Gone to Ground (16 page)

Her question was met with silence, and Maggie thought that he would shut her out and refuse to answer her. After a pause, however, he began to speak, quietly, head bent, as though he were talking to the dog lying at their feet on the cool stone floor.

“It was time for the fall wagon to go out. When we gather and work the cows and wean the calves?” Maggie nodded, understanding his terms. He’d talked before of the wagons when the cowboys went out as they had for over a hundred years, and performed those tasks needed to keep the cattle healthy and producing for another year.

“That year the wagon boss and the jigger boss had decided that Jason and I could go along, at least when they were nearby the camp. It was the first year we were allowed to go and we were so excited, it’s hard to describe. The wagons hold a lot of tradition. This ranch actually still had the old chuck wagon that was used to carry the food, pots and pans, as well as bedrolls and teepees back before automobiles. Our wagon had been on the ranch for nearly a hundred years and kept in perfect condition. We didn’t use it as an actual chuck wagon anymore. Pickups are handier.” O’Reilly smiled at the memory.

“That first morning we got up with the rest of the crew and helped hold the ropes around the remuda. You know, the horses? See, there aren’t a lot of small corrals in some of those places, and most of the ranch horses aren’t exactly walk out and catch types. So the cowboys stretch out their ropes and make a temporary pen to hold the horses in. Then each cowboy calls out his mount for the day and the jigger boss ropes it and brings it out to him.

“Neither Jason nor I had more than one horse. We were going to only be there for the day or two it took them to work our pastures, but we still got to participate and our Dad was watching, proud as all get out, though he was treating us like he would any other cowboy and giving us the rough side of his tongue if we screwed up.”

Maggie sat patiently, listening quietly to the story, nodding occasionally. There had been times in the past where O’Reilly talked about life on the ranch, so she was familiar with some of the terms he was using. Her mind, always ready to take in more information and file it away for future use on articles, painted a picture of cowboys, holding ropes around a milling group of horses, while one man, dressed in spurs, chaps and hat swung a loop out and over a horse’s neck.

“The cowboss had hired a couple of new cowboys, most of them good, experienced men. But one of these guys was a real gunsel, no experience or sense whatsoever, Tompkins, the owner, wanted him because he was some cousin of a cousin, going through some rough times. Tompkins thought it would be good for him.”

“A gunsel is like a city slicker?” Maggie asked, clarifying the new term in her mind.

“Yeah, someone with no experience. You might call him a ‘dude,’ or a ‘greenhorn.’ It’s usually not a good term to be slapped with, sort of used in derision.”

“So, Mark and I are gunsels?”

O’Reilly laughed, the lowering storm cloud of expressions that had settled on his face as he told this story suddenly lightening. “Oh, yeah. You two couldn’t go much farther in that direction. But, like I said, it was usually not a polite term. Though, of course, most died-in-the-wool cowboys tended to look down on anyone who wasn’t born in spurs, with a rope in his hands.”

“Anyway, my dad and this gunsel crossed paths several times during the day. This idiot wasn’t much at taking direction from anyone, including Dad, the jigger or the cowboss. Only reason he wasn’t fired on the spot was because the owner wanted him there. Me, I wish they’d taken his horse and sent him walking back to headquarters the first time he’d crossed with the jigger.”

“That night, while everyone was around the fire, eating dinner, the talk turned to this gunsel, and some of the stupid things he’d done during the day. The cowboys gave him a pretty bad time, and I guess my dad was one of the worst, ripping the guy for being a danger to horses, cattle, and cowboys alike, and how he should turn in his saddle and get himself a desk job so as he wouldn’t get anyone killed. This guy just sat there, steaming. Staring into his plate of stew and not even looking up at the rest of us laughing at him.

“That night, after everyone turned in, the calves we’d weaned during the day panicked. We’d left them in a small water trap, intending to drive them to a new pasture the next morning. All weaned calves spend some time yelling for their mothers, but this was different. We could hear them bellowing and milling around, and it sounded as if they were about to break through the fence. Everyone headed out to help get things under control. It didn’t take long, but when all was said and done we couldn’t find my dad anywhere. In fact, it didn’t appear he’d ever been in his bedroll.”

