Falls Like Lightning (10 page)

Good thing Bo had sprayed invisible power on himself. The same kind he used to disappear into a corner of the house when his mother and father would yell and argue. It made him safe. He knew how to be quiet. He knew how to be unseen.

The air was hot but muggy, and the setting sun cast a reddish hue. Jamal and his group turned a street corner, and before Bo could catch up he heard the squeal of car tires and the crashing of metal. The sound replayed in his head.
Pop-pop-pop.
More tires screeching and then the roaring motor of a rust-brown Cadillac blowing through the abandoned intersection.

Bo’s hands shook. His disappearing power had worn off. He called out in a whisper, “Jamal?”

His feet led him forward, across the street, to the edge of the building. He pressed his hand against the warm brick, scared to see what lay around the corner.

“Jamal?”

His jaw trembled. He willed himself forward and peeked around the corner.

Two teenage boys lay sprawled on the sidewalk. A dark pool burgeoned beneath them.

———

A shriek shot out from the forest.

The sound had not come from a recognizable animal. Was not something any of the guys would have made.

Blackness enshrouded Bo, thick in presence, the only light coming from the reddened charcoal remains of the campfire. He steadied his breathing and clicked on his flashlight, squeezing it in his fist by his ear.

The other bedrolls lay empty.

He untied his boots from the foot of the hammock and draped his feet over the side. He slid them on, shooting upward glances, wrapping the laces around and around the back of the boots before tying them off.

He pulled on his helmet and clicked the LED light on the front of it. Lifting his Pulaski away from the tree it leaned on, he held it in a loose grip in front of him and moved with cautious, deliberate steps.

As he left the circle of the campfire embers for the dark of the forest, he heard it again.

Bo swallowed. The hickory handle of his Pulaski felt smooth against his bare palms. His eyes strained to discern shapes. Copper pennies glinted in pairs, hovering over the earth, skittering about and bouncing together before disappearing.

He could smell his building perspiration, evaporating into the cool evening at openings in his shirt.

Voices trailed on the air.

Bo turned his best ear, the left one that was usually opposite of Monte’s chainsaw farther up the line.

Conversation.

No intelligible words, but he was able to make out tones. Harsh. Angry. He clicked off his helmet light and palmed his flashlight, leaving only enough illumination for him to see where to take each step. A creek rippled nearby.

He walked for some time, following the traces of sound until the ground in front of him sloped upward. He felt the forest floor, pine needles poking his palm, moist dirt sticking to his skin. The incline felt steep. He’d have to climb on all fours to get up it.

Shouts burst forth.

Bo held his Pulaski at the top of the neck and spun the grubbing end around toward the dirt. He drove it into the earth and pulled himself up and forward. A thin corona emerged at the top of the hill. Discernable words met his ears.

“How’s I to know?”

“How could you assume?”

“All y’all is from the devil!”

The third voice was scratchy and high, like a rusted barn-door hinge. Bo crested the hill. The light atop diffused into the air, emerging, he found, from three fusee flares and one oil lantern in a level clearing below. Sippi and Rapunzel stood at the lights’ edge by an earthen mound with a timber-framed opening. Caleb, Monte, and Cleese stood in a defensive circle around a wild-eyed old man gripping a double-barreled shotgun.

Bo lay in the dirt and watched the scene below him unfold.

CHAPTER

14

C
aleb stretched out his hands. “Easy there, old man.”

“Who you calling ‘old man’?”

Monte kept still, barely moving his mouth below his moustache. “Let’s not anger the fellow, eh, Caleb?”

“I ain’t no fool. Y’all have come for it. I knew it’d happen, and here you are.”

Caleb shook his head. “You’re mistaken. We’re just firefighters making our way through this section of the wood. Maybe you noticed, but there’s a huge fire making its way toward us right now. It’d be in your best interests to relocate.”

He spat. “Convenient, ain’t it.”

“Look,” Monte said, again holding very still. “This here’s a misunderstanding. Mr . . . ?”

“Leewood. Zane Leewood.”

“Mr. Leewood, have you considered that you just happened upon us as we were trekking along—”

“In the middle of the night? What kind of firefighting you doing right now?”

Monte flashed a glance at Caleb. Beyond him, Cleese stood silent with eyes shadowed, hands at his sides and fingers extended.

