Читать книгу Badlands - Jill Sorenson - Страница 11

CHAPTER FIVE

“GET UP.”

Shane woke Owen by kicking the bottom of his foot. He wrenched his eyes open, studying the tan nylon tent fabric inches from his nose. Dirk had dragged him inside last night, where he’d drifted in and out of consciousness. His mouth was dry and his throat ached. His midsection, which had taken the brunt of the blows, felt like raw hamburger. When he tried to raise a hand to his face, he encountered resistance.

Handcuffs. Now they were in the front.

Shane was standing outside the tent, smoking a cigarette. His motorcycle mask was pulled down to his neck. He had a 9 mm tucked into his waistband.

Owen’s stomach roiled at the smell of tobacco. He groaned, trying to piece together the events from the night before. His brother had attempted to kill him, or maybe just scare him into believing his life was in danger. It had worked; he was scared. He’d only been knocked out once before, after the earthquake. Waking up under a collapsed freeway with a band of escaped convicts, himself included, had been pretty fucking horrible. Getting strangled by his own brother, even more so.

“Your bitch ran off with her kid,” Shane said.

Owen blinked a few times, processing the information. He was glad Penny had escaped, but the badlands was a treacherous place for a woman and child with no shelter or supplies.

“Don’t call her that,” he said, rolling over and crawling out of the tent.

“A bitch or yours?”

He winced at the early-morning light. “How did she get away?”

Shane took another drag. “Went to pee, grabbed a rock and bashed Gardener over the head with it.”

Owen spotted Gardener on the other side of camp. He had a purple goose egg on the left side of his forehead, and he looked nauseated. Owen had to give Penny credit for a simple, effective attack.

While the crew got ready to search for Penny and Cruz, Owen studied each member, memorizing as many details as possible. Most of them were wearing hats and sunglasses, with handkerchiefs over their faces. Next to Shane, Dirk was the strongest, medium height and loaded with muscle. Sometimes that kind of bulk could slow a man down, but Dirk’s movements weren’t clumsy. He was armed with a handgun, like Shane.

Gardener was the weak link, even before his injury. He had hound-dog eyes, a receding hairline and a rounded gut.

The other two men, Brett and Roach, were in between. Brett was small and wiry, tough like a bullfighter, with dusty-blond hair. Roach had longish dark hair. He was taller than Dirk, almost as tall as Shane. His pale skin and slouching physique gave Owen the impression that he played a lot of video games.

Owen rated them by threat level. Shane was a five, despite their family connection. Dirk, four; Brett and Roach, three; Gardener, one.

No one tried to guard Owen as he found a rock to urinate behind. He couldn’t get far in handcuffs and wasn’t going anywhere, anyway. Not without Penny and Cruz. He helped himself to a jug of water, rinsing the old blood from his mouth before taking a drink. Then he eased his shirt back on to his shoulders and fastened the single remaining button. Bruises were already beginning to form on his battered torso.

A few minutes later, they loaded into the SUV and followed Penny’s tracks. She’d stolen Gardener’s boots—clever.

They lost her trail quickly. She’d left the softer terrain of the wash and traveled across the hard-packed hills. Shane parked the SUV and got out, muttering under his breath. Going after her on foot would be a hassle. Penny couldn’t outdistance them with a child in tow, but if she found a good place to hide, she had a chance of evading them.

She could also die from heat and dehydration. Fear stabbed Owen’s chest. He didn’t know whether to root for her or not. She might be safer with them.

Shane searched for a sign of her while the rest of them waited in the SUV. He cursed and kicked a cactus, annoyed with it for getting in his path. Then he looked south, his eyes narrow. “Let’s check out the mud caves.”

Owen wasn’t familiar with every inch of terrain between here and the border, but he knew the mud caves. Situated a few miles away, the domelike structures offered a network of tunnels and caverns, formed out of dried clay. Beyond the caves lay a five-palm oasis with ample shade and a seasonal pool of water. From there it was a half-day’s hike to the old railroad, which led back to civilization. If Owen got the opportunity to break free, he could orient himself and survive out here. He could guide Penny and Cruz to safety.

Shane drove south and parked as close to the mud caves as possible, walking the final mile. The early-morning sun was already blasting heat. Living near the coast for so long had thinned Owen’s blood. Eighty degrees felt like a hundred. They were all sweating as they approached the cave’s entrance.

