Vigorous headshaking. “No. We just got here. You’re the first person we saw.”
Frustrated and worried, Scott spared a last glance in the direction Greenfield had disappeared. Then he looked down at the remaining floral-supremacist.
“Give me your wallet.”
“Why?”
Sharp jab with a toe.
“Ow! All right!”
Scott grabbed the proffered bright-red nylon monstrosity and yanked the driver’s license from its protective pocket.
“This your current address, Henry?”
Happy nodded before catching himself. His eyes widened.
“Good.”
The wallet landed on not-so-Happy’s chest.
“Don’t wander too far,” Scott said. “I’d hate to have to hunt you down.
Then he started walking down the road.
Chapter 72
“Ummm … Really?”
“Oh, yes.” Bill said. “It’s not easy to make a living around here. There’s the cement plant, the hospital, the usual small businesses …”
He shrugged.
“But then the Internet came along and made it possible to sell anything to anybody anywhere. And what’s easier to sell than what comes naturally?
At a loss for anything else to say, Lani managed a noncommittal “oh” as she glanced back and forth between the … umm … generously proportioned McGintys.
They caught her look.
“Oh!” Emma started. “Not us.” She sighed. “You’d think more people would appreciate us full-figured folks. No, we hire people who do the honors, record the action and distribute it online.”
She pursed her lips.
“In fact, you clean up really-“
“Nope!” Lani yelped. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Suit yourself! There’s good money in it.”
Bill cleared his throat.
“Maybe this is a conversation to save for later, dear.”
Emma fluttered her hands.
“You’re right! I’m sorry, sweety. You have plenty enough on your mind. Now, why don’t we get that video of yours onto our servers.”
“It’s already up on YouTube.”
“Oh, YouTube will fold the first time somebody official waves a take-down order at them, and we already know you’re dealing with government people. Our servers are in Amsterdam. And so is the company that officially owns them. I think we can keep your video online a good long time, even after they find a lawyer who speaks Dutch.”
“Really?”
“Yep. This isn’t our first legal rodeo.”
Lani nodded. “Cool.”
“Is your email ready to go?”
“Yes.”
“Paste it in here.”
Bill reached over Lani and tapped briefly at the keyboard.
“What now?”
“Well …” Emma said. “I suspect you’ve just caused a … well … a bit of a shitstorm, dear. Glad we could help!”
“That’s … great.” She paused. “Scott and Rollo are still in trouble. I need to get back to them. Could I borrow some ammunition?”
“I don’t see why not. If you don’t mind, we’ll tag along and make it a party. We’d planned a hike, anyway.”
Chapter 73
Scott wasn’t often at a loss for something to do, but now was an exceptional moment. Oh sure, he could walk. In fact, he was walking. And he had a lot of walking ahead of him, considering the length of the road to town. Clarkdale, wasn’t it? It was ten miles, more or less, if he remembered right. He wasn’t sure he did, when it came down to it.
But that was it. He couldn’t call anybody, because Lani had his phone. He couldn’t flag anybody down because nobody had come along since he began his walk. And he couldn’t …
Hello. What in Hell was that?
Along the side of the road, in a ditch, was a wrecked Park Service SUV. The windshield was smashed, as was the driver’s-side window. A deep dent marred the hood. Square-ish shards of safety glass littered the ground around the vehicle, scattered around an abandoned lug wrench.
With a shrug, Scott walked over for a closer look.
Blood speckled the door handle and a peek inside revealed a brownish-red smear on the steering wheel. Interestingly, the key dangled from the steering column.
Carefully, he eased into the driver’s seat, brushing away glass as he did so. He held his breath as he gave the key a twist, then exhaled explosively when nothing happened.
“No, that would have been too much to hope for.”
He noticed rust-colored flecks on his fingers when he released the key. They spotted his fingers like snowflakes from Hell. He recognized them as yet another sample of dried blood.
With a flash of belated insight, he thought back to the dead ranger in Sycamore Canyon. Now he understood why the man had looked so thoroughly mauled even before stopping Lani’s bullet.
“Jesus Christ,” Scott muttered. “It’s almost a waste of effort to fight these people. They beat the crap out of themselves.”
Back out on the road, Scott resignedly set one foot in front of the other and resumed his trek toward town. He had begun working up another sweat when he noticed a plume of dust headed his way on the road.
Typical. Traffic at last, but headed in the wrong direction.
As the vehicle neared, Scott stepped to the side to put himself out of harm’s way. You never knew about some of these cowboys, who could make a half-ton truck skid along a dirt road with all of the grace of a toboggan on black ice. He then waved his arms over his head with the vague thought of borrowing a cell phone to call Lani. He could even pay for the favor, if it came to that. He was certainly going to be broke, unless he found a new job soon, but there were still a few greenbacks crowding his wallet.
Much to his surprise, the arm-waving worked. At least, the dust cloud stopped moving and settled around him, amidst much screeching of brakes.
And a familiar voice.
“Hey, baby! Going our way?”
The dust settled, and he noticed the expected pickup truck, with a horse trailer attached behind, and Lani leaning out the rear window of the truck’s extended cab.
