Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

Robert stumbled back and sucked for air. Hot wires spread from the point of impact in his gut.

“Don’t be a dumb shit,” Green Man said, “It wasn’t us who did it, but the son of a bitch you’ve got a date with tonight.”

“Which means you best screw your head back on and go find him,” added Ski Mask. “A mad dog like that needs to be put down.”

They’re lying, Robert thought.

He bent down and took up the phone again in his hand.

What he saw was less real this time… Something about their expressions told him they were still alive. Having been face to face with the dead before, he knew all too well what the Reaper stole from the living...

The pictures were just more of Walker’s sick humor. But his message was clear: If you don’t play with us, we can do this to your family. And probably a hell of a lot worse…

“This is a trick,” Robert said, “You’re just doing this so I’ll want to kill this man. It’s the same thing you did to Nolan.”

“Hey, this one’s smart,” said Ski Mask to his partner. “I told you fat boy wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He must have told him we said we were cops.”

“I don’t give a damn what this one thinks,” Green Man said, lighting another cigarette. “So long as someone dies in the tunnel tonight, our work here will be done. I guess it all depends on who wants their family the most… You want to see your pretty wife again Mr. Crain?”

Seething, Robert backed away, wishing he’d been able to come earlier so he could have hidden a weapon. He stared at the two men. More than anything he wished he could see their bodies squirt obscene amounts of blood, watch as they hopelessly struggled to stop the flow...

Ski Mask tapped his watch. “You ought to get going, Crain. Your buddy has already been in there for nearly two minutes.”

Robert turned and ran down the railroad tracks toward the black mouth in the side of the hill. He had to assume his family was still alive.

“Meet us back on this side, Crain,” a voice shouted behind him, “If you survive that is.”

The men cackled with laughter.

CHAPTER 24

Less then three strides inside the tunnel, Robert tripped on the rail and skinned his knees on gravel. He pulled himself up and slowly walked forward, his ears straining to pick out any sounds other than his own.

Moving through the dark with outstretched hands, he inhaled the earthy smell of the cave, reminding him of when he spent time in the garden with Peggy and Connor. No one had taught him how to grow things before. Not from a bag of seeds. His favorite ones were the giant sunflowers. Their backyard had a forest of them in the summer.

He could see no better than a blind man, and yet the light depravation caused his brain to grow impatient and it began to project shrouds of brown and deep red to float around the cave.

This is stupid, he thought. Instead of listening he was trying to use his eyes. Rather than being more cautious, he was throwing one foot out after another in some kind of reckless march toward death’s arms…

Then he heard the distinct crunch of gravel and froze in mid-step.

Someone was coming toward him. Was he a killer, or just another unfortunate player in Walker’s game? Even if he hadn’t done anything to Robert’s family, it was dangerous to presume he wouldn’t do what was needed to save his own.

The sound of the man’s footfalls became rhythmic, and for a moment Robert concentrated on what clues they might reveal.

The man was taller than him, that much he could tell. And perhaps a good deal more muscular. He was favoring one leg over the other, but not enough to cause his foot to drag.

Instead of staying in the middle of the tracks, Robert moved over and crouched next to the wall and waited for the man to get closer. He reached down and felt for an anvil shaped rock he could fit comfortably in his hand. After sampling a variety of useless ones, he finally found one that would have to do. If he could swing down quickly enough without losing his grip, he just might be able to deliver a fatal blow.

As soon as he was close enough for Robert to hear him breathe, the man stopped. Robert tossed a few small stones out near the man. To his dismay, the man didn’t walk forward to investigate the sound. It was a stupid idea anyway, and Robert wished he’d remained quiet.

“We need to talk,” a voice said.

“Talk all you want, but I’m the one who is walking out of here alive tonight.”

“Is that right? What makes you so sure?”

The invisible man’s cockiness took Robert by surprise. Yet he could detect a tremble in the stranger’s voice, a rapid pulse caught in the back of the throat. Robert felt forced to up the ante with the truth.

“Because I’ve had to kill before, that’s why. And I bet you haven’t.”

Water dripped and echoed through the tunnel as they stood in the dark, waiting for the next bodiless voice to say something.

“Tell me why we’re doing this,” the man finally said, his tone turning milder. “You strike me as someone who can be reasonable when he wants to be.”

Robert thought about how important it was to be able to see someone’s face to know if they were lying to you. He felt the heft of the cool rock in his hand, imagined its pointed end sinking into the man’s skull. It would be hard to know when the job was finished…

“They showed me pictures of what they say you did to them,” Robert said, “But to tell you the truth, I don’t believe it.”

“What pictures are you talking about?”

“Of my family… all cut up.”

The man gasped. When he spoke again the tremor in his voice worsened.

“I swear I haven’t hurt anyone. I’m only trying to get my family back too. You’ve got to believe me. For three nights now they’ve been gone. Walker says I won’t get them back until I kill you.”

“And is that what you planned to do? Kill me?”

“Hell no! I’m not falling for his bullshit. He’s just messing with our heads, hoping we’ll get desperate. I was praying I could convince you we shouldn’t do this.”

“What’s your name?”

“Steven Westlake… Yours?”

“Crain… Robert Crain. I think I’ve heard of you. Doesn’t your family own a golf course up near Wrath Butte?”

“Yes...”

Both men exhaled loudly. They were jittery and afraid. What was the chance they would know each other? Did it mean anything? Maybe there was still an opportunity to diffuse the tension before someone got hurt. Or maybe it was too late. The pitch black of the tunnel played hell on their nerves…

“I remember hearing a story about a great uncle of mine,” Robert said. “That he’d lost property in Wrath Butte while playing poker.”

“He must have been talking about the old Jared Horn homestead. But other than that miserable place, the rest of his parcels have always stayed in my family.”

Jared Horn? Robert seemed to recall hearing the name mentioned before, but it was so far in the past. And although he couldn’t see Westlake’s face, he was struck with the feeling they’d once met before. He’d had the same feeling when he’d first encountered Nolan.

Was there a connection?

Robert dove into his memory and took a look around, stirring up dust. He felt a prickle of recollection cause goose bumps to rise down his neck and arms. He’d found what he was looking for.

“You said Jared Horn, right?”

“Yes. He’s my great grandfather.”

“He’s also my great grandfather.”

“No shit?”

“I once saw his headstone when I was a kid. There was a big family reunion in Wrath Butte. Anyway, I remember getting really bored. It was hot and I got in trouble for taking off my shirt and running off with some other boys to play out in the desert. We were catching lizards.”