Maggie felt a growing sense of horror, sensing what was coming next.

“Finally we found his body, trampled into the dust and manure. Looked like he’d been run over by the cattle in the panic, though what he’d been doing there no one could figure, until they turned him over and found the knife sticking out of his chest. Got looking more, and realized that the gunsel was also nowhere to be found.”

Maggie was watching O’Reilly intently, seeing how much this memory was costing him, and appreciating his willingness to share. She was surprised at how far they had come in such a short time.

“That was really my first experience with the law enforcement, and seeing how they handled the investigation, talked with my mother and my brother and me, made me think I might like to be like them some day. When they caught the guy and he ended up standing trial and going to prison for murder, I was sure of it. Mom had to move into town to support Jason and me. I graduated high school and became a sheriff’s deputy and Jason went back to cowboying. Now they’re both gone with the flu.

“You haven’t been back to Eagle Camp since you moved into town after your father’s death?” Maggie asked

“No. Another family was assigned to it. I don’t remember their name. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, anyway. There’s stuff there that we need, and a few bad memories won’t kill me. Besides there are more good memories of living there then bad”

“Thank you for telling me about your dad. I know it wasn’t easy. I appreciate it,” Maggie said, reaching out toward O’Reilly’s arm where it rested on the table in front of him.

O’Reilly reached out and took her hand briefly, giving it a little shake. “Yeah, well, if we keep on like this, pretty soon you’ll know all the dirty little secrets that I’ve worked so hard to hide.” He gave her a rueful smile and released her hand, and rose from his chair. “It’s late, and Houdini will be waking us early in the morning so we’d better hit the sack. I’ll plan on heading out day after tomorrow if everything goes well. Maybe Mark can come with me. It’d be good for him to see some more of the country.”

Maggie looked up in surprise at O’Reilly’s suggestion, and a little flower of fear bloomed in her chest at the thought of letting Mark out of her sight. But she nodded, recognizing the wisdom of Mark becoming more familiar with the land around the canyon. If anything should happen to her and O’Reilly, it could be left to him to get Lindy and himself to safety.

O’Reilly looked down at her and grinned. “He’ll be safe.
I
won’t feed him to a mountain lion, no matter what he does, unlike some people I know,” referring back to the threat Maggie had made in the caves. Then he turned and headed for his room, leaving Maggie sitting at the table in the wavering light of the oil lamp, thinking.

Mark was burning with fever, thrashing and moaning, calling for Maggie. She reached for him, trying to calm his cries. She tried to lower his temperature by draping his body with wet towels with little luck. She didn’t know how long he could take this punishment. If she couldn’t lower his temperature soon, he wouldn’t make it. She needed antibiotics, aspirin, something more than wet towels. What was she thinking bringing him out here. If they were in an APZ he would have medical attention. He’d be in a hospital or a clinic or something. It was all her fault. All her fault. His rising cries meshed with her own, reaching a crescendo of tortured voices.

Maggie jerked awake, sitting up in bed, bathed in sweat. Her breath came in gasps and her throat ached as though she’d been screaming. There was no sound in the room, except for the soft breathing of Lindy and Gypsy.

Rising carefully from her bed, she walked out of her room and over to Mark’s door. She gently eased it open and listened. Nothing except his quiet breathing. No cries. No fever driven thrashing. It was a dream, she told herself. Only a dream.

She knew, though what they’d been forgetting in all of their plans. When she and Mark had escaped to the Hideaway, Maggie had brought a simple first aide kit. Bandages, antibiotic ointment, aspirin, those types of things. O’Reilly had also had a few medical supplies when he’d come, and had picked up a few more things at the ranch. But life at the camp was a bit hard on the fingers and knees and other body parts, and they’d gone through many of those supplies in the couple of months they’d been there. And there was no friendly neighborhood pharmacy at which to restock.

