Nowhere to Run

The arrangement of the goggle-eyes behind him was interesting. Campbell rode erect and invisible in his saddle, and his eyes were level with Farkus. Capellen, though, slumped forward head down and moaning, goggles askew and leaking green ambient light.

AS THEY RODE, Farkus could see Parnell consulting his equipment. Based on the reading of his electronics, Parnell would subtly shift direction. The others would adjust as well. Farkus simply trusted his horse to want to stay with the others. He was grateful horses were such needy and social creatures, and glad he wasn’t riding a cat.

Parnell said, “They’re on the move.”

“Which way?” Smith asked.

“Away from us. And they’re moving at a pretty good clip.”

Said Smith, “I’m surprised they’re moving at night. Do you think they know we’re coming?”

“Who knows what they’re doing or why?”

“Those guys have always been unpredictable,” Campbell said from behind Farkus. “They’ve adapted well.”

Okay, something new, Farkus thought. They know their targets pretty well.

Parnell said, “Not well enough to turn off the sat phone they took off that game warden.”

Ah, Farkus thought, that’s what he’s tracking.

“Is the signal still strong?” Smith asked.

“Strong enough. We’ve closed within three miles and we seem to be holding at that distance as they move. Those guys can cover a lot of ground, as we know.”

So, Farkus thought, we’re after the Brothers Grim after all. But why?

“Hold it,” Farkus said. “If it’s just a matter of tracking these guys down through their sat phone, why couldn’t the sheriff and his boys find ’em?”

Said Parnell, “Because the brothers didn’t turn it on until just a day or so ago. They’re smart, those bastards.”

FARKUS HAD GOT USED to his own odor when a stronger and more pungent smell wafted through the trees. Parnell and Smith pulled their horses up short and the fat horse followed suit.

“What is that?” Smith asked.

“Something dead,” Parnell said.

“This way,” Campbell said, peeling off from the line of horses and riding into the trees to his right. “Stay here, Mike,” he said to his sick companion. “No reason to get any sicker smelling this than you already are.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Farkus volunteered.

“Nice try,” Smith sighed, and reached out and slapped the back of Farkus’s head as he rode by. Farkus was heartened by the gesture. The slap wasn’t hard or mean-spirited. It’s what males did to each other to acknowledge that the other guy was sort of okay after all.

Stifling a smile in the dark and complimenting himself on his reliable charm, Farkus spurred the fat horse into the trees with the others.

The smell got stronger. Farkus winced and pulled his T-shirt collar up out of his shirt and tried to breathe through the fabric. It didn’t help.

Back on the trail, he heard Capellen cry out with a short, sharp yelp.

“Probably getting sick again,” Campbell said. “Poor guy.”

“HERE THEY ARE,” Smith said up ahead. “The game warden’s story checks out so far.”

“Here what is?” Farkus asked. “I can’t see anything, remember?”

“At least two dead horses,” Parnell said. “Maybe more. I can see skulls and ribs and leg bones, but it looks like the carcasses are cut up. Some of the bones are stripped clean of meat. They must have had to cut up the bodies to move them in here so the sheriff’s team wouldn’t find them. Since these guys were butchers, it probably wasn’t a big deal to cut the horses apart.”

Farkus could detect the smell of fresh soil mixed into the stench of decomposition. “Butchers?” he said. No one replied.

“And they buried them,” Smith said. “So they probably didn’t stink at the time those other guys were up here. But something’s been digging them up.”

Campbell said, “Probably a bear. They’ve got bears here—black and grizzly. Mountain lions, too. They’ve got lots of critters that like horsemeat.”

Farkus said, “Or wolves. The game warden said he saw wolves. Look around you, guys, do you see any wolves?” His voice was tight. He had a pathological fear of wolves that came from a dream he’d had when he was a small boy. In the dream, a pack of wolves dragged him down as he ran toward school and ate him. He’d never seen a live wolf before, and he didn’t want to see one now. Or, worse, to not see a wolf sneaking up on him in the dark. He tried to make his eyes bigger so he could see into the trees around him. He wished they had an extra set of night vision goggles, and he vowed to take Capellen’s if the sick man wouldn’t use them properly.

“Don’t panic,” Parnell said to Farkus. “I’d see ’em if they were here.”

“Whatever it was eating on this horse, it hasn’t gone far,” Smith said, shifting in his saddle. “The damage looks fresh.” Farkus saw the dull red orbs of Smith’s goggles sweep past him as the man looked around.

“Let’s get back,” Parnell said. “And see how Capellen is doing.”

“That’s a good idea,” Farkus said.

“DAMN,” CAMPBELL SAID as they walked their horses through the trees back to the trail, “Capellen fell out of