch him up with.
The Rogue tilts his chin up and swallows, his neck twitching as he gulps for air. “Smoke, pl—ease.”
At first, I think he’s joking, but then I see the desperate look in his eyes. I lean over and pat the dying man’s pockets.
He grimaces, his gold tooth winking in the dimly lit cabin. His inked face contorts like a crumpled newspaper. A moment later, his limbs go slack.
I pull the bloody jacket over the Rogue’s face. My eyes meet Big Ed’s and I see the flicker of fear in his. Then he blinks and it’s gone. But it’s enough to make me realize he’s old and tired, and I can’t lean on him forever. I need to find my own courage and take control of the situation.
“There’s no knowing how this bloodbath’s going to end,” I say. “We should make a plan in case Mason doesn’t come back.”
Big Ed nods. “I’d put my money on him, if I had any, but we’d best prepare for the worst.”
“We’ll have to jump whoever comes through the door and use them to negotiate our way out of here.”
Big Ed looks unconvinced. “How are we supposed to ambush a Rogue without a weapon?”
I hike my lip up in a smart-alecky grin and grope around in my pocket. “With the knife I always carry in my jacket, like you taught me.”
Big Ed raises his brows admiringly. “I should follow my own advice more often.”
“Do you still have snare wire?”
He fumbles with the straps on his rucksack. “One of the Rogues went through this, I’m not sure what they took out.”
He rummages around and pulls out some fishing line and a toothbrush. “Took the wire, but they missed the nylon. This stuff will sever an artery.” He runs his finger along the green, plastic handle of the toothbrush, and then tosses it to me. “We can sharpen this too. We could use another blade.”
“It may not come to that,” I say. “We only need to surprise whoever comes through the door long enough to grab his gun.”
“I wish I could be more help,” Owen says, struggling to sit up.
I catch his elbow and help him into a more comfortable position.
“Here,” I say, handing him the knife and toothbrush. “This is your specialty. Carve something dangerous.” I don’t tell him his life might depend on it. Right now, I don’t want to think about that possibility.
I turn back to Big Ed. “You take the fishing line. If there’s a second Rogue, you’ll have to noose him.”
I glance down at the small pile of green plastic curls in Owen's lap. He whittles, head bent over the disfigured toothbrush, one eye opened enough to see by. He has to know this is a long shot. He’s not strong enough to gut a fish.
A feeling of sadness comes over me like a dark, charged cloud. Whatever I do next, I’ll have to live with my decision, just like Big Ed. I test my blade against the tip of my finger and square my shoulders. I can’t let anyone get past me. No matter what I have to do. Owen's life is in my hands. And maybe Jakob’s too.
Minutes go by, ten, fifteen, interspersed with rapid streams of gunfire. Sweat beads in droplets along my eyebrows, the salt half-blinding me when it trickles into my eyes. If a Rogue bursts through the door right now, I won’t even be able to see who I’m stabbing at.
Big Ed stirs in his spot behind the door. “Been quiet out there an awful long time.”
I nod and lean back against the wall.
Voices drift to the door. Every muscle in my body tenses. Heavy footsteps approach. The voices are louder now, but I still can’t make out what they’re saying. The conversation ends abruptly. One set of footsteps fades away. I signal to Big Ed and flatten myself against the wall.
The door grates open. A Rogue steps through, head bent low to miss the lintel.
I leap toward him, faster than a bobcat on a squirrel. The vein in his neck twitches under the pressure of my blade. His dark eyes latch onto mine. A flicker of confusion crosses his face. I feel him breathe, a shallow, uncertain breath that tells me he knows it could be his last. A tremor crosses his graffitied chin. My blade glistens, and I sense how easy it would be to slice him open and have my revenge. The drum roll in my head grows louder.
“Derry!” Big Ed yanks the gun from Rummy’s shoulder and slams the door behind him, jolting me back from the edge. My heartbeat booms in my ears, but the will to do the deed has left me. Slowly, I release the pressure on the blade and take a step backward.
I stare for a long moment at Rummy, my skin tingling all over, blade poised and ready to slice him if he makes any sudden moves. Big Ed takes aim with the gun.
Rummy shifts his attention to him. “You wanna piece of me, ol’ timer?”
My muscles tense. “I killed the last man called him that.” The steel tip of the blade in my hand glints enticingly.
