River Runs Red (The Border Trilogy) (28 page)

“Nothing to it, Molly. Just crawl forward, and watch your head.”

“She’s cool,” Byrd said.

“Yeah, I’m c-cool.”

For about the millionth time, Wade regretted that she had been there for that first discussion of his suspicions, and especially regretted that she had trailed along. Risking Byrd’s life was bad enough, but at least Byrd was old enough to make that decision for himself. Molly had been driven by hero-worship of her older brother—and, Wade had to admit, maybe a little of him as well.

He followed her progress by the scuffling sounds she made through the passageway and by her labored, sniffly breathing. Soon her flailing hand swatted his leg, and he reached inside to help her out. “You’re through, Molly, that’s awesome!”

“Thanks,” she said softly, getting to her feet, balancing with the help of a hand on the rock wall. “Byrd’s turn now.”

Wade flashed the light down the passage again. “Byrd,” he said quietly. “Move it or lose it!”

“On the way,” Byrd said. He ducked into the opening as Wade thumbed the light off. He made a lot more noise crawling through than Molly had, and he swore a few times when he barked his knuckles or knees against the rock, but he emerged a few minutes later.

“I feel like he’s right behind me,” Byrd said when he gained his feet. “Like he was breathing on my neck in there.”

“He’s not that close,” Wade countered. “But we should get a move-on.”

“Roger that, good buddy.”

Wade beamed the waning light ahead of them, illuminating the way down a tunnel almost wide enough for the three of them side by side. It was probably eight feet high, the ceiling lost in shadow. It tapered again soon, and the first side tunnel entered from the left shortly after that.

They had barely entered it when they heard a scraping noise from right outside the cave opening. They froze.

“Okay, then,” Dad said. “At least y’all are makin’ this interesting. But it’s gettin’ late, so it’s time to wrap it up, children. You and me, we’re going to have us a good time now.”

THIRTY-ONE

“Come on,” Wade said. He played the pathetic flashlight around the tunnel so they’d all have a sense of its dimensions. “We’ve got to find a place to hide.”

“You think he can crawl through there?” Byrd asked.

“He’s a human cockroach, man. I wouldn’t bet against him.”

They rushed through the tunnel as fast as they dared. Where it curved slightly to the left, Wade risked a glance over his shoulder. He saw light flashing around on the far side of the passageway, some of it spilling through. The old man had already made it into their special cave.

“Faster,” Wade urged.

“Won’t do us any good if we clock ourselves on one of these walls or a low ceiling,” Byrd said.

“Maybe not, but I’d rather take my chances with that than get a bullet in the back.”

“Good point.”

Molly grabbed Byrd’s hand, and they picked up the pace. The flashlight flickered and died just after they rounded the bend. Wade smacked it to life again, but it was even fainter than before. Just a glowing bulb now, its beam hardly cut the blackness ahead.

“I hear you!” Dad shouted. “I’m right behind you!”

His voice bounced around the cavern walls, making it sound like he was all around them. Wade shivered. They couldn’t speed up any more—running in here
would
be suicidal. If his father started firing that gun, and the bullets ricocheted around like his voice did, they’d all be dead meat.

“We’ve got to hide Molly someplace safe,” he said.

“I want to stay with you guys!” Molly pleaded.

“It’s too dangerous,” Byrd said. “Wade’s right. We need to find someplace we can tuck you in, somewhere small so he won’t see you.”

“But, Byrd—”

“No buts,” Byrd snapped, sounding like every parent who had ever lived.

“Down here,” Wade said, drawing the other two into the side tunnel. It was narrower than the main one, tight enough that his shoulders bumped the sides. He tried to remember where it went, but he couldn’t. It either intersected another, slightly larger tunnel…or it didn’t. He drew a blank.

If it dead-ended, they were screwed.

A turn. Another turn, to the right this time.

And then a solid wall, slightly slick with moisture seeping from above. Wade shone the weak light around, felt the walls for hidden gaps.

Nothing.

Dead end.

“Byrd—”

Byrd had already sized things up. “Fuckin’ A, dude.”

“Now what?”

Byrd’s response was so immediate, his plan must already have been formulated. “Tell you what,” he said. “You keep Molly safe in here, and I’ll lead him on a wild-goose chase. He’ll never even see this passage.”

“But, Byrd—” Molly began.

He cut her off. “It’s the best way, Molly. One person can make better time than three, and he’ll never get near me.”

Wade put his right hand on the Molly’s shoulder. She was trembling, but she managed to keep the fear mostly out of her voice. “Okay,” she said.

Because Byrd said so,
Wade thought.
This girl will do anything her big brother tells her to.

“That’s a good girl, Molly.” He sounded like he was addressing a dog, but Molly’s tremors calmed slightly.

“I gotta go,” Byrd said. “Before he gets too far in.”

Wade was already concerned about this. He wanted to argue, didn’t want to see Byrd play hero, but arguing would take time they didn’t have. Instead, he handed Byrd the flashlight.

Anyway, Byrd wasn’t playing hero. He
was
a hero. It was as much a part of him as his brown hair or his crooked teeth or his raw vocabulary. Without another word, he slipped back out into the main tunnel—an action Wade would have found terrifying beyond belief.

Byrd probably did, too. But he did it anyway. To Wade, that was the definition of the word
hero
.

Wade stood in the dark, his right hand remaining on Molly’s shoulder in a way he hoped was comforting. The blackness surrounding them felt greasy and alive somehow, as if it contained a billion infinitesimal fingers and all of them brushed across Wade’s bare arms, neck, and face.

