Chapter 17

At the sound of the barn door closing, Sarah huddled closer to the stall partition, trying to make herself invisible. She put a hand on Mort’s collar. Xena wasn’t a barker. In fact, Sarah hadn’t heard her make any noise at all, except for an occasional, almost inaudible whine. Mort, on the other hand, had been trained to bark. He barked to alert his people of danger and to intimidate and sometimes just because he was excited. Sarah was ready to quiet him, but she knew it would be too late. If he barked, then they were caught…and dead.

The fire and wind howled even louder outside, the sound muted only slightly by the barn walls. It covered the sound of footsteps, and Sarah didn’t know if the intruder—or intruders—were still standing by the door or if they were right at the stall, leaning close enough to peer down and see her and the dogs. Bean snorted, a long, loud sound of fear, his muscles shivering with tension. It was unnerving, crouching so close to the huge, skittish creature’s hooves. One spook, and Sarah could have a hoofprint on her head.

“What does he want us to do with the horse?” a male voice asked.

Sarah started to shake. If they meant to hurt Bean, she wouldn’t be able to keep hiding. She’d have to do something to prevent it.

“Who cares,” another voice came. It sounded familiar, and Sarah wondered if it was a person she knew. How many times had they passed each other in the hallway or on the grounds? She might have greeted him cheerfully, not realizing that he would one day hunt her down…that he might possibly be the one to kill her. “Just leave it. Let’s search the place and go.”

“We’re going to just leave the horse in here? What if it starves to death?” The voice was closer, clearer, and Sarah started making frantic plans in her head. If they spotted her, she could run or fight or…do something. The stall itself didn’t have any escape hatch, except for the one sliding door. She’d basically locked herself in a cage. There was no escape if they found her.

“It’s not our problem,” the second, deeper voice said. “Someone’ll find it. Cops and feds’ll be all over this place tomorrow.”

“Nope. We’ve wiped out their systems. No phones, radios, cells, wireless… They’re not talking to nobody.” The first guy sounded almost giddy.

“Let it out, then, if you want.” The second man said in a bored voice. “It’ll survive on its own. There are wild horses all over the place out here, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah?” He sounded too close, too loud. “That’s awesome. It’s like the wild, wild West out here.”

She needed a plan, or at least a weapon. Why hadn’t she grabbed that sledgehammer when she had a chance? That did remind her of her knife, and she very gingerly unzipped the main pocket on the pack. The nylon fabric vibrated with Bob’s growls, and Sarah said a silent prayer of gratitude that the thunderous noises outside covered any sound from either the annoyed cat or from her attempts at quietly opening the pack. Finally, there was a hole large enough for her to slip her hand in. She felt around for the knife. It seemed to take forever, and she was afraid that the sliding door would open at any second. Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the knife, and she almost sobbed in gratitude.

“I’ll let him out, then.” His voice was so clear that he had to be right next to the stall door. Sarah started breathing in quick gulps. “Hey, there’s a goat in there, too! Can I let the goat out? Are there wild goats?”

“Yeah, dumb-ass. Haven’t you heard of mountain goats?”

“Right. I’ll let both of them go, then.”

“You do that.” At least the second man was on the other side of the barn, judging by the faintness of his voice.

As she pulled the weapon out of the pack, Mort started leaning toward the sliding door. Sarah caught his collar, mentally begging him to stay quiet and still. Xena pressed against her, as if she could hear Sarah’s pleading thoughts. Sarah was concentrating so hard on Mort, so worried that he’d start to bark, that she wasn’t watching Bean.

When the horse charged toward the door, it startled Sarah so much that she almost shrieked, swallowing down the scream at the last moment before it escaped. Bean, ears pinned, snaked his head toward the door, striking out at it with a front hoof. The slam of metal on metal as the edging on the door hit the frame rang out, louder than the wind or the raging fire outside.

“Shit!” The man’s voice was farther from the stall, and Sarah started to shake, partially in relief and partially from fear. “That thing’s crazy!”

Bean struck the door again, the loud bang making Sarah jump.

“It’s a demon horse,” the guy said. He was still a good distance from the stall, and Sarah began to breathe more slowly. Good boy, Bean. Keep him away. “His eyes are glowing red. Hey, Shelton! Check it out. His eyes are all possessed and shit, like that statue at the airport.”

