“That’s why he had the walker?”
“Yes, he fought hard, but he knew this was coming.”
“I thought he was just getting old. But cancer? Seriously? How did he hide something like that?”
“He’s a prideful man, I’m afraid. The last thing he wanted was anyone’s sympathy. He wanted to go out on his terms. You need to understand that, Summer. This was how he wanted it. We have to respect that.”
“There has to be something you can do.”
“I wish there was, but we don’t have the drugs or the facilities. Plus, I’m not trained for this. Oncology is a very specialized discipline. It takes years of study.”
Summer broke free of Liz’s hold. “Then we send out Seekers to find what you need. It’s out there somewhere. I’ll go if I have to, but we have to try.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late. The cancer is now in his bowels. It won’t be long.”
“Don’t say that!” Summer said, not wanting to hear any more bad news.
“I wish it weren’t true, Summer. But it is. We have to accept it.”
Summer slid off the stool and worked herself to her feet as anger swelled inside her body at a rate she hadn’t experienced before.
It felt as though someone had just stuck in a hose from an air compressor and turned it on full blast. She wasn’t sure where the rage was coming from, but it energized her body from the inside out. “Where is he?”
“In his quarters, resting,” Liz answered, standing as well.
“You just left him all alone?”
“A family’s there with him. They volunteered to help keep him comfortable.”
“I need to see him.”
“Of course. I’ll go with you.”
CHAPTER 15
“Hold it right there,” Krista told Horton, tugging on the paracord binding his wrists together behind his back.
The prisoner let out a grimace as the rope cut into his skin. She’d laced the restraint extra tight, wanting to send a message. And, to be honest, to cause him some pain. It was her form of payback for what the man had attempted to do during the ambush, now that Summer wasn’t around to run interference.
Krista pulled the blindfold from his eyes, letting the sunlight bombard his vision.
He squinted and turned his head, blinking rapidly in a wash of tears.
Krista ran a visual check of the terrain, scanning the depression ahead. There were footprints everywhere, crossing over each other and heading in different directions.
All of the prints were barefoot and petite, made by someone with feet much smaller than hers.
Their diminutive size ruled out a herd of male Scabs, unless they were a herd of adolescents, something Krista doubted, despite what Doc Lipton had mentioned about Helena and the possibility of her breeding.
The knot of trails covering the area meant only one thing—Helena had spent time here. A lot of it, doubling back over her tracks at least a dozen times and in as many directions, making a mess of the evidence.
Krista yanked on Horton’s hands again. “Okay Mr. Tracker, you said you could help, so help. Which way?”
“Untie my hands so I can inspect everything up close,” Horton said, beaming his focus at Krista. He twisted his back toward her. “Can’t do that like this.”
Krista motioned for her biggest and most trusted guard, Nathan Wicks, to come forward.
He responded with a quick step, taking position behind Horton. The other men she’d brought along remained behind at their post by the truck, covering the area as they were trained to do.
“If he even flinches,” Krista said.
“With pleasure, boss,” Wicks replied with a tense jawline, bringing his rifle up and aiming the muzzle at the back of Horton’s head. He pulled the charging bolt back and let it snap into place.
It was refreshing to have her most loyal guard on this search and recovery mission. Wicks always seemed to know what she wanted, sometimes before she did, eliminating the need to explain every command in detail.
Krista leaned in to Horton’s ear. “I swear to God, just give me a reason.”
“I’m here to help. Nothing more. You have my word.”
“Then get to it,” she said, pulling a knife and cutting the cord from the man’s wrists.
Horton brought his hands around to the front, rubbed his wrists for a few seconds, then stepped forward and bent down on one knee.
Krista followed behind, still carrying the knife in her hands, wanting to keep the man within striking distance.
Wicks was positioned on her right, looking ready to fire if Horton made a false move.
The index finger on Horton’s right hand found its way to a pair of trails crossing in opposite directions, only inches from the front of his shoes.
He tested the walls of the first print with the tip of his finger, then did the same with the one perpendicular to it. He continued to examine a few more, leaning forward and reaching what he could.
Krista was tired of waiting. “Well?”
“Everything looks just a little too random, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it looks like Helena was trying to make it appear she was traveling through here for all different reasons and did so over time. But the tracks are all the same age. Plus, there’s a pattern here, if you know where to look.”
Krista took another gander at the tracks around her. She couldn’t identify the pattern he mentioned.
Horton stood and walked about ten yards to the right, bending down and testing another set of footprints.
A minute later, he got to his feet and rubbed his hands together, as if he were washing the dirt from his hands.
He pointed to the right, at the top of the hill thirty yards ahead. A trail of prints led in the same direction. “That way.”
Krista grabbed the hair on the back of his head, yanking hard on the mop of gray. “You only get one chance to be wrong.”
“She went that way. I’m sure of it.”
Krista let go of his hair.
Horton took a step forward, nodding. “Looks like she was in a hurry, too. Just look at the space between the prints, plus the deeper depressions around her toes. She was running.”
“Don’t they always run?” Krista asked in a glib tone, not expecting an answer.
“Not her. She never just reacts. She always moves with a purpose. If she ran, there was a reason. A damn good one.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Someone was chasing her,” Wicks said. “That’s why animals run.”
“Look around, dumbass. Do you see any other footprints?” Horton said to Wicks after pinching his eyes. “There’s only hers. That means she wasn’t being chased; she was in a hurry.”
Krista didn’t buy it. “Hurry for what?”
“A meeting of some kind would be my guess.”
“Or the dinner bell,” Wicks added. “Could be anything. No telling with these things. They’re all balls and instinct, so to speak.”
“Trust me, she was late for something,” Horton said with a firm confidence in his voice.
“You’re reaching, Horton. Scabs don’t have meetings,” Krista said, shaking her head. “These things are not that organized.”
“Like I said,” Wicks said. “All balls and instinct. Attack first and ask questions later.”
Horton’s tone turned cynical. “Though she did manage to outsmart all of you and get away.”
“Well, there was that,” Krista said, not wanting to admit the man was right.
“There’s more to this girl than any of you realize. She’s not some crazed animal. She thinks. She plans. She’s smart.”
“Enough debate. It’s time to see how right you are,” Krista said, shoving Horton forward. “But remember, if there’s an ambush waiting, you’ll be the first one into the meat grinder and none of us are going to lift a finger to stop it.”