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Water splashed as she hit a puddle, made a screeching sound, and was silenced as both sticks struck her head. “Come on!” Smoke shouted. “Follow me!“

They ran side by side toward a boxy vehicle that was fronted by a fire pit and a sitting area protected by an old tarp. Poles of various lengths had been stuck into the ground, each topped by a human skull.

Two tank men were stationed in front of a tracked command post and raised their weapons as the bandits charged them. A shot rang out, a geyser of mud shot up, and Tre threw one of the fighting sticks like a spear. It hit the rifleman in the chest but did no harm. It was enough to prevent a follow-up shot, however, and gave Tre time to close with him. They collided, and as Tre grappled with his opponent, he could smell the other man’s rank body odor.

Wiry fingers wrapped themselves around Tre’s neck and began to choke off his air supply. Tre brought both forearms straight up to break the hold, kneed the other man in the groin, and snapped his head forward. The fight was over. All the strength went out of the tank man’s knees and he collapsed.

Tre stepped back, looked to the left, and saw a body lying on the ground. A muddy head lay nearby. It was faceup, staring at the sky. Knife nodded. “Nice job, Sticks… but try some cold steel next time.”

“She’s alive!” Smoke announced as she escorted Fade out of the command vehicle. “They were planning to eat her.”

Tre was thrilled to see the scout but went for his pistol as a man appeared behind her. “Don’t shoot!” Fade said. “That’s the Deacon… He was a prisoner as well.”

Tre took his hand off the .22 as all three of them made their way down a wooden ramp. Fade was disheveled and thirsty but otherwise okay. The Deacon had stringy hair, a bald pate, and bright blue eyes. An upside-down cross had been tattooed on the center of his forehead, and when he spoke he touched the symbol as if doing so would testify to the veracity of what he said. “Thank you! Thank you, Lord!” he said fervently. “For you have delivered me from the hands of evil into the arms of the good.”

Crow arrived at that point, along with the rest of the gang. They were on horseback. A rare smile appeared on the bandit’s face when he saw Fade. “Are you okay?”

Fade nodded. “Sorry, I feel stupid.”

Crow shook his head. “It could have happened to anybody. All right, let’s collect anything worth collecting and get out of here. This place reeks.”

The next two days passed without major incident. The rain stopped by the time they passed Soda Springs, a fortified town similar to Afton. Armed riders emerged to challenge the gang and continued to dog them all the way to the Bancroft turnoff. The night was spent at the Lava Hot Springs. The resort lay in ruins, but there were still plenty of pools to choose from, and the bandits took hot baths, a truly wondrous luxury.

They passed through the bombed-out ruins of Pocatello the next day. At some point during the civil war, the once proud city had been reduced to a lunar landscape of overlapping craters, gaping basements, and rubble-filled streets. Tre wondered why but knew the people who could tell him were dead.

The scouts located Interstate 86 without too much difficulty and led the group south. There was some traffic, but not much, and what there was consisted of hikers and travelers on bicycles and in horse-drawn carts, any of which could have been theirs for the taking. But Crow insisted that they be left untouched, and that gave Tre reason to hope. Maybe, just maybe, Crow would deliver on his promises.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at what was, according to a dilapidated sign, “MASSACRE ROCKS STATE PARK.” The land was dry and arid in spite of the fact that the Snake River bordered the park. What growth there was consisted of grass, scrub, and clumps of trees. If one looked closely, it was still possible to make out the foundation of what had been the visitor center, parking lots that were drifted with windblown soil, and the well-trod path that led to the distinctive pile of rocks. “Well, there they are,” Crow said matter-of-factly as the group led their horses up to the formation. “So where do we dig?”

That, Tre realized, was a very good question. More than fifty years of weather had erased any signs that Marley and her MPs might have left. But it seemed reasonable to make certain assumptions. The soldiers had been in a hurry, so that suggested a reasonably accessible spot. And since level ground would make it easier to dig, Tre figured they could ignore any sort of slope. Finally given the time constraint the troops had been working under, it seemed safe to assume that the cache wouldn’t be more than four or five feet deep. He looked at Crow. “I’ll take a look around, mark what I think are the most likely spots, and bring you back to take a look.”

Crow nodded. “Let’s pick a site before sunset. We’ll start digging first thing in the morning.”

So while the rest of them made camp, Tre walked the ground. Even with the parameters he had set for himself, it was a daunting task. Finally, after a good deal of wandering about, Tre drove three stakes into the ground. Site one was directly below the rock formation and the point from which the photo in the history book had been taken.

Site two was a little farther away but would have been easy to reach with a vehicle. Marley had been in a hurry, so why carry heavy boxes if they didn’t have to?

Site three was flat and easy to get to, but it had another virtue as well, and that was the fact that the ground was bare of vegetation, even though grass grew all around. Was something buried just under the surface? Tre thought so. But, having probed the ground with a steel rod, he was pretty sure that the object was a large rock formation rather than a cache of weapons.

Crow took the tour just before sunset and approved Tre’s choices. Then it was time for dinner and, due to the Deacon’s presence, there was another mouth to feed. He was free to leave but didn’t want to—and no wonder. Without weapons or gear, he wouldn’t last long. So Crow had allowed the Deac to stay, with the understanding that he would have to prove himself if he wanted to join the gang.

The night passed peacefully, and by the time the sun rose, Hog had breakfast ready. Smoke, Fade, and Freak were slated to act as lookouts. The rest of them took their tools and trooped to site one. Crow insisted on taking the first swing with a pick and did so with the fury of someone attacking an enemy. He was bushed ten minutes later and happy to surrender the tool to Bones.

The medic was more methodical, and as he broke ground, Tre and Knife were there to shove the loose dirt out of the way. They were making progress, but there were lots of rocks to contend with, and Tre was frustrated by how long the process took.

Finally, with Hog on the pick and Deacon wielding a shovel, they had a four-foot-deep hole and nothing to show for it. “We’ll dig side trenches,” Crow said bleakly. “There and there.”

Three hours of backbreaking work followed and the results were no better. All of them felt disappointed as they made their way back to camp, but Tre most of all. The whole exercise seemed stupid now, and he wanted to break it off. But they had come a long way and he was determined to see the process through.

It seemed as if every muscle in Tre’s body was sore when he got up to stand guard duty in the middle of the night and when he rose the following morning. And judging from the way other people moved, they felt the same way.

In marked contrast to the day before, most of the bandits were silent as they trudged to site number two and began to dig. And dig and dig. But just as Tre was beginning to think that site two was going to be just like site one, the Deacon made an interesting observation. “No rocks today,” he said as he wiped the sheen of sweat off his forehead. “Thank the Lord.”

Tre heard the words, realized what they might mean, and went over to inspect the pile of excavated dirt. That was when he realized that the Deacon was right. There were lots of small stones, but there were none of the larger rocks they had been dealing with the day before. Was that a matter of chance? Or had someone dug there before and heaved the big stuff off to one side? There were some sizable rocks lying around on the surface. “Let’s keep digging,” Tre said. “I have a good feeling about this one.”