Chapter 6
Sully stilled, his heart thudding. He had so many questions.
He opened his mouth to respond, when a gunshot rang out.
He ducked and landed on the ground beside Belle the same time Elena’s boots hit the wooded undergrowth, and she scooted under Harley to join him.
They crouched between the two horses, using them as cover.
“Where’d that come from?” she whispered.
“Somewhere close to where we just were, I think.”
“They weren’t shooting at us.” Her frown deepened. “Could have been a rabbit or something to take back to cook, I suppose.”
“I’d like to know for sure.”
“I would too.” She studied him. “I also want to make sure I didn’t just get that poor girl into trouble. If she was trying to leave and they know who she is, it will be rough going for her. Brutal.”
“And I need to investigate that gunshot,” Sully said. “If you want to wait here with the horses—”
“Not a chance.”
“I figured.” Sully checked his weapon. “I’ll follow you?”
“If you’re all right with that.”
“These are your stomping grounds. You know what you’re doing and where you’re going. Lead on.”
She shot him a tight smile and secured her horse. Sully did the same. Belle huffed and shifted, probably sensing the tension. He stroked her muzzle and whispered reassurances, then turned to Elena, who crouched lower.
“Step where I step,” she said. “I don’t want any noise to signal we’re still here.”
“Got it.” He glanced up. The sky had darkened with clouds, indicating a coming storm. Awesome. Maybe this was all just an innocent hunter and they could head back to the ranch before the bottom fell out.
Elena moved at one with nature, her booted feet finding the open areas, avoiding anything that might snap under her sole. Sully did the same, maintaining the spacing she established between them. It seemed like she walked forever, but a glance at his phone said only ten minutes had passed.
And then he smelled smoke.
Elena pulled up short and looked to her left. She smelled it too. It gave him some satisfaction to think he noticed it first even if it was by only a split second. “This way,” she whispered. He followed her until she held up a hand and stopped to crouch.
He knelt beside her. “What is it?” he asked, his voice so low he wondered if she could hear it.
“They’re just over that ridge. It’s an area where Mom and Dad used to go to build a fire and do their arguing. It’s also the place where the leaders hold meetings they don’t want to chance the others overhearing. It’s a secret place, known only by the select few.”
“But you know about it.”
“Because I followed Mom and Dad out here that night.”
Right. “Are there guards?”
“At least two, could be more. But I know where they were. They had three stations. One was right there at the meeting area. There are stacks and stacks of chopped logs for the fire.” She scowled at him. “I used to hate that chore.”
“They made you chop wood?”
“Yep. Everyone had to. They wouldn’t let us haul it to the secret place, but we sure had to chop it.”
“Yuck.”
“For sure.” She wound her way farther, and he was careful to place his footsteps in hers.
“Every so often they patrol, but I can’t think of any time they had to kick someone off the property.
At least not when I was here.” She shrugged.
“This is private property and it’s marked well.
No one bothers them, and most of the time, they really don’t bother anyone else. ”
“Which probably made it easy for you to sneak up and listen.”
“Yes. And the fact that I had already learned my lessons well in avoiding detection.”
“Start you out young?”
“Very.” She placed a finger to her lips and motioned him to follow once more. He did, and she led him to a copse of trees that created a natural V, shaped by the trunks. “We can watch from here,” she whispered.
Sully noted the details. At the center was a large area cleared for the meeting. Trees and forest surrounded them, of course, and it looked like any regular campsite. It was the three guard stations that killed the vibe of fun and games.
Vehicles were parked in the far area. Another clearing with a dirt road that led . . . out?
An older person built a fire in the huge stone firepit smack in the middle. Flames danced and crackled, putting off warmth that pulled the attendees closer.
Sully pulled out his compact binoculars and adjusted the focus.
He counted ten people settling around the fire onto the tree trunk stools.
Most wore the practical, weathered clothing of the preppers—canvas pants, flannel layers, hunting vests.
But two figures stood out. “They don’t belong there,” he murmured.
He passed the binoculars to Elena. “You see them?”
She peered through the eyepiece, her body tensing beside him. “They’re from the city for sure. Expensive clothes. And I see a watch that probably costs more than everything I own.”
“Check out the vehicles.”
