“I hope he is dead. That campsite was a bust, and that map… We might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Ben’s pulse quickened at the mention of the atlas. Where was it? He was tempted to give Joel the signal and take these guys out, but he wanted to hold out and eavesdrop just a little longer if they could. If there were more of the gang, maybe they’d get lucky and learn of their whereabouts. Or maybe someone would produce the atlas. Either way, they weren’t leaving here without it.

  “Oh man, that cooler’s gettin’ bad. I thought you were supposed to get us fresh water this morning.” The younger guy pulled back from the Igloo dispenser, much like Ben had when he first opened it.

  “And when was I supposed to do that, genius? We just wasted half the day and a lot of gas looking for these people. Just check on the guy. Maybe he can tell us something else.” The man found a spot to sit atop an old barrel located perilously close to the stall Martin was hiding in. Ben had his finger on the trigger, ready to spring into action.

  “I’m not doing it this time.” The younger man slammed the lid down on the cooler and glared at his cohort lounging on the barrel.

  “Want to do something about it?” The man on the barrel started to stand up, but one of the others pushed him back down.

  “Knock it off, you two.” The man adjusted his well-worn cowboy hat and continued walking until he was standing next to the pile of loot they’d poached from the Scout. Resting his hand on a large, holstered revolver, he took stock of the spoils. He reminded Ben of the man in the tower at the FEMA camp.

  The man continued. “Jimmy, you check on the prisoner. We need him alive for now. He’s the best bait we have. Rick, you’re on water duty, and I don’t want to hear anything else about it. Now let’s get it done so we can get back out there and find these people.”

  Ben figured him for the leader of the ragtag bunch of criminals since none of the others seemed eager to challenge his orders.

  “Fine,” Jimmy grumbled and started for the ladder that led up to the loft.

  Hearing these people talking about Ben and his crew as if they were their next victims made Ben’s blood boil. They were animals. Any remnants of humanity they possessed were dead, like the wasteland of failed crops surrounding this godawful place. Eliminating these people would be his pleasure. And now that one of them was about to discover Martin missing from the loft, it was time to act.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Joel watched his dad with bated breath. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned the day going when they broke camp at the river this morning. It seemed they were getting worse at avoiding trouble. Or trouble was getting better at finding them.

  He’d been so optimistic about things improving after Martin left the group. And he certainly never would have guessed they’d see the man again after his hasty departure last night. But here they were, paying the price for Martin’s selfish ignorance one more time.

  But a part of Joel had to acknowledge the possibility that Martin had actually taken a bullet for them all by being the first one through this area. That could have just as easily been the Blazer or the Scrambler sitting out there peppered with bullet holes.

  He couldn’t think about that right now; he needed to be ready to kill these men as quickly as he could. He’d lost track of how many people he’d killed. It wasn’t that many, but it was all blurry. Was that how it was supposed to be? All the faces looked the same in his mind’s eye, and he’d be adding some of these to that distorted image soon enough.

  His pulse quickened when his dad turned to look at him and stuck out three fingers. This was it; it was about to happen. Ben mouthed the words “on three” and took up his AR-15. Joel kept count in his head and readied himself. Left to right, that was his job. The guy they called Jimmy was closest to Joel and heading for the ladder to the loft. The man sitting on the barrel would be his next target. If his dad hadn’t taken out the others, he’d go after the guy sitting on the stacked hay, who would probably be shooting back by then.

  Joel watched his dad’s hand come off the foregrip of his grandfather’s AR-15 in slow motion. With a wave of Ben’s finger toward the thieves, it was on. Joel focused on his first target, who was halfway up the ladder already.

  Crack, crack. Joel squeezed the trigger as fast as he could while staying accurate with his aim. He didn’t wait to see the resulting effects of his shots on the man and swung his rifle to the right until he found the man who had been sitting on the barrel. He was quick to his feet and already on the move toward his weapon.

  Crack, crack… crack, crack. The report of his dad’s gun rang out, and Ben was already sizing up his third target as he took aim at the guy that had been sitting on the hay. He was gone, but Joel didn’t see where he’d gotten to. There was no time to worry about him, though. The guy sitting on the barrel was making his way across the barn and closing in on the rifle he’d leaned against the wall.

  Crack… crack, crack. Joel fired three times and hit the man with a tight group to his upper-right torso. The man took a couple more strides toward the rifle before going down in a crumpled ball on the hay-littered floor.

  Joel searched for another target but was forced to pull away as the two-by-six capping the stable wall erupted in a spray of splinters. Someone was shooting back. The man that had been sitting on the hay managed to retrieve his gun and was hiding out behind a semi-solid, wood-planked wall of hanging implements.

  “Martin, now!” Ben yelled and fired several rounds from his AR-15 into the wall, sending chunks of wood into the air as high as the loft. “Joel, here.” His dad threw him the two-way. “Find out if the girls see anyone outside the barn.”

  Joel didn’t want to be on the radio; he wanted to stay in the fight and help his dad flush out the last man. Martin should have had a shot on the guy from his position, but they hadn’t heard from him. For all they knew, he had succumbed to his injuries.

  Crack, crack. Joel added some lead of his own to the wall.

