Rot & Ruin (Rot & Ruin, #1)(68)

“It’s circumstantial evidence,” muttered Strunk, but Benny could tell that there was no emphasis left in the captain’s voice. Benny realized that Strunk’s resistance had nothing to do

with his personal beliefs, and certainly not his intelligence. Strunk was a smart, caring man, but the truth was that it was easier to accept that the Mekong brothers had done the killings,

because they only rented a room in Mountainside. They lived in a smaller and rougher town a hundred miles south. Charlie, on the other hand, lived here. If he was guilty, then Strunk would

have to gather a posse and track him out into the Ruin. It was fear that was going to let Charlie Pink-eye and the Motor City Hammer get away with it.

Tom put his hand on the farmer’s good shoulder. “Thanks, Leroy.”

Pain and sadness showed on the big man’s face. “I wish like hell I could go with you boys.”

“I know, Leroy. But do me a favor.”

“Call it.”

“You can still shoot, can’t you?”

“Only with a pistol, but, sure, I generally hit what I’m aiming at.”

“Then if Charlie comes back here and we don’t …” He let it hang.

“Oh, hell, son, you don’t even have to ask. That pink-eyed gangster sets foot in this town again, he’s dead.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Strunk. “Hold on …”

Leroy wheeled on him. Strunk’s eyes came up to the middle of Leroy William’s broad chest. “You have something to say, Captain?” He loaded that last word with enough acid to eat through

sun-baked concrete.

“Yes, I do,” Strunk said, not visibly deterred by the wall of pectoral muscles that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. “If Charlie Pink-eye or the Hammer comes back to

Mountainside, then me and my men will arrest them. They’ll be properly arraigned on suspicion of murder, kidnapping, and a few hundred other charges I’ll figure out later, and they’ll

stand a proper and legal trial.” Before anyone could reply, Strunk added, “Thing is, it’ll probably be hard as hell to find a jury of twelve totally impartial townsfolk. Jessie Riley had

a lot more friends in town than Charlie ever did. Besides … there are only two crimes that carry a death sentence anymore. Murder and kidnapping.”

The meaning implied in his words hung burning like embers in the air. Tom and Leroy studied Strunk; Benny and Chong exchanged meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. Chong covertly drew a

finger across his throat.

“No more talk,” said Tom. “We have a lot of miles to go, and they have a long lead.”

“So … let’s even things up,” said Strunk. He raised his hands and snapped his fingers, and immediately Deputy Gorman came toward them, leading the two horses by their reins. Benny could

now see that both horses—an Appaloosa and a buckskin—were draped in coats made from tough, lightweight outdoor carpet. Strunk took the reins and handed one set to Tom and the other to

Benny. Riding chaps made from durable carpet were hooked onto each saddle horn.

“The Appaloosa’s name is Chief; the buckskin is Apache. They’re fresh, fed, and fast,” he said. “Bring that girl home.”

Tom studied Strunk’s face for a long three-count, then nodded.

Dawn was a faint promise in the east. Two dozen guards with shotguns and torches met the brothers at the gate.

“My boys will go out as far as we can, Tom,” said Strunk. “We can help you get away, keep the zoms busy.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Then to Benny, Tom said, “You ready?”

“Yeah, but I feel like time’s flying.”

Tom gave him the first slice of smile he’d been able to dredge up all night. “They’re on foot.” He swung into the Appaloosa’s saddle. “Now we have a real chance.”

Benny scrambled up onto the buckskin’s saddle with less grace than his brother, with Chong pushing on his butt. He’d ridden before, but only ponies; this was a full-sized horse.

Strunk signaled to the gatekeepers to open up, and instantly all the guards ran out into the flat, open plain that stretched from the fence line to the foothills of the mountains. There were

at least fifty zoms in the fields, some standing still, others wandering endlessly back and forth. The guards broke left, and when they were a hundred yards from the gate, they began

shooting into the air and waving torches. As if cued by some shared inner compulsion, the dead turned toward the noise and motion, their mouths dropping open. Even through the noise of the

shotguns, Benny could hear the low, plaintive moans of endless hunger as the zoms began shuffling through the grass toward the guards.

“It’s clear!” Leroy said in a fierce whisper. “Go! Go!”

Tom and Benny kicked their horses into canters, and once they were outside the gate, they turned to the south and kicked harder. The horses were young and strong, and they galloped away,

bearing the brothers toward the narrow pass in the mountains that led to the great Rot and Ruin. Benny was a poor horseman, and pain lanced through his hips, stomach, and legs with each

running step the horse took. But that pain was necessary, because they had to move fast. And really, he thought as he set his teeth against the discomfort and set his mind on the distant