“I’m going to be all ‘possessed and shit’ if you don’t help me search and quit messing around with that horse.”

The man moved away from the stall, his grumbling about ungrateful devil horses getting fainter and fainter until Sarah could only hear the wind and fire again. Her hand dropped from Mort’s collar as the dog relaxed slightly, although she kept a hand on his back, stroking him lightly with her fingers.

Now that her heart wasn’t thundering in her ears, Sarah could hear the faint drone of Bob’s growls, but she hoped the men couldn’t hear or, if they could, they would just assume it was the wind. She patted the pack lightly where a catlike bulge was, but that only increased the growling, so she moved her hand away.

“It’s clear,” Shelton said, his voice just loud enough for Sarah to make out his words. “She must’ve been in the house. Let’s go back to town. One down; one to go.”

“Target practice!” the other man laughed loudly, making both Sarah and Xena start. “Boom!”

The roaring of the wind and flames was deafening for a moment until they shut the door behind them with a bang. Sarah sat in the stall for a long time, even after she heard the sound of what she was guessing was a helicopter. White spotlights lit up the barn, making Bean shift uneasily, his head high in the air. The whump-whump-whump that they’d heard before running for the bunker was almost unbearably loud, but it faded gradually until they were left with just the red glow from the fire and the howling wind.

Sarah climbed to her feet, her muscles protesting being held in such a tense, crouched position for so long. Peeking over the solid half-wall, she made sure no one else was there before straightening completely. A part of her remained terrified that the guys were still both there, waiting right outside the stall. She didn’t truly believe they were gone until she saw the empty barn.

Urgency flowed through her. She carefully lifted the backpack, sliding her arms through the straps and buckling the one around her waist to keep the pack as stable as possible. Poor Bob. He was such a good cat. If he’d yowled, even once, their hiding place would’ve been discovered. Sarah’s skin prickled with sweat at the thought.

Moving carefully toward Bean, she tried to push down her anxiety. He didn’t need her amping up his nerves. The aggressive display had freaked her out a little, though. Before, he’d seemed flighty, but Sarah hadn’t expected the charging and striking. He shifted, his ears flicking toward her and then to the sides, as if to take in as many sounds as possible.

“Hey, Bean,” she said softly, probably too quietly for even the horse to hear. Having to speak kept her breathing, though. “You feel like getting out of here? I know that your house didn’t get blown to bits like ours did, but I’d rather not leave you here alone. What do you say?” After a few tense seconds, he blew out a breath and lowered his head slightly. His ears were still swiveling around, but Sarah couldn’t blame him for that. She was jumping at every sound, too.

Moving slowly to his left side, she slid the halter on, buckling it with shaking fingers. As she pushed the stall door open and led Bean out, she glanced at the goat.

“Coming, Hortense?” If she had to lead the goat, too, that was going to take a hand—and a halter—she didn’t have. To her relief, Hortense snatched one more bite of hay before following them out of the stall. The dogs surged out last, staying clear of Bean’s hooves. Circling around, Mort took the lead again, heading toward the barn doors, while Xena walked close to Sarah’s left side.

Bean stared at everything, but he didn’t spook or yank away or crash into Sarah or do any of the hundred things that she feared he’d do. Sarah looked at the main barn doors, but her paranoia about someone waiting outside for them was strong—even more than when she was in the stall, scared to look around. Besides, there was a raging snowstorm happening outside. Her gaze turned toward the tunnel entrance.

She wasn’t sure if she could even get Bean into the underground passage, but she wanted to try. If she could get them away from the house before going outside, she felt like they would have a greater chance of escaping without being spotted. She didn’t really have a plan beyond getting all the animals to town and finding Otto. That was enough for the moment.

It took her a while to find the latch on the doors. They’d been camouflaged to blend into the rest of the wall. If she hadn’t just emerged from them a short time before, Sarah wouldn’t have even known they were there. She ran her fingers over the rough wood surface for what felt like hours, although she knew it was only minutes. Finally, frustrated, she yanked her gloves off and felt around again.

