Badlands (14 page)

“He doesn’t mean it,” Owen said.

“I know.”

He snapped the flagpole in half, struck by inspiration. “Can he play with this?”

She smiled weakly. “Yes.”

They let Cruz blow off steam for a few minutes. When Owen approached him with the new toy, she tucked the pocketknife into her bra. Cruz wasn’t as excited about the flag, but he accepted it. He sat in the wheelbarrow, waving it back and forth.

About a mile down the tracks, something far more magnificent caught his attention. A huge bridgelike structure stretched over a steep gorge. The flag and the knife were forgotten in an instant. Cruz scrambled out of the wheelbarrow to look.

“World’s largest trestle,” Owen said, staring across the expanse.

“What’s it made out of?” Cruz asked.

“Redwood.”

An intricate maze of rust-colored wooden beams supported the tracks. They were as thick as railroad ties, crisscrossed like lattice. It must have been two hundred feet high, and three or four times as long. Not only that, the structure curved to the right. The tracks disappeared into a dark tunnel on the opposite cliff.

“Whoa,” Cruz said.

“Hold my hand,” Penny ordered as they got closer.

Cruz didn’t argue. It was an intimidating tangle of wood, sturdy-looking but old. The only thing separating them from the edge was a railing of thin metal cord.

“Is it safe?” she asked.

“Sure,” Owen said. “It was made to bear a lot of weight.”

“What if the wood is rotten?”

“It’s not. They built it in the early 1900s, and there were trains running this track five years ago.”

She hesitated to step forward, her pulse pounding.

“I’ll push you across in the wheelbarrow,” he offered.

“No.”

“You think I’ll dump you over the edge?”

She shook her head. “I just want to go at my own pace.”

“This is the last tunnel,” he said. “On the other side, we’re home free.”

“Close to the road, you mean?”

“Just a few miles.”

“It’s all right, Mommy,” Cruz said. “I won’t let you fall.”

She kissed the top of his head, forgiving his earlier misbehavior. “In that case, I’m ready.”

“I’ll go first,” Owen said.

He pushed the wheelbarrow while they walked on an aluminum grate next to the tracks. She couldn’t look down. Every step felt risky. Her stomach clenched with anxiety, empty and shriveled from lack of sustenance.

This would be a very bad place to faint.

When they got to the other side, she almost wilted with relief. She stopped to look back at the deep gorge in amazement. Owen put his arm around her, and she held on to Cruz’s small shoulders. They were like a family at the Grand Canyon.

After a quiet moment, they turned and headed toward the tunnel. Penny and Cruz followed Owen, who was pushing the empty wheelbarrow. She got the flashlight ready. Before they entered the dark recesses, a figure flew out and tackled Owen. They rolled across the tracks, perilously close to the cliff’s edge.

Penny screamed and pulled Cruz closer to her body, protecting him on instinct. But there was more than one attacker. A second man grabbed her from behind. He clasped his palm over her mouth and barred her waist with his arm. She was wrenched away from Cruz, yanked into the shadows of the tunnel.

She sank her teeth into his rough, salty skin.

“Goddamn it!”

Tasting blood, she bit harder.

Releasing her mouth, with some difficulty, he employed a different tactic: pressing the barrel of a gun to her temple. “Be still.”

She went still.

Cruz watched this, his eyes wide with terror. He couldn’t run away even if he wanted to. Penny and her captor where blocking the tunnel. Owen and Dirk were wrestling on the dusty ground in front of the trestle. Cruz was trapped between two horrifying struggles.

“Let go of my mommy!” Cruz said.

“Shut him up,” the man behind her said. Shane, she figured.

“I’m okay,” she choked out. “Stay right there. Stay quiet.”

He clenched his little hands into fists but obeyed. She shuddered to think of what he might have done with the pocketknife.

Shane probably meant to control Owen by threatening her, but Owen had his hands full with Dirk. He appeared to be fighting for his life, trading punches next to the overturned wheelbarrow.

When Owen drew the gun from his waistband, Shane inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ve got your woman, brother!”

Owen glanced at Penny. In that second of distraction, Dirk pounced. He straddled Owen and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the ground. The weapon discharged with an earsplitting boom and tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

The battle would have been over at that point if Cruz hadn’t interfered. To her absolute horror, her son ran toward the melee. He drew back his foot and kicked Dirk in the ribs, hard enough to make him grunt.

When Dirk raised a hand to retaliate, Penny’s world came to a grinding halt. The next moment unfolded in slow motion. Dirk struck her son across the face and sent him flying. Cruz landed near the front of the tunnel, crumpled in a heap. His eyes were open but dazed. Penny screamed his name, reaching out to him.

Shane swore under his breath and tightened his grip.

