Chapter 4 Joshua Crow and Billy Yakama’s lives had ended the way most violent ex-felons lives do. Violently. Sheriff Peoria counted sixteen separate stab wounds between the two men – nine in Crow, and seven in Billy – and all in the chest and stomach. Somehow none of the wounds had managed to hit the heart, and the sheriff was fairly certain that shock and blood loss would end up being the cause of death in both cases.
Which didn’t jibe with any military training he’d ever heard.
Another puzzling thing was that the angle of entry for all of Crow’s wounds looked to be about seventy-five degrees, and for Billy’s it was about a hundred and five degrees. Peoria met White Feather’s eye after examining the bodies and said, “There’s no way these guys were killed during a fight. They were already on the ground when they were stabbed. Hell, there’s dirt in the wounds!”
Carl looked sheepish. “I know I’m not supposed to move anything, chief,” he began. “But that’s my sister’s boy there!” He broke off to swallow the lump in his throat, and Peoria got up and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I know. How did you find them, Carl?”
The older Indian surreptitiously wiped his eyes before turning back to his boss. “Face down in their own blood.”
The sheriff dropped his hand in surprise. After a long moment, he let out a string of Lakota curses that were no less vehement for being said under his breath.
* * *
The diner was like a bad dream. The tiled walls were chipped, the tabletops badly scarred, and the floors in need of a good scrub. But the coffee was excellent, so Virginia decided the rest didn’t matter. She ordered the special of the day from the pretty Native American waitress, hoping that the meatloaf would be as good as the coffee, and looked out the window at the empty road. Sheriff Peoria had ridden off a while ago on an ancient Harley, heading out of town toward where she’d left the two Indians. She wondered how much trouble she was going to be in over that mess?
If she’d told him the truth, that they’d attacked her, the sheriff would have wanted to know how she got away from them? Which would have been awkward. If she’d told him she had military training, he’d freak out, thinking that something was going down on the reservation that the government wasn’t telling him about. Even if she merely said that she’d taken a self-defense course, he’d want her to press charges and, if she refused, he’d press them for her. She could see it all as if it had already happened. Endless interrogations. Hearings. A trial. Hell, no! She didn’t have the time for it – and certainly couldn’t begin to explain how she came to be out there in the middle of nowhere with no vehicle of her own. She’d hated lying to such a decent man, one who was trying to do a hard job in a difficult place – but really. What else could she have said?
It helped that she could tell he didn’t believe her story. But since she doubted that those two assholes would tell him anything different, he’d have to accept it. Neither of those two bruisers would admit to being bested by a female. They’d sooner die.
Ginny sipped her coffee and pushed aside her plate of the Wednesday Special. She knew she needed food to keep up her strength, but it was difficult to eat when her stomach was all knotted up. Damn those bastard aliens! She wished they were here with her now, because that would give her the opportunity to take all this anger out on someone. Killing a few aliens would really make her day better; she was sure of it. She hadn’t felt this helpless in ages, and she didn’t like feeling it now.
And all she could think about was how long it was going to be before she got to a big enough city to find an airport. She needed to get to DC. There had to be someone in the DOD who could help her find out what happened to HQ. Although she wasn’t sure who might have enough clearance to know about SHADO, and she definitely wasn’t looking forward to the hassle of trying to get in to see the Secretary of Defense at the Pentagon. It would be faster to make her own time machine to take her home than to try and get an appointment with him. But there wasn’t anyone else she could turn to in this crisis. If only she weren’t so alone! Commander Straker would know what to do. In fact, she was dead certain that wherever he was, he was already working on a way to first, find a way to get them all together in one spot, and then, find an ingenious way to get them all back home again.
Her lips quirked at the thought. What was it about the man that made his staff so sure of his omniscience? Was it that damned stoicism of his? Or his ability to perceive scenarios beyond what lesser minds could even imagine? Or was it simply that she’d never really seen him at a loss? Even when they’d been trapped in that awful frozen time bubble, he’d behaved as if it were nothing at all to stop the traitor and find and destroy the rigged computer. She’d spent half her time that day terrified that they’d be stuck in that hell for the rest of their lives!