Rummy turns his head slowly toward me, his thin lips twisted. In a lightning move, he lashes out and knocks the knife from my hand. It clatters across the floor and slams to an abrupt halt in the corner. In the instant his eyes flick to it, I grab the gun from Big Ed and take aim at Rummy’s chest.
He takes a couple of unsteady steps backward. “Ea—sy, Butterface.”
I gesture with the gun at a bench on the back wall. “Shut up and sit down.”
Hands raised, Rummy treads cautiously across the cabin. “Now what? You gonna blaze a trail outta here with Santa Claus and the cripple?”
“Did you kill Diesel?”
“You ain’t gonna pull that trigger.” He parks himself on a bench and taps one knee up and down.
I blow a strand of damp hair out of my face. “I’ll do what I have to.”
Rummy lets out a snort. “You ain’t got what it takes. Killing’s an intimate thing.” He sniffs as if to let the impact of his words settle with me. “Knife to the neck, gun to the chest. Gets real close and personal when you hear a man suckin’ for air.” His mouth splits in a sneer. “How many bleedin’ hearts you watched wallow in their own blood, beggin’ for their lives?”
“Ask me another question and I’ll blow your kneecap out.” I blink, jarred at the sound of my own voice carrying across the room in a way it never has before.
Rummy’s tight mustache twitches a couple of times.
I glower at him over the sight on the gun. “You’re going to take me over to the lodge and tell your men to surrender.”
Rummy laughs. “My homeboys will die before that happens.”
“No, you’ll die.” I take a step backward and flick the coat off the dead Rogue with the toe of my boot. “Like that sucker before you.”
Rummy’s eyes bulge. The sneer washes from his face.
“Now move it.” I motion with the barrel of the gun in the direction of the door. “Keep your hands in the air.”
“Stay with Owen,” I say to Big Ed. “I’ll bring the stretcher back with me.”
He grabs my jacket and leans in close. “Watch your back. Remember, you
can hear in all directions.”
I pick up my knife and pass it to him. “Just in case.”
He nods, and pockets it.
I march Rummy out into the early morning chill. My heartbeat ratchets up a level. I’ve no idea how many Rogues survived the gunfight, or if any of Diesel’s men are still alive. If they spot Rummy, they’ll shoot to kill and likely take us both out. It’s a risk I’ll have to take.
I follow Rummy around the side of the cabin and into the street. Gravel crunches beneath our feet, broadcasting our every step. My throat constricts with fear. “Keep moving,” I say, leveling the muzzle at the back of his head. “If they shoot, you die with me.”
I scout left and right, checking the rooftops for a hooded figure. No sign of Mason anywhere, dead or alive.
When we reach the far side of town, Rummy turns to me. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“I told you to keep moving.” I prod him in the back with the barrel of the gun.
He scowls, hands held high above his head, and then stomps heavily up the front steps of the lodge. I follow a few feet behind, keeping an eye out over my shoulder.
“Homeboys! It’s Rummy!” He reaches for the handle, then drops to the ground in front of me. “Shoot!” he bellows.
I drop too, my skin prickling, but no one fires. My heartbeat clatters in my chest. I should have known he’d try something once we reached the lodge. I breathe hard, trying to gauge the situation. Either his men aren’t here, or they’re afraid to show their faces. I grit my teeth and scramble to my feet.
The hairs in my ears tingle. A barely perceptible whooshing.
Remember, you can hear in all directions.
Chapter 17
In my mind I’m already running, but instead my limbs go slack with fear. The Sweeper tube lashes out like an articulated whip. Rummy crashes to the floor, his body vacuumed tight to the scaly pipe that slithers out of sight before I can reach him.
I jump up and stagger backward, shooting savagely in every direction. The blasts echo inside my skull until my magazine clicks empty.
My ears are blocked and ringing, but in the background I hear muffled sounds. A moment later, strapping hands grip my shoulder and haul me up the front steps and into the lodge. I trip forward and steady myself on the roughhewn reception counter. Heart pounding, I peer warily out from under the slick hair plastered over my face. Five pairs of eyes in shaved skulls flicker back at me. With a jolt, I recognize Blade’s icy stare beneath his half-missing brow. Instinctively, my fingers reach inside my jacket for my knife. My stomach plummets when I remember I’ve left it with Big Ed.
Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) Page 9
