36. Knox
THIRTY-SIX
KNOX
When I was seven, I saw the lava beds in Hawaii with my family. I thought it was cool then, an endless desert of rolling black hills. But this—this is the last thing I want to see in Texas. Despite the markings on the map, the terrain is more unsteady than I’d hoped.
The horses have been on high alert since Amarillo; their eyes and ears haven’t stopped shifting over the unstable terrain. The plains are a tapestry of scorched earth, lava rivers, and heat waves. It’s impossible to determine which parts of the lava beds are stable or ready to bubble up again. One minute, the air is noxious. The next, it’s thick with sulfur. And then randomly, it smells like nothing at all. It seems like if the horses step wrong the ground shakes.
We give the fissures as much berth as possible, but soon, the main road will be our only option.
“It’s like a quilt of fire scars,” Ava murmurs.
A gaseous hiss fills the stillness and Loca spooks. It’s second nature for me to reach for her reins, but Ava is learning quickly. Ava might grip the saddle horn like it’s all that’s keeping her in the seat, but she emanates calmness, soothing Loca with slow, reassuring movements.
“You’re good with her, you know?”
With an exaggerated harrumph, Ava wipes her palm on her thigh, and Loca falls into step behind me again.
“I might even go so far as to say you’re getting used to riding.”
“Ha. It doesn’t feel like I’m riding so much as I’m holding on for dear life.”
I shake my head because she doesn’t give herself enough credit. “This is some sketchy shit, and you’re riding like a pro.”
Ava shrugs. “I had a decent teacher.”
“ Decent ?” I scoff, repositioning my ball cap on my head. “You wound me.”
Ava looks momentarily victorious, then wiggles around in the saddle, grimacing.
“You okay? I told you, riding all day after last night?—”
“Yep,” she grits out, forcing a smile. “Right as rain.”
I grin. “Liar.”
Ava laughs despite herself and rests the reins on Loca’s mane, stretching out her fingers. “I’ll take saddle sores and hand cramps over being dead any day.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that quite yet,” I grumble. “And I promise, it will hurt more if you stop riding and have to start again than if we just keep going.”
Ava heaves a sigh. “I figured as much.” She readjusts herself in the saddle again. “At least my ass is numb. I can’t really feel the pain anymore.”
I try not to find too much amusement in her predicament and take a drink of water from my canteen. We ride for another couple of hours, and the horses ease into the changing landscape. Loca’s hyperawareness tapers to intermittent curiosity, and Rooster drags his hooves at a bored pace. The day is cool, the breeze slightly chilling, and in a matter of hours, night will set in and we’ll need to find a place to set up camp.
“Knox.”
I follow Ava’s gaze up a dirt road. There’s a farmhouse at the end of it, complete with a hay barn, an old windmill, and a dozen warning signs posted on the gate.
Do not enter.
Trespassers will be shot on sight.
Private road.
Keep out.
No trespassing.
Beware of dog.
Private property.
“That’s...slightly terrifying,” Ava mutters.
I glance at the shotgun strapped behind her, ensuring it hasn’t miraculously disappeared since last I checked. Whether by coincidence or design, the people we saw in Amarillo might be heading this way at some point, and I haven’t stopped bracing myself for whatever might happen between now and nightfall. “Let’s keep moving,” I tell her, and I click Rooster forward.
We continue on, veering off the frontage road to keep as much distance as we can from a fissure in the ground.
By the time we’re a few miles outside the small town of Cactus, the sky is darkening and the brisk afternoon has dropped to a pink-nose sort of cold. With the ash clouds blotting out the sun, the world looks and feels almost frozen. Ava zips her vest up to cover her neck.
“Is that a pond?”
I squint through a copse of oak trees. “I think so.” We pass a rotted pump house that’s been neglected for what looks like the better part of a decade and continue toward the trees.
The pond is bigger than I expected when it finally comes into view, and I pull Rooster to a stop between two wild oaks. “This might be the best place we’ll find to set up camp tonight. We can hunker down in the trees. We don’t know what the water situation will be like in Cactus, assuming it’s there at all, and we only have an hour until it’s full dark.”
Ava scans the distant mountains as if they hold the answers. “Our tent and the horses would be relatively hidden,” she agrees, and she clicks Loca toward the water for a much-needed drink. Rooster and I follow.
“A break and water?” Ava sighs with relief. “I consider this a win.”
Lucy overtakes us on the path as she runs for the pond. She stops at the edge and takes a step back, her ears perked and head tilted in caution.
I groan inwardly and climb down, leading Rooster a few steps closer. “Shit.” Exhaling, I rock back on my heels and run my hand down my face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ava dismounts and inches closer. The horses’ heads hang low and curious as they sniff the water, but they lean away like they know better—like they can smell the death.
The water’s surface is dotted with dead fish.
Ava hands me Loca’s reins and crouches at the water’s edge, grimacing as she steadies herself on sore legs. Her ponytail falls over her shoulder as she leans forward, and reaching out, she holds her hand above the water. Her eyes snap to me. “It’s warm.”
“I figured.” I consider how many lava tunnels run beneath us and peer back in the direction we came.
“Do we keep riding, then?” Ava pulls her hat off and rubs her brow.
“I think we have to.” I hand her reins back and climb into Rooster’s saddle again. “And let’s hope we find some decent water in Cactus. Otherwise, our rations will be dismal tomorrow?—”
“And we still have at least a day of riding to get through,” she finishes for me.
I nod, but if water is unsafe here, I have little hope it will be any better in Cactus, especially if everyone uses well or reservoir water.
Ava tugs her hat on again. “Then we better go before I can’t get back in my saddle.” She winces as she lugs her leg over Loca’s back.
The pond starts gurgling first, and then hissing air echoes around us. The ground rumbles and shakes, and Rooster rears up. My body jolts back. The gray sky whips past me, and the sense I’m falling is the last thing I remember.