Ten minutes later, the high-pitched whine of four-wheelers reached his ears, and he watched as three of the all-terrain vehicles pulled into his driveway and came to a stop at the end of his walkway. John Wolf got off his yellow-framed four-wheeler and gave Moe a half wave.
Moe waved back, grabbed his light backpack, and went out to greet the three men. John introduced the two other members of his tribe: Klah Wolf, John’s muscular son of thirty, and Aponi, a tall native woman with hair hanging down her back like a horse’s tail.
“They are both proficient riders and will keep up fine,” John reassured him.
“That’s good to hear,” Moe said, “because I haven’t ridden a four-wheeler hard since the last time I came to visit mom.
“It’s just like riding a bike,” John grinned. “Did you talk to Colonel Humphreys?
Moe lifted his eyes to the east, toward Window Rock. Then he lowered his gaze to the ground in disappointment. “I did. He assured me that Window Rock was fine. When I asked him if we could send a delegation to the town, he denied the request.” Moe didn’t tell them that the colonel had prohibited anyone from leaving Chinle.
John Wolf nodded as if that confirmed his suspicions. “All the more reason to go look.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Moe shouldered his backpack and moved toward his vehicle. “Shall we?”
John clutched Moe’s arm, forcing him to pause. “I know you have strong military ties, so I appreciate you coming out with us today. It proves your loyalty to your people.”
“The military are like family to me,” Moe conceded, “but that doesn’t mean they’re infallible. We’ll go to Window Rock and see for ourselves. Perhaps everyone there is fine.”
“I hope so.”
John sat on his vehicle and put his hand on the throttle. “We’ll follow Route 7 down to Sawmill, then we’ll head south to Window Rock.”
Moe got settled on his own quad and looked over at John. “They’ll be watching Route 7.
“We know some trails through the woods,” John grinned at Klah and Aponi. “Even if they spot us, they’ll never catch us, and we’ll cut the time in half. Either way, I want to check in with Sawmill and Fort Defiance on the way.”
With a nod, Moe looked east at the darkening horizon as he pressed the ignition button. His quad coughed to life before idling quietly. John Wolf zipped ahead with Klah and Aponi right behind him. He put his quad into first gear and eased out of his yard, noting the others were already thirty yards ahead and stretching their lead.
The wind whipped Moe’s longish hair back as he sped along, gaining on the three quads in front of him. John didn’t show any signs of slowing for him, and he accepted the challenge. Route 7 was a flat, dirt road, paved in short stretches and graveled in others. They picked up their speed as they flew along the Overlook, glancing down upon Canyon de Chelly and the cave homes of his ancestors.
Moe saw no vehicle lights coming toward them on the road, so they cruised at forty miles per hour. He figured the speed was nothing to the other riders, though he gripped his handlebars like it was light speed. After twenty minutes getting used to the machine’s motions, the thrill of riding returned to him. While galloping on Rust was a powerful experience, the sheer speed and agility of the quad was breathtaking. He kicked his quad up to fifty, catching up with the others fast.
Route 7 dove into a series of scrub-covered hills and valleys that boasted the first vibrant green in the area. John took advantage of the cover by cutting across the hills and traversing side gullies, rejoining the road when it was convenient.
Only when they saw the distant lights of Sawmill from the top of a rise did John use more caution. He guided them off the road and skirted north around the town. Sawmill was a quarter the size of Chinle with close to one thousand people, though Moe didn’t have family there. He’d only visited the town twice in his life, and he was aware they held a water reservoir nearby.
John slowed his quad and killed his headlamps. The others followed suit, and they came to rest a quarter mile from town.
“They don’t have power,” John said as his eyes searched the small clusters of houses. “Those are candles and lanterns shining through the windows.”
Moe gazed toward downtown at the chapter house and other businesses. The lights in the windows did not have the electric glow he expected from a town connected to power. In the dim light, he noticed two military vehicles parked on the south side of the town, though no soldiers stood visible.
“Do you want to check on them?” Moe asked.