There! Her fingers touched a square of smoother wood, and that pulled down to reveal a latch. Relief poured over her, and her knees sagged a little, but she stiffened them. It was nowhere near time to collapse in a heap. Sarah still had to get all the animals out and make it to town. As she glanced over her ragtag, scared group around her—except for Hortense, who was nibbling some spilled grain on the ground, as content as she could be—Sarah felt a wave of panic pressing against her. She pushed back, damming up the fear into a tiny box labeled “open later.” She needed to be the adult—well, the human—in the room. They were counting on her to keep them safe, so keep them safe she would. Sarah had a moment of thankfulness that she didn’t have the puppies with her as well. Bob would’ve had to share his pack, and Sarah was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy about that.

Unlatching the door, she pulled both open as wide as they’d go and turned on the light. The opening to the tunnel was wider than most two-horse trailers, so she was hopeful that Bean would be okay walking through it. It was as if Otto and the previous homeowner had seen the future and known that someone was going to have to sneak horses out of the barn at some point, because there weren’t any steps. A fairly steep ramp led down into the tunnel. Once she got Bean down that, the rest was easy. It was simply walking.

“Ready, everyone?” Feigning confidence, Sarah started walking down the ramp into the tunnel. Xena and Mort followed immediately. It took a moment for Bean to follow. First, he stretched his neck toward the tunnel entrance and blew one of his scared snorts. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a tunnel. It’s like loading in a very, very long trailer.”

Sarah swore that Bean gave her the side eye.

“Fine, it’s a little scarier than that, but not much. There’s nothing in there to hurt you, though. I can promise you that.” She started forward again, and he followed, shooting through the opening like a ball out of a cannon. Sarah jumped out of the way, nearly tripping over Xena, and braced herself for the massive jerk on the lead line. Once Bean was in the tunnel, though, he stopped abruptly, spinning around to face the entrance he’d just plowed through.

“That’s one way to do it, I guess,” Sarah said under her breath. Hortense walked in with no drama or worry, and Sarah wished that all the animals had her calm smarts. She pulled the doors closed, loving the solid click of the latch fastening, before heading down the tunnel. Mort trotted ahead, as if scouting the way, and Bean walked willingly enough next to her.

When he reached the T-intersection, Mort turned toward the house, and Sarah called him back. A pang went through her. The house was gone. They could hole up in the bunker, but it didn’t feel safe anymore. What if the fire spread downward, and they were trapped in a smoky hole in the ground? The idea made her shiver and her spine prickle with cold sweat. No, they’d go to town, like she’d originally planned. Sure, there were scary guys out to kill her, but they’d figure it out.

Somehow.

* * *

By the time Otto reached the police station, he was half-frozen and nearly crazy with worry about Sarah and Theo and Hugh and…well, pretty much the entire town. The only thing keeping him warm and sane was distracting himself by coming up with creative revenge plots to get back at Hugh for stealing his squad-car shovel.

The station was small, but it seemed oddly abandoned. The sound of Otto’s boots hitting the floor echoed. Although he told himself it was nothing to worry about, that everyone was at the training in the Springs, the silence still made him uneasy. He jogged toward the communications room, holding his key card to the reader and yanking open the door.

No one was there.

The screens were dark and the chairs were empty, and his stomach gave a painful twist. Pivoting, he headed toward the lieutenant’s office. It was abandoned as well. The lights were still on, and Blessard’s favorite travel mug was sitting next to his battered keyboard. All Otto’s instincts—which had been muttering at him that something was very, very wrong—turned up the volume, shouting at him to get out of the building.

First, though, he strode to the lieutenant’s desk and picked up his landline phone. Otto wasn’t even shocked at the silence when he put the phone to his ear. He’d expected it to be dead, like all their other communications. Otto left the LT’s office and jogged for the stairs, taking several steps in each stride, not slowing down as he hit the release bar on the door at the bottom. Part of him was braced for the garage to be empty, for all the vehicles to be missing, but his SUV was still there where he’d left it that afternoon—what felt like weeks ago, rather than mere hours.

As he drove out of the garage, he plowed through a drift of snow that had piled up against the door. There was a thick layer on the ground now, and it was still falling heavily. The wind was sweeping it into tall drifts, and Otto knew that, if it continued this way for another few hours, the roads would soon be impassible.

