The Doomsday Prophecy

Chapter Fifty-Two

Ben walked back to the farm buildings. Alex was just stepping back from the newer of the two old trucks, wiping rusty grease off her hands with a rag. There was a smudge of oil on her cheek. She looked anxious, but smiled through it when she saw him approaching.

‘You did it?’

She walked round to the driver’s door, opened it with a creak and climbed up inside the cab. ‘Moment of truth.’

The truck fired up with a roar and a cloud of blue smoke. Her face broke into a wide triumphant grin as she gunned the engine. She hopped out of the cab and ran over to him, beaming, and hugged him. ‘Now let’s get out of here,’ she said.

He said nothing.

‘What?’

‘It’s not that simple, Alex.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘You go. Head nine miles west across the ridge and get to the Herman place. It’s time to call in your people. They’ll take care of Zoë.’

There was alarm in her eyes. She shook her head adamantly. ‘We all go. There’s still time.’

He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbed the warm skin of her neck with his thumb. ‘We’d never make it, out in the open. They’d soon overtake us. And if we leave Riley and Ira here alone, they’ll be killed. I can’t have that on my conscience. Someone has to stop these people. You go. Let me stay here and meet them.’

‘You stay, I stay.’

He shook his head again. ‘I want you somewhere safe,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t bear…’ His voice trailed off.

‘I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you either,’ she whispered.

‘Trust me. Nothing will happen.’

‘You don’t know what you’ll be up against.’

‘I have a pretty good idea,’ he said.

She sighed. There was a catch in her breath. She stroked his hand. A tear hung on her eyelash, and he smiled and wiped it away. She laughed through the tears. ‘This is crazy,’ she sniffed. ‘I never thought anything like this could happen to me.’ She gazed into his eyes for a second, then held him tight. He could feel the urgency, the yearning, in the way her arms were wrapped around him.

For a brief instant he lost himself, feeling her against him, the scent of her hair. He closed his eyes. Part of him wished so desperately that he could freeze that moment. That this could be simple, and that his options were open.

But they weren’t, and it was anything but simple. It never could be.

He gripped her arms and gently pushed her away from him. ‘Now you have to go,’ he said.

She nodded regretfully. ‘All right. I’ll go.’

They drove the truck round to the front of the house, checked the oil and the tyres and the fan belt. Everything seemed fine. Ben went to fetch Zoë from her room, and explained to her that she was leaving. She nodded quietly and followed him back downstairs, climbed in the truck and sat quietly.

It was hard to watch Alex leave, but Ben was glad that she and Zoë were escaping to safety. He tried not to let his feelings show on his face as she started up the engine and pulled away with a last wave. He shielded his eyes from the sun and watched the truck lurch away down the uneven lane towards the gate.

Then it ground to a halt. The driver’s door flew open, and Alex jumped out. She ran back to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘You take care, Ben Hope. That’s an order.’

‘This isn’t goodbye,’ he said. ‘Now go. Get out of here.’

She ran back to the truck, tears in her eyes. She threw herself back in the driver’s seat and put her foot down, wheels spinning on the gravel.

This time, she kept driving. Ben stood and watched the truck bounce over the open ground until it reached the winding country track that snaked away towards the ridge in the distance.

Then Alex and Zoë were gone.

Now he had work to do.

The next hour was a time of sweat and dust as he made his preparations. He studied the layout of the farm, thought about the line of attack, considered how he would do it.

It would be one man against many. They would come heavily armed, and they were professionals who’d hit hard and fast. But it was possible. Just about possible. He had an edge. The biggest edge of all.

He found the things he needed and stacked everything up against the side of the barn. Some of it was heavy, and he dusted off an old sack-cart to shift things around with. Riley was too fragile to join in, but Ira was a quick and willing helper.

As he and Ben were loading up the sack-cart the young guy stopped and looked up. ‘There’s going to be a bunch of them, right?’ He seemed to relish the idea.

‘They won’t take any chances this time,’ Ben said. ‘They want to finish it here. But I want you and Riley out of the way, understand?’

‘I’m Blackfoot Indian.’ Ira’s voice was soft but full of pride. ‘The way I see it, these people are the descendants of the men who took my people off our land and dumped us on the reservation. They took away our sacred birthright.’ He nodded solemnly. ‘If now’s the time to take something back from them, man, you couldn’t drag me away with ten wild mustangs.’ Then he grinned. ‘Anyway, I want to see this.’

Ben looked at him. ‘Don’t romanticise war. What you’re going to see today will be the worst thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life.’

When things were in place, Ben helped Ira herd the horses away to the safety of the far paddocks, a quarter of a mile away across the rolling grassland. The sun was beating down savagely and his shoulder throbbed. When the last horse trotted in through the paddock gate and went off to join the others among the lush grazing, Ben checked his watch. It was just after four in the afternoon.

Just about time.

And as he looked up to the blue sky above the mountain peaks, he could see his instinct was right.

They were coming.