Owen went nuts.

With a feral growl, he slammed his fist into Dirk’s stomach and shoved him aside. Dirk scrambled to his feet, coughing. Owen jumped up and pulled a knife from his belt. He advanced, slashing it at the other man’s midsection. His opponent leaped backward just in time. Dirk retreated toward the trestle, waggling his fingers at Owen in a clear invitation to bring it on. His nostrils were dripping blood, his eyes wild.

“Enough,” Shane yelled, dragging Penny from the shadows. “I have a gun to her head, you dumb fuck!”

Penny wanted to tell him not to surrender, but the words died in her throat. Even if Owen defeated Dirk, Shane would decide how this ended. Maybe he’d have mercy on Owen. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Owen looked over his shoulder at Cruz, wiping blood from his mouth. Her son was curled up in a little ball, crying. A muscle in Owen’s jaw clenched at the sight. He tossed his knife in the dirt, defeated.

“Turn around and get on the ground,” Dirk shouted. “Facedown.”

Owen followed those instructions, his eyes dead.

Dirk picked up the knife and rushed forward, stepping on the back of Owen’s neck. Owen bared his gritted teeth as Dirk applied more pressure, smashing his cheek against the ground. “You’re not so tough now, are you, motherfucker? You’re not so tough without a gun to shoot someone in the foot, or a knife to stab them with.”

Penny hated to watch this. She hated for
Cruz
to watch this. Her son continued to weep quietly, tears leaving tracks in the dust on his face.

Dirk lifted his boot up and grabbed Owen by the collar, dragging him toward the edge of the cliff. Shoving Owen’s head under the thin metal guardrail, Dirk crouched on top of him, pressing his knee between Owen’s shoulder blades. He gripped Owen’s short hair and touched the tip of the blade to his taut throat.

“No!” Penny wailed. She pummeled her fists against Shane’s arm to get free, but he wouldn’t budge.

“How tough will you feel, watching your blood spill out?”

“Not in front of Cruz,” Owen rasped.

“What did you say?” Dirk asked.

“Not in front of the boy. Please.”

Dirk deferred to Shane. “Do you want to finish this? If you’re not going to take care of business, I will.”

“Is that my brother’s kid?” Shane asked Penny.

Penny wasn’t sure how to respond. Anyone who could do basic math would know Cruz wasn’t Owen’s son. Shane must be an idiot.

He dug the barrel into her temple. “Is it?”

“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes!”

“Cover his eyes,” Shane said, shoving her toward Cruz. She stumbled and fell down hard. Tears blurring her vision, she crawled to her son on her hands and knees. Her entire body quaked as she drew Cruz into her embrace. Turning him away from the carnage, she cradled his head to her chest and closed her hands over his ears.

The sound of a gunshot bounced off the walls of the gorge, making her jump. She felt it penetrate, straight through the heart.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

O
WEN
STARED
AT
the bottom of the gorge, his bile rising.

He was determined not to glance at Cruz or Penny. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt in a futile attempt to help him. Better to just take a deep breath, let his mind go blank and accept his fate. Hold steady. It would all be over soon.

Instead of cutting his throat, Dirk merely nicked him. Blood coursed over his Adam’s apple in a thin trickle. A couple of drops splashed on the rocks below. Owen heard Penny’s agonized sob as Shane shoved her aside.

His brother came forward. To kill him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Penny crawling across the dirt, toward Cruz. She cowered at the mouth of the tunnel, protecting him with her body. Cruz was also crying. He didn’t appear to be badly injured. If the boy had been knocked unconscious, Owen would have gutted Dirk like a fish.

He wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision by dropping the knife. Sacrificing himself for Penny and Cruz was a no-brainer, but he didn’t want his life to end like this. Not at his brother’s hands. Not facedown and helpless, staring at his own blood.

Pebbles crunched under Shane’s boots as he approached. Owen smelled rust and sweat and cigarette-stinking fingers. The unpleasant odor reminded him of his father. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the tears at bay.

How fucking stupid, to care about looking like a wimp before he got his head blown off. What insidious, asinine macho bullshit. Even at the cusp of death, his father’s words haunted him so much that he refused to beg and blubber.

Like it mattered. Would he rather be a corpse or a coward? If he had a choice, he’d take coward. It wasn’t as if he’d always stayed strong or held his head high. Some of the things he’d done in prison—well, he’d proved the old man right.

Shane stepped up to finish him. His brother didn’t mess around with big talk and intimidation, like Dirk. It was cold comfort, but Owen knew Shane wouldn’t savor this. He’d carry the guilt with him to the grave.

Owen flinched as the gun went off. The sound ricocheted throughout the canyon, oddly flat and lacking impact.

He hadn’t even felt the bullet.