Otto barked out a laugh that sounded too loud in the silence of his SUV. What did it matter if the town roads were impassible? No one could get out anyway.

He automatically reached for his radio, intending to try to reach the lieutenant. As his hand touched his portable unit, Otto remembered that it was useless. He was completely cut off from everyone else—city, county, and state.

It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. Otto was used to the constant chatter of his radio, and nearly constant texts and calls from other officers and his supervisors. The silence now felt wrong—very wrong.

He turned out of the department surface lot onto the street, trying to think what he should do next. His rear tires couldn’t find purchase in a snowdrift blocking the exit, and his four-wheel drive kicked in, shooting him forward. Otto kept his speed up as he headed down the street, even though he didn’t know where he was going. His instinct was to go find Sarah, but without excavation equipment and dynamite, there was no way Otto was getting out of town. She’s safe, he reminded himself. She and Grace are probably enjoying their night at a fancy resort. His mind knew it, but his gut still wanted to go to Dresden to find her, even if that meant tearing through the obstruction on the pass with his bare hands.

The street was strangely quiet. He glanced down at the dashboard clock and saw that it was barely nine. It wasn’t that late. Where was everyone? Despite the accumulating snow, he slowed as he looked around. A number of residents had moved to warmer climes for the winter, but even the houses he knew were occupied—by the Romas family and Sean Bilks and the Chenykes—were dark. The only illumination came from the occasional streetlamp and the security lights around the police station behind him. It was strange and eerie.

He was starting to turn on Main Street, when the night lit up behind him. The deafening blast sent his foot instinctively down on the brake, and the SUV juddered to a halt. He hunched forward, his body folding over the wheel, his arms coming up to cover his head. There was a roar of fire, and he slowly straightened, his arms lowering as the truth sank in. There’d been another explosion.

Slamming his SUV into Park, he jerked open the driver’s door and jumped out into the snow. He stared for a moment before jerking himself out of his shock and running toward the station—or what used to be the station. The white light of the immediate explosion had already muted to yellows and oranges as fire engulfed the jagged remains. Flames covered everything, consuming the police department completely. Otto stopped abruptly when blazing heat scorched his face. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing left for him to save. He’d worked in that building, for the Monroe Police Department, for eight years, ever since he received his law enforcement degree. Now, in a single second, it was gone.

As the immediate shock subsided and reality kicked in again, Otto peered into the snow-clogged sky and spotted the white lights of the helicopter. It was headed east, toward the center of town. Otto rushed back to the SUV and climbed in. As he shifted into Drive, he debated his options. He could chase the helicopter and try to bring it down, but his resources were limited. He had his duty weapon, a Taser, a knife, and a multipurpose tool, none of which would be much use against a helicopter. All of his other guns were at his house, which wasn’t accessible right now.

Chasing the helicopter was out. That would be a good way to get himself blown up. So what was his next step? What he needed, Otto decided, was to track down the others. He knew they were still in town. The streets were abandoned, even more than usual during a snowstorm. The explosion should’ve brought everyone running to help or gawk, but there were no lights on in any of the houses. Despite the mass exodus of Monroe every fall, there were still townspeople who stuck around. Their homes were just as dark as the houses that had been abandoned for the winter.

Where were they? Otto flexed his hands, squeezing the steering wheel and then releasing it as he tried to think logically. Aaron’s flunkies had just bombed both mountain passes and the police station. Who knew where they would strike next, but Jules’s house was a real possibility. Otto’s heart rate sped up at the thought, but he forced himself to think it through. Logan Jovanovic had recognized Grace when he and Aaron had tried to grab Sarah in the viner bathroom. It made sense that the Jovanovics were in on it, as well. It was no secret in town where Jules lived, and everyone knew that Jules and Grace lived together. Only a few people knew that Grace was out of town. That house was a likely target. Theo would know that, and he’d get everyone out.

Tipping his head back against the backrest, Otto squeezed the wheel so hard his hands cramped. “So where did they go?” he asked out loud.