One by one, they stepped out of the harsh sun and into the cave’s cool, dark recesses. It was almost like entering an air-conditioned room. Owen squinted into the cave, letting his vision adjust to the lack of light.

Dirk bent to pick up a scrap of fabric on the dirt floor. He brought it to his face and inhaled, as if sniffing panties. “This is hers.”

Shane inspected the blue-green material and turned to Owen. “Call out to her.”

Although his body still ached from last night, he hesitated. He’d take another beating before he betrayed Penny.

His brother drew the 9 mm from his waistband and pressed it to Owen’s cheek. This wasn’t up for discussion. “Do it.”

“Penny,” he shouted, his voice hoarse with anger. Most of it was directed at Shane but some bled inward. He’d been warring with these feelings his entire life. This sick, dysfunctional mixture of love and hate. As much as Owen loathed his father, he’d also sought his approval in many ways. He’d learned welding, his father’s trade, to earn a rare pat on the back. He hadn’t wanted to be like his father, but he’d wanted be liked by him.

That desire had never quite faded.

He was furious with Shane for picking up where their dad had left off, and with himself for being unable to break this vicious cycle.

Penny didn’t answer his call. She might not be able to hear him. She might not even be inside the cave anymore. Some tunnels went on for miles and offered multiple escape routes. Others were dead ends.

Shane returned his gun to his waistband, his eyes moving from Dirk to Brett. They were brothers, too, Owen realized. The younger, smaller Brett was a criminal-in-training.

“Give Brett your piece,” Shane said to Dirk.

“What for?”

“I’m sending him in. They might be hiding in a narrow space. He’ll fit through the tight spots easier than you.”

Dirk handed his weapon to Brett, seeming to be disappointed. He wanted to hunt down Penny and terrorize her himself. “How will he get her out?”

Shane sucked on his lip, thinking. “Owen, you go first. Make her come to you.”

“And if she won’t?” Brett asked.

“Tell her you’re going to shoot Owen in the head.”

Brett’s mouth went slack. He wasn’t as hardened as Dirk, or as macho. “O-okay.”

“If she still doesn’t come out, shoot him in the foot,” Shane conceded. The guy who’d pulled his punches last night was gone, replaced by the cold-eyed sociopath who’d choked Owen into submission. His brother was good at intimidating people, staying in control. He could flip the switch between charming and cruel in an instant. Penny’s actions had challenged his authority—and this was payback.

Dirk smiled at Owen, enjoying the tension.

“You two, walk around the perimeter,” Shane said to Roach and Dirk. “If you find another entrance, guard it. I’ll stay here.”

They followed his instructions, leaving the mouth of the cave. Brett trained the gun on Owen while Shane removed his cuffs. Owen needed free hands to navigate in the dark. Between the twisted tunnels, armed escort and men blocking the exits, he’d be a fool to try running away. Or so they thought.

Owen rubbed his chafed wrists, his blood pumping with adrenaline. He wasn’t going to let an amateur like Brett shoot him in the foot. He’d take advantage of any opportunity to escape. He’d create an opening if he had to.

Shane had brought supplies from the SUV’s glove compartment. They had walkie-talkies and flashlights. Brett clipped the walkie-talkie to his waist and held a mini-flashlight in his teeth, gesturing for Owen to precede him. The setup wasn’t ideal. Owen’s shoulders kept blocking the beam of light. Brett wasn’t stupid enough to let him hold the flashlight, so Owen crouched as low as possible, picking his way forward.

He was comfortable in this kind of setting. Dark, confined spaces didn’t bother him, even after his experience in the earthquake. Neither did heat, usually. During his firefighter training, he’d endured both better than most students. He’d grown up near the badlands, in Salton City. High temperatures and harsh conditions just reminded him of home.

They came to a fork in the tunnel. Owen stopped and listened, detecting the faintest hint of wind. He couldn’t wait any longer. If they reached the end of the cave before he had a chance to strike, all would be lost.

“Bats,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, flapping his arms around.

Brett looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel, where there were bats. Sleeping bats, tucked up and motionless.

