“If it’s okay with you,” Joe said, “we’ll come on up there and get those horses and saddle them up for you. You can ride down with us.”
Diane Shober stepped out of the cave opening. Her dark hair was tied into a ponytail. Her clothing was more formfitting than it had been before, and she looked younger than she had as Terri Wade, he thought.
She said, “What if I don’t come with you?”
Said Joe, “Let’s not find out. The truth is, this mountain will be crawling with law enforcement within the hour, I’d guess. We know where you are, and they’ll find you. They might not be as sympathetic as us.”
“Sympathetic?” Diane said, laughing bitterly. “Like you were sympathetic with Camish and Caleb there?”
Joe’s voice held when he said, “They gave us no choice. You’ll have to believe me when I tell you that. They must have decided they’d rather die up here than take their chances in court.”
Diane nodded. “Yes,” she said, “that’s what they told me they might have to do.”
“Then come with us,” Nate said. “We’ll do our best to protect you.”
Again, Diane laughed. It was a high, plaintive laugh. “You think you can protect me, do you? From the government? From the press? From my father and the kind of people he works with?”
Joe said nothing.
Diane said, “Have things changed, then? Can we be free people again? Is that what you’re saying?”
Nate said, “I know people who could help you. You aren’t the only one who’s gone underground.”
Diane studied Nate for a long time, as if trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she withdrew back into the cave. Joe waited without moving for five minutes, then turned to look at Nate. Nate looked back at him as if he were thinking the same thing.
“Damn,” Joe said, and quickly tied his horse to a stump. Nate did the same. They ran up the slope, breathing hard.
Joe threw himself through the opening. The sudden darkness made him blink. It took a moment for his eyes to begin to adjust. He and Nate stood in the entrance of a surprisingly large cavern. There were beds, a stove, handmade tables and chairs, fabric and hides on the interior walls. It smelled damp, but the food odors made it surprisingly comfortable. It reminded Joe of where Nate hid out, and he wondered how many others there were in the country in hiding. How many people had gone underground, as Nate said?
On the table was a knife.
Diane Shober looked up from where she was packing items into a large duffel bag. “What, did you think—I wasn’t coming out?”
Joe said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t live with the prospect of more blood on my hands.”
AS THEY RODE DOWN the mountain, Joe said to Diane, “I’m glad you’re coming down. I’ll be eternally grateful you saved my life, but this isn’t any way to live.”
Her mouth was tight, and she stared straight ahead. When she talked, her lips hardly moved. “It’s crude and lonely, I agree. Growing up, this is the last thing I would have wanted. But when I was running, I went a lot to Europe. I got to experience socialism firsthand. At first, it’s seductive. Free health care, free college, all that. But nothing is free. And anything that’s free has no value. Zero means zero. I saw it close-up. So yes, you’re right. This is crude and dirty. But it’s my choice. There’s no one here to tell me what to do or how to think. The trade-off is worth it.”
Joe had no response.
“Will my mom be down there?” Diane asked.
“I’m not sure.”
She hesitated, asked, “My dad?”
“It’s possible,” Joe said. “But we’re in a pretty remote location. It would be hard for them to get here so fast.”
“If he tries to talk to me, I might have to kill him,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
JOE LISTENED as Diane Shober talked to Nate.
“I’m an Objectivist,” she said. “You know, Ayn Rand. It’s the only good thing I got from Justin.” She laughed. “I’m a freak, I know. Most of my friends drank the Kool-Aid. But you know how you used to see those RVs on the road with bumper stickers that read, WE’RE SPENDING OUR CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE?” That always used to piss me off, just because of the attitude. I mean, ha-fucking-ha.”
Joe watched her lean toward Nate on her horse and reach out and touch his arm. “Now every car in America should have that bumper sticker,” she said. “Thieves like my father are stealing from me and my children, if I ever have any. He’s politically connected, and the money flows to him downhill.
“You know,” she said, “we’re the first American generation to expect less than our parents. I’m talking smaller houses, smaller cars, smaller families. It makes my blood boil. I want no part of it.”
Nate nodded, said, “Did you know the brothers were up here before you went on your run?”
She took a minute, then said, “Yeah. We’d been in touch. I felt really awful for all the people who donated their time to come looking for me. I really did. But yes, I was in communication with the brothers. After all, we had a common enemy.”
“Your father?” Nate said.
“Yeah, him too,” she said.
AS THEY RODE DOWN the switchback trail toward the trailhead, Joe got glimpses of what was below. As he’d predicted, it was a small city. Dozens of vehicles, tents, trailers, a makeshift corral, curls of smoke from lunchtime cooking fires. Satellite trucks from cable television news outlets. And the ashes of his father, still in his pickup. He had no more idea what to do with the old man in death than he had in life.
