A complex network of trails led them down to Highway 89, where they took a break and waited for the scouts to return. When they did, Smoke was carrying a flyer, which according to a traveler she had spoken to, was identical to others posted up and down the highway. The words “WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE” were printed across the top. Then, in smaller print, it said, “1,000 rounds of .45 ammo will be paid to the person or persons who capture, kill, or provide reliable information leading to the apprehension of the murderers depicted here.” It was signed, “Luther Voss.” There were three drawings, all of which were pretty good likenesses. Crow laughed when he saw his face and handed the sheet to Bones. “Pass it around.”
Once the sheet of paper made it to him, Tre was shocked to see his face sandwiched in between Crow’s and Knife’s. At least one of the mercs had a good memory. Suddenly, like it or not, Tre was committed in a way he hadn’t been before. Yes, he could still return to the Tangle, but it would be as a wanted man. That would make it much more difficult to survive on his own. “It looks like you,” Knife said. “Ugly as hell.”
So knowing that people were likely to recognize them, the gang was careful to bypass the fortified inn located in the hamlet of Freedom and rode west. As they did so, Tre was very conscious of the fact that Highway 34 was going to pass through Wayan and very close to the Tangle. Part of him regretted the decision to join the gang and wished he could return to his previously solitary life. But he had a purpose now, something worth fighting for, and knowing that made him feel better.
Having hiked the highway many times, always on the lookout for bandits, Tre enjoyed the feeling of invulnerability that went with being a bandit. Still, there was plenty to worry about because he knew that fifty mercs could be waiting around the next bend. If they were, the fight wouldn’t last very long.
The group arrived in Henry, Idaho, by nightfall. Although there was no town to speak of, they found a beautiful camping spot on the shore of what Crow’s much-abused map said was the Blackfoot Reservoir. As Tre looked out across the perfectly still water, he saw two conical mountains. They were almost entirely bare of trees and reflected in the reservoir. The sky was a deep shade of lavender and the stars were coming out. That was when Freak appeared at his side. “Balloon.”
Her hand was small and seemed to crawl into his. Tre felt an urge to put an arm around her shoulders and to kiss the lips that seemed to be waiting for that very thing. But then he remembered what Crow had told him. “Freak isn’t ready for a boy-girl relationship.” So he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and let go. “Balloon to you too,” he said, and went off to gather wood.
Tre stood sentry duty for two hours, but the night passed without incident, and they got under way the next morning. The sky was gray and it was raining, so Tre felt thankful for the flat-brimmed cowboy hat and poncho-style rain slicker that covered him and most of old Willie’s saddle. Thunder rolled as the column followed the east side of the reservoir south, and occasional sticks of lightning could be seen on the horizon. It was, as Hog put it, “a crappy day.”
The plan was to ride south to Soda Springs, follow Highway 30 west to Interstate 15, and take Interstate 86 to Massacre Rocks, what Crow hoped would be a two-day ride. After an hour or so, Tre was standing in the stirrups to relieve the pain in his knees when he saw Smoke round the gently sloping hill off to the right and gallop their way. The scouts always departed first and typically stayed well ahead of the column all day. So why was Smoke coming back?
Smoke began to shout as her horse skidded to a halt. “They got Fade! Come on… We need to save her.”
Crow reached out to grab hold of the horse’s bridle. “They? Who?“
Smoke was frantic and the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth. “There’s a civil war battlefield on the other side of the pass. Tanks, armored personnel carriers, you name it. They’re scattered all over the place. There wasn’t any activity, none that we could see, so we rode in. That was when one of the tank people popped out of an armored personnel carrier and threw himself at Fade. They hit the ground together, and I was going to help, when two of them ran out in front of me. I shot one in the face and kicked the other. By then a couple of them had hold of Fade and were taking her away. That’s why I came for help.”
“You did the right thing,” Crow assured her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get Fade back. Do you know where she is?”
“No, but they were taking her west. So it will be over that way.”
“Okay. Knife, Sticks, listen up. Here’s what I want you to do.”
As Tre listened to the plan, his heart began to beat faster. Could he do it? Crow thought so… And if Knife had doubts, he was keeping them to himself.
The key, according to Crow, was stealth. He, along with the rest of the group, would follow the highway to the edge of the battlefield, where they would try to make contact with the tank people. Meanwhile, Smoke would lead Knife and Tre over the mist-shrouded hill on the right. Once on the other side, they would be at the northern edge of the battlefield. Then, after securing their horses, they would slip into the maze of shot-up vehicles and find Fade.
Knife and Tre followed Smoke south, up onto the nearly featureless hill, and into the mist. They were traveling fast—too fast for Tre, who feared that he would fall and his break his neck. But old Willie was sure-footed if nothing else, and he survived the journey. “Remember,” Smoke said as they tied their horses to a bush. “Keep it quiet. Don’t use guns unless you have to.”
Knife was wearing his Samurai sword slung across his back and had half a dozen other blades stashed about his person. Tre had a couple of improvised fighting sticks that he’d been working on for the last week or so, plus a knife and the nine-shot .22 Magnum revolver that had been recovered from Brute’s body.
Smoke led the way and Tre was impressed. She was fast and graceful and seemed to flow from place to place, much like the substance she was named for. Knife came second. His movements were quick, precise, and carefully calculated.
Visibility was limited, but Tre could tell that the terrain on the south side of the hill was flat, the perfect place for armored vehicles to clash. He didn’t realize they were in among the wrecks until a rain-shrouded hulk appeared on his right. The battle tank was huge, but judging from the fire-blackened hole in its turret, something had been powerful enough to penetrate even its thick armor.
Rain rattled on metal and gravel crunched under their boots as the bandits dashed from wreck to wreck, pausing every now and then to look and listen. It was during one of those moments that two tank people rounded a truck and ran into them. There was a moment of confusion and Tre found himself face-to-face with what looked like a cave man. Except that the caves he lived in were made of steel. The tank man’s face registered surprise as Tre shoved a stick up a nostril and rammed the other rod into a mouth full of rotting teeth. He was choking on it when Smoke jerked his head back and slit his throat. “Enough screwing around. Let’s find Fade.”
Tre looked for Knife and saw him standing over a headless corpse, sword in hand. He wiped the blade clean. Then they were off again, zigzagging from one vehicle to the next, when the fake negotiations broke down and the firefight began. Neither side wanted to use any more ammo than necessary, so what Tre heard was a flurry of single shots. That was when a witchlike creature dropped off a tanker truck onto Knife’s back. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and was about to claw his eyes when Tre jerked her loose.