“These are our new friends, Bill and Emma.”
A bit thrown, Scott just waved.
“They have horses and guns and other friends on the way.”
Scott nodded, impressed. It seemed like the right thing to do, to acknowledge people he’d never met who were willing to bear arms against deranged, half-naked, government-employed arsonists.
A large woman leaned out the shotgun window.
“Well, get in, son!”
Scott took the hint, legging his way up through the open door and into the rear seat next to Lani.
“Honey,” he said, “Are you all right? I found Champ’s grave and … uh …”
“The ranger’s body, too?” Lani asked.
Scott nodded his head, while glancing at the driver.
“Yeah, they know. I had to do it, honey. He would have killed me if Champ hadn’t jumped in.”
“He was a good dog.”
Lani sniffed and wiped at her eye with the sleeve of her shirt.
“The best.”
Scott looked to his new allies.
“So, you folks are OK …”
“We are.”
“Yup!”
“Lani showed us the video and made us into true believers.”
Emma chuckled.
“Not that we would have needed much convincing. We’ve had our own run-ins with jacked-up authority types.”
Scott glanced at Lani.
“They make porn.”
Scott was generally a pretty good card player, but there are times when even the best poker face crumbles.
“I’ll explain later,” she added.
“It’s all good by me,” Scott said. “I’m always happy to make new friends.”
“Us, too,” Bill said, shooting a quick smile over the seat before returning his att
ention to the road. “That’s a tough little lady you have there.”
“Apparently tougher than I ever knew. Which reminds me … If you see a scrawny redhead or an old buzzard in a rancid-looking sport coat, could you stop?”
“Sure,” Bill answered. “Why?”
“They’re bad guys, and they need another punch in the head.”
Chapter 74
Rollo couldn’t have been happier to see his friends. It wasn’t loneliness so much—in fact, he’d had plenty of company. But the awareness that his company was murderously inclined toward him soured the social aspect of his situation. And that sourness was amplified by the knowledge that he was feeling a tad drowsy, and that if he succumbed to the temptation to shut his eyes for a moment, those murderous companions were likely to dismantle him in no time flat.
So when Lani and Scott came into view like the proverbial cavalry. Proverbial, Hell! They were mounted on horseback like the real cavalry, even if Scott appeared to be stoically suffering from a brewing case of hemorrhoids. And they weren’t alone; right alongside them rode a half-dozen obvious civilians, all festooned with a variety of devices designed to put holes great and small in objects at a distance. They were clearly on friendly terms with their companions, and Rollo happily took them at face value as allies when he rose to wave a greeting.
“Hey, there!” he yelled, waving his hat with one hand, gripping his rifle with the other, and bracing his feet in a successful effort to avoid the siren call of gravity. “Glad you brought friends!”
“Cops are probably right behind us,” Scott yelled back. “Sheriff’s deputies were pulling up as we hit the trail.”
Rollo grunted, taking the information as it was likely intended—as a heads-up. He slung his ancient British rifle over his shoulder and began climbing down.
“Cops!” somebody shouted. Rollo was pretty sure it was the mouthier of the male firebugs—the one with the bandaged shoulder. What was his name? Bob … Yeah, Bob. He stood next to the quiet, skinny guy who always looked a bit confused. “About time! You guys are dead.”
“Not as dead … ugh … Not as dead as the prick you sent to cut us off at the trailhead.”
That was Scott, dismounting from his borrowed horse with a minimum of grace. Well … So there was an outdoorsy thing at which Scott sucked! Not that Rollo would get much mileage from the knowledge—he hadn’t been on horseback since summer camp as a kid.
Damn, he’d hated summer camp All of those rules …
“Wait,” Rollo said, Scott’s comment belatedly registering. He jumped the last couple of feet to the canyon floor. “You shot one of the fuckers?”
Scott stood in obvious discomfort, very obviously trying not to rub parts of his anatomy that ought not be handled in public.
“No. Lani did. After he killed Champ.”
Dismounted herself, with a bit more grace than her boyfriend, Lani nodded a silent confirmation and turned her eyes away.
“Awww, shit.” Rollo turned to glare at the firebugs. “I liked that dog.”
Open-mouthed and quiet through the brief discussion, Bob started jabbering.
“You killed Tim?” He glanced back and forth between Scott and Lani.
“That bitch killed Tim?” That was the woman shaped like a fire hydrant. She’d jumped up from her apparently permanent station by the injured guy Rollo and Scott had questioned to take an aggressive stance next to Bob.
“Shut up, assholes.” Rollo snarled. “There’s no reason we have to stop there.”
He joined Lani and Scott.
“So,” he said. “Apparently the dead prick’s name was ‘Tim’.”
Lani didn’t seem all that interested in the news.
“This is going to be tough for the cops to get past, isn’t it?” she asked. “Even though I was defending myself, they’ll just back up the guy in the uniform.”
Scott didn’t answer, but simply put his arms around her.
Rollo grimaced, then strolled over to introduce himself to the new arrivals.