Owen seized the moment of distraction. He grabbed Brett’s right wrist and slammed it against the cave wall, knocking the gun loose from his grip. It clattered to the floor, along with the flashlight from Brett’s surprised mouth. Owen couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to. He drew back his arm and punched Brett in the stomach with full force. The air rushed out of him in an audible whoosh.

Brett doubled over, as men who’d been gut-checked often did. Owen grabbed Brett’s head and brought it down on his raised knee, crushing the small bones and cartilage in his nose. The blow was delivered with enough force to knock him out, apparently. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Owen scrambled for the gun and flashlight. He also took Brett’s walkie-talkie. Then he crept forward, his heart hammering against his chest. “Penny?” he called out, unsure which direction to take.

He had no idea how they would get out of this. His actions might have saved them or sealed their doom.

* * *

PENNY JOLTED AWAKE with a start.

She’d had a dream about Owen. He’d been calling out to her in the dark, crawling through the earthquake wreckage, searching vehicles full of dead bodies. She was pregnant again, sitting in the passenger seat of her aunt’s car. Not trapped under the freeway, as she had been, but among the victims in the massive pileup outside. Owen had found her and reached inside. His grasping hand was blue-tinged, his forearm ropey with black veins.

Shivering, she cleared her mind of the disturbing image.

Cruz was about ten feet away from her, carving designs on the wall with a sharp stick. It was hard-packed clay, not crumbly, but it had a fine, siltlike surface. The powdery substance clung to her dress and skin. Cruz looked like he’d taken a bath in it. He was singing songs under his breath, not being quiet at all.

“Shh,” she told him, straightening. “Did you hear anything?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

He dropped the stick with reluctance and returned to her side. The light coming from the hole in the ceiling seemed a little brighter. She took a sip of water, doubting she’d slept more than an hour. “How long was I asleep?”

“I don’t know.” He had no sense of time. Five minutes was an eternity to him.

She put her arm around him and listened, her pulse still pounding from the nightmare. Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t believe she’d drifted off. She’d been quaking with tension and sorrow, tortured by the thought of Owen dying.

Catastrophic events made some people stronger. Owen had been a hero during the earthquake. He’d emerged from prison a reformed man. At his national park job, he’d proven himself again by rushing to help a female ranger in trouble. These experiences had inspired him to pursue a career in rescue work. He was naturally courageous.

Penny wasn’t.

She’d had the opposite reaction to trauma, retreating from any hint of danger. Playing it safe was more her style. She didn’t know how she’d drummed up the nerve to hit a man over the head with a rock. If not for the blood under her fingernails, she’d have suspected the episode was just another bad dream.

“I’m hungry,” Cruz whispered.

Penny gave him a drink of water. It was the only thing she had.

“When can we leave?”

“Soon.”

“What happened to Owen?”

She swallowed hard, unable to answer without breaking down. Although she had mixed feelings about prayer, she said a silent plea in her desperation, begging God to spare them.

“I’m bored,” Cruz said.

“You don’t like this cave?”

“I want to see the rest of it.”

“I bet there are bats.”

His brown eyes lit up with curiosity. He had clay dust in his hair and on his lashes, giving him an angelic look. “Where?”

Penny was about to answer when she heard a man calling her name. He sounded frantic. He sounded like...Owen.

Cruz tried to respond, but she clapped her palm over his mouth. This might be a trick to draw them out. She also didn’t trust her ears. She’d seen Owen’s lifeless body. Heart racing, she stared at the narrow entrance, half expecting a zombie hand to reach through.

“Penny,” he shouted, closer now. “Cruz?”

She released her grip on Cruz, trembling with emotion. “Owen?”

“Where are you?”

“Over here!” She scrambled toward the opening and stuck her arm out, waving to get his attention.

Then he was right there with her. The hand that clasped hers wasn’t ghostly pale or black-veined. It was dirty and strong and vibrant. His skin was lightly tanned, not quite as dark as hers or Cruz’s. She wept at the sight and feel of him.

He was alive! She didn’t care how. He was alive.

Owen couldn’t fit through the narrow space, so she climbed out to greet him. With a strangled sob, she threw her arms around his neck. His stiff shoulders betrayed his discomfort; he’d always reacted strangely to touch.

