Rot & Ruin (Rot & Ruin, #1)(69)

mountains, what did his pain matter? The pain Nix must be feeling had to be a million times worse. With that thought burning in his mind, he ignored his pain and kicked his horse into a

faster gallop.

Chong climbed to the top of the tower and watched as Benny’s horse dwindled to a small black dot against the bloodred dawn, then vanished altogether.





31


THEY RODE HARD ALL MORNING, PUSHING THE HORSES TO THE EDGE OF endurance. Several times the thunder of their hooves attracted zoms, but all horses shied away from zoms and were trained to

alert their riders. Besides, the shuffling zoms could not catch up to the fast mounts, and even if they did, the carpet coats each horse wore kept the animals safe while Tom and Benny used

their swords to chop the monsters down.

It was all terrifying to Benny, but the dread of what could be happening to Nix was far worse, and he ground his teeth together and kept pace with Tom.

At first, in the coolness of dawn, the horses could manage the grueling pace, but as the sun rose, the temperature soared, and the horses began blowing and wheezing. Foam flecked their

mouths, and under the lightweight carpet coats, their flanks were streaked with sweat. Finally Tom slowed their pace to a walk and then dismounted. Chief, the big Appaloosa, almost visibly

sighed in relief.

“What are you doing?” demanded Benny. “We have to keep going.”

“If we keep this pace, we’ll kill these animals and then where will we be? We have to give them some water and then walk them for a while. Then they’ll be ready for another run.”

It was maddening to Benny, but he knew Tom was right. He slid from Apache’s saddle, secretly grateful, because his legs felt like they were stretched out of shape. With every step it felt

like there was sandpaper on the inside of his pants. Riding ponies around town was no kind of preparation for riding a big horse. His hips felt like his thighs had been forcibly unscrewed,

and after all the awkward bouncing in the saddle, he was pretty sure there was no chance he’d ever father children. He tried not to squeak when he spoke.

They took a bowl from Tom’s pack, filled it from one of the canteens, and let the horses drink. Then they walked on, the horses following along as the sun became an inferno overhead.

On foot it was easier to follow the trail, too. At first the footprints were easy to spot, since they ran in a line from the gate into the foothills, but the higher they climbed, the more

obscure the prints became. At one point Tom dropped prostrate on the hard ground, and peered sideways at some marks that didn’t look like they were anything at all—at least not to Benny.

Tom kept frowning and squinting and grunting.

Benny stared at him, annoyed. He was exhausted from total lack of sleep, and flies were threatening to pick him up and carry him off. And every time the wind blew through the trees, he swore

he could hear Nix calling out to him.

“Are you actually doing anything down there?” Benny asked.

“No,” Tom muttered. “I’m just screwing around to piss you off.”

Benny gave that a minute, then said, “Sorry.”

Tom said, “I’m looking at the footprints to see if there’s a clear direction.”

Footprints? Benny thought. All he could see was dried mud and bare patches of rock. He looked from the ground, off into the direction they had been following; a twisted course through empty

foothills that wandered south by southeast. The heavy rains of the previous night had soaked all of the ground, and Tom had been able to follow the foot trails leading from Mountainside. But

as the morning wore on, Tom became less certain.

Tom got to his feet and slapped dust from his clothes. Even after the rains, the top dirt had dried to powder in a matter of hours.

“What’s wrong?” Benny asked.

“Here’s the problem,” Tom said. “The rain last night was really heavy, and it came down too fast for the soil to absorb it all, which means that there was runoff. This pass was probably

like a small river for a while, with all the water coming down these slopes. Whoever passed this way came through just after the storm, but while there was still some runoff, and that runoff

smeared the boot prints pretty thoroughly.”

“What’s that mean for us?”

Tom took a hefty swig of his canteen. “This isn’t just an accident, either. Charlie’s one slick, sneaky son of a gun. So far he’s doubled back on his trail three times, used brush to try

and wipe out his tracks, crossed water, and now has deliberately gone out of his way to cross hardpan, because this kind of terrain doesn’t hold a print very long or very well.”

“So are we catching up or chasing our butts out here?”

“Little of both.” Tom was smiling when he said it.

“So you didn’t lose the trail?”

“Sure, I lost it. Several times … but every time he shakes us off his trail, it’s just where you think it’ll be again. Charlie has no respect for anyone’s intelligence other than his

own. He must think Captain Strunk is after him.”

“Isn’t the captain smart?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. … But Strunk’s not a tracker. Charlie’s confusing the trail for someone who doesn’t know the same tricks. Maybe he’d play it differently if he knew another bounty