But she’d always been far too imaginative for her own good. Was that his trick then? Did the commander have very little imagination and so wasn’t bombarded with hideous possible outcomes that paralyzed his ability to think? No. If anything, he had too much imagination. She’d seen the horror in his eyes when they realized that time had been frozen on the studio lots. They both had known what it must mean to HQ and all of Earth for such a thing to happen. But somehow he had blocked all that out. Shut down the millions of questions and the endless useless spinning of wheels, and been able to figure out a way to handle the situation. He’d kept his head. Even in the impossible position they found themselves in, he hadn’t panicked.
She sighed deeply. Well, hell. That meant that she couldn’t either. How awful would it be if they all somehow got back to HQ only to have her write a report on her part in the adventure saying that she’d panicked? Lost her head? Given up in defeat and cried into her coffee?
No.
She squared her shoulders. That was one scenario that wouldn’t be played out – if she had to die to prevent it! From this moment on, her goal was to find the others wherever they had ended up. She’d worry about the second – and far more difficult – goal once they were all together. One task at a time. That was the commander’s secret. He focused everything on the step that needed handled now, then worried about the next step when it was time for it. That’s why he never seemed at a loss. He just kept moving forward. Eventually, even the stupidest person could make it home if they just kept heading that direction.
She toyed with her meatloaf, managing to eat about half of her plate by the time the sheriff’s motorcycle roared back into town. He pulled up into the parking lot of the diner in a cloud of dust and barely set the kickstand before storming through the door. He looked to be in a towering rage, and Ginny had no doubt at all that he was heading for her table. She wasn’t afraid. She was a woman used to rages. Commander Straker’s could give you frostbite, they were so icy. But this Indian’s dark eyes weren’t cold. They burned like a thunderstorm on a moonless night, black and swirling with emotions barely checked. She braced herself, sure he would simply pull her out of her seat.
But he didn’t. Sheriff Peoria stopped at her table, completely ignoring the stares of the other customers, and ground out between set teeth, “We need to talk.”
She admired his restraint and knew better than to test it. She stood up, laid the money for her bill and a tip down on the tabletop, and said calmly, “Alright. Your office?”
He turned without a word and headed out, not even checking to see if she was following.
* * *
“Tell me again what happened out there,” he demanded as he settled into his chair behind the desk.
Obviously, something had occurred to make her story sound even more suspicious than she thought. Damn! What had those two idiots told him? Didn’t they even have enough sense to save their own skins? What was going on? The sheriff’s face was as set as stone, and she sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be offering any details without her full cooperation. Yeah, like that was possible.
She gave him the story again, keeping it brief and without any extraneous detail. She’d had to tell lies for too long in her job to feel more than a pang at repeating these. But she wished she knew what had put that look on his face.
“And you honestly expect me to believe that bullshit?” he said tersely when she finished. “When you and I both know that’s not how things went down?”
“Alright, Sheriff,” she said quietly. “You tell me. How did things go down?”
He glared at her. “For one thing, there’s no sign of your car anywhere along the highway.”
She shrugged. “I’d been walking for hours by the time they came by. I can’t even begin to tell you how far away my car is from town.”
“Second,” he continued, ignoring her comment. “I know Josh Crow. He’d sooner lose an arm than part with his truck. And don’t give me that gentleman crap again. Josh never had a chivalrous bone in his body! What he always had more than enough of was bad ideas. The kind that would make him think that fate was smiling on him by putting a beautiful and helpless woman in his path. Only you weren’t helpless, were you, Miss Lake?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Sheriff.”
“Did he and Billy rape you?”
“No.”
“Did they try?”
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself deny it. So she simply stared back at him.
Peoria ran a frustrated hand over his face. “Look. I’m not faulting you for sticking up for yourself. Everybody’s got the right to defend themselves. As for taking off with the truck and their cash – well, I’d say that pretty much evened the score, especially since you left the truck here in town and didn’t just keep on driving.”
“So where’s the problem?”
He leaned forward and said grimly, “Because they’re dead, Miss Lake. Murdered. And guess who’s my prime suspect?”
Pages: 1
The First Rule of Time Travel -- Part 1 (Read 2481 times)
HTML 5