Penny had been friends with Owen since he’d gotten out of prison. She’d stayed in contact with all of the earthquake survivors. They exchanged emails and shared Facebook photos. She’d taken Cruz to visit Owen a few times in Sierra National Park. The three of them had a special connection. He seemed to enjoy their company as much as they enjoyed his. Penny cherished every moment with him.

Over the years, Owen had gained confidence. He no longer flinched at a simple handshake, but he still avoided overt displays of affection. She didn’t think he was repulsed by the feel of her body against his. There was something else going on.

His behavior reminded her of an incident from her childhood. Their dog, Blanca, had run away on a rainy day, only to be captured and returned by a neighbor. Her mother had tried to thank the man with a hug, but he’d been wet and dirty, too polite to soil her clothes.

That was Owen, to a T.

She knew he’d had a dysfunctional home life. She knew he’d done things he regretted, in and out of prison. Maybe her father had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t good enough for her.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, for his ears only.

“Shh,” he said, patting her hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

When Cruz joined them, she released Owen, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He hugged her son with ease, proving his self-consciousness was reserved for grown-ups. Perhaps her, in particular.

A groan emitted from the shadows behind Owen. She froze, peering into the dark. He turned and directed his flashlight toward the sound. She could only guess that he’d harmed someone in order to break free.

“We have to go now,” Owen said.

She gathered her vest and water, following as he led them back to the main tunnel. Owen took Cruz by the hand and skirted him around a prone figure on the ground. It was a semiconscious man, his face splattered with blood.

“Who’s that?” Cruz asked.

“A bad guy,” Owen replied.

“Did you hit him?”

“Yes.”

“You must hit hard.”

Penny hurried past him, cringing. They headed into the deep recesses of the cave, traveling a serpentine path.

“Is there another way out?” Owen asked.

She thought he knew where he was going. “I didn’t check.”

He stopped, considering. “They’re going to come looking for that guy. If we don’t find an exit soon, we’ll return to your safe spot.”

“You can’t fit there.”

“That’s okay,” he said, showing her the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

Penny stared at the weapon in dismay. She felt faint, as if she might forget to breathe and pass out from fear. Five minutes ago, she’d thought Owen was gone for good. Now they were together, but they weren’t safe. The idea of him getting into a shoot-out and dying for them made her chest ache.

“Don’t risk your life again,” she whispered. “If it comes to that, surrender.”

He nodded his agreement. Then he continued forward, into the dark.

* * *

AROUND THE NEXT CORNER, natural light beckoned.

The tunnel emptied into a large room with an opening at one end. It was exactly what Owen had been hoping for. Scrambling toward the narrow passageway, he got down on his hands and knees, ducking his head out. The area was deserted. They were on the opposite side of the mud cave, nowhere near the other entrance. A steep slope downhill could pose a challenge for Penny and Cruz, but it wasn’t impossible. He’d sooner navigate rocky, crumbling terrain than tangle with members of Shane’s crew.

“How does it look?” Penny asked.

“Like freedom,” he said, straightening.

He was embarrassed by his reaction to Penny’s earlier embrace, and by the tears that clogged his throat now. It had always been this way with her. Even casual hugs from friends made him uneasy, but he could handle it. He couldn’t handle his feelings for her. They were too intense, too threatening to his self-control. Whenever she got close to him, he felt as if he was on the edge of something, ready to fall over. Her touch affected him on a deeper level, reaching the places he was afraid to access.

Instead of urging Penny and Cruz through the opening, he hesitated. They might be spotted as they fled the area. He needed to buy them a little more time. “I have to create a diversion so we can get away without being followed.”

Penny gave him a curious look. Her eye makeup from last night was smudged, her pretty face streaked with dirt. “How?”

He had an idea, but he couldn’t explain it with Cruz listening. So he gave her a watered-down version. “I’ll shoot a hole in the tunnel. While the guys come in to see what happened, we’ll climb out.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, her mouth trembling. He didn’t think she suspected what he really planned to do, but he avoided her gaze as he left the cavern. Heart racing, he returned to the place Brett had fallen. He was conscious now, sitting up with his back to the wall. Owen couldn’t decide if that made his task easier or harder. He’d already broken the guy’s nose. Now he was really going to jack him up.