If they were going to be here as long as O’Reilly said they were, then they needed some serious medical supplies. Ones that would keep as long as possible. And they needed books, or some other type of information on how to treat basic illnesses.

O’Reilly wouldn’t find those things at Eagle Camp. They were going to have to get to some type of store before they all fell to those annihilation teams O’Reilly had spoken about. It would be dangerous. It would mean going back toward one or another of the APZs, but she didn’t see a choice.

Maggie shivered in spite of the warm night air. She refused to believe that the dream was a premonition, but it was so real. They had to get prepared. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood outside Mark’s door, head bowed, contemplating their options.

A sudden flutter at the window announced the arrival of their feathered alarm clock. Before she could react, a crow split the dark predawn sky, heralding a new day.

19

The monsoons were coming. Christina could feel it in the air; the growing heaviness as the humidity built, day by day. In the afternoons she could see clouds building over the distant mountains, hear rumbling from far away and see flashes of
light, but no drops of rain speckled the dust on the balcony outside Christina’s window.

The heat and humidity were oppressive and as the week progressed she began to feel a growing agitation. She wondered if she was making the right decision, or if she would be placing her brothers in danger for no reason.
No,
she kept telling herself,
we can’t stay here. Dad wouldn’t want us here.

In fact, the ease with which her plans were coming together almost seemed to argue that there was a higher power watching over them. In the past week Christina had been afforded several choice opportunities to explore the kitchens on her own after her cleaning chores in the dining room were completed. On these occasions she’d managed to secure several large bags of jerky, boxes of granola bars, several boxes of raisins, and, miracle of miracles, fifteen packets of freeze dried entrees, the type people took camping. These must have been part of a stash brought in when teams cleared out area houses, since there weren’t many, but they were perfect for Christina’s needs.

Ryan and Nick had also been busy, getting lucky enough to find an unattended maintenance cart with flashlights, duct tape and several tarps. They’d quickly helped themselves, stashing the items under their beds in their room.

Every afternoon the three met at the far side of the sand pit and reviewed their progress over a wide variety of sand sculptures. The caregivers were so impressed with the children’s structures that they started hanging around while the Christina and her brothers were in the sand, making it difficult to continue their planning. In a way, thought Christina, it was funny. They were building the sand castles to avoid suspicion and wound up attracting even more attention than they might have if they’d snuck off into a back corner and spent the entire time whispering among themselves.

Regardless of the interest their castles generated, however, they still managed to find enough time to compare notes.

The only thing the three were missing was a solid plan on how to make it out of the Nursery, through the streets of the APZ, past the barriers and into the open land. The most difficult part, as far as Christina could see, being the escape from the Nursery with all the supplies they’d collected.

The entry way for the hotel wasn’t guarded. Who would need to guard a nursery for children? But there were cameras, as O’Reilly had told her, and there were always caregivers about.

On one visit while Christina was in isolation and when O’Reilly had been in an especially talkative mood, he’d told her that all the adult members of the APZ were given jobs upon entry and registration. The disaster scientists like her dad had said that standing around feeling helpless was a sure moral buster. That’s one thing the government had gotten right. Giving the people a meaningful occupation helped them focus on the positive aspects of helping others, and aided in the survival of the social structure.

Because of this policy, however, Christina had a higher number of adults to deal with than might normally be found in an orphanage facility and figuring out a way to avoid these well meaning individuals was a challenge that she had not yet conquered. She was positive it could be done, but no amount of brainstorming with Nick and Ryan had struck upon a feasible plan.

The biggest challenge in getting out of the Nursery was the need to get the backpacks, blankets and other supplies out as well. She was pretty sure that if they waited for times when the caregivers were exceptionally busy, the children could get themselves out, but they wouldn’t get far if they didn’t have the things they’d collected.

After talking more with her brothers Christina decided that the only way to handle the problem was to somehow get their packs out and hidden within easy access. Then later, the three could grab opportunities to sneak out, retrieve the packs and make good their escape.