If Sarah had still been living at Jules’s when this happened, where would Otto have brought her? He frowned so hard at the idea that his face ached. He’d want her somewhere safe, but they couldn’t leave town. Since any building could be the next target, they’d need to go somewhere that couldn’t be hit—or wouldn’t be. The bunker, his brain immediately supplied, but he shook away the idea. If they couldn’t leave town, they couldn’t get to the bunker.

Otto’s bunker, at least.

An idea flared to life in his head, and he shot forward in his SUV. It was a long shot and slightly insane, but he knew where he’d have brought Sarah if this had happened with her in town.

Gordon Schwartz’s militia compound.

* * *

The tunnel seemed to go on forever. Sarah forged on, though, checking every few minutes to make sure that all of the animals were still tagging along. The monotony of the passageway was a blessing, because Bean could find nothing out of the ordinary to spook at. They reached a ladder that led to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Sarah looked at it longingly before trudging past.

Gradually, the passageway began to look more like a mining tunnel than a hallway. The ceiling grew lower, and Sarah began to worry about Bean. He could fit as long as he kept his head down, but, if anything startled him, he could easily crack his head against the rock above. She shortened the lead line, hoping she’d be able to keep his head down if something jumped out at them.

The space between lightbulbs was getting longer, and Sarah considered pausing so she could pull out her flashlight. She decided to keep walking, needing to get out of the tunnel that was getting increasingly claustrophobic.

A frigid breeze blew through the tunnel, making her shiver and use her free hand to tug her coat zipper higher. Mort trotted ahead of them, his head raised as he sniffed at the air. As realization struck, Sarah’s hand froze at her collar. If the wind was getting in, then they had to be close to an exit.

Excitement filled her. Despite the snow and Aaron’s goons and all the dangers of being out in the open, Sarah was just so happy to be getting out of the tunnel. The passageway curved to the right, and then the wind really hit them, so cold that Sarah lost her breath. Snow blew into the tunnel, sharp pebbles that stung her face. Ducking her chin into her collar, she walked forward, leading Bean.

Right in front of the exit, the ceiling dropped another foot. Sarah paused, eyeing the level of the rock and comparing it to the height of Bean’s withers. If he kept his head down, she was pretty sure he could squeak underneath, but that was a pretty big if, especially with the wind and snow smacking them in the face.

Sarah held her breath and kept the hand holding the lead line low as she walked quickly toward the trouble spot. Bean hesitated after his head and half of his neck were under the lowest point, and Sarah’s heart squeezed with anxiety. Giving an encouraging cluck, she tugged on the lead rope. After a moment, he moved reluctantly forward, keeping his head down. As soon as his tail cleared, she blew out all the breath she had been holding, feeling light-headed with relief.

She did another count, making sure all the animals were accounted for. Mort was waiting for them at the entrance, not seeming to feel the wind that was blasting him. Now that they were at the end of the tunnel, she felt a jolt of fear at leaving its secure walls. It was stupid to go out in a blizzard. Maybe they should just stay in the protective shelter of the cave until the snow stopped.

Shoving back her cowardly thoughts, Sarah moved out into the open, gasping as the full force of the wind hit her. If there was any way for her to help Otto and her newfound friends, she couldn’t just cower in a cave.

Squinting against the wind, she looked around. They were about a quarter of the way up the ridge to the east of Otto’s property. The fire engulfing the remains of his house were a blazing you-are-here sign. The destruction of their home had one upside.

“Glass half full, I guess,” Sarah said with a choked laugh.

She was glad that they weren’t very far up the side of the mountain, since she’d worried that they’d come out at the very peak, and she’d have to put Bean into climbing gear. There was a trail—or what looked like one, since it could’ve been anything under the thick layer of snow—that led down toward the road that passed in front of Otto’s driveway.

It looked so far away, though, that Sarah wanted to cry. It felt like they’d already walked so far, had too many scares, fought enough dangers. The distant road seemed to be mocking her. She was tempted to sit down in the snow and give up. At the thought, she gave herself a mental shake. Giving up was not an option. The animals were depending on her, and Otto—although he might not know it—was counting on her to help them. Besides, she’d been through worse—much worse.

Pulling her shoulders back, she took the first step onto the snowy trail. “No sense standing here and getting cold.” She shivered as the wind tossed a handful of snow down her coat collar. “Well, colder.”