He took the weapon from his waistband. It was loaded and ready; he’d checked. Raising the gun, he assumed a ready stance. The flashlight in his left hand supported his right.

Brett cowered against the cave wall, trying to scoot backward. “No,” he cried, his voice muffled by the hand cupped over his face. “Don’t, please!”

Owen took aim and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the foot. If he’d waited another second, he might have lost his nerve. It was probably the most difficult, most horrific thing he’d ever done—and he’d done a lot of shitty things.

Brett screamed at the top of his lungs, moving his hands from his broken nose to his ruined foot.

Owen was tempted to apologize, but he didn’t. He just walked away. Brett didn’t give a fuck how sorry he was. He’d spend the next few hours, if not days, in excruciating pain. He might be crippled for life. The fact that Brett was a kidnapper who’d agreed to do the same to Owen didn’t ease his guilt any.

Shane shouted into the radio, demanding answers.

Owen engaged the safety and tucked the gun into his waistband. It sizzled against the small of his back. The burn wasn’t worth wincing at, under the circumstances. His stomach lurched suddenly. He stopped in the middle of the tunnel and retched, emptying its meager contents. After his nausea abated, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued down the corridor on wobbly legs. This wasn’t the first time he’d shot a man. It was the first time he’d shot a defenseless man, and the difference wrecked him.

“We haven’t found another way in,” Dirk said to Shane on the radio. “Do you want us to come back to where you are?”

“Yes,” Shane growled. “Fuck!”

Owen turned down the volume on the radio. His risk had paid off, but he felt no triumph. When he reentered the cavern, Penny flinched. Her arms were wrapped around Cruz, her hands covering his ears. She seemed reluctant to let go, which was understandable. Brett’s hoarse cries faded into the background as Owen came forward.

He wondered how he looked to her. Like a monster, not a hero.

Owen felt disconnected from reality, as if studying the scene from above. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who shot a man as a strategy, instead of in self-defense, but here he was. He just wished Penny and Cruz didn’t have to witness it.

“You climb out first,” he said to Penny. “Cruz can go next.”

She edged closer to the opening, kissing Cruz on the top of the head.

“Wait for us right outside,” Owen said.

“Be careful, Mommy.”

She had to get down on her hands and knees to pass through the narrow space. Her skirt impeded her progress, so she hiked it up to her waist. He watched her crawl forward, his pulse jackknifing. It was an incredibly inappropriate moment to ogle her. They were still in danger. He’d shot an unarmed man two minutes ago. Even so, his mind wasn’t so detached from his body that he failed to admire her perfect backside, framed by lacy black panties. His libido was like the heat of the muzzle—irrelevant, but undeniable. Seeing her in this position appealed to the animal in him. He couldn’t have averted his gaze if he’d tried.

When she reached daylight, she sat up and glanced around carefully before signaling for them to join her. Cruz climbed out next, followed by Owen. The path along the side of the hill looked much steeper from here.

“Don’t stand up,” he said to Penny. “Crouch down and slide on your butt if you have to. I’ll take Cruz.”

She did what he said, her movements clumsy. He winced as she half slid, half scrambled down the slope, probably scraping her hands and bruising her bottom in the process. But she reached the ground safely.

“Ready?” he asked Cruz.

The boy looked up at him with huge brown eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

Cruz clung to his neck, trembling with fear. He made short work of the climb. Penny watched them descend, her face tense. She took Cruz away from Owen at the first opportunity. Making a strangled sound, she cradled her son to her chest.

He studied the hole they’d climbed out of, raking a hand through his dusty hair. Although he didn’t want to push Penny too hard, they couldn’t afford to delay. Brett’s injury would create problems for Shane and his ragtag crew, but that didn’t mean their ordeal was over. Someone would come after them.

“Let’s go,” he said to Penny as gently as possible.

She set Cruz on his feet and trudged forward, her shoulders trembling. She knew what he’d done to Brett. He’d exposed her to his true nature. She’d seen the ugliness inside him, the savagery he’d always tried to hide. He’d been raised this way. Infected with dysfunction, hardened by circumstances. He couldn’t shed his criminal past. He was the kind of person who got off on the sight of a crawling woman. He’d just committed a stunning act of violence. There was no going back now.

He wasn’t one of the kidnappers, but he wasn’t one of the good guys, either.