Neal Barrett Jr. (32 page)

Howie touched his chin and closed his good eye. “Only everyone who got away from Silver Island figured there was nothing but killin’ going on. There wasn’t no reason they’d think anything else. Nobody knew they were going to keep Silver Island going here.” Howie looked at Chan. “It makes sense, now don’t it? They wouldn’t have any reason to flat out slaughter everyone—specially the people they were using for breeding, or folks who were useful somehow. Why would they want to start over? Dammit, they must’ve brought some of ’em here.”

Chan shook his head. “She is gone, my friend. You know this is so!”

“I reckon you’re right. But I got to find out.” Howie looked soberly at Chan. “Listen, I owe you a lot. I’m thanking you for what you’ve done. You ain’t involved in this, Chan. Just show me where to go. If I make it back out, maybe there’s someplace we could try and meet up.”

“That will not be necessary,” Chan said. “I will show you the place myself.”

“I don’t want you doing that. It isn’t your concern.”

“This is so,” Chan said. “And I assure you I have made a solemn vow. In the future, I will be most careful in the matter of choosing friends. It is clear that I lack understanding in such things.”

H
owie parted the ferns carefully and looked out across the clearing. The fence was a little higher, and the guards seemed somewhat more alert; other than that, the area looked no different from many others he had seen at High Sequoia. Chan was right. Lawrence didn’t need to make a big fuss about the place. No one was going to walk up there and ask what was going on inside.

“There’s just two guards, Howie said. “That won’t be a problem. Inside’s where I’ll likely have trouble.”

“Your reasoning is astute,” Chan said dryly. “Again, if you insist on this folly, I suggest you wait until dark. Noon is a very bad time to enter a place you have never been before.”

“It’s got to be now. They got people out lookin’ for us everywhere but here.”

Howie looked curiously at Chan’s peculiar weapon. Chan handed it over, and Howie hefted it in his hand.

“This thing’s a wonder,” Howie said. “That business on the end’s what keeps it from making noise?”

“It is called a ‘quieter.’ It muffles the sound of firing.”

“Brother Michael had one like yours. When he used it, I didn’t hear a thing. Those bastards know their arms, you got to give ’em that.”

Chan looked appalled. “This is
not
an achievement of the Churchers,” he said stiffly. “We sold it to them. It is Chinese.”

“Yeah, well, it’s some fine gadget,” Howie said. “You don’t mind, I’d like the loan of it awhile.”

“I will expect you to bring it back intact,” Chan said. His eyes, though, told Howie that Chan never expected to see the weapon again.

G
etting in would be easy. Getting back out again was something else, and there was no use thinking on that. Chan had gotten them clear of the main compound, leading Howie through a branch of the ancient tunnels that took them several hundred yards from the base of the giant tree. Maybe there was another path through the tunnel, one that would take them even farther? No, Chan said; if there was, no such route appeared on his map. They would have to find another way.

Howie studied the gate across the clearing. There might be a better way, another entrance somewhere, one considerably less exposed. He thrust the thought aside. There was no time for that. He’d have to backtrack a good half mile through the trees to avoid the clearing, and come upon the compound from the east, the only direction that offered cover. A frontal approach was clearly the only way. And that meant taking out the two guards.

Howie had few qualms about that. The two Brothers had to be a part of Lawrence’s trusted inner circle. They knew what was going on inside. As far as Howie was concerned, that stripped them of their innocence. Hell, no one was innocent at High Sequoia, he decided, whether he knew what was happening or not.

He listened once more for sounds of pursuit. Nothing. Only the distant rush of wind in the branches over-head. The guards were less than twenty yards away. A pistol was always a risk at any distance past a few feet, and Howie was concerned with the unwieldy quieter on the barrel. Standing slowly, he held the weapon steady in both hands, let out a breath, and squeezed of his shot.

The revolver made a soft, barely perceptible sound. The first guard dropped on his face. His friend looked surprised. Setting his rifle aside, he kneeled down for a look. Howie shot him in the back of the head.

