“Nothing.”
A hard sound, and someone scuffling or falling to the ground. Wheezing, trying to catch his breath.
Hutch realized that Declan had punched his brother in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. It was almost enough to draw him out from under the tree, to drive him screaming to Julian's aid. He had the arrow, but without a bow it was as limited as a knife. Declan would destroy him before he could take five steps. So he seethed. Hutch wanted, more than anything at that moment, to live to see Julian in court testifying against his brother, free from Declan's control.
“If you're going to do nothing, then at least do nothing,” said Declan, stern. “That man did not free himself.”
Julian spoke in halting gasps. “I don'tâknow whatâ”
“Where's the arrow you've been carrying around?”
Hutch grimaced. Julian had enough trouble. As much as Hutch had needed Julian's help, it pained him to know the boy would incur Declan's wrath for giving it.
“I lost it,” Julian managed. A hard
thunk
. Julian hissed and groaned slowly.
Hutch hoped Declan had only punched him. He waited anxiously for Julian to say something, to communicate his being okay and not dead or dying. He would not put it past Declan to murder his brother for no other reason than Julian's compassion and desire to do right. Declan had said that he could do anything, good or evil; Hutch believed he had meant at any time to anyone at his whim. Declan liked the idea of being unpredictable.That made him more than dangerous; it made him insane.
Finally Julian spoke up. “You killed Uncle Andrew.”
It was accusatory and weepy and full of heartache. The man may not have been their true uncle, but he had obviously meant something to Julian. Hutch had a feeling Uncle Andrew had been more of a father to Julian than his biological father.Yet the man knew Declan was a killer and had left Julian with him. If he had been more caring than his real father, how terrible his real father must be.
“No witnesses,” Declan stated flatly. “He said it himself.”
“But, Declan, he was leaving.”
“To report back to father.”
“Who probably already knows. Don't you think they talk?”
Declan was silent for a while. Then he said, “Leave that to me. All you need to worry about is not ticking me off any further. I knew Uncle Andrew my whole life. I loved him. If I were you, I would think long and hard about that.”
Something beeped.
“Ahhhh,” Declan said, frustrated. “I'm losing the satellite, and I can't throw down any events 'cuz I can't see where Kyrill and Bad went.” He yelled, “Kyrill! Bad!” No answer, so he called again.
Finally Kyrill: “What?”Way down there somewhere.
“Move!”
“What?”
“Fire in the hole!”
“What?”
Declan sighed dramatically. “Never mind!” he yelled.
In his normal speaking voice, maybe a little softer: “Come here. No really, come here. I'm trying to look out for you, you know.” Pause. “You gotta be tougher than you are. And never, ever go against me. You hear me?
You hear me?
”
Julian said something too quiet for Hutch to make out.
“I love you,” Declan said. “You're my brother.That's why I got you off that copter.You got another chance.” Silence followed.
“I'll be in the car,” Julian said.
“Tell Cort I'll be right there. Tell her to raise these guys on the walkie-talkie. Get their butts back up here.”
Declan remained at the edge of the plateau until heâand Hutchâheard the crunching, complaining ascent of Kyrill and Bad.The truck door slammed and the engine started at about the time the two pursuers were level with Hutch and Phil's hideout. Had they ascended thirty feet deeper into the woods, they would have walked right into Hutch. Hutch had been primarily concerned with being spotted from the plateau. He did not believe his covering would sufficiently hide them from someone approaching from the other side. Had Kyrill and Bad been hunters, known the outdoors better, or simply been more motivated, they would have indeed ascended deeper in the woods or, at minimum, made a zigzag pattern back up.
“This is crap,” Bad said.
“I know,” Kyrill said, sounding like he really didn't want to hear from Bad at all.
“I mean, really. He's got control of that weapon, and he sends
us
to find these people. If I had control of that thing, I wouldn't need no hired guns.”
“It's still in development, Bad. Give him a break.”
“Give him a break? Give me a break.” After a pause: “Come here and I'll give you a break.”
“Shut up.”
Hutch heard a vehicle pull close to the edge.