John shook his head. “No. Let’s continue on to Window Rock.”
“All right.”
They rode at a slow pace around the town to avoid drawing the soldier’s attention. Sound carried far out in the desert, though pinpointing the quads’ direction would be impossible in the darkness. Once out of earshot of the town, John rejoined them with Route 7. They turned on their headlamps and kicked their quads into a higher gear, racing south toward Window Rock.
When a pair of headlamps winked in the distance, John ordered them to kill their lights and move off-road again. They skirted a quarter mile to the east, taking a quad trail that ran parallel to the main road. Night pressed in, and Aponi rode ten yards ahead of Moe like a shadow in the darkness. The quad bumped and lurched as he hit unexpected ruts and rocks. Gripping the handlebars tight, Moe hung on and leaned over the front of the four-wheeler to keep it from jumping out of his grasp.
The vehicles passed them, though their type and purpose remained a mystery. Were they military vehicles riding to Sawmill to add to the troops there?
They approached Fort Defiance, a town about the size of Chinle. As John guided them around to the east part of town, he noted several military vehicles interspersed through the streets, shining huge spotlights out into the desert. The quads crossed Route 12 and pulled around to the east of the Fort Defiance Indian Hospital. The power situation appeared the same as in Sawmill. Dozens of lights shone from the hospital windows and surrounding suburb, though none of them appeared to be electric.
Although Fort Defiance wasn’t a vast town, the streets should have had more traffic, but no vehicles were out, not even a truck or an ambulance. Only the large military vehicles rested on every corner with their spotlights sweeping across the open desert.
John revved his quad and climbed a short rise where he stopped and looked down over the hospital and town. “There are military personnel everywhere. They’re on total lock down.” He said the last sentence with heat in his tone.
“I’d agree with that,” Moe said.
“Why?” John asked. “Why would the military lock down Fort Defiance and leave Chinle alone?”
“To be honest, I don’t know.” Moe shrugged. “We need to talk to someone. Do you have any clue where to start?”
John nodded. “Let’s continue on to Window Rock. I have relatives there. Maybe they can tell us what is happening.”
Moe lowered his head as the quads ripped down the ridge and continued south, leaving Fort Defiance behind. A handful of miles later, they approached Window Rock from the east side, skirting around the water towers and outlying houses before coming to a stop next to a horseshoe-shaped cluster of gray rock that rose high off the desert floor.
John pulled his quad between the encircling arms of stone and parked it behind a cluster of tall bushes. The others did the same, turning off their four wheelers and dismounting.
Moe stood there as his entire body vibrated with the lingering effects of the ride, and he flexed his arms and shook his shoulders to loosen them.
He heard gun slides click, and jerked his attention to see that the others held pistols.
“I don’t think you want to bring weapons,” Moe approached, frowning at the guns.
“We don’t know what we’ll find,” John argued, returning his pistol to a holster on his belt. “You should carry one, too. I have an extra, if you want it.”
“You don’t understand,” he ex
plained. “If they see your weapons, they’ll shoot first and ask questions later. And your pea shooters won’t stand a chance against them.”
John stared at Moe and shook his head. “Do what you want, but we’re carrying.”
“You’ll die,” Moe shrugged, aggravated at John’s constant defiance. “Don’t blame me when it happens.”
Klah and Aponi holstered their weapons and stood ready. Klah stared at the town, his chest heaving with what Moe took as seething resentment. He understood the man’s anger. It didn’t sit well with him to see the military using force with his people, but the hare shouldn’t bite at the face of the wolf. Not that he doubted his people’s resolve to protect their lands. It just didn’t make sense against such a powerful foe, and he began to respect Cynthia Tso’s decision to slip the people of Chinle away into the caves.
John passed around flashlights and turned to face them. “We’re going to my cousin’s house. She and her husband trust me, and they’ll tell us what’s happening. We’ll decide what to do then.”