Racing across the clearing, he dragged the two Churchers to a thick stand of greenery by the fence. The first man he’d shot was bleeding badly. A red stain spread across his robe. Howie took the second guard’s garment and slipped it on, slung one of the rifles across his shoulder, and jammed the pistol in his belt out of sight. The robe would help some, but not much. Everyone inside would know everyone else. Howie worried about the gate; the first person who came in or out would see the guards were gone. But there was nothing he could do about that. Taking a deep breath, he opened the gate and walked into the compound.

The grounds were smaller than he had imagined. There was a long barracks-type building to the left, the back set close to the fence, and another smaller building to the right. And past that, at the far end of the fenced area, a covered shed that had to hold stock.

Howie ducked quickly to the left, into the narrow aisle between the rear of the larger building and the fence. This operation was nothing like Silver Island. One hurried glance told him that. It was smaller, with only limited facilities, a single pen for meat. The
people
, the ones they’d use to strengthen the herd with new blood, were likely housed in the barracks—breeder males, pregnant mothers, and the offspring of people and meat. Maybe the smaller building was used by the Churcher personnel who worked in the area.

Howie felt a sudden surge of anger. He had a good idea what this facility was for. Chan’s guess was close; it was a model for setting up larger operations like Silver Island. Throughout the country, and in Asia as well, if the Chinese delegation had their way. And High Sequoia would control the whole thing—the breeding, the trading, the great wealth of the herds. They would feed a hungry nation—on Lawrence’s terms. The nation would be grateful, and would likely never learn it was feeding upon itself.

H
owie stopped halfway down the narrow path. He had hoped for windows at the rear of the building. The back wall was bare. He would have to try the front, and risk being spotted by a Churcher. Cursing his luck, he turned and went back, out into the open, keeping his face averted from the compound itself.

Two Brothers came toward him from the right. They were deep in conversation, and neither looked up. Howie opened the first door he came to and closed it quickly behind him. There was a window on either side of the door; both of the windows were barred. Beds lined the walls. Sleeping quarters, then. The room was orderly and neat. Howie swallowed his anger. High Sequoia took good care of its breeding stock.

There was another door on the wall to the left. Howie felt a quick sense of relief. Good. Maybe there were interior doors all through the building. He wouldn’t have to go outside again.

Opening the door carefully, he peered through the crack. A naked, pregnant girl lay on a table, her arms strapped securely to her sides. Two Churchers, a man and a woman, bent over the girl’s swollen belly. The man heard Howie. He looked up, startled, and backed toward the outside door.

“Don’t!
” Howie said.

The man stopped. The woman started to scream. Howie took one step toward her and hit her hard with his open hand. The woman sank to the floor. The man cried out and bolted for the door. Howie cursed, jerked Chan’s pistol from his belt, and shot the man twice.

The outside door had a heavy metal bolt, and Howie slammed it tight. The girl on the table followed him with her eyes. Her slack, incurious expression told Howie she was stock. She lacked the capacity to wonder what was going on; she wouldn’t cry out, or do anything else.

There was a stack of sheeting on a shelf. Howie tore the cloth in strips and bound the Sister’s hands and an- Ides. He found a pitcher on a table and emptied it on her face. The women came to her senses at once, spitting water and kicking her legs. Howie straddled her and jammed his pistol in her mouth. The Sister’s eyes went wide with fear.

“You maybe got a girl here,” Howie said. “They’d have brought her from Silver Island. She’s people, not meat. If she’s here, you probably got her takin’ care of kids. That’s what they had her doin’ there. Her name’s Carolee, and she’d be about fifteen now. I’m going to let you talk. Try anything else and you’re dead.–

Howie drew the barrel from the Sister’s mouth. She made a face and worked her lips.

“There are—a couple of girls here. I don’t know any Carolee.” She gave Howie a haughty look. “We don’t give them any
names
.”

“Where would the girls be?”

“Two—two doors down. That’s where the children are. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Howie ignored the question. “What’s in the room next to this one?”

“We keep records in there. That’s all”

“How many people work in there?”