Declan's voice:“We're gonna go get some grub. Check on the cattle. You guys stay here.”
“And do what?” Bad whined.
“Keep looking for those guys.”
“What?”
“Ten thousand dollars a head. I mean it. Pru's getting some shots of the mine.Take him with you.”
The vehicle sped away.
“Man, I don't need his money,” Bad said.
“I do.”
“Let's go get Pruitt. I don't want to be out here when the sun goes down.”
“Are we still leaving tomorrow?”
“I think we have a few more days here, at least.”
Their voices trailed away. The last thing Hutch heard was: “Dec wants to level the town, maybe get some crowd shots of an SLC strike . . .”
Hutch pushed off his
blanket of moss, dirt, and needles. Quietly he rolled away from Phil, out from under the blowdown. He half expected to hear a shout, someone standing at the edge of the plateau, but no calls rang out. Kneeling on the slope, he leaned close to Phil.
“Hold still,” he said. He brought the arrow's broadhead up to the gag and made little slices in the material. It came free. As Phil yanked it out of his mouth, Hutch noticed that the tip of the broadhead had drawn blood. Phil wiped at the cut, a minor annoyance. He stretched his mouth and before he could say anything out loud, Hutch held his finger up to his mouth.
Phil whispered, “I think I was close to a town when that helicopter swung down to pick me up. I thought it was a rescue chopper.”
“Tell me later.” He squinted at Phil's restraints. The handcuffs were professional, solid shackles connected by a short, thick chain. Hutch had the arrow but not his utility belt. He could think of nothing that would unlock the restraints or break their chain.
“Hutch, I didn't mean to leave you guys like that. I saw that cannon thing blast the back of that big building, and I thoughtâ”
“Wait a minute. You never met up with Terry? I thought he was with you.”
“I never saw him. I thought you guys . . . I thought that cannon got you.”
“You didn't see a woman either? She was with Terry.”
“A woman?”
“We got separated.” Hutch looked up to the plateau, then out toward the open area. “The woman's son was with me. I left him around that hill. I've got to go get him.You stay here.”
Phil swung his legs out. He tried to sit up, conked his head on the wood. “No way!” he said, too loudly. “Don't leave me here.”
“This is the safest place for you. I've got to cross some open space to reach the boy. I'm pretty sure the door to where he is got hit by the laser. I might need to find another way in. You can't be traipsing around this steep slope in the open with your hands bound.”
“But if you . . .What laser?”
Hutch had forgotten Phil had shown up after Declan had explained his weapon. “That's what it is.That's what got David and keeps blasting down. It's called a satellite laser cannon.”
“Satellite . . . laser . . . cannon.” He said it slowly, as though in doing so some secret to its existence and defeat would come to him, but then he simply nodded.
“So stay here, okay? You'll be safe.”
Phil shook his head. “No way.”
Hutch did not want to waste time arguing with him. He was anxious to find Dillon. And who knew when Kyrill and Bad would decide that, if not for the money then to please Declan, it was worth their efforts to find the escapees?
“All right,” he said. “Just be really quiet and don't ask questions. I'm not giving you a guided tour of where I've been or where I'm going. So if you want to tag along, be quiet.”
Phil nodded.
“Where are your glasses? Can you see?”
“I'm fine,” he said dismissively, but his eyes were squeezed into narrow slits. “They weren't that strong.”
Hutch slapped Phil on the arm. “We'll get you out of those handcuffs as soon as we can.”
They walked parallel to the edge of the plateau and stopped where the trees ended. The open area was grassy and gravelly. It had dried quite a bit, which made the grass less slick but the gravel more eager to slip out from under their feet. Hutch was afraid one of them, especially Phil, would fall and not stop until reaching the valley floor.The noise could very well draw Kyrill or Bad's attention; he could not tell for sure that they were in the car and not heading, at that moment, to the edge of the plateau.
“We'll move downslope through the trees. The ground covering here is quieter, and the trees will keep us steady.”