If the children tried to walk out with the packs, they would draw much more attention than if they took the packs out one by one, and secreted them in some nearby spot. Of course, they would probably draw a lot of attention even with just one pack, and if a caregiver stopped them and searched the bag their whole plan would be discovered. She couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse to give someone as to why she had a backpack filled with food and clothes and with a bedroll tied on the bottom. She had a pretty good opinion of her ability to come up with stories, but she was sure that one was beyond even her.

Christina and her brothers talked whenever possible, but none of the three could come up with a solution to the problem until an unexpected ally emerged one afternoon about a week after she’d secured the map and begun meeting with her brothers.

Christina completed her dinner chores and headed back to her room in the Nursery with the problem of how to sneak their backpacks out of the hotel dancing through her mind. She was positive that once they’d gotten outside with their supplies they could make it through Laughlin. It would probably have to be done at night, but she was convinced that it could be accomplished.

She was deep into this distracted state when she opened the door to her room and entered to find a scene so unexpected that it took her a moment to realize what she was looking at, and what it could mean to her and her plans.

Alysa, Christina’s roommate, was standing next to Christina’s bed, vacuum humming nearby. On the bed in front of her was Christina’s backpack, unzipped, clothing and food packets overflowing onto the eye-searing blue, gold and purple bedspread.

At the sound of the opening door, Alysa jerked upright and her head snapped around so that she was looking at Christina’s surprised face.

“Wh... wha... what are you doing with my pack?” Christina stammered, then more demanding, “Who said you could get into my stuff?”

Simultaneously Alysa blurted out, “You’re running away, aren’t you? Where are you going?”

Both girls ground to a halt and stood, staring at one another; intense blue eyes meeting dark brown. Belatedly Christina realized that the door into the hallway was still open, and anyone passing would have an excellent view of her backpack, complete with stolen food items cascading out of it. If that didn’t advertise her intention of making a run for it, nothing would.

Quickly she stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her. She then turned to face Alysa again, a storm of confused thoughts whirling around in her mind.
What do I do now? How do I convince her not to turn us in? Oh, my god, I don’t want to go back into isolation. I can’t!
Christina started to open her mouth to say something, anything, but the look in Alysa’s eyes stole the words before they were uttered.

Alysa’s bottomless dark brown eyes were wide and intense with shock, but also with an emotion that Christina couldn’t identify. Keeping her voice low, so that no one passing in the hall could hear, Alysa repeated her last question.

“Where are you going with all these things? You
must
be running away, but where to?”

Christina’s tongue thawed, and she asked a question of her own, softly, vehemently. “What were you doing under my bed?”

Alysa ducked her head briefly, as though embarrassed, but then lifted it again, and that same intense emotion in her eyes grabbed Christina, holding her captive. “I’m on room cleaning duty. You know that. I was vacuuming our room and when I was sweeping under the edge of your bed the vacuum caught the shoulder strap of your pack. When I pulled, it hauled the backpack out with it.” She continued to watch Christina intently.

“I’m sorry I snooped. I know I shouldn’t have. But, where are you going and... and...
can I come
?”

Christina was taken aback at Alysa’s question. It was so unexpected. She’d considered Alysa completely indoctrinated into the dogma being taught at the APZ’s school. In fact, Christina had decided a while ago that they’d made Alysa her roommate because she so religiously quoted the lessons being programmed into the children of the Nursery. That it was “dangerous outside the APZ.” That the “only way to stay safe and healthy was to live within these new confines.” That the “virus and the weather related disasters were a result of man’s tampering and their disregard for the balance of nature.”

True, a few times, as on the river outing, Christina had caught a glimpse of another Alysa. But it was elusive and Christina had learned little about the dark skinned, dark haired girl’s life before the flu and the deaths of her parents resulted in her being brought to the APZ.

Now Christina found herself faced with a dilemma. Trust Alysa and take her with them, or try to pawn her off with a story and hope she didn’t tell the authorities before Christina and her brothers could make good their escape.

The undefined expression burning in Alysa’s eyes decided Christina.