“One, I don’t know. I hope the Lord damns your soul for what you—”

Howie slapped the woman hard. The Sister groaned and sucked in a breath. Howie shoved a wad of cloth in her mouth and turned her roughly on her belly. He glanced at the girl on the table. She watched him with the same vacant stare.

Howie opened the door to the next room. There were shelves stacked high with papers. A man looked up from a desk.

“You want to live or not?” Howie said.

The man stared and nodded quickly.

Howie walked to him and slammed the barrel of the pistol down hard on his skull. The man sighed and relaxed.

Howie paused for a moment and felt through his pockets for Chan’s extra shells. Five. That would have to do. He reloaded the two empty chambers. He didn’t want to have to use the guard’s rifle. One shot would bring everyone in High Sequoia.

Howie looked at the door. All he had to do was walk in and he’d know. He wasn’t sure he could handle that at all, because he knew Chan was right. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was here, still alive after all this time. Lord, they’d slaughtered so many at Silver Island! She was dead and that was that. Only a damn fool would think any different. He didn’t have a sister anymore; Carolee Ryder was a thousand miles away, her bones picked clean on a patch of white rock. That was how it was, whether he wanted to see it or not.

A
nd when he opened the door she was there. The room was full of children, and she held a small boy in her arms. She looked up at Howie and smiled, and he saw it at once in the smile and in her eyes, saw his sister was gone, saw that Carolee had shut out all the hurt and the horror she had seen.

Howie wanted to cry out, release all the sorrow and anger in his heart, open the door and just stand there and kill every Churcher he could find. Only that wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change a thing. He could kill Harriver Mason a hundred times over and it wouldn’t bring her back. Nothing would do that. Nothing could make up for what they’d done.

“Hello,” said Carolee. “I don’t think I know you, do I?
You
haven’t been here before.”

Tears filled Howie’s good eye. She had to be fifteen, but she spoke like a well-mannered child.

“No, I—haven’t been here before,” Howie said. He choked on the words. God, she looked so much like Ma, the same corn-yellow hair, the fine blue eyes. She was a tall, full-figured girl, just as pretty as she could be, only that was all there was.

“Are you going to help with the children? Oh, I
hope
so. We can certainly use the help. What’s your name? I’m Carolee.”

“Carolee, I’m Howie.” He pulled up a chair and faced her, his hands on his knees. “Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember me at all?”

Carolee squinted her eyes in thought. “I don’t
think
so. I don’t guess. Oh, I’m so sorry about your eye. Did you hurt yourself bad?”

“No, I’m all right. I’m just fine. I—”

The door to the compound opened and Howie came to his feet, bringing the pistol out fast. A boy stopped in his tracks, stared at Howie, then looked at Carolee.

“Get in.” said. “Close that door!”

The boy did as he was told. He had sunburnt hair and dark eyes, and looked to be the same age as Carolee.

“Who are you?” the boy demanded. “What are you doing here? Carolee, you all right?”

“I’m
scared
, Tommy.” Carolee held the Child close to her breast and looked fearfully at Howie. “He’s not going to take the children, is he? I don’t want him doing that.”

“Now, everything’s fine,” the boy said. He patted Carolee on her shoulder and looked defiantly at Howie. “Mister, what the hell do you want?” He wasn’t afraid of the gun.

“You’re not one of them, are you?” Howie said. “What do you think? Look, you’ve got no right to—”

“My name’s Howie Ryder. She’s my sister.”

The boy looked stunned. “My God—!” He glanced at Carolee, then back to Howie. “What are you
doing
in here? You out of your mind, mister? If they find you, we’re all dead. Her too.”

“Nobody’s going to do any dying, ’less they’re wearing a goddam robe.” Howie waved his gun at the door. “Listen, I ain’t got time for talk. You know this place and I don’t. They got horses somewhere? I didn’t see any. Is there another way out besides the front?”

“There’s a gate out back. I think maybe there’s horses. Sometimes, anyway.” He looked at Howie. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m taking her out of here. Right now.”

The boy’s eyes went wide. “No, you can’t do that. She won’t—she can’t make it on the outside. She doesn’t
know
anything else. She’s got the children here. That’s all she has. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but dammit, look at her. You see how she is!”