“Yes,” Caleb said. “We hike at night as well. We have strategic destinations and goals to reach.”

“And you just happened to be in this particular draw outside of my gold cache. A likely story.”

Cleese kept quiet, taking advantage of the misdirected focus to inch closer to the man.

Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know how to convince you otherw—”

“It’s ’cause you can’t.”

Bo tried to make sense of what he was witnessing. A gold cache? Who was this guy? And why did Bo find himself more apt to believe him than Caleb, Monte, or Cleese?

Something scuffled behind him.

Bo twisted on his side to see Pendleton clambering up the hill. “Mansfield, what’s going on?”

Bo exhaled. “You tell me.”

Pendleton dropped to the dirt where Bo lay and peered into the draw. Zane swiveled in place, training the barrel of the shotgun on each of the three men in turn. They took cautious steps backward. Steps from the others, Sippi and Rapunzel stood still as statues—their mouths shut for once.

Pendleton cursed under his breath and whispered. “You don’t know anything about this?”

“No idea.”

“That gun loaded?”

As if in response, Zane cocked the shotgun.

Bo swallowed. “I’m guessing that’s a yes.”

“Mister Leewood”—Monte caught Zane’s attention—“please believe us when we say that we just happened upon this place. We don’t have any ill intentions.”

Cleese crept behind the man.

Monte continued. “Sometimes we have to hike at night to get to a point where we can better fight a fire in the daylight.”

Cleese drew closer.

Pendleton rose. “That’s it. I’m going down there.”

Bo raised his eyebrows. Wasn’t his first choice. But he couldn’t let Pendleton go down alone.

Pendleton plunged down the hillside. “What’s going on?”

Bo scuffled down after him. Caleb took one look at Pendleton and tilted his head skyward. Monte exhaled, his chest deflating like a balloon.

Bo still didn’t know what was up, but it was obvious to him that things weren’t going according to their plan. The boys were definitely not happy to see the two of them.

Maybe Pendleton thought he was going to help rescue these guys from Zane, that his presence would be much appreciated and in the nick of time. When reactions weren’t as such, Bo saw the frustration build in Pendleton’s face. Pendleton was a man who thrived on precision and control. As much as Bo appreciated and respected him, he had understood early on that Pendleton’s whole identity was wrapped up in being a supervisor.

Pendleton straightened. “Caleb, you’re the jumper in charge. Account for this.”

Caleb licked his lips and huffed, shaking his head. “Perhaps when Monte is no longer at gunpoint, huh?”

Zane shifted the shotgun barrel toward Pendleton. Bo felt his windpipe tighten. He had faced hairy situations before—fire making a run on his heels, burnt out trees falling beside him—but he’d never felt fear like that. Fire may kill, but it didn’t murder.

The old man’s jaw quivered. His eyes darted around. “How many of you is there? How many you got out there?”

Pendleton raised his hands. “Listen. I’m the leader of this group. I don’t know how all of this came about tonight, but what I can tell you is that we’re out here to fight a large lightning-caused fire that is working its way this direction.”

Zane’s hands fidgeted on the shotgun, a shaky finger hovering over the trigger. “You’re all liars.”

Bo had to say something. “Look, sir”—the man turned to him—“I am in the same position. I don’t know how this came about. But what can we do to assuage you? What would make you trust us?”

“There ain’t nothing you can do. I know what all you all is after.”

“Believe me. I’m not after anything. I just think that, if you put the gun down, then we can talk about this. What do you say?”

Whatever it was that Bo said, or however it was that he said it, it resulted in Zane’s countenance softening. Zane swallowed, turned the shotgun to the side and began to nod. “I guess there’s no harm in—”

Cleese attacked, wrestling him in a bear hug. They struggled and spun, the barrel of the shotgun pointing every which way. Boots scuffled and dirt clouds kicked up.

A blast fired off.

Cleese grabbed the barrel of the gun and elbowed Zane in the face. The man loosened his grip on the weapon. Cleese seized the stock and shoved the man to the dirt.

Zane grunted as he hit the ground. He wheezed and gasped for breath, his face red with veins bulging. He struggled to prop himself on his elbows.

Cleese stood over him and cocked the shotgun.