Dirk let go of the knife and slumped forward, on top of him. Something warm and sloppy slid across the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. Owen opened his eyes, realizing he hadn’t been shot. Dirk had.

The scene was like a Picasso, difficult to process. He blinked a few times until his brain solved the gruesome puzzle. What was left of Dirk’s face rested right next to Owen’s. The top of his head was gone, his scalp hanging loose.

Owen recoiled in shock.

Shane shoved the corpse aside with his foot. It toppled over the edge, glancing off rocks and turning cartwheels before hitting the bottom of the gorge with a sickening thud. Owen rolled away from the guardrail and retched. A small amount of water and stomach acid came up, burning his throat.

Shane wrenched Owen’s arms behind his back and snapped cuffs on his wrists. Owen was too traumatized to struggle. He didn’t even understand what his brother wanted to do to him. Maybe Shane had another bullet with his name on it.

Shane picked up Roach’s knife and stuck the blade in his boot. Apparently his brother intended to go through with the money exchange and whatever else the plan called for. Shane might have chosen Owen’s life over Dirk’s, but he wasn’t giving up. Once he committed to a crime, he didn’t quit.

Owen dragged his gaze toward the entrance of the tunnel. His head throbbed from hanging off the edge, and his ears were ringing. The sun was too bright for his bleary eyes. Penny had her back to him. She appeared to be weeping.

“Get up,” Shane said, yanking him to his feet. “Walk.”

Owen stumbled toward Penny. Keeping Cruz’s head cradled to her chest, she looked over her shoulder. When she saw him, her tears cut off like a switch. She stared at him for a long moment, her lips parted in wonder. Then her face crumpled, and she starting crying again. With relief, perhaps.

“Let’s go, princess,” Shane said.

Wiping her wet cheeks, she rose. Although she was clearly shaken and still weak from the day before, she lifted Cruz into her arms. Shane took out a flashlight, waving at her to precede them into the dark passageway. They walked down the tracks in silence. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it didn’t lead anywhere peaceful.

A dun-colored Jeep was parked on the other side. Shane shoved Owen into the passenger seat and secured the safety belt, trapping him there. Then he opened the glove compartment and removed a roll of duct tape. He pointed at the space behind Owen. “Put your kid there.”

Penny stood rooted to the spot, uncooperative.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he said. “I won’t hurt him, but I’ll use the taser on you if I have to.”

Mouth trembling, she carried Cruz forward and sat him down, latching his seat belt. Owen cranked his head around to study him. Other than a red mark on his cheek, the boy seemed unharmed. Owen didn’t know what to say. Cruz might not be injured, but he wasn’t okay. Nothing about this would ever be okay.

Penny allowed Shane to tape her hands behind her back. He wrapped her crossed wrists several times and loaded her into the Jeep.

Owen stared at the dashboard, his mind numb. He hadn’t figured on Shane coming from the south side of the tracks. It was the longer route and a gamble. There was no trail to follow. Owen might have gone the opposite direction. The more distance he’d put between them and the palm oasis, the more comfortable he’d felt. He’d grown complacent.

Shane started the engine and headed down a narrow wash. He looked tired and angry, as if shooting Dirk had ruined his whole day.

“Where’s Brett?” Owen asked.

“Mexico.”

Gardener must have driven him. There was no one else. Both Roach and Dirk were dead. It was just brother versus brother now. Owen didn’t know if he had the heart to challenge Shane. He couldn’t imagine killing him. In any fight, they’d both lose.

He was drained, physically and emotionally. The past three days had been worse than the San Diego earthquake. Back then he hadn’t given a shit about anybody, least of all himself. Caring made everything harder.

Owen was exhausted. His clothes were filthy. He had blood and gore on his neck, some of which wasn’t his own. The inside of his mouth ached from multiple blows, and hunger gnawed at the pit of his stomach. His palms were blistered from the wheelbarrow, his feet hurt and the cut on his forearm burned like fire.

Maybe
he
had heatstroke.

These minor discomforts were nothing compared to his inner turmoil. Seeing Dirk raise his hand to Cruz had affected Owen deeply. It had filled him with rage and impotence, for the boy Cruz was and the boy Owen had been. Neither deserved the abuse.

Owen couldn’t change the past, but he wanted to control the future, and prevent
this
child from ever being struck again.

It wasn’t Cruz’s fault that Dirk hit him or Tyler didn’t want him. It wasn’t Jamie’s fault that Shane was a reprobate. And it wasn’t Owen’s fault that his father had been abusive. None of their fathers’ actions reflected on them.

He realized now that he’d never been a coward. His father had been the coward for choosing weaker targets. Whenever Owen had flinched or shied away from him, he’d been beaten for it. He’d been punished for being scared, which was a natural response to violence. Shane had been punished for fighting back. Their mother had been punished for doing nothing. No one had escaped unscathed.

