“When Frank Tunstall found him, spotting his boots sticking out, Uncle Jack had been sealed and suffocated in a tomb of ice. Of his own making.”
The ghoulish story and the bottle of wine finished at the same time.
IT WAS an uncomfortable and stilted parting. The four women pressed Ryan and J.B. very strongly to remain with them.
“At least for a few days,” Ellie said. “We can move along the same trail as you. We don’t have anyplace special to go. Be company for each other. Find another, bigger pesthole to put on another show.”
Ryan shook his head. “Sorry, but we have to move on. We can make better speed than your wags.”
“Long as we don’t run out of gas,” J.B. said. “Can’t keep going for too much longer.”
“There’s some powerful villes lying along your route toward the Cascades.” Katie glanced behind her as Balthazar suddenly threw back his maned head and roared. “What’s gotten into him? Could be he scents something.”
J.B. climbed quickly onto the top of the turret of the LAV-25, shading his eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight. He stared along the winding length of the blacktop, all the way back toward the faint blur that was Wetherill Springs. “No,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
“We got plenty of jack.”
“Nell!” her mother said angrily, her eyes narrowing. “You got no right to say that.”
“Why the fuck not, Ma? I reckon I’ve got the best right on this. After all, I was the one who” The sentence trailed off into the stillness.
“Since when did you get plenty of jack?” J.B. asked curiously.
Ryan broke the silence. “Nell’s the one closest to the answer. Her and those short-bladed knives she carries.”
The Armorer sat on the body of the wag, his eyes crinkling with puzzlement behind the lenses of his spectacles. “I don’t get” His face cleared. “Course. The barkeep. Never saw the tiger or the lions take him out, but he was dead, wasn’t he? And that jackbox was missing.” He looked at the nineteen-year-old and whistled in admiration. “You are one hell of a family, aren’t you? Dark night! You don’t need anyone to ride shotgun for you. Do the job yourselves.”
“Well, the offer’s there. For both of you.” Elbe grinned, suddenly looking no older than Julie. “You guys just don’t know what you’re turning down. Do they, daughters? Losing a chance with the four lovely ladies of life, like some old poet once said. Still, if you gotta go, then you gotta go.” She shook hands with Ryan, the palm dry and callused, her grip firm. “Best of luck to you on your quest north. And to you, J.B., as well.”
One by one the young women came and kissed both men on the cheeks.
It was Ryan’s rum to drive and he clambered into the armored wag, with a last wave of the hand and a shout of good luck. J.B. followed him, sitting comfortably inside the main hatch, the Uzi in his lap.
The engine rumbled into life and Ryan kicked her into low gear, carrying on along the winding blacktop toward Durango.
THEY DROVE THREE MILES up an unmarked farm road, past a mountain of rusting relics of predark automobiles, jumbled together at the entrance to a quarry. Ryan slowed, wondering whether this might possibly presage some kind of wag works or gas seller. But there was nothing at all. Just the overgrown remains of a scrap-bean farm.
J.B. spoke into the mike. “Haven’t seen any sign of life since we came off the highway. Nothing wheeled or hoofed or booted. Could be a safe enough place to park for the night.”
Ryan brought the wag down from walking pace to a full stop. “Still some daylight left.”
“Gas?”
Ryan’s voice crackled in the cans. “Be lucky to get past noon tomorrow.”
“Then we should stop now and economize as much as we can. Start fresh tomorrow and go hunting for fuel.”
“Sure,” Ryan agreed.
Chapter Eighteen
Krysty came awake with a sharp intake of gasping breath and a feeling of bitter cold. It was an hour after midnight, and the bedroom on the western side of the Lauren spread was chilly. As she slid from under the beautiful Amish quilt, she found her feet shrinking from contact with the old linoleum. The patterned coil rug beneath the window was softer and warmer as she stood and stared out across the New Mexico desert. The stars gleamed mistily through a bank of high, watery cloud.