“No!” Bo shouted, struck by the sight of Pendleton also lying in the dirt, face down.

He skidded to his knees beside him and hovered his hands above his back, afraid to touch him. A thick burgundy pool soaked the dirt.

Bo’s eyes widened. He gripped Pendleton’s shoulder and hip and logrolled him onto his back. His shirt wicked through with blood, leaving only thin flame tips of yellow fabric visible. His dust-coated face flopped to the side, mouth hanging open and eyes fixed on the intangible distance.

Like Jamal.

Grief gave way to fury. It boiled in Bo’s chest, sent his chin to an uncontrollable quiver. Strength infused his hands, tightening his muscles, focusing the aperture of intent. Eye for an eye. Life for a life.

He stood. Fear splashed over Caleb’s face. Monte stepped backward.

Cleese stared at him from the shadow of his brow. “What you going to do, Mansfield?”

Caleb put out a tremulous hand. “Anyone can see that this was a mistake, an accident.”

Bo shook his head.
Which one of these fools is going to hit the ground first?
He stepped toward Cleese.

Cleese leveled the shotgun at Bo. “Easy now.”

Bo sucked in a breath through his nostrils. His chest heaved and eyes darted from one man to the next.

Caleb took a couple steps closer, emboldened by Cleese. He swaggered like a politician. “This isn’t your fault, Bo. And it’s not ours either. This is an unfortunate but—”

“What’re you all doing down here?”

Caleb swallowed and glanced at Monte. He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I should have told you. I should have let you in earlier. It was always the plan to let you in on the secret. Once I could confirm the find. But, it was . . . better if less people knew.”

“You mean everybody but me and Pendleton.”

“Right. I know. Wrong choice.”

“What’d you find, Caleb? Gold?”

Caleb nodded. “Enough to make it so you and I and every one of us standing here will never have to work again.”

“So long as what?”

“So long as we have the cooperation of three folks. Pendleton, who’s now a moot point. Yourself. And Zane here.” He stretched a hand out to a bare patch of ground where Zane had been lying. “Where’s the old man?”

Cleese cursed.

Monte pointed. “There.”

Zane ran stiff-legged toward the bushes at the edge of the light. Cleese shouldered the shotgun and fired an echoing blast.

Zane spun and dropped to the ground.

Bo froze, dumbfounded. He blinked, wishing somehow that this was a nightmare and not real. The lavalike anger left him. He felt numb, detached.

Cleese gripped the body of the shotgun and lowered it to his side. Smoke trailed from the barrel tip. He walked over to Zane’s body, patted it down, and stood with two new shotgun shells in hand.

He split open the weapon, pulled the two spent cartridges out and inserted the new ones, clacking the barrel back in place. “I’d say we done fixed two of the three issues at hand.”

Sippi and Rapunzel drew in closer to the group. Monte fingered his moustache. Caleb came forward from the men and stood in front of Bo.

He spoke quietly. “I didn’t ask for this. Nobody wanted it like this. But this old man, he’s a vagrant, a delirious loner. I got a tip from someone that this cache was out here, but I didn’t know about this man. No one did, Bo. And nobody will. You follow me.”

Bo stared at Caleb, catching a glimpse of the old man’s body in the dirt beyond. The rest of the crew stood semi-silhouetted behind him.

“Look, I know you and Pendleton were friends. He shouldn’t have died. I didn’t want that. You didn’t want that. But that’s a risk out here. Accidents happen. And he died in an accident. All right?” He sought out Bo’s eyes, coaxing acceptance.

Bo raised his chin. He didn’t have much in the way of options.

Caleb scratched the side of his head. “You know, I’d hate for another accident like that to happen. Wouldn’t you?”

Bo nodded reluctantly.

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He turned and stopped. “Hey, how’re your sisters, by the way? They’re in college, right?”

A sharp pain twisted in Bo’s gut. Sheer blackmail. He couldn’t let himself look intimidated. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was that they somehow believed he would readily stoop to the level they were at.

Best to play the ruse and let them keep believing that. “They’s got they own lives now. I got my own life to look after. All y’all’s been holding out on me.”

Caleb grinned, then reeled it in. “Let’s say this, you take care of us and we’ll take care of you.” He offered his hand.