“Because she deserved it.”
Holland started to say something, but instead remained silent. Riffey decided that Holland was so batshit crazy, a longer explanation would only bring more of his psychobabble crap. And, Riffey thought, if I piss him off much more, he might kill me rather than answer. They rode in silence. Riffey glanced at Holland, and he wouldn’t even bury me.
***
Sam and Miguel watched them drive away; except for the one man they left in the brush to watch the house. Sam said, “Let’s get out of here.” They walked away, using the dark for cover, but keeping to the shallow draws, and making sure not to highlight themselves in the open areas. The moon was still bright enough to see people at a hundred yards, Sam knew. They carried the items Miguel took previously, but nothing else, and scanned the land and lightening sky constantly. Once, a plane engine whined overhead, and the men hid in a shallow wash under an overhang of cenizo until they couldn’t hear or see it any longer.
By the time they walked for two hours, Miguel’s eyes were bright with pain, and he winced every time he moved his shoulder. Sam had him sit on a rock while he examined it. The sides of the wounds were still swollen, though not as much.
The shunt was the problem. It was crusted and dry, not draining. Sam said, “I’ll need to twist the cloth, make sure it’s letting out the fluid, and to make sure the hole heals from the bottom up. It’s gonna hurt.”
Miguel nodded and closed his eyes while Sam, as gently as he could, twisted the shunt around and around until he felt it give, then there was a small seep of pink fluid again. “We need to twist this once or twice a day to keep it open.”
Miguel breathed easier and Sam saw the pain lessen on his face. Miguel said, “I will do it. I can reach the cloth.”
Sam said, “We’re almost there. Another two hours and we’ll be safe for a while.”
“Is there water?”
“Yes, nearby. A large, sheltered tinaja that always has water, and it should be full after the rains a few days ago.”
“Are we going to a house?”
“No, an Indian cave back in a canyon.”
“Ah.”
“They left their marks on the walls.”
“That means there are spirits there to watch over us.”
Sam smiled as he led them onto a long rise that angled steadily upward toward the rough mountain in the distance, “Yes, amigo, I believe so, too.”
They made their walk to the base of the largest mountain and circled until coming to a rugged canyon splitting the foothills. Sam led them at an angle up the canyon sides, sliding often on all the talus. An hour later, he and Miguel stood in a large cave with a long opening shaped like a half-closed eye.
Miguel looked at the fire-blackened roof, evidence of several thousand years of manmade fires. Dozens of pictographs adorned the wide back wall, most of them in a dark red. Sam said, “If we stay away from the front edge, no one can see us unless they climb to the cave mouth.”
“It is a good place.”
“I’ll get us some water while you pick a spot to bed down.”
Miguel took Sam’s pack and carried both to the back wall, where he found a level place near where someone had made a fire ring with rocks. He went outside the rock shelter and discovered a large area of bear grass, and kicked at the base to break the roots, then brought the plants inside to cover the cave floor. The floor was comprised of flour-fine gray dirt that would get into everything unless something covered it. He covered the mat of bear grass with two, six-by-eight plastic tarps, and then sat and waited.
***
Hunter drove the Tahoe to the open space in front of the Oasis Restaurant and exited with Raymond. They went through the doors to immediate coolness and the sight of Lee Rodriguez pointing to fresh tortilla chips, salsa and guacamole on the table. Lee saluted them with a chip as they pulled out chairs. He bit the chip in half, chewed and said, “I checked around on your chopper. Didn’t find it. Maybe it crossed from Mexico. I’m checking on that angle, but haven’t heard back yet.”
Raymond said, “It wouldn’t be the first time for an illegal crossing by aircraft, even though it’s usually airplanes and not helicopters.” Hunter didn’t say anything as she attacked the guacamole and salsa with her chips. Raymond said, “I don’t guess anybody has shown up with a bullet wound?”
“Nope. And no one found the body that fell from the plane, either.”
Hunter said, “Whatever happened to old time, simple cut and dried cases that almost solved themselves?”
Lee said, “Oh yes, the good old days.”
Raymond said, “Don’t let dreamy nostalgia cloud your heads. The good old days had plenty of problems.”
Lee said, “I did hear some rumors from the other side. Seems that CISEN is in Ojinaga and Juarez, looking around.”