Gone to Ground

by Cheryl Taylor

  In the parking area in front of the house stood two trucks; an older, beat up model, and a newer, shiny one, making him wonder if he would find anyone at home. He didn’t think so. Surely if someone was living this close to Hideaway, he or she’d have ventured in that direction sometime in the past few months. No. More likely these two trucks had been left behind when the family went into town, either to the APZ, or because someone was sick. Probability said they’d never returned.

  O’Reilly shook his head, grinning ruefully to himself as he acknowledged a reluctance to enter this house after his experience at the ranch headquarters. God only knew what Maggie would do to him if he came home with another kid.

  Unfortunately that thought opened the door to other thoughts of Maggie, Mark and Lindy; his new family whether he wanted them or not. Damn, he’d been doing so well at keeping them out of his thoughts on this trip. He needed to clear his mind to figure out exactly what he was feeling since he couldn’t seem to control it.

  He rode over to the barn, dismounted and tied his horses to the hitching rail. One by one, his thoughts miles away, he unsaddled and led the horses to the run in shed on the right side of the breeze way; the one with the largest of the pens. Automatically, as though his body remembered all the chores of his childhood, he checked the automatic water float in the tank and stored his gear in the tack room immediately to the left upon entering the barn. The sight of all the saddles, pads and bridles awaiting service sent a pang through him much deeper than that he’d experienced when at the headquarters. He saw the rack his father had constructed to hold the young Jim O’Reilly’s saddle. Looking up he saw the tin cans that he and his brother had mounted to the walls on which to hang the bridles and halters. Everything much as they’d left it.

  After throwing hay to the horses, he finally turned and faced the small house, both drawn to, and reluctant to face the memories that would be lying in wait within that structure. Out of the blue a picture flashed through his mind of Maggie sitting on the front steps, waving, while Lindy and Mark played in the front yard. God dammit, will you let me face my ghosts on my own! he thought in annoyance. However, the picture was so alluring that he couldn’t help playing it a few more moments before banishing it from his thoughts.

  Girding up his loins, metaphorically speaking, he stepped out across the barnyard toward the green gate that had been set into the rock wall, spurs ringing softly against the hard packed dirt. It was time to face his past.

  The next morning, after spending a night disturbed by memories and storms, O’Reilly fixed himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen that used to be his mother’s. The people who’d lived here had left the house well stocked and he had started collecting all the items that he would need to take back to Hideaway.

  Yesterday he’d considered taking one of the trucks into town, but the rain last night would have turned the roads into an impassible mud slick in many places, and he could see more clouds on the horizon already. The truck would have shortened the trip drastically, but he’d grown up on these roads, and he knew it would take a day or two until they’d dried out enough for even a four-wheel drive vehicle to pass.

  He’d weighed his options. Wait and see if the roads dried enough to get out before the rain hit again, or take the horses and leave this morning? Finally he decided that the horses were the wisest move since one couldn’t trust the weather this time of year and the worst thing he could imagine would be to get stuck in town, or trapped and unable to escape from the Enforcers. It might take longer, but horses were the way to go.

  Later that afternoon, he was regretting that decision as he slogged his way across the saturated pasture. To the north and west he could see the clouds building, and resignedly prepared himself for a wet afternoon and evening if things progressed the way they looked. Feast or famine indeed, he thought, it’s more like dehydration or drowning.

  He’d ended up deciding to take the entire seven animal pack train with him and secret them closer to Wikieup, just in case he found more items than he’d originally planned on. In scouting around Eagle Camp, he’d found three horses turned out in the home pasture, and figured that he could always use them to haul the things from the camp itself. Of course, sooner or later he needed to stop bringing horses home. Horses and kids; he seemed to be a magnet for them lately, and he didn’t really need any more of either. He had enough mouths to feed already.

  The wind started to pick up, bringing a refreshing coolness that had been lacking in the stifling air that morning and most of the afternoon. Unfortunately, that cool breeze had a price. It usually meant that rain was getting closer. He briefly debated stopping and setting up camp, pitching the teepee he’d found in the barn, unrolling his bedroll and hunkering down for the night. The pull of Hideaway, and Maggie, Mark and Lindy won out, however and he kept riding. Camping out here in the open wouldn’t be very comfortable anyway. He knew of a sheltered bluff where trees grew large from the water seeping from a spring in the cliff’s face. He would have more shelter from the storm there, the animals would be more comfortable in the small catch pen than they would be picketed out. At the rate he was going, he figured, he should be able to reach it in another couple of hours. He’d camp there for the night, push on at first light, and should arrive in the town by noon at the latest.

  The first spatters of rain pelted him from the right, sounding hollowly on his gray felt hat. Reaching behind him he untied his yellow slicker from the back of the saddle and pulled it on, pulling up the black corduroy collar. The rain became more intense and he tucked his chin into his chest and rode on, saying a quick prayer that he wouldn’t get struck by lightning. He sighed. The next few hours would be slightly less than pleasant.