Bean followed, surprisingly docile. Sarah wondered if all the experiences of the night had blown the horse’s mind, and he just didn’t have it in him to bother being scared anymore. Either that, or he was just tired. Whatever the reason for his calmness, Sarah was grateful. If he spooked, he could jump right off the edge of the trail and down the rocky cliff.

Mort, of course, squeezed ahead of them to take the lead, and Xena followed right behind and to the side of Sarah. At first, Sarah worried about Xena getting stepped on, but Bean walked far enough behind that he didn’t crowd the dog. Hortense was at the very back of their odd train, and she was obviously not happy about the entire situation. She would stop abruptly, refusing to walk forward. When the group got far enough ahead of her, she would trot to catch up and then start the whole process again.

Sarah decided that she loved her boots even more than she’d initially thought. The snow wasn’t deep enough to go over the tops, and her feet were warm and cozy. The sagging, too-large snow pants were somewhat annoying, but she appreciated the warmth and dryness enough that she didn’t take them off. The fabric cut the wind, too, so the only parts of her that were cold were her face and neck and fingers.

In fact, she was soon sweating. Lifting her foot to clear the snow with each step was exhausting. Unused to the motion, her thighs ached and burned, and she dreaded how they would feel the next day. At the thought, though, she quit mentally whining. She wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow. Would she be dead, or back in Texas with Aaron’s thugs, or mourning Otto or Jules or Grace or—

Abruptly, she cut off her imagination. Instead, she tried to plan. When she reached Monroe, she’d track Otto down. He’d know of a place they could stash Bean and Hortense, and then they could… Her planning petered out there. She wasn’t sure how they could stop Aaron and his goons. Would the Monroe police be able to stop them? There were so few officers in town right now, with the winter decrease plus those off at training. Maybe they could call the county sheriff’s department, or the state police, or even the FBI. Bombing a town seemed bad enough for the feds to get involved.

As Sarah considered the options, she moved between two pine trees and saw that they’d reached the road. A spurt of elation faded when she realized how much more walking they needed to do before reaching town. Bean stepped forward and blew warm, moist air on the back of her neck.

She turned to eye him appraisingly. “Will you kill me if I ride you?” she asked him. Despite his mellow attitude since they’d left the tunnel, it could be a whole different story—as in a story about a bucking horse at a rodeo—if Sarah got on him…bareback. Without a bridle. She was starting to think it was a very bad idea, but then she looked at the road stretching in front of them. It was just over nine miles. She did not want to walk nine more miles in the snow.

Determined to at least give it a try, Sarah led Bean toward a snow-covered downed pine lying just off the road and lined his left side up to it. She climbed onto the log, and Bean rolled an eye at her before swinging his haunches away from the tree. Hopping off, Sarah realigned the horse and stepped onto the log and threw her right leg over his back before he could move away again.

Once on his back, Sarah went still, trying to be ready for anything—bucking, bolting, rearing, or a little of all three. Instead, he froze, except for the twitching of his muscles. When Sarah realized that she was waiting for him to move, and he was waiting for her to move, she laughed in a small, relieved huff.

Giving him a gentle squeeze with her legs, Sarah shifted her weight to turn him, relaxing a little more when he responded easily. Xena whined anxiously from the ground.

“It’s okay, Xena,” Sarah said. “I’m still here, just taller. Let’s go find Otto.”

The dog’s scarred ears pricked up, either from her name or Otto’s. Sarah steered Bean down the middle of the road at a brisk walk. Sitting on a warm horse was already better than shuffling through the snow. Turning her head, she did an animal count. Xena was next to Bean, and Hortense had given up on her attempt at passive aggression. Looking resigned, the goat had fallen in behind Bean.

Instead of leading, Mort had turned into Otto’s driveway.

“Mort!” Sarah called, her heart breaking a little when the dog looked at her and then in the direction of where the house still smoldered before reluctantly joining their small group. She could sympathize with the poor dog. She, too, wished they were heading home, that there hadn’t been an explosion, that Otto was here and fine and Aaron wasn’t trying to kill them, but that was just too bad. If wishes were horses…

Glancing down at Bean’s mane, Sarah gave a short laugh. Everything else was going to hell, but at least she could ride.