But they could overcome.
He
could overcome.

Owen needed to stop listening to the voices inside his head, the ones that whispered the same things his father had. By letting his bad experiences dictate the rest of his life, he’d given them too much power. He had to rise above the trauma and move on.

* * *

“W
AKE
UP
,” S
HANE
SAID
, shoving his shoulder.

Owen straightened abruptly. He’d closed his eyes for a moment and drifted off, slouched in the passenger seat. They were already in Salton City, parked in front of his mother’s modular home. Her car was gone, indicating that she was at work. His father’s old fishing boat was sitting there, covered with a green tarp.

Owen glanced at Penny, who stared back at him with an inscrutable expression.

Shane got out of the Jeep, motioning for her to do the same. Then he went to open the passenger door. Owen stood up with a wince, his body stiff from sleep. Cruz unlatched his seat belt and followed them toward the house.

Shane let Penny in first, then Cruz and Owen. She walked a few tentative steps, stopping when she reached the kitchen. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. He could smell bread and bananas and coffee grounds.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Cruz said.

Shane pointed at a nearby door. “In there.”

Owen also wanted to relieve himself, but he could hold it, and he doubted Shane would unlock his cuffs. With Shane’s help, he sat down at the kitchen table.

“Can I go, too?” Penny asked.

Shane seemed to consider her a minor threat, easy to overpower and control. She wouldn’t run off without Cruz. He removed the knife from his boot and turned her around, preparing to cut through the duct tape. But perhaps he remembered that she’d walloped Gardener a good one, because he hesitated. “You carrying any weapons, wildcat?”

She shook her head, cheeks flushed.

He searched her anyway. He was thorough, and not particularly respectful. She winced as Shane cupped her breasts crudely.

Owen tried to remain calm, but his blood boiled with fury. He suspected Shane was doing this to taunt him. Owen wanted to leap to his feet and head-butt his brother for touching her. Shane dug into her bra, removing the pocketknife with dirty fingers.

“Look what we have here,” he said, tossing it on the table. “Maybe I should do a full cavity search.”

“Leave her alone,” Owen said through clenched teeth.

The harassment was cut short by Cruz, not Owen. When the boy returned to the kitchen, Shane’s manner changed from menacing to mild. He sliced through the tape at Penny’s wrists and stepped back.

“I’m hungry,” Cruz said.

“Make us some food,” Shane told Penny.

She rubbed her wrists. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Sure,” he said, winking at Owen. He pocketed the army knife and accompanied her, standing right outside the open door. Her mouth was thin with discomfort as she walked back into the kitchen and looked in the fridge.

“Mommy doesn’t know how to cook,” Cruz said.

“Oh, yeah?” Shane asked. “Why is that?”

“We have a chef.”

“They have a chef,” Shane said, arching a brow at Owen. “Of course. What does he make?”

“Tacos, pizza. Anything we want.”

“How nice for you.”

“There’s lunch meat and cheese slices,” Penny said. She rifled through the drawers. “Some fruit. That’s about it.”

“What to drink?”

“Milk.”

“No beer?”

“I don’t see any.”

Shane shrugged. “Bring it all. I’m starving.”

She brought everything she could find. Ham, processed cheese, apples, bananas, white bread and peanut butter. They were too hungry to wait for sandwiches. Cruz fed himself and Owen slices of ham and cheese. Penny slathered peanut butter on bread, and Shane quartered apples with his new pocketknife. It was a white-trash feast.

“That’s mine,” Cruz said.

“This?” Shane said, holding up the knife.

“Owen gave it to me.”

“Is that right?” he mused.

Cruz nodded.

A smile played on his lips. “If I give it back to you, will you stab me with it?”

“Not unless you hurt my mommy.”

Shane must have liked this answer, because he shoved the knife across the table. “Here. Keep it.”

And with that single gesture, Shane won Cruz over. The boy tucked the knife into his pocket like a sacred object while Penny stood by, silent. Now Owen understood how she’d felt this morning. He was angry with Shane for presenting a weapon to Cruz—one that he’d yanked from her bra—as a gift.

“Can Cruz watch cartoons?” Penny asked.

Shane nodded his permission. She took him to the couch and turned on a kids’ show. Owen wondered what she thought of his childhood home. It was as clean as always, but cheaply furnished and shabby. The carpet was threadbare, the linoleum outdated.

Shane lit up a cigarette and stood. He looked through all of the drawers and cabinets, slamming them in frustration.

“Try the boat,” Owen said. “Dad kept a bottle under the tarp.”

“You sure?”

“I took a swig of it myself after the funeral.”