With that, John Wolf turned and stalked toward the subdivision that spread across the east side of town. Klah and Aponi fell in behind him, and Moe joined them with a sigh.
Chapter 8
Moe Tsosie, Window Rock, Arizona
The neighborhood of east Window Rock nestled against the side of a hill on terraced grounds. Cracked streets wound down into town, and no streetlights existed like in other parts of the country. The homes sat spaced apart and comprised single-floor cookie cutter designs erected thirty years ago. Rusted sheds sulked inside fenced-in yards, and dogs barked in the distance.
The group of four bellied up to a fence and started to climb. Moe threw out his arm to stop them and gave a low whistle into the yard. When no animals trotted out from around back, he nodded. “No dogs. Go ahead.”
They climbed the fence and landed in the backyard with soft grunts. Sprinting to the other side, they leapt another fence and passed through a yard into a street. They were just about to cross when a pair of headlamps bent toward them through the darkness, followed by a rumbling engine. Moe grabbed John Wolf and pulled him behind a car in the driveway.
Klah and Aponi leapt back just as the headlamps edged along the road, followed by a slow-sweeping spotlight. The four sat with their backs against the car, moving around the vehicle as the Humvee pulled by.
“That was close,” John said in a release of breath.
“They’re serious,” Moe warned, feeling a pang of betrayal that Colonel Humphreys hadn’t been more forthcoming with the status of the town. He thought he’d established some trust with the man. “They’ve got a spotlight and a .50 cal mounted weapon. You don’t want it pointed at you.”
“Let’s go,” John said, starting to get up before Moe pulled him back down.
“I’m serious, John,” he pressed. “If they catch us, we need to give up immediately. Do you understand?”
John stared at Moe before he relented with a nod. Moe shifted his eyes to Klah and Aponi, and they both agreed.
“Okay, let’s go.” Moe nodded to John, and the leader stood and sprinted across the street to the next house.
His legs complained, but years in the military taught him to fight through it. He kept up with the others, sprinting across yards and hopping fences like a teenager running the streets on spring break.
They stopped at the back edge of a house to catch their breath. Moe controlled his breathing in the eerie silence, and he noticed no kids played in the yards or rode their bikes through the streets. It was like someone had turned off the town.
John pointed across the street to an adjoining two-family home squatting in the middle of a dirt yard. “That’s her house. The one on the left.”
A warm light glowed from the front window, and he watched someone walk across the living room. “And it looks like they’re home.”
“Let me go first.” John walked along the dirt driveway to the street. He looked both ways and then waved for the others to follow.
Klah and Aponi ran to John, leaving Moe behind. He allowed them to get far ahead of him, eyes searching the darkness for trouble. Once they’d gone far enough ahead, he skipped across the street and jogged to the dirt yard where John’s cousin lived.
John guided them around to the rear of the house and knocked softly on the back door. Moe stood behind them, watching as someone moved aside the kitchen curtains and peered out. Moe gave a slight wave, though he didn’t know them. The person looked from Moe to John, seeming to recognize the man before letting the curtains fall shut.
A moment later, the door opened wide, and a woman filled the frame. Aponi guided her flashlight beam across the woman’s face. She stood just over five feet tall, and Moe estimated she was in her mid-thirties. Her shadowed eyes regarded the group and then lighted on John.
“John, you’re here.” She spoke in a hushed tone, making no move to step onto the back porch.
“Hello, Mary.” John reached to embrace his sister, but Moe rushed in and threw his arm out to break them apart. John turned and shoved him aside with an elbow. “What are you doing, man?”
“Look John.” Moe nodded at Mary as Aponi’s light lifted to the woman’s face. Black spots speckled Mary’s upper lip and nostrils. “She’s infected with something.”
John’s anger faded, and he shifted his angry eyes from Moe to his sister.
“We’ve all had it for a few days,” Mary confirmed.
“Is that why they locked you down?” John asked.
Mary nodded. “That’s right. They won’t let anyone leave their homes or gather in groups. I think some people keep trying to leave town, because we hear gunshots at night.”
