Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

“Are they still at it?”

“I think so. We never saw them go back to their base camp, don’t imagine they will until they’re finished cleaning us out.”

Marsh lowered the branch and helped himself to a bottle of whiskey sitting on a stump. Robert shook his head when he offered him a drink.

“Don’t drink Crain? You surprise me.”

“I’m a tequila man.”

Marsh grinned. “Sorry. It doesn’t look like the boys brought any up with them. Well I suppose we have no choice but go up and crash our thieves’ little party. No assholes are going to take what I’ve sold my soul for.”

Billy spit into the fire and frowned. “Come on Walker. We can’t go up there now. It’s not safe.”

Without warning Marsh jabbed the end of the branch against Billy’s face and it sizzled and smoked into his flesh. Billy thrashed wildly with his arms and screamed. When Marsh pulled the stick away Billy’s cheek had a hole almost all the way through it.

“You don’t seem to remember that you’re working for me. The next time you back talk me boy I’m going to jam this here firewood down your throat.”

Billy nodded and bit into his hand to keep from crying.

After packing up supplies, they headed for the trail Robert and his grandfather used to get near the glacier. The horizon glowed orange through the trees, but the moon was still hiding somewhere below the eastern haze.

A chill breeze came down from the mountain to welcome them. It’s going to be much colder up on the glacier, Robert thought. But at least it was still summer, and the moon would be full.

****

Will pulled the SUV behind some trees and they got out, careful not to make much noise. Nugget ran ahead, sniffing at the needle-packed ground. She caught something almost right away and led them through the woods. They found Marsh’s empty truck and then the campsite littered with sausage tins and empty beer bottles.

The campfire was now a bed of coals. Realizing they were in no immediate danger, Will told Peggy and Connor to help look for any clues they could find.

On an old log bench next to the fire, Peggy discovered a message written in charcoal. She recognized Robert’s shorthand from the shopping lists he always left himself on the refrigerator back home.

“What’s it say?” Will asked.

“He says he’s with three men and they’re all armed. They’ve headed for the glacier.”

“I was afraid of that.”

CHAPTER 57

“That’s them,” Chester said before handing his binoculars over to Marsh, “It looks like they’re almost done too.”

Marsh had untied Robert’s wrists so he could walk easier. Not because he cared much if Robert fell on his face, but he didn’t want him slowing them down either.

The full moon had finally risen—a giant anemic sun that soon turned blood-orange by the smoke of wildfires. It was the biggest lunar display Robert had ever seen. As it glided higher up into the sky, ice crystals on the snowy slopes glistened like red diamonds until the entire mountain was bathed in crimson.

They were climbing a red mountain.

****

“Maybe two to three bags left to go,” Carol told Marco over the radio.

“Excellent. I’ll wait to pull it all up. When I’m done I’ll come down and help the team put our outlaw back where he belongs.”

Marco finished fastening some bags to a sled, then waited for the next tug on the line to let him know the last load was ready to be hauled up. All told, the research party had collected eight bags of gold coin and many gold bars.

It had all been so easy. Marco sat down and opened his pack to check on something. Inside was a small explosive charge, a device he was quite familiar with. He stood up and walked back over to the edge of the crevasse. The upper ten feet of ice was mostly darkened by shadow although the red moonlight seeped in wherever it could. When he peered into the very bottom of the crevasse he could see the phantom blue of glow sticks set out to guide the crew across the treacherous shelf.

Almost done…

He checked the explosive device again. He tried to decide what to set the detonator clock for so he’d have enough time to get away in case of a cave in. Part of him didn’t want to leave Carol behind. Although he knew it would never last, he’d grown to like her. Except there was just one problem. Marco didn’t like to share. And he didn’t like loose ends either…

He was about to start the timer when he thought he’d heard something behind him. At first he didn’t see anything until he noticed a thin beam of light against the snow. He walked toward it and found a flashlight.

What the hell?

He checked to see if it was his own, but his was still attached to his belt. Someone must have dropped it and it rolled away, he thought. One more thing you don’t need to draw any attention. Especially not now. When he bent over to pick it up he noticed a long shadow flickering behind him.

He straightened up quickly and turned around.

“Who’s there?” Marco asked forcefully. He was getting scared. Ever since he first set eyes on the frozen man he’d been having strange sensations of someone following him.

As he swung the light around, he drew his knife and held it out before him.

“Come out you son of a bitch. Let Marco teach you a lesson.”

It might have worked in the toughest barrios back home, but out here he didn’t know with whom he was dealing. There were large black outcroppings of rock the beam couldn’t reach, and for a moment Marco thought he saw a shadow crouching on top of one. He grabbed the sled handle and pulled it closer to him.

“If you don’t want any trouble, go back to where you came from. I’m sure your mama still has some warm milk waiting for you in her big ugly tits.”

Marco stood still, waiting to catch the slightest movement. He was quickly growing tired of this game. He soon convinced himself that the stalker was a figment of his imagination, a product of his growing paranoia.

You’re going to fuck this up if you don’t stay focused...

Marco shrugged the phantoms off with a tight smile. He turned away from the rock outcropping to gaze at the sled packed with gold.

He was going to be rich. Not filthy rich but damn close. A year from now he’d be sitting on a perfect white sand beach with a bucket of Coronas just like they did in the television commercials. He’d be living under a different name and would have almost as many women at hand as he did chilled beers.

Shots rang out, echoing against the rock and ice.

Marco fell forward onto the sled, struck in the back, while blood-tipped feathers from his down jacked took flight into the night air. He rolled over, groaning. He tried to sit up but the pain was too intense. A few minutes later he saw the figures of two men walking up the slope toward him, their faces obscured by puffs of steam.

Who were they?

Marco knew he was dying. Death had been following him, annoying him all day with its dark hands reaching from the edges. He’d dismissed the inky clots in his peripheral vision as something to do with sun glare and tired retinas. Instead of focusing solely and recklessly on the gold he should have paid more attention to his senses. If he had known in time, then maybe he could have protected himself in the way his great aunt had once taught him.

Now it was too late. Maybe back in the barrios of home he would have had a chance to go down with machismo, taken out a couple of murdering thugs with him and left a lasting impression on the neighborhood. But here, high up on a mountain, he wasn’t even going to get the satisfaction. Because in a country he’d so easily charmed his way around, some fucking cabron had decided to shoot him with a rifle.