Lori Armstrong - No Mercy

Axel shook his head. “I heard what happened to Sue Anne. Freaked me out. I needed to get back here. My cousin’s buddy was coming to the rez, and he gave me a ride. Dropped me off on the road and I hid out in Dad’s shop. I was gonna call one of my friends to pick me up, but I heard you were headed into town and I thought I’d hitch a ride.”

Kid probably heard the desperation in my voice as I’d tried to talk to his father. Truth was: I was desperate and wasn’t about to blow this opportunity. “Fine. I won’t turn around and take you straight back to your dad if you tell me something.”

“What?”

“Who are the leaders of the group?”

Silence. He wouldn’t even look at me.

“I’m not kidding, Axel. Tell me.”

Axel spun in his seat. “Or you’ll what? Dump me out here and make me walk to town? Shee . Wouldn’t be the first time I had to walk. Nothing you threaten me with is as scary as what they’ll do to me if they find out I talked to you.”

“Yeah? Maybe being seen with me in town is all it’d take to tip them off that you and I were chatting, so why don’t we skip the secret bullshit pact and you tell me what I want to know.”

He blanched. “You were the one.”

“One what?”

“The one who got Sue Anne to talk. You’re the reason she’s dead.”

That statement ratcheted my guilt up another notch and I lashed out. “Wrong, I wasn’t the one who slit her throat. They did. And they’ll do it again. Maybe to you.”

“You don’t feel a bit guilty for getting her killed, do you?”

My patience shattered. I grabbed him by the shirtfront and shook him. “You have no idea what I feel. No idea what it’s like to see that girl carved up and covered in blood and discarded like garbage. They bound and gagged her and left her to bleed to death on my porch. My porch, Axel. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. Just like I couldn’t save my nephew. And I’ll be goddamned if I’ll sit around and watch these sadistic fucking… murderers kill anyone else…” My voice cracked and trailed off when I noticed his eyes were wide with fear.

I released him abruptly, sucker-punched by shame. Bullying a young kid wasn’t the answer to any questions. Ever. I slammed the truck back in gear, hating that I’d probably brought this dead end upon myself by violence and intimidation.

Axel broke the silence in the cab when we were on the outskirts of town. “Stop here.”

I pulled off to the side of the road, expecting him to jump out and run like hell.

He didn’t. He fiddled with the straps on his backpack. “It was shitty, what I said to you. I know you’re not any more responsible for Sue Anne getting killed than I am for bringing her into the group in the first place.”

Seemed I wasn’t the only one suffering from guilt.

“So I just wanted to say thanks for the ride. And I’m sorry about Levi. He was… cool.”

I nodded.

Axel opened the door. He paused.

I held my breath. Please. Please help me .

His knuckles were white where he gripped the dash. “Know what? You’re right. I’m sick of this shit. Out County Road Nineteen, about eight miles past that old ranch where them religious freaks took over, there’s a National Grasslands sign. Go about another half mile closer to the rez, where the land turns hilly and there’s a deep ditch on the left side. Straight down that steep hill, along the bottom of a dried up creekbed, are some trees and stuff. Where the bushes end is a flat spot with a fire pit ringed with stones. That’s where we’re meeting tonight with the leaders. Just after dusk.” He bailed out of the truck and took off across the field.

I spun a cookie in the road and headed home. I wasn’t exactly sure of the area Axel had been talking about, but I knew someone who would be. “Hey, boss. I need your Indian tracking skills. Can you pick me up at my house in an hour?”

Rollie and I didn’t talk much after I filled him in on what I’d learned from Axel. We both knew it wasn’t my expert PI skills that’d gotten me to this point, but sheer dumb luck.

We bumped along, seemed we were counting the miles by inches. The road curved sharply and the terrain went from level to hilly. Rollie slowed and parked in a pull-off in front of a set of grooved tracks, which disappeared over the edge of the hill. “I’m pretty sure it’s down there.”

“You coming?”

“Nope. I’m too damn old to go traipsing around in the muck. I’ll wait here and play lookout. If I honk the horn, stay put.”

I hiked down the hillside to find a spot close enough to the action so I could hear and see what was going on tonight, but far enough away that I’d be part of the scenery.

At the bottom, in a flat area scraped clear of foliage, sat a fire pit ringed with the large flat stones Axel mentioned. Smaller white ones lined the inside. Were those the rocks Chet told me he’d seen the guys hauling? Is this where they performed all the rituals?

My gaze scanned the terrain. A couple of boulders had tumbled down and were imbedded in the rocky slope, but weren’t big enough to hide behind. I homed in on the sparse scrub oak bushes scattered along the back of the draw.

I could enter about two hundred yards down from the ridge. Seemed to be my best option. To test the theory, I crawled from the backside through the underbrush, pushing aside decaying leaves and breaking off low-lying branches so I’d have an unobstructed view. I mentally marked my spot and hiked up to my access point, leaving a clear set of footprints to Rollie’s truck, in case the Warrior Society members were practicing Indian tracking skills.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I’ll be shaving it close to keep them from seeing me, but I’m sure I can make it work. If not, and they do see the whites of my eyes… I doubt any of them can outrun me.” None of them could outshoot me, but it probably wasn’t smart to bring that up.

“Good.” Rollie aimed the truck at the ditch and spun a U-turn. “Now, when you come out here tonight, make sure you don’t drive past and miss it.”

“You have a string or something I could use as a marker? Since I’ll be coming from the other direction?”

“Check under the seat.”

I unearthed a piece of white nylon rope. I jumped out intending to comb the ditch for a stick.

The driver door slammed. “Hang on, I’ve got a stake.” Rollie rooted around in the truck bed, holding out a short chunk of metal as thick as a piece of rebar.

“This’ll work.” The parched earth had little give, but I screwed it in deep enough so the wind wouldn’t blow it over. I tied the cord around the top. No one would see my flag unless they were specifically looking for it.

After we’d returned to the truck, Rollie said, “You gonna sneak in, using some of them stealth tactics Uncle Sam taught you, eh?”

“That’s the plan.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Fumbled for another cigarette. Still, he didn’t speak his mind. He puffed away as we tooled down the gravel road in silence. It freaked me out a little because Rollie rarely curbed his tongue.

“Spit it out, Rollie.”

“What are you gonna do? Especially if you hear something about them killing Levi? Pull out your Desert Eagle and mow ’em all down? Show ’em ‘No Mercy’ hell-bent on vengeance?”

Feeling belligerent that he’d found a flaw in my plan, I retorted, “If I do, it’s no less than what they deserve.”

He shook his head, staring at me, his eyes bleak, his weathered red face wrinkled with concern.

“Jesus. What now?”

“If you are capable of mass execution, then you ain’t no different than the terrorists you been fighting the last few years. Think about it before you do something you can’t undo.”