  24

  I am so tired of seeing horses’ butts, thought Christina irritably, letting her horse pick its way down the narrow mountain trail after Alysa’s, Ryan’s and Nick’s mounts. Even the beautiful Hulalapai Mountain scenery failed to lift her spirits, wearied after four days of riding. The unaccustomed activity left her muscles sore and her confidence severely dented.

  She watched her brothers riding ahead of her. They seemed to be having the time of their lives, doing things like “real pioneers,” like “real cowboys.” Yeah, right. What on Earth was I thinking, heading out here.

  The rain and mud didn’t daunt the boys in the slightest, and they’d developed quite a case of hero worship for Alysa, who, in their eyes, knew everything about living in the wild.

  Christina had to grudgingly admit that they were very lucky to have teamed up with Alysa. As much as she hated it, she had to concede that they probably wouldn’t have made it without her. At the very least the trip would have taken much longer, and been much, much more uncomfortable than it had been. Not that the trip had been a piece of cake, heading over the mountains as they had, camping out at night in the rain.

  Christina had always been taught by her parents that there was nothing she couldn’t accomplish if she only tried hard enough. They said that a healthy self-esteem was very important and worked hard to praise their children’s successes and encourage them to try new things. The last four days, however, also taught her that she simply didn’t have the skills to live out here.

  Not that she couldn’t learn, she assured herself quickly before the sense of despondency had a chance to grow. It was just that for some reason any tent she erected was the last to stand, and the first to blow down in the wind. Her fires barely smouldered long after Alysa’s and her brothers’ blazes took off, and her horse, that conniving spotted fiend that gave her the evil eye whenever she was near, was the last to get saddled, and the first to wander off the trail.

  Christina wasn’t used to having to struggle to master a skill. She was always the one in school who barely had to study for the tests, to whom the assignments came easily, who made friends quickly and effortlessly. Out here, though, she couldn’t seem to do anything right.

  That first night, as the four ran through the darkened streets of
the Laughlin APZ, Christina had felt completely in control. She had organized this escape. It was she who knew where they were going. She’d been faced with an imminent threat and seized the opportunity to make a break for freedom.

  As they made their way toward the perimeter, Christina led her small group through the sheeting rain. Lightning continued to flash, followed by long rolls of thunder. The storm seemed to be stalled out over the APZ, but Christina was glad of the foul weather in spite of her wet shoes and clothing. The rain would provide cover. Hopefully no one would realize the children were missing, and if they did, they would assume that the kids were taking shelter from the storm somewhere else nearby.

  The four splashed their way through the puddles, trying to stay close to the buildings, and keeping and eye out for anyone who might turn them in. Several times they heard the low hum of a vehicle approaching and they quickly ducked into doorways or behind large oleander hedges.

  They’d been moving steadily through the deserted streets, leaving the scream of the sirens far behind when they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves facing the perimeter.

  The wet street continued on, but at either side a line of buildings had been demolished in a line perpendicular to the road. The rubble had then been used to erect a ten-foot-high barrier wall that extended into the growing rain filled dusk to the east and west until it vanished into the murk. A small shed had been constructed in the center of the pavement, presumably as a sentry post. Tinted glass windows looked out upon the thoroughfare.

  Christina and the other three stopped abruptly upon seeing the sentry station. They retreated quickly to the shelter of a large hedge, well out of sight of anyone who might be standing guard.

  “Stay here,” Christina whispered to Alysa, Nick and Ryan, motioning them to stay secreted behind the wind torn green leaves. Carefully she stuck her head out from behind the hedge and gave the shed a long look. There was no movement. It was certain that no one was standing at the windows. The question was, did a sentry stand deeper inside the shed, seeing but unseen?

  Moving cautiously, Christina stepped out from behind her shelter. She took several crouching steps toward the shed, body tense, ready to turn and run at the first sign of movement. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Alysa peering out from behind the hedge, watching her. She made a palm up “wait” gesture with her right hand, and continued to creep toward the sentry post.

  Hugging the left side of the street, she finally made it to the tan building. She prayed that if someone was inside, that the rain and darkness would keep her hidden. Slowly she raised to her full height and peered in the window. Inside she saw a man dressed in the navy blue uniform that many of the Enforcers had adopted. He was standing in the middle of the shed, staring out in the direction of the river which was invisible in the current weather.

  Christina ducked back down and looked toward the hedge where Alysa and her brothers were hiding. She beckoned for Alysa to bring the boys and the three children scurried out from behind the greenery and down the street toward the perimeter.

  The four children reunited at the side of the shed. Slowly Christina peeked again over the edge of the window and saw the sentry continuing to stare off into the ever deepening gloom. It was almost completely dark at this point; even the spot lights mounted on the shed failing to push their light through the thick air. Crouching and moving as quickly as possible the four children ran from the side of the shed toward freedom, stopping only when they reached the safety of the next set of buildings.

