Journey By Fire, Part 2: Escape From Tonto Basin Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Disclaimer

  Southern Map

  More Fiction Books

  PART I: THE ROAD

  PART II: THE RIVER

  PART III: THE DESERT

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  PART IV: THE SEA

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  Journey By Fire

  Part 2: Escape From Tonto Basin

  Bruce W. Perry

  Text copyright © 2016 Bruce W. Perry

  All Rights Reserved

  978-0-9889020-9-1

  Email the author: [email protected]

  If you liked this book, kindly consider leaving a review on Amazon, even a brief one. It is greatly appreciated.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Image credit: Google Maps

  The southern route Mike Wade takes, from the old Page, AZ, going from Colorado River to desert. The "X" marks Tonto Basin in the Arizona desert, where he looks for his daughter Kara.

  More Fiction Books Published by Bruce W. Perry:

  Gone On Kauai (The second book in the Karl Standt crime thriller series)

  Compulsion (The third book in the Karl Standt crime thriller series)

  Ascent (An adventure story of survival and redemption)

  Accidental Exiles (A young Iraq veteran flees the Middle Eastern wars to Europe–available in paperback and ebook. "A genuine pleasure to read. It is hard not to respect any author who is able to capture the terror and heartbreaking nature of war, while also detailing the delicate heartbreak of missed chances and lost love, and Perry achieves both with a deftly-subtle hand. The tone is consistent, the pacing is perfect, and the plot is striking in a way that fiction often lacks." Self Publishing Review, 2017)

  Guilt, A Novella (A European detective tries to unravel what happened to three American businessmen who go into the Alps with a guide)

  Devastated Lands (Young people fight to survive an eruption of Mt. Rainier. "A thrilling story set in an unforgiving landscape, as well as a personal drama of Shane Cooper, who is torn between his purely selfish need for survival and equally strong need to help others...an entertaining post-apocalyptic adventure pitting man versus nature." IndieReader review, 2017 )

  PART I: THE ROAD

  Included in Part 1.

  PART II: THE RIVER

  Included in Part 1.

  PART III: THE DESERT

  CHAPTER 30

  He put the pistol to the fat man's head and nudged his temple. The man woke up with a scowl, irritated, then looked at Wade bug-eyed. He sat in one of those fold-out armchairs with armrest pockets for drinks. One of them contained a tall can of something wrapped in a brown paper bag, as if he'd just bought it at 7 Eleven. The chair was located right at the tunnel exit, where it gave way to a walkway that overlooked the other side of the ruinous Glen Canyon Dam.

  "Don't say anything," Wade said. "Until I tell you to." The bearded man wore a red bandanna, and had a cut-off sweatshirt with huge beefy, tattoo-covered upper arms.

  "Where's your buddy?"

  "He's gone." The guy, whose head was the size and shape of a ham hock, had a gravelly voice.

  "What are you doing here?"

  The man hesitated, then said "Watching out."

  "For what?"

  "…People like you…I guess. It's my shift." His red-rimmed eyes crept around the immediate area. When he shifted to look to the side, Wade said "Don't move your head, or anything." He heard foot crunches coming from the other side of the tunnel, whispering. It was the rest of the raft gang. Everything was dark, but a flight of stairs led away. It must have been approaching about 4 a.m.

  "Where do those stairs go?"

  "Down below."

  "No shit. Then where?"

  "There's a path, an old dam-operations road. It goes into the desert."

  "I think you're going to have to come with us. If you make a peep, I'll blow your head off." Then he thought about how this whale was going to slow them down.

  "Do you have a pair of cuffs on yah?"

  "No." It was still dark and unlit.

  "Get your fat ass out of that chair and keep your mouth shut." He still had the pistol to the guy's head.

  "Drop your belt…"

  "Why?"

  "I'm securing your hands, genius."

  Wade heard the others shuffle out of the tunnel. Javi looked surprised, eyes wide.

  "Who's this?"

  "Who knows," Wade said. "Is Jonesy coming?"

  "He's a few minutes behind us, with Pequeno." So Jonesy's coming after all, he thought, and Oh no. We'll never be able to keep the dog quiet, and they probably have dogs up here.

  "Hank…" the man muttered, unfastening his belt.

  "Hank is our man of the hour. He's going to lead us out of here."

  When he'd taken his belt off, his pants slipped to halfway down his buttocks. Wade made him cross his wrists behind him. "Javi, I want you to do me a favor. Hold this gun to his head."

  "Don't," Carmen said. She made Wade feel guilty for introducing this conflict and roughly taking a man captive, but Javi surprised him. Without saying anything, he took the gun and held it with two hands, aiming at the man's cheekbone.

  "Don't move, clown," he said. Wade wore a half smile and bound the man's wrists with his leather belt. Maybe Javi understood better than his wife where they were; that they were amongst the animals.

  "Are you packing, by the way?" Wade said. Hank grunted. Wade felt down his pants, reaching into his left pocket and removing a handgun. "I thought so. We can use this." He handed the weapon to Javi and took back his own pistol.