Beyond the narrow walls of this passage he heard Byrd’s voice. “Hey, you old fucker! You want a rematch? That what you’re lookin’ for?”

Wade tensed, expecting his father to answer with his gun. Instead, the old man said, “You’ll find out what I’m after when I take it out of your useless, dead hide.”

“Sounds kinky!” Byrd shot back.

Wade’s dad gave a low, unintelligible growl. From the sound of his footsteps, he was just passing their hiding place.

* * *

The rest of it, Wade only found out about later.

Byrd was willing to talk about it—desperate, in fact, to discuss it at length—for a few days. After that, he clammed up. No amount of prodding or prompting could get him to revisit the events of the next twenty minutes. Wade knew the story by then, so he didn’t need to hear it again, but there had been times over the years he had thought about some aspect of it and wanted to talk it over. Byrd was adamant, though.

Wade tried not to push him on it. Byrd proved himself that day. He had earned the right to reveal as much or as little as he wanted.

He had gone back into the main tunnel and waited near the next bend until he heard Wade’s father getting close. That was when he’d shouted out the taunt and started to run. Dad had increased his pace, too, dashing right past the side tunnel, flashlight bobbing as he ran, casting mad shadows down the tunnel.

Byrd used what little remained of the flashlight’s juice to keep from smashing face-first into one of the walls. He stuck to the big corridor at first, counting on its twists and bends to protect himself from Dad’s gun. He could hear the old man’s labored breathing, grunting as he raced through the unfamiliar tunnel, banging into the occasional wall.

Finally, Byrd came to a stretch he remembered being long and straight, with another extremely tight passage at the end of it. He didn’t want to be wedged in there trying to get through and have Wade’s father taking easy, carefully aimed shots at him. So when he reached the last side tunnel, he veered into it. Byrd figured it wouldn’t be hard for Dad to figure out where he had gone, so he shouted a curse as he made the turn, letting it trail off slowly.

He heard the old man pass the side tunnel, then quickly double back.

Now Byrd knew he was in a potentially tricky spot. He had no idea where he was going, or how long this side tunnel would continue. He had no weapon except a piece-of-shit flashlight that kept blinking out on him.

And behind him, coming up fast, was an insane, armed man who he was convinced had already murdered several boys around his age.

He did all that he could do, which was to keep going. The tunnel hardly had any straight parts at all, just one bend after another, dizzying at the speed he was trying to move, with bad light. He kept throwing out his left arm to fend off the walls.

Bouncing like a pinball, he discovered that this passage went on longer than he had dared hope, always sloping down, down beneath the earth, and angling toward the river. For all he knew, he had already passed under the river and was beneath Mexico now. He had definitely crossed a boundary and entered a frontier, although not the kind found on any map. Wade’s dad kept coming, but Byrd thought he had put a little more space between them on the tight turns. He started to feel better about his chances of evading the man. Sooner or later, the guy would tire of the chase, right? He’d turn around, wanting to get out of the caves before he was completely lost. He would realize that Wade would have to come home sometime, and he could take care of him then. He knew where Byrd and Molly lived, too.

It was, no doubt, wishful thinking.

Because the guy kept on coming, and Byrd was starting to feel winded, worn out, not sure he could go much longer.

And then the light finally went out altogether.

Byrd slapped it against his palm. When that didn’t work, he slapped it against the nearest rock wall. Shards of plastic and bits of light bulb sprayed all over the floor, crunching loudly when he stepped on them. He hung on to what remained of the shaft for some reason, and continued into the dark.

Except, he realized, the darkness wasn’t as total as he thought.

The last thing he saw before the light died was a wall blocking his path, a wall that would probably put an end to the whole chase. He hoped that Molly and Wade had already left the caves and were on their way—ideally, in Wade’s father’s truck—to get help.

Because he was up against it, for real and for good.

But after the light died and he smashed it into the wall, he discovered that he could see a little. There was something, some kind of glow, illuminating the tunnel ever so faintly.

Byrd hoped it wasn’t the gleam of Brent Scheiner’s light, filtering down to him.

He didn’t think so. Looking around for the source, he found a slender gap in what he had thought was a solid wall. The glow came from that, or more precisely
through
that.

He peered in, but couldn’t see anything through the narrow slice.

He didn’t know if he could make it through. There was light there, though, and he had run out of options on this side. He turned sideways, facing front so if Wade’s dad caught up to him, he wouldn’t have to see the bullet coming, and started in.

He scraped his temples and cheeks on the wall as he passed, leaving remnants of his skin behind. But the gap was slightly wider at the bottom, so he had room to move his legs, room to slide his hips and his chest and shoulders through.

The farther he went, the brighter the glow became.

He could hear Wade’s father getting closer so he quickened his pace, forcing himself through the crack, but it was going to take as long as it took—rushing it would only get him stuck.

Which would get him dead.

Imagining himself as a slice of toast buttered on both sides, he continued easing through the gap, into the slowly brightening glow.

And then he was out…

He felt like he had died and gone to heaven, or maybe hit his head harder than he thought and had begun to hallucinate.

He had entered a kind of chamber. The ceiling and far walls were lost in shadow. What he could see, and in considerable detail, were dozens of stalactites and stalagmites, although he couldn’t remember which was which. Some joined to form solid columns from the floor up beyond where the glow reached. There were also much skinnier tubes, hundreds of them, and other formations—big flattened surfaces and swirls and a bewildering array of colors.

Everything was illuminated by a pool of water, maybe ten or twelve feet in diameter, almost perfectly circular, which glowed with some freakish internal light. The stench—something like ammonia mixed with methane and sulfur that burned his nose when he breathed it in too deeply—came from the water.