“A black SUV. Definitely not a prepper ride.”
Sully rubbed a hand over his chin. “I need to get closer. I want to hear what they’re saying. We can use the woodpile wall as cover.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s too close, and if someone is up in the lookout station, it’s possible he’ll see us approaching.” She bit her lip, and he could almost see her brain working. “I may have another idea.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s a drainage culvert that runs under the western edge of the compound. They built over it because it rarely floods this high up. It’s possible we might be able to use it to get within fifty yards of them. And no guards would be able to spot us coming for sure.”
Walk—or most likely, crawl—through a circular cement tunnel? That sounded fun. He swallowed his groan, took another look, and decided she was probably right. Rats. “It’s worth a try, I guess. Go for it.”
They backtracked, then curved farther north before heading west. The forest grew denser, and Elena moved with increasing caution, stopping every so often to listen.
Twice she changed direction with no explanation and Sully followed without question.
She knew this place. She knew the people. He didn’t.
After ten minutes of methodical progress, she stopped at a depression in the ground partially obscured by thick undergrowth. “Here,” she whispered.
He dropped beside her to help shove away the branches and everything else on top of the concrete opening.
“Hope you’re not claustrophobic,” she said.
“I’ve been in worse places.” He took another look. Actually, that might be a slight exaggeration.
“I’ll go first,” she said.
“Right.”
She turned on her phone light, dropped to her knees, and started crawling.
He shuddered but did the same. As soon as the concrete mouth swallowed him, he wanted to back out. But his own phone light showed her scrambling forward.
“Ugh,” he muttered, wetness seeping into the knees of his pants. “Ugh, ugh, ugh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m right behind you.”
A sound reached him. Wait a minute. Was she—“Did you just laugh?”
“Never.”
“Liar,” he muttered. He hated this kind of thing. Loathed it. But he wasn’t about to let her go by herself. He sucked in a fortifying breath and pushed on.
The culvert smelled of damp earth and rotting vegetation. Twice they had to stop to shove aside debris—branches and stones that had washed in during previous storms.
He focused on Elena’s steady movement ahead of him, trying not to hyperventilate. Okay, he might be a tad claustrophobic.
Ignore it. Keep going. Don’t be a wimp.
After what seemed like two eternities, she stopped and Sully froze too, listening. Above them, the muffled sound of footsteps reached him. Someone walking past the culvert’s path. They waited in silence until the sound faded, then continued on.
Sully hated to admit he needed to get out before he suffocated. Mentally, he knew he had plenty of air, but he was also keenly aware of being underground. Not deep, but still . . . underground. He definitely did not like this. At all.
The upward angle of the culvert alerted him that they were almost through and finally—thank you, Jesus—he could see the faint glow of cloud-filtered sunlight trickling down. Elena shut off her light and he did as well.
She paused at the opening that was partially obscured by debris and stayed still, her whole body vibrating with a tension he could feel. He didn’t dare say anything. Not until she did. She finally moved, clearing branches and rotted leaves.
And . . . was that a dead rat she—oh gross.
He swallowed hard. Wimp, wimp, wimp. He’d grown up on the Sullivan ranch, but he didn’t do dead rodents.
Or live ones for that matter. No rats, no snakes, no mice, no voles.
He didn’t even care for squirrels all that much.
But nothing seemed to faze Elena. Not even a dead rat that she moved with her hand. Granted it was a gloved hand, but . . .
Gag.
He focused on the woman, watching as she slipped through the newly cleared opening without making a sound. He started to follow, but she held up a hand. He waited again while she made the opening bigger to allow him to get out as quietly as she did.
When he was back in fresh air, he drew in a lungful, but his brief moment of relief morphed into concern at their exposed position.
The central clearing with the blazing fire lay just beyond.
Clouds still crowded the sky, but it was daylight with no cover of darkness to help hide them.
However, with the sparse line of trees and undergrowth, the position was perfect—close enough to see and, hopefully, to hear.
And even though the branches were stripped of leaves that would have helped cover them, they were thick enough that they were out of sight of the watchtowers.
As long as they stayed low and didn’t sneeze or cough or anything else, they should be fine.
He could only pray those weren’t famous last words.
Voices drifted toward them—fragments of conversation carried on the frigid breeze.