A severe spasm—the kind that twisted his intestines overtook Dean. And then—slam! The wagon jolted to a stop. A slew of panicky curses replaced the cloppity-clops. They lost a wheel. Zac shook his head so hard Dean thought the fellow’s neck might snap off.
Luther jumped out of the wagon first. “I brought a jack and a spare wheel.”
They could always count on good ol’ Luther for saving the day. Dean shuffled out the wagon seat a good thirty seconds after Zac. His old bones couldn’t take much more of this nomadic lifestyle.
Zac examined the spare wheel, cussing up a storm. “The hub’s too damn small.”
“Can’t you do something?” Justin’s high-pitched plea resonated with Dean’s fast-beating heart.
Dean caught Scarlett and Zac’s apprehension. If any two deserved to be together, it was those two lovebirds. He recognized that same intense bonding between Ella and Justin. There must be something to that Twin Flame nonsense Ella raved about, after all. Mary must have been his. God bless her soul. She had been spared the insanity.
“We’ll finagle it,” Dean insisted. He snatched his trench knife. “Might be able to whittle down the hub enough for a tight fit.” From what he could tell, the wheel’s wooded and metal center had deteriorated somewhat.
“Go for it,” Zac said. “We’ll set up the scissor jack.”
The gals kept their eyes peeled on the horizon while the men worked on the wagon. Dean whittled away, carving out the inner workings of the hub.
A good ten minutes later, Zac announced, “The jack’s in place, but it’s a piece of shit. We’ll have to be careful.”
Dean looked down at the pile of wood shavings. “Let’s try it out for size.” He rolled the old wooden wheel to the wagon. “Say, Zac—”
Twila screamed.
Dean dropped the wheel.
Scarlett ran to Twila. “What is it?” she asked in a haunting whisper they all overheard.
“X-strains!” Twila’s glazed-over eyes stared to the south. “They found us.”
Zac threw the lug wrench to the ground with a vengeance.
Dean grabbed the wheel, rolling it to the jack, tenacity his strong suit.
“They want to eat the babies!” Twila blubbered away. “The soldiers want to sell them to a scary hospital.” She covered her eyes and flopped dramatically onto the ground.
Dean scratched his bristly chin. There had to be away out of this mess. He surveyed the mountain slope just ahead. Five miles to the base of the mountain and another twenty or so to the ranch. By God, we are so close! He wasn’t calling it quits without a humdinger of a fight.
“Scarlett, any idea how close the horde is?” Dean pressed.
Scarlett cocked her head. “Too close.”
Zac was already unhitching the horses.
“Alrighty then,” Dean intoned. “Grab your packs. We’re hiking up the mountain. We’re bound to find a vacation cabin to hole up in once we get to the tree line.”
Zac snagged the saddles from the wagon. “To speed things up, Dean and Twila, ride the stallion. Ella, Mindy, and the babies can ride the packhorse.”
“Naw, I can walk,” Dean protested. He had worked out the kinks in his ankle.
“Dude, just do it. You’ll slow us down,” Justin blurted. “The rest of us can—run.”
“X-strains. Need I say more?” Zac responded curtly.
“Point taken,” Dean assented, tired of being the old fogey everyone had to coddle.
“I can’t ride,” a tiny voice called out.
They all turned to Mindy.
“It’s so easy,” Ella chirruped. “Sit in front of me. I know how to drive.” What a brave face Ella wore.
Zac wasn’t taking no for an answer. He helped the gals onto the saddled packhorse. Dean strapped on his smaller pack before heaving himself into the leather-worn saddle. Luther slung Twila into the saddle in front of him.
“Folks,” Dean chimed in, mustering courage, “remember, head straight up that mountain. And don’t stop!”
Zac squinted into the sun before closing his eyes. “Get to the forest. The path to safety suddenly stops at what looks like a creek in the forest. Find that creek.”
“The path is hidden just beyond my periphery. But, I know that’s where we need to go,” Scarlett confirmed. Evidently, Zac and Scarlett were on the same wavelength.
That vexing hourglass image popped back into Dean’s head and seemingly shrink-wrapped him into asphyxiation. “Let’s get going.”
Zac and Scarlett jogged for the base of the mountain, followed by Justin, followed by the packhorse, followed by Onyx, with Luther on their six.
As they approached the treelined base of the mountain, Dean found himself fading in-and-out of a sort of praying-meditational state.
Luther was suddenly jogging beside him. “I smell those stinking nimrods.”
That wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear. “We’ll be in the trees in five minutes.”
“I’ll warn the others.” Dean leaned in. “Hold on, Twila.” He squeezed the stallion’s flanks with his calves. “Yee-ha!”
“I’ll stay with Ella and Mindy as long as I can keep up,” Luther panted.
Onyx galloped off. For a moment, Dean thought he might take a spill. He hung on. To his relief, the stallion automatically stopped when reaching Zac.
“Problem?” Zac asked.
“The horde—” Dean started.
“Holy shit,” Justin bellowed with the Bushnells glued to his forehead. A foreboding dust cloud billowed from the south.
“We got five—maybe ten minutes,” Zac said, lost in Scarlett’s eyes.
“Dean”—Scarlett’s tone went flat—“get Twila and the girls to safety. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
“Now hold on just a minute.” This was no time for martyrs. “There’s got to be a cabin we can hole up in.” Of course, X-strains were relentless. One way or the other, they would run out
