Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

Rubin had to get his head in the game, and that meant pushing his woman out. You’re right. We have to find Luther before they do and then take this crew out before the others get here.

He could just be lying low until they leave. There’re so many of them, he may have decided to just wait it out safely. Again, there was a hopeful note in Diego’s mind.

Rubin considered that for less than a second. You know the old man better than that. He would never let an army take over his property. This is his home and he would defend it from the devil with his last breath.

Rubin began a slow retreat back down the slope, employing the same method he’d used coming up it. Inch by slow inch. If the enemy had eyes on the slope, if they’d spotted the vultures, he didn’t want them spotting him.

You’re right. Where the hell is he?

He didn’t bury the dead body completely, Diego, and he would have, especially knowing there’s a larger force out there. He’d want them to wonder what happened to their sentry. He’s got to be wounded.

He didn’t want to think about the old man being hurt, but there was no other explanation. Luther Gunthrie had survived too long not to know how to fight a larger force. He would become a ghost and use a bow and arrow, employ silent weapons, stealth, never letting the enemy see him. When possible, he’d make the kills disappear completely so his enemies would never find the bodies. He would create a nightmare for his enemies. Leave no tracks. No trace. They would never imagine an old man could do the damage Luther could do.

I think he’s wounded, Diego. Where would he go if he’s hurt? We need to get to him fast. They will have sent someone to look for a sentry that hasn’t checked in. We have to find him before they do.

Rubin wanted to find him alive.

12

Diego joined Rubin for a brief conference at the very bottom of the slope in the dip that Luther had hollowed out at one time to put in a wine barrel to use as a culvert.

“The songbirds couldn’t find a trace of that old man anywhere,” Diego said.

Rubin frowned and ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. He rarely showed emotion by physical tells, but losing Luther to the ground crew was intolerable. They knew Gunthrie. They knew the area. Surely, they could find him.

“You’re certain the birds didn’t give a hint the crew had a prisoner.”

“Absolutely certain,” Diego reiterated. “He’s not there.”

“And he’s not in his house. The sentries are looking for him.” Rubin mused, “Where are you, Luther?” He frowned and looked at his brother. “Where’s his still? It isn’t up on the ridge. It’s not in any of the other places he had it before. Where did he put it?”

They looked at each other for a long time. Diego trilled several notes and several of his birds took to the air, flying in various directions over Luther’s property. Both Rubin and Diego connected with them, seeing for themselves what the birds were seeing. Men were moving on the ground below, clearly searching for someone. They were trying to be stealthy as they hunted in pairs through the woods and around the meadow. Two were making the rounds near Luther’s house, traveling in circles, trying to find tracks.

“That’s a good question,” Diego mused aloud, even as he paid attention to what the birds could see.

Rubin didn’t talk. Looking through the eyes of flying birds was disorienting and he didn’t want to miss a detail. As it was, he was nearly distracted by the pair of soldiers in camouflage clothing working their way around a spot toward the back of the particularly flat area in the woods Rubin had been in often. It was close to the Gunthrie house, right out back, just inside the tree line.

“Have the birds go back to just there, Diego,” Rubin directed quietly, sending him the exact visual.

Diego didn’t question him. The flock of birds changed direction, coming together, circling and flying over the house and woods, dropping lower and then circling higher to settle in the tree branches.

“What is it?” Diego asked. “Other than the soldiers?”

“The ground. It’s not right. Look at the ground.”

His brother went silent, taking his time. Like Rubin, he was familiar with the area. They’d been there numerous times over the years, visiting first Luther and Lotty, and then Luther, to check on his health whether he liked it or not. When they did, he liked to walk around his property, and they always obliged, walking with him, keeping him company, knowing he was proud of his place.

“Not enough ground cover. Should be a little more overgrown than that,” Diego said.