“No one has made it to Chinle,” John confirmed. “And they must have cut the phone lines.”
Moe stepped closer. “How long did it take for symptoms to show after the first refugees arrived?”
“Three or four days,” Mary said. She turned away with a raspy cough, then straightened when the fit had passed. Her expression reflected weariness and pain. “It spreads quick. My husband has the same symptoms, and so do the kids.”
“How does it spread?” Moe pressed.
Mary shrugged. “We don’t know. Direct contact, coughing. They won’t tell us—”
“Hey!” someone shouted from the next house over. “Hey! What are you doing outside? Get inside now!”
He threw his gaze right and watched three soldiers approach through the backyard. They’d pinned their flashlight beams to Moe’s group, and at least one of them held a rifle pointed at the ground.
“Let’s go inside,” John hissed over his shoulder.
“And get what they have?” Moe replied, already backing off the porch. “No, John. We need to go right now. We need to get back to Chinle and warn them. They could have infected people in camp.”
John chewed on the decision before nodding to Mary. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. We’ll get you—”
“He’s right, brother.” Mary said, already shutting the door. “Go. Go now!”
The door slammed shut, leaving the four standing to face the soldiers.
“Hey, do you even live there?” the soldier asked, preparing to climb the fence.
“We live next door,” Moe called out with a wave. “We’re going home now, sir! Thank you.”
“Wait a minute,” the soldier called, putting one foot on the fence and climbing while the other soldier held his rifle on the group. “Stay right there. Do not move.”
Klah raised his pistol and fired three shots. The soldier with the rifle cried out and fell to his knees while the other soldiers fell back and unslung their rifles.
“Fool!” Moe hissed as he grabbed John’s arm and pulled him around the side of the house.
The four sprinted across the street and angled northeast through the yards as gunfire spat at them from behind. Bullets smacked the ground and kicked up dust, some of them pounding the brick of the house ahead. Klah and Aponi reached th
e house first, followed by Moe and John. Moe turned and waited for John, disappointed to see the man fumbling to get his pistol out.
Moe reached out and snatched his arm, jerking him around the corner just as bullets splintered the brick.
“That won’t help you, man!” Moe batted the pistol away and took off after Klah and Aponi. He didn’t care how far John fell behind. He wouldn’t watch the man get chewed to pieces by rifle fire.
A Humvee tore through the neighborhood at breakneck speed, and a siren blared into the night. Moe cursed and ran faster, his stomach twisting as Klah and Aponi’s flashlights jerked up and down.
“Turn your flashlights off!” Moe called to them, and their lights winked out a moment later.
He snapped off his own flashlight, grabbed the top rail of a fence, and jerked his legs over in one smooth motion. He turned to see John’s shadow struggling to keep up. The older man ran like a stiff piece of wood.
“Come on, John!” Moe called as John climbed the fence. He looked past the man and saw a handful of soldiers sprinting across the street after them.
John landed with both feet in the yard, a determined grin splitting his face. A spotlight hit them from the Humvee on the street. Bullets churned the air, some zipping past Moe’s head. John’s shoulder jerked, blood flying out as he stumbled forward with a cry. Moe caught the man and turned him in one smooth motion, wrapping his arm around the man’s waist and hauling him through the back yard toward the next street.
They’d hidden their quads across that street and beyond one more yard, only a hundred yards away.
“You’ll have to move faster than that, John. Just take my hand and—”
Bullets slammed into John Wolf, peppering the man’s body and ripping him from Moe’s grip. He turned to help the man up, but more bullets zippered the ground between them, and Moe jerked back and stumbled away.
Once the burst of lead passed, he reached out to take John’s hand, though the man lay motionless in the dirt with four dark spots blossoming on his back. Ultimately, Moe had to make it back to Chinle and tell the elders what happened in Window Rock. Even if he helped the man back to the quads, John would never survive the ride to Chinle. Leaving him with the soldiers might be his only hope.
Spore Series | Book 3 | Fight Page 5