  "Stuff that in your backpack for now," he told Javi. "Let's go. Walk ahead of me," he said, pushing the man forward. Hank shuffled along toward the stairs, just as Jonesy emerged from the tunnel, with a duffel strung over his back and Pequeno on a leash.

  "Who the hell is this?" he whispered in a strained pitch.

  "Just keep the dog quiet, if you can. In fact, you can go ahead first. Take the stairs. They lead to the desert, and Hank here is going to show us the way, aren't you pal?"

  Hank looked back at Wade and scowled, which prompted Wade to poke the back of his head with the pistol barrel. The stairs led down, switch backing a few flights. The dog walked quickly ahead of Jonesy, sniffing. Then Hank, thumping over each step and holding onto a railing, with Wade and the others close behind. The sun still hadn't come up yet, but it would soon.

  "You're not gonna get far you know," Hank mumbled gruffly. "They're gonna see I'm gone and they know I wouldn't go wandering off into the tunnel so they're going to look here…"

  "Didn't I tell you to shut up, unless I tell you to talk?" Wade had no real patience left. They had a long way to go that day, even though he didn't exactly know the direction they'd be headed in.

  "They ain't friendly either when someone messes with 'em and…" Wade clubbed him, gently he th
ought, on the back of his head, and Hank yelped in pain and leaned against the railing with Wade digging the metal handgrip into a soft spot on his lower back.

  "Dios mio!" Carmen said. She hadn't seen this side of Wade. It had just come out, since Chicago.

  Wade hissed into Hank's ear, "You're going to be the silent type and just show us where the road is, and we're going to take you and just let you go at a certain point. Got it?"

  "Yeah!" The others went ahead until they got to the bottom of the stairs. Wade looked behind him; nothing. It was still quiet. Not yet five in the morning. He thought he saw a brightening on the edge of the dam and the canyon. They were lucky to get another hour on the road before Hank's absence would be discovered.

  Soon they were on a dirt road that skirted the edge of the deep canyon. It proffered a long, dim view of the dark green river releasing from the bottom of the dam below. They shuffled along quietly, slowed by the things they carried, and Hank. Wade could hear Jonesy quietly cursing to himself. They would need water soon, especially Pepe. They'd only been able to carry so much, several liters worth, which wouldn't last long in the desert.

  "What's the matter with you?" Wade asked. He already knew; Jonesy regretted leaving the raft and the slot canyon tribe.

  "As soon as I spot a road goin' the other way, back to the river and Arizona and the Escalante, I'm taking it. 'Specially if I can get a ride in a pickup. I didn't sign on for this friggin' death march."

  "How much transportation they have on this road?" Wade asked Hank.

  "Not much…a few ATVs."

  "Any pickup trucks? Any horses?"

  "A few come through. The Reds have Jeeps; a couple of technicals."

  "The who?"

  "The Redboyz; the group I'm employed with."

  "Employed? Are you kidding me? They're a gang, and you're one of the peons."

  "It's like a job, like any other." Now Hank actually sounded like Wade had hurt his feelings, his tender side.

  "That's a stretch. Keep walking."

  "It's hot–when are you gonna take this belt off my wrists? When are you giving me some water?"

  "When you show me all the way out of here. And tell me where these Redboyz came from. How far do they stretch?"

  "To Vegas. That's where we came from."

  "What are they doing at the dam?"

  "Less competition. Fewer turf wars…"

  "Competition for what?"

  "For what we sell–water, weed, food, mushrooms…"

  "Anything you can steal, right?"

  "Something like that."

  "Are you selling women? Making slaves of them?"

  "That's a lie. That's a crock. Where did you hear that? They have wives and girlfriends, like anyone else."

  "They? Not you?"

  "I don't have a girlfriend. You find that information shocking?"

  "Not really. But don't let it get you down. There's someone for everyone out there."

  "Listen, this road, it'll take you right to the main highway. Just stay on the dirt road. I won't say a fuckin' thing–you've already totally screwed me by doing this. Now I don't have any excuses–you're going to have to hit me over the head and make it bleed. Then I can tell them you knocked me out–so maybe they won't throw me off the dam, or crucify me." Hank was now shuffling along the path with his giant head lolling, like he'd pitch forward onto his face at any moment. He was slowing them down. The sun was coming up over the desert flats; the horizon smeared red and bringing out the sandstones own redness. No one noticed its beauty though.

  "Where does the highway go?"

  "South…"

  "To Northern Arizona?"

  "Yes."

  They needed to go faster. The whole crew was strung out ahead of Wade and Hank. The time had come to part company.

  "I'll catch up with you," Wade said to the others. Pequeno was now loose and running along the side of the path, frantically picking up smells.

  Then Wade turned to Hank, whose slack posture expressed total exasperation. His mouth fell.

  "Don't do it–I mean it! I didn't do anything to you. I showed you the way out of here. I did everything you wanted me to. Don't kill me!"

  "Don't piss your pants. I'm going to do what you asked me to do–give you a little bruise to remember us by. Then you're going to cool your heels for a couple of hours while we catch a ride up there. This is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you."

