Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

Taillights exploded and the driver’s side mirror was torn off the door. Wilbur swerved to make them a harder target but the truck reacted slowly.

Next came a loud flurry of thick popping sounds from the back.

“He’s shooting holes into my tank!” Wilbur cried.

Peggy glanced into her mirror. Sure enough, the tank was sprouting water all over. When she turned back to Wilbur he was blinking at her with bloodshot eyes.

“I believe you now young lady. I’m sorry I didn’t before. I just get so confused sometimes. And I want you to know that I’ve never struck a woman before in my life. I don’t know what came over me. I feel terrible.”

“We all make mistakes sometimes. I should know better than anyone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Some. But I think I’ll be OK.”

There was movement in her side mirror and she leaned forward to look.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?”

“Marsh. He’s in his truck now and catching up fast.”

“I think we can get to the highway before he cuts us off. He can just follow us to the sheriff’s if he wants to...”

A rooster tail of dust flew up behind Marsh’s truck. Peggy guessed he must be clocking eighty. But just before they got to the highway she saw him slow down and turn the pickup to the right. Instead of following them onto the highway, he was returning to the house. He was going back to Jan and Krista.

You son of a bitch!

“We have to go back!” Peggy screamed.

When she saw Wilbur look at her everything appeared to slow down, as if they were suspended in a pool of sun-heated molasses. The back of her head exploded with pain. It felt like someone had wedged a crowbar between the bones of her skull and was trying to lift it.

Before she passed out Connor had opened his eyes.

He was calling her name…

CHAPTER 38

After packing up what they needed for Wrath Butte, Robert decided it would be best if they took Will’s pickup instead of the El Camino. If they came across some rough terrain the 4-wheel drive would certainly come in handy. They also decided to take Nugget with them since the risk of stopping by the auto shop seemed too great.

“Won’t be long before the cops stop by here either,” Will said, stuffing a duffel bag with boxes of ammunition. “Somebody is bound to bring my name up as a friend of yours.”

“Yeah, and then they’ll have every cop in town doing mandatory overtime to find us.”

“Very funny. Believe it or not, I still have some friends that are cops.”

“Doesn’t that make you feel special?”

Robert adjusted the revolver so it fit more comfortably in the holster under his arm. Will had also provided him with several knives to conceal under his clothing. He stood up and felt the extra weight pulling at his body.

“I feel like I’ve just been on a Wal Mart shopping spree.”

Will handed him a thin flashlight to keep in his pocket. “Hey, I’m not just giving you this shit. You’re going to have to return it you know. I’m keeping a list.”

****

Nugget panted nervously. Will kept the truck idling a block over from where Robert’s mother lived. Having grown up in the house, Robert knew the easiest route to get to the backdoor without being seen. The sun had risen, but near the house several giant oak trees kept the backdoor in perpetual shade.

He’d tried calling his mother to see if she was home, then decided she might just not be answering for fear of talking to another reporter or maybe she’d unplugged it all together. When they drove past the house it appeared vacant, curtains closed and a couple rolled up newspapers lying on the walkway. Robert also noted that Dan’s Lincoln wasn’t sitting in the driveway. Maybe they’d gone to help look for Peggy and Connor.

He jimmied the screen to his old bedroom window and was inside the house in minutes. It was still mostly dark on this side of the house and didn’t quite smell the way it used to. Robert’s father was never a cologne man but his mom’s new husband was and it left a sickly sweet odor to things. Robert checked all the rooms before going up the stairs to the attic. The place smelled just the way he remembered it, a combination of mildew and dust and something else that he always associated with the old magic of the past but could never identify.

It had been years since he’d been up in the attic, and it took him a moment to recall where his mother kept the old chest. His stepfather had taken no care in stacking his boxes of junk after moving in with Robert’s mother. After searching behind Dan’s stuff he finally found what he was looking for.

The chest was never locked, for it had already rusted away back when his grandmother kept it stored in her leaky attic. He pulled it forward by its worn leather strap and carefully raised the lid. Reaching inside, he rummaged down through a layer of faded photographs and old leather bound books. He glanced at the photos as he dug, thinking he might get lucky and find a picture of his great grandfather Jared Horn. But he knew better than to believe this, for his father had once told him that if any pictures ever existed they had certainly burned up in a tragic house fire long ago.

At last he came to the oblong shaped parcel wrapped in crumbling brown paper. He tore away the brittle layers until he came to the polished box. The type of wood was nothing he’d ever seen before. Depending on the angle you tilted it, the dark grain would turn from the color of blood to that of a creamy blue much like full moons in the summertime. It felt hot in his hands, and radiated such heat that beads of sweat immediately gathered on his forehead.

He held it closer and stared at the deep engravings he’d recalled seeing when he was a child, grand wilderness scenes of mountains and glaciers, wondering if his grandfather had seen the box and why he had never mentioned it to him.

At first you didn’t notice them, but after a few moments people and animals gradually emerged within the engravings. Robert shivered and goose bumps rose up his arms like a spreading rash. He wanted to put the box away like he’d done when he was a boy but instead he lifted the top and peered inside.

The box was empty.

Was the ghost lying to him?

He stuck his fingers inside and ran them along the inside of the box as his mind lost itself in thought.

Maybe Will was right. This is a waste of time. I should be on my way to Wrath Butte to rescue my family…

At about the third circuit around, his ring finger struck something sharp, and he withdrew his hand. Whatever it was had drawn blood. A sliver? He picked up the flashlight and shone it inside to see what had caused it and noticed a needle like the end of a porcupine quill sticking up from the bottom. When he turned the box upside down to try and get a better look, a false bottom fell open on miniature hinges and a roll of soft white calf leather dropped into his hand.

Robert set down the box and began to spread the long leather strip across the floor. He discovered a map of a mountain, with small dashes indicating a trail leading up a glacier to a star-shaped mark with the initials “C. M.” printed next to it. The detail of the map was amazing. As Robert traced his finger over it he started to recognize the forms of certain rock outcroppings and the winding paths of streams.

The map was of the same glacier his grandfather had warned him to stay away from as a boy…

****

They were on the highway a half hour later. Will had switched out the license plates as a precaution, although they never saw a single cop.

As they moved eastward and up to higher elevation, the thick cloud cover that had been pushing down on Portland began to pull apart. Crows dove down to the highway and picked at the bloody scraps of road kill. Robert dozed off again, while Will talked quietly on his cell phone. After he finished and put the phone away he nudged Robert’s shoulder.