  “The girls,” Ben reminded him.

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, Joel dropped below the wooded slats of the stable divider. “Come in. Is there anybody outside the barn? Over.” He didn’t waste any time getting back behind his AR-15, but then he had an idea. He pushed the rifle aside and slid the 12-gauge KelTec around to the ready position. He was careful to throw the barrel selection lever to the side loaded with rifled slugs.

  Joel did his best to guesstimate where the guy might be hiding and squeezed the trigger.

  Boom.

  He shucked the spent shell and racked another slug load into the action as fast as he could.

  Boom. The little bullpup dug into his shoulder for the second time as another 2.5-ounce lead ball rocketed out of the barrel and punched through the wall about a foot away from the first.

  “More.” He heard his dad over the ringing in his ears and did as he was told.

  Boom… wrack, boom… wrack, boom… wrack.

  Joel did his best to space the shots out evenly across the surface of the wall. The lightweight shotgun stung his shoulder and tweaked his already sore back with each squeeze of the trigger, but he didn’t care. He was caught in the throes of an adrenaline high and could have unloaded both tubes of 12-gauge ammunition, if that was what it took. Before the gunfight started, he’d been tentative. Now all he wanted to do was kill this guy and get back to Allie.

  “Hold your fire.” Ben put his hand on Joel’s shoulder and stood up from behind the cover of the stall, keeping his AR-15 trained on the wall the man was hiding behind. The barn was suddenly silent except for the crackle of the radio.

  “Come in, come in. What’s going on? Joel, are you there? Over.” It was Allie this time, and she sounded upset.

  “Go ahead. Over,” Joel replied, then put his hand back on the foregrip of the KSG, following his dad out from behind the safety of the horse stalls.

  “There’s two armed men outside, hiding around the trucks. Are you guys okay? Over.” Allie must have been trying to get ahold of them while Joel was pumping slugs into the wall.

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Over,” Joel answered quickly while following his dad.

  Ben turned toward him for a second. “Joel.”

  “Can’t talk right now. Over.” Joel clipped the radio to his belt and followed his dad. They took a wide angle as they passed the dividing wall, Joel a few steps to his dad’s left. He kept the KSG against his shoulder, ready to pull the trigger at the first sign of life behind the wall. But that wouldn’t be necessary.

  The man that had been shooting at them from behind the half-dry-rotted wall was lying face-down in the dirt. One of the slugs had struck him in the neck, removing a large chunk of flesh and muscle. He was dead—there was no doubt about it—although there was surprisingly little blood on the ground; most of it had probably soaked into the dry, sandy dirt covering the barn floor.

  Joel looked beyond the body to the stall Martin had been hiding in.

  “You check on Martin. I’m going to take a peek outside and see if I can locate the other two.” Ben patted Joel’s shoulder and headed toward the front of the barn, where a crack between the oversized doors let in a thin shaft of light.

  Joel went the other direction, and within a few strides, he found Martin right where they’d left him. Glock in hand, he sat leaning against the stall divider, his skin a pale gray. His cold, unmoving gaze seemed fixed on Joel as he approached the gate.

  “Martin?” Joel called his name, although he wasn’t sure why. Martin was dead.

  Forgetting for a moment there were two gunmen outside trying to kill him and his dad, Joel stared at the man that had caused them so much trouble for what felt like such a long time. He suddenly felt guilty for all the laughs that he, Allie, and Brad had shared in the Jeep together at Martin’s expense. Those conversations between the three of them had been laced with equal amounts of frustration and anger at the things Martin had done, but those feelings were gone now, along with the man himself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ben was careful not to step directly in front of the crack between the oversized double barn doors while spying on the two gunmen. Allie was right; there were two guys with guns hiding around the flatbed and suburban. They both had AR-15s. One carried a backpack, which Ben assumed held extra ammunition, and the other was wearing some type of tactical vest that might or might not have had plates in it.

  The last thing he wanted to get caught up in was a standoff, especially when there could be others on their way to provide backup. Ben had assumed the remaining thieves would make a run for it when the shooting started, but they had more courage than he anticipated. Then again, maybe this was all they had. The stolen gear and supplies behind him on the floor might have been all the gear and supplies their pathetic little gang possessed, although he imagined they had a stockpile of stolen goods elsewhere, based on the amount of shot-up vehicles out back.

  “Dad.” Ben turned to see Joel standing behind him with his Glock. Joel handed him the pistol, grip first.

  “Martin?” Ben asked.

  Joel just shook his head. Ben considered Martin’s demise, but only for a split second. There was no time right now to feel whatever he was supposed to feel about the loss of a man who’d nearly gotten them all killed on numerous occasions. Martin’s death seemed unimportant at the moment, considering there were two men outside trying to kill them.

  “We need to go out the back and try to flank them.” Ben started for the rear of the barn.

  Joel followed his dad. “What about the girls? Do you think they’d have a shot?”

  “They’re too far away, and it’s too risky for them to move in closer. As dry as it is out here, they’d be spotted a mile away,” Ben reasoned. And he was right. Any attempt to get in closer for a better shot by Sandy or Allie wouldn’t go unnoticed. They needed to clean this up themselves, without getting the others involved.