  "Alright alright, just don't cripple me okay?"

  "Turn around and count to ten…" Wade was actually reluctant to do it. Hank was right; he hadn't done anything and seemed like a rather harmless dolt. But he'd probably lied about the women. Unfortunately, he turned his head just when Wade was bringing the butt of his pistol down, and the blow mostly glanced off his ear. Hank collapsed into the dust with a howl.

  "What the fuck was that?!" He held onto the side of his head and his ear, sitting in the middle of the trail, a huge man that Wade thought was going to cry. For sure, it must have smarted like hell.

  "Shshsh, quiet! I'd do it again, but you look bad enough." A wad of stuff had fallen out of his pockets, and he crawled around the trail collecting it. Wade looked back toward the dam and saw no one in pursuit, just a bone-dry sky and a blazing sun that seemed to have burnt away all the clouds. His own mouth was parched, but the others had the water.

  A number of Polaroids were strewn around the ground. Wade picked a few of them up and looked at them. Hank looked at him sheepishly.

  "What the hell are these?"

  "They gave them to me to…," Hank struggled to his feet, out of breath. "Show people…because these are missing girls. Who other people like their relatives are trying to find."

  The pictures showed a number of unsmiling women standing in front of a gray wall. Their expressions were impassive and forced, like those in a mug shot.

  "You're lying! These are women you're trying to sell." Wade started to leaf through them, mostly young women with long blond or brown hair, or Latino and African-American women. They were attractive but sullen, having been lined up and photographed at gunpoint.

  He was appalled, as he looked from one to the other. Along the bottoms of each photo were four-digit numbers and names like ham radio handles or shoddy web usernames, like filly 0091. It was nauseating; it reminded him of the Holocaust. The people with numbers stenciled on their wrists.

  "You have anymore of these?" He looked ahead where the others were waiting for him.

  "I didn't have anything to do with this. I'd let 'em go if I could." Hank still sat on the ground with his hand on his wound; he pulled it away and looked at it.

  "Just give me the rest of them." Wade took the whole pile of them, like a deck of cards, and shoved them in his pocket.

  "Where are these women kept?" The open road pulled at him, but he just had to know.

  "They're down by the river where they got a pier. Then they ship 'em to wherever…sometimes back to Vegas."

  "Ship 'em," Wade whispered to himself. That sounded like bags of coffee, or UPS boxes full of imported junk from China.

  "I'm going to leave you now," he said to Hank, righting the backpack on his shoulders. He still had the pistol displayed. "It's been special knowin' yah."

  "Your gonna untie me, right?"

  Wade had already started walking. "Nah. That wouldn't be a good idea."

  "You're not gonna just leave me here like this? The coyotes will get me! The mountain lions!"

  "Now that I think of it," Wade said. He walked over, snatched Hank's red kerchief from his head, pushed his head down onto the ground, and stuffed about two thirds of it into his mouth, around Hank's muffled protests. "I don't want you screaming like a banshee for the next half hour."

  Then he turned and walked away quickly.

  CHAPTER 31

  They followed the dirt road until it reached a barren, beat-up highway. In the distance, they saw mountains and the glow from flames. The sun was like a giant spotlight trained on all
of them. They had to stop, because Pepe had passed out on his feet; the others were close to curling up on the hard ground next to him.

  They ate leftover rice and oatmeal and crackers by the side of the road, and drank lukewarm water from pouches and used plastic liter bottles. Wade craved an apple, an orange; a fatty steak or a big stein of cold beer. Anything, from the old world of endless stuff. He wondered if they still grew fruit or tended cattle or fished in California. Or made wine.

  Who was running that region now? From Phoebe's friends in the side canyon, he'd heard rumors of foreign invaders from Asia. At any rate, the West Coast was charred, and up for grabs; he knew that much.

  There wasn't much of the water left; they needed new provisions. The Santiagos sat cross-legged on the ground beside Pepe. Pequeno was on his leash sitting in the dust by the side of the road. Wade stood in the road and looked what he figured was due south, toward Flagstaff, Arizona. The empty horizon was smudged by a brownish smog–they had mountains and forests there. It was probably the wildfires.

  He could see utility wires leading down the road to a town, the distance blurred at the edges by radiating heat.

  Their options were limited; Jonesy wanted to return to the raft.

  "No, that's out of the question. We'll run into that gang again."

  "We could run into them anywhere! What do you think is down in that town? The church picnic? Main Street USA?" He lowered his voice. "Ain't no place safe in these parts, outside of the river. Even the Colorado has its hazards, as we found out. But I'd rather take my chances back at the raft."

  "We need you to stay with us Jonesy. Just as far as the next town. Then you can catch a ride back to the river if you want. We'll get some provisions there, I promise. We've got gold coins left; a few things to trade. We'll be alright. We'll find a safe way south. Think of Pepe; he needs all of us firing on all cylinders. He needs you."

  "Keep going, my friend," Jonesy quipped. "The rest of them will break out into applause soon."

  "Seriously. I can't do it alone, me and Javi. You were our savior once–make it twice."