  “Is everyone okay?” Christina asked once she caught her breath. She looked at the other three children, rain coursing off of them in rivers. So far the evening’s activity and the naturally warm Nevada desert climate, had kept the four of them relatively comfortable, but Christina knew that would change rapidly if they didn’t get into dry clothes soon. It was unusual that a monsoon storm would last for as long as it already had. They usually blew in and out quickly but violently. She wasn’t complaining. It had provided the cover the children needed to make good their escape. Now they needed to get dry.

  “We’re fine,” assented Nick, answering for the other three. “What do we do now?”

  “I guess we should find a place to hole up.” Christina said, making her decision.

  “We need to get across the bridge tonight,” spoke up Alysa, referring to the Highway 68 bridge across the Colorado River. “That road is watched by the sentries at the APZ. There’s no way we could get across in the daytime. If we stay on this side of the river, you’d better believe that they’ll have Enforcers and seekers out looking for us. Right now they don’t know we’re missing, so hopefully they won’t have beefed up the security. We might not get another chance.” Alysa looked serious.

  “But we’re soaked,” Christina said, growing frustrated. “We’ll get sick if we continue on like this.”

  “Rain won’t kill us. It’s a warm night. We need to get out of here now before they start their search.”

  Christina paused, studying Alysa’s face, and seeing her determination, felt her own begin to falter. She looked at her brothers beginning to shiver as the warmth generated by their run to the perimeter was leached away by the continuing rain.

  “What do you guys think?” she asked.

  Nick and Ryan looked at each other for a moment before they nodded their heads. Looking back at Christina, Ryan spoke.

  “Alysa’s right, Christy. We don’t want to waste everything we’ve done. We’ll be warm enough if we keep moving. We can find some place across the bridge to hole up for the night.”

  Christina hesitated a moment longer, then realizing that the others had a point, sighed and nodded her head. “Okay, guys, lets go for the bridge. I think the rain is beginning to let up. We’ll try and get across before we lose the cover. Keep an ear out for the seekers. There might be more out here on the outside of the wall.”

  Quickly the four children shouldered their packs and headed for the bridge.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of mud and exhaustion. Moving between buildings, they made it to the bridge in short order. Full night had fallen, and the blackness was only relieved by the occasional flashes of the lightning that had moved off to the east. Watching for vehicles, and keeping their ears open for the high pitched whine of a seeker passing overhead, the children scurried across the bridge, hearing the roar of the Colorado River flowing below them in the darkness.

  Once across, they moved off to the side of the road, planning on staying in the brush for cover. However, the rain had made much of the ground slippery with mud and clay and finally, after an exhausting half hour where they seemed to make no progress whatsoever, they moved back to the side of the highway. It wasn’t an ideal situation, and the stress of constantly listening for seekers and vehicles stretched their nerves to the limit.

  Twice they heard the high pitched keen of a seeker and scrambled to take cover. The seekers worked through infrared detection, and would be sure to focus on their body heat if caught. The first time they heard one approaching, they scrambled down the bank and climbed into a foul smelling culvert ankle high with fast moving muddy water. The four huddled together, hoping that the seeker’s scan wasn’t strong enough to read through the asphalt of the highway, and the dirt of the embankment.

  The second time there was no culvert handy, so the children ran as quickly as they could into the desert and crawled together under a large bush. Christina hoped that if they lay still, gathered together, that the seeker would only pick up a large blob of heat and that whomever was watching the scans would identify it as an animal - a cow or a deer or some other four-legged creature - and pass over without investigating. After all, there so many animals out in these deserts that they couldn’t be expected to investigate every time a seeker picked up a heat signature. She also prayed that since they were under a large clump of scrub oak that the seeker’s night vision camera wouldn’t be of any help.

  Luck smiled upon them as they huddle
d together in the mud trying hard to look like a cow, because the whine of the seeker paused briefly over their section of desert, then passed away to the west. Waiting until the seeker was gone from hearing while the heat was sucked out of their bodies into the cold, wet ground, Christina felt herself begin to drift off. She couldn’t imagine what the boys were going through. They’d all been up since six that morning, and it had to be after ten at night, with hours and miles yet to go. She had to fight off the feeling of despair that tried to creep in, telling herself over and over again that they were doing the right thing, that they would make it.

  Finally, after all evidence of the seeker had passed, the four crawled out from under the covering brush and made their way back to the side of the highway, turned to the east and continued on.

  They were silently walking down the verge of the road as the night was graying toward dawn when suddenly Alysa, who was leading the band, nodded off to the right, pulling the others out of their exhausted stupor.

  “Look, over there. A windmill. A house and barn.” Alysa indicated the roof tops barely visible in the predawn light about a mile south of the highway, down in a small valley.