  Ben stopped dead in his tracks when he felt Joel’s hand grip his shoulder. He turned to see his son’s finger over his mouth. Then, with the same finger, Joel pointed to a bloody spot in the hay. The man Joel had shot off the ladder was gone.

  Ben crouched down and motioned for Joel to do the same. They looked around the barn, and Ben listened for anything that might give away the man’s location. A floorboard creaked above their heads, and a thin stream of powder-fine dust poured through a gap in the ceiling slats directly above them. There was somebody moving around up there.

  Before Ben could react, Joel pushed him to the side and fell to his back on the hay-covered ground, firing a slug through the ceiling where the dust had filtered through. Ben covered his face to shield his eyes from the wood fragments that showered them. A few seconds later, a hard thud shook loose another dust cloud from the ceiling, and the light coming through the bullet hole in the floor above was suddenly blotted out.

  Ben’s first instinct was to scold Joel for not giving him a heads-up before taking the shot, but his son had acted appropriately, no matter how jarring it was.

  Joel shrugged. “I thought he was going to shoot down at us.”

  “No, you did the right thing. Good shot.” Ben nodded his approval and brushed the hay from his clothes, heading for the rear door once again without saying another word. There was nothing wrong with what Joel had done; it was exactly what Ben was going to do, but he hadn’t been quick enough.

  Joel had just caught him off guard with his speed and decisiveness. Ben knew Joel wasn’t a kid anymore, as much as it pained him to think that. Not only could he be counted on when the chips were down, but he’d also become more confident in his decisions.

  Ben was mostly just disappointed in himself for not making sure the man was dead, although with so much going on, he wasn’t surprised the detail had slipped by both of them. After all, they still had two gunmen to deal with outside, and by the looks of them, they weren’t going to make it easy.

  Just as Ben opened the rear door and peeked outside, several bullets tore through the interior of the barn.

  “Come on, quick.” Ben pushed Joel out the back door ahead of him and slammed it shut as the two gunmen continued shooting blindly into the barn. The fact that the remaining gang members would shoot up the place without knowing if any of their friends were still alive inside spoke volumes about the type of people they were. But Ben already knew that much about them.

  Joel followed him past the graveyard of bullet-riddled vehicles. As they neared the last row of cars, Ben saw the answer to their problem. A shallow, dry swale ran across the back of the property. Originally put in for drainage, it would make good cover to effectively flank the gunmen.

  “This way.” Ben sprinted across the twenty yards of open field as gunshots continued to ring out in the background. The two remaining gunmen were apparently determined to kill whoever was in the barn through sheer volume. Good, the more ammunition they wasted, the better.

  He and Joel hit the dirt hard, sending up a puff of dust that took a few seconds to clear. Ben positioned his AR-15 across his forearms and began belly-crawling along the crusty, sunbaked ground, taking a break every so often to check on Joel. The kid was no stranger to moving like this. They’d approached countless mountain ridges in similar fashion when stalking elk through the San Juans. They weren’t after elk today, but they were hunting.

  They followed the crease away from the barn at a right angle. Ben had his sights set on another irrigation service point. The steel structure would be a good place to shoot from, and if they positioned themselves properly, Ben could end things swiftly with the M24. At this point, though, he thought Joel would be disappointed if he didn’t get a chance to participate further in settling the score with these people.

  Ben would never entertain the notion that killing was something to be taken lightly. Quite the opposite, in fact. Taking a life was a huge responsibility, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he took some satisfaction in eliminating animals like these from the food chain.

  Living with Martin these past couple of weeks was no picnic, but the man didn’t deserve what they’d done to him. None of the victims deserved what had come to them here. And in Ben’s book, that made what they were doing both necessary and justified. He was sure Joel felt the same way based on his lack of hesitation in slinging lead around the barn.

  Ben’s throat burned even more now that they’d crawled through a couple hundred yards of powder-dry dirt. Ben ran his tongue over the layer of grit covering his teeth. He wanted to spit but couldn’t come up with enough saliva. They were pushing the limit in this heat and probably close to dehydration. Not that they could do anything about that. Not until they eliminated the two stragglers.

  “All right, let’s take a look from here. I think this is a good angle on the trucks.” Ben made his way up the slight incline, careful to keep the irrigation equipment between himself and the barn. The Suburban and the flatbed truck were parked in front of the weathered farm building near the battered Scout, but he didn’t see the two gunmen anywhere. The shooting stopped a couple of minutes ago, but he figured they were taking a break.

  “Here, use this one.” Ben handed Joel the AR-15 with the Trijicon and swung the M24 up to his shoulder. He scoped the barn and the trucks, looking for the two men, but he saw nothing. “I don’t see them anywhere. Want to check in with the girls and see what they know?” He stayed behind the scope, searching the area for any signs of activity.

  Joel pulled the radio from his side. “Come in. Do you see where they went? Over.”

  “Yeah, they went inside the barn. Where are you guys? Over,” Allie replied.

  “We’re outside, about a hundred yards to the right of the barn. Over,” Joel answered.

  “Do you need help? We can be there in no time. Over.”