Chapter 75
So far as Scott could tell, he and his friends had done everything possible to survive a shitty situation. But Lani was right. He’d never once heard of cops getting chummy with people who’d exchanged gunfire with their buddies. He was pretty sure that even the traditional rivalry between feds and local officials wasn’t going to be enough to overcome the us-against-the-world code of law-enforcement officers.
And so he just held Lani and hoped that the video they’d sent out brewed up a helpful shitstorm before he and his friends had been too thoroughly run through the jailhouse meat grinder.
A few feet away, Bill called to Rollo.
“Is that all of them?”
Rollo glanced at the prisoners, then snorted.
“Hey asshole,” he yelled to Bob. “Where are the other two? The hippie chick and your fearless leader?”
Bob shrugged and looked away.
Emma put her hand on Scott’s shoulder.
“We have this,” she said.
With mild interest, Scott watched as Bill, Emma and another of the new arrivals went in search of the missing firebugs. The others stayed to guard the prisoners.
The sight of Rollo stooping to briefly paw through a backpack near the man Scott had shot in the ass briefly stirred his curiosity. The man on the ground never moved, lying still with his arm over his eyes. He seemed totally uninterested in events around him.
Before he could begin to speculate about Rollo’s actions, however, a roar overhead caught his attention.
“Oh, we have company,” he said to Lani.
Bursting into view over the canyon wall came a low-flying helicopter. It overshot the group, circled back, and then hovered in place.
“That has to be from the sheriff’s department. Probably making sure it’s safe for the deputies to come in.”
Half-heartedly, Scott waved at the chopper.
“Hey there!”
Surprised by the loud hail, Scott turned to see Rollo waving with unexpected enthusiasm. His rifle was clenched in one hand.
“Small suggestion, buddy,” Scott called out. “Don’t wave the gun at the cops.”
“Oh shit!” Rollo dropped the rifle to the ground, then resumed his vigorous waving.
The chopper dipped in seeming acknowledgment, then roared away.
Scott took a deep breath, bracing himself for the new arrivals. From the corner of his eye he saw movement, and turned to find Bill and Emma leading the missing couple back to the group. Even under an impressive layer of grime, the two seemed to be … blushing.
“This is great!” Bill enthused. He waved his smart phone over his head. “You wouldn’t believe what these two were up to. I recorded it all!” He turned to the strays. “You guys have talent.”
The pair actually seemed to turn crimson.
“What in Hell … ?,” Scott asked.
“I’m not sure what to call it,” Bill answered. “Maybe nature porn—”
“Erotica, dear,” Emma interrupted. She gently placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Eco-erotica.”
As Lani rested her head against his chest and quietly giggled, Scott just shook his head.
Chapter 76
Jason wasn’t sure just how things had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. Well, so horribly, horribly wrong again.
It wasn’t so much being interrupted while mid- … well … thrust with Samantha by that odd redneck couple. Yes, that was humiliating, but, frankly, he was fairly accustomed to humiliation by now. It was almost an old friend.
No, it was the frustration. After all, when the sheriff’s deputies arrived, the snoops they’d been chasing were all immediately lined up facing the canyon wall. And their redneck friends were disarmed by the cops and told to keep their mouths shut. After a cold, thirsty and frightening Hell of hiking and shooting through Sycamore Canyon, Jason seemed close to accomplishing his mission and protecting his crusade or Carthage Option or … well, he’d have to think a
bout it. And he’d been within reach of victory all because that meathead Tim had finally done the right thing. He’d got himself shot.
The cops really hadn’t liked that. They’d been awfully solicitous of Jason and his team, commiserating over their fallen comrade further down the canyon, and applying a slightly higher degree of medical care than Rena had managed to Ray’s wounded posterior and Bob’s shoulder.
It was all going so well.
And then …
One of the deputies—the one who didn’t have a soup-strainer mustache—straightened up from where he was kneeling by Ray. The ranger’s backpack lay unzipped and open at his feet. His eyes were unreadable behind his aviator shades, but the item in his hand said all that needed to be said.
It was a bag. Suspended between two gloved fingers, it was a freezer bag, transparent—well, translucent beneath a coating of dirt—and filled with a large quantity of dried vegetable matter.
“We have something here.”
Ray managed to prop himself up on one arm and gawk—just before the deputy planted a foot in his chest and pressed him back to the ground.
Another deputy promptly snatched a candy bar back from Terry.
Well … If there’s anything that cops like less than cop-killers, it’s even a hint that somebody doesn’t take the drug laws completely seriously.
Why did dumbass Ray haul dope on the mission?
And, if he was going to bring it, why didn’t he share?
Damn, those handcuffs hurt.
Chapter 77
“The head is too square,” Lani protested. She moved around for a better view, then peered at an angle. “Well, it’s a little too square.”
“Face it, honey,” Scott answered. “He had a square head.”
“Like a fucking brick,” Rollo chimed in.
The three of them stood in the packed-dirt parking lot at the trailhead into Sycamore Canyon. Lani wore a green dress that was, perhaps, just a little light for the chilly, overcast day. She kept her arms folded in a gesture that gave off less of an air of displeasure than of a need to conserve body temperature. Scott was better prepared for the weather in a tweed jacket, tie and corduroy trousers. Rollo had impressed just by showing up in something reasonably clean.
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