“I’m taking my brothers and getting out of this place. I know about a hideaway, quite a ways from here. It’s out in the country and no one can find us. We’d be safe. You can come with us if you promise not to tell.”

It may have been late afternoon, but it was as if the sun had come up a second time in one day within Alysa’s face. She seemed to glow from inside, her eyes radiating her joy.

“I don’t get it, though,” Christina added. “You always acted as though you wanted to be here in the APZ. You talked like you believed in the stuff they were telling us. I figured that you’d been assigned to be my roommate because you so totally believed in what they’re doing that you wouldn’t be ruined by someone like me.”

Alysa ducked her head again, not meeting Christina’s eyes for a moment, then looked up and Christina saw an expression of pain on her face. “I saw what they were doing to people who didn’t go along with the things they were teaching us. I saw what they did to you. I couldn’t do that. I would have gone nuts if I’d been treated the way you were and I figured that the best way to make sure that I didn’t get put into isolation, or treated how you, or some of the others were, was to be the best damned convert I could be.”

“But when I tried to talk to you about things - about what was happening here - you blew me off.” Christina said, confused. “I wouldn’t have turned you in. Why wouldn’t you talk with me, here in our room?”

“I
had
to make myself believe, don’t you see? I couldn’t take a chance that someone would walk in. Or that I might slip up outside the room and let them see. I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t take that chance.”

It was Christina’s turn to drop her head, and she contemplated the mottled blue and brown carpet at her feet for a minute before looking up to see Alysa studying her intently, waiting for what she would say next.

“Okay. I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Christina admitted. “What matters is that we understand each other now.” She smiled at Alysa tentatively and walked over to the bed, sat down next to her pack and started putting the supplies back where they belonged.

Alysa plopped on the bed on the other side of the pack, bouncing a little. “What’s your plan? When and how are we getting out of here?”

“I want to leave within the next week, but we’re having a bit of a problem figuring out how to get out of the Nursery without anyone catching us.”

Alysa nodded attentively.

“Our biggest problem,” Christina continued, “is getting the packs out of here. Ryan, Nick and I have gone over it again and again, but can’t come up with an idea. We need to get the packs out and hide them where we can get to them easily when we make our escape. But if we walk out the door with the packs, we’ll be stopped and the caregivers will figure out what we’re doing.”

“Maybe I know a way,” Alysa spoke up diffidently, as though afraid to tender her suggestion. “What if we take the packs out in the recycling bins, one at a time, and hide them near the big collection bins outside. I’m on the cleaning team. No one will question if I take a bag of garbage out.”

A frisson of excitement jolted through Christina. Alysa was right. She could walk right out with the packs hidden in the large wheeled recycling bins. The APZ worked hard to make sure that everything that could possibly be recycled was. Recycling was no longer an option used by only a few. It was now a way of life in the community. Food waste was put into a composting bin which was then collected and used by the agriculturalists, those people who’d been assigned to grow fresh food for the APZ. All other garbage was sorted into various recycling bins that were kept out behind the hotel. As a member of the cleaning team, Alysa wouldn’t be questioned if she was taking out a container of garbage for the composting bin, or recycling bins. Once behind the hotel she could remove the pack and secret it nearby, empty the bin and return to the hotel unquestioned. She could even go into the boys section and retrieve their packs without arousing suspicion since she was assigned to clean throughout the Nursery.

The girls’ eyes met and the level of excitement could no longer be contained. Christina threw herself across the backpack, hugging Alysa. Drawing back, Christina’s blue eyes sparkled. A huge grin split her face.

“That will work, I know it will. Oh, my god, we’re going to get out of here. We really are!” The words tumbled out of Christina’s mouth as she felt the huge weight of the dilemma fall away from her. “When can we start? I don’t want to wait much longer. The monsoons are coming and that will make traveling way more difficult.”

Alysa pondered the question for a moment. “Well, I can take your pack out now, today. After all, I’m supposed to be cleaning this room. It would be easy to get a bin. We need to wrap your pack in a tarp or bag or something, though, so that it doesn’t get wet if it rains.”