They began descending. After a short time, a glint in the dirt caught Hutch's eye. One of his arrows. He retrieved it and found two more. He felt better. Four arrows instead of one. Never mind his bow was gone. He continued down the slope. When he believed they were even with the secondary exit, Hutch left the forest to walk across the slope, around the bend of the hill.
A smoking hole marked where the exit had been. His insides felt pulled tight, as though a net had caught them. Huge chunks of concrete lay around the gaping hole. Having come around the bend of the hill, he and Phil were no longer visible to someone at the edge of the plateau. If Kyrill, Bad, or Pruitt walked the perimeter of the crater, perhaps to reconnoiter the area from that higher advantage, or if they came down the slope to pick up their search where they had left off, they would spot the two men.
While they were far from home freeâfar, far from home freeâthe relief of not being within sight of their pursuers was like shrugging off a crushing coat of chain mail.
Hutch climbed atop a ripped chunk of concrete and peered into the hole below. It was no longer the cement shaft he had ascended, but it was still a shaft.Wider now, lined with earth, but a straight chimney all the same. The laser had not struck the shaft perfectly centered. It had left a semicircular column of concrete and roughly half of the metal ladder, sheared vertically its entire length. It looked like half a spinal column dangling down into the dark. The remaining rungs did not look strong enough to support him, since only one length of the metal side rail remained. In two spots visible to Hutch, the cement beneath the rungs had buckled and broken, causing the ladder to become unmoored.
Unsafe
was not the word. More like
suicidal
.
He did not have a rope, didn't know where to find one, and did not have the time to weave one out of branches. Still, even without the partial rungs, he would have found a way to climb down into the mining tunnels.
He set the arrows down and stepped down onto a shelf in the cement to maneuver his way toward the rungs. He was vaguely aware that his body ached in a dozen placesâhead, arms, legs, ribs, guts. His desire to get to Dillon pushed the pain away, back into a foggy place where its shadows stirred, but the full extent of its horror was masked and muted.
“Hutch,” Phil whispered. “You can't get down there.”
Hutch tapped his lip with his finger, reminding Phil of their bargain. He whispered, “I'll be back as soon as I find Dillon.You don't have any matches, do you?”
Phil shook his head.
“I had some . . . not anymore. I know where I can find a few, but I may be able to do without. Find some branches with dead needles and toss them down to me in five minutes. Don't worry about where I am. Don't call down. Just toss them in the hole.”
Phil nodded.
Hutch made his way to what was left of the ladder. He tried his weight on one of the rungs. It creaked and bent down. He moved his foot closer to the metal brace to which the rung was welded. He lowered his weight onto it. The rung bent slightly, but held.
The ladder disappeared into the dark below. He lowered himself one rung at a time. His mind kept urging his body to rush. He pushed aside the image of Dillon and focused on reaching the bottom of the shaft alive. At the first bulge in the concrete and ladder, he leaned out over the shaft and tried to stretch his foot back in below the hump. The shift in weight distribution caused an anchor bolt to pop loose.The ladder came away from the wall several inches, jarring Hutch sharply. That movement, in turn, caused the next bolt up to snap out of the concrete.The metal ladder jerked out further from the wall.The next bolt popped out.
“Hutch!” Phil called, as quietly as his concern allowed him.
Hutch swung over the empty space below him.With each lost bolt, he had levered farther and farther from the wall. A fourth bolt snapped out of the concrete. Hutch released his left hand from a rung, grabbed the one below it, did the same with his right hand. Using only his arm muscles, he shimmied hand over hand past the bulge.When the ladder was straight again, he stood on a rung, breathing hard. He rested like that for twenty seconds, then continued on.
At the next bulge, he immediately stepped off the ladder and lowered himself by hand. No bolts gave way. As the dark shadows of the shaft swallowed him, a thought formed in his brain:
I'm descending through the throat and into the stomach of a great beast.
The fragrance of rich soil and ozone hung heavily in the air. Something like the smell of faulty brake pads also tinged his senses; he thought it was probably burnt concrete. God help him, he sniffed for that pungent, charbroiled-meat odor he remembered from when David had died. When he did not detect it, a surge of hope hit his heart like adrenaline.