Republic of the Living (Novella): Vengeance by Taz Gallaher Read Free Book Online

they could glimpse the top of the
stone wall that surrounded the golf course.  The path split, one branch
bending away into the underbrush to their right.  The other path pointed
toward the wall.  Hanrahan urged Bama forward.  The iron-barred gate
in the wall was still intact.  He slid off the horse and worked a rusty
latch on the side of the gate.
    “ Gimme your axe,” he said to
Pearly.  
    The other man pulled the weapon from its loop and
passed it to him.  Hanrahan bashed the flat end of the axe head against
the latch.  A loud clang rang down the wall.  He swung again and the
ancient hardware dropped from the wall with a groan and a puff of dust.
 The hinges were stiff but finally gave way as he heaved the gate open.
    A narrow road ran past the gate.  On the
other side, a thin opening in a low chain link fence led into the rest of the
golf course.  He climbed back onto Bama and led Pearly across the road and
through the fence.  The undergrowth here was thicker and the path even
narrower.  Bama’s flanks brushed against tall clumps of manzanita and
dense laurel bushes.  Every ten or twenty feet, they had to duck under the
sprawling arms of unkempt bay oaks.  Patches of shadow and sun alternated
on the floor of the path.
    Hanrahan pushed aside a clump of manzanita
branches and peered forward.  A dozen yards ahead, the path seemed to
widen.  He pushed Bama forward and found himself in a small clearing
beneath a young redwood.   He clucked and twitched the reins to bring
the horse to a halt.
    “ Right here,” he said to
Pearly as the other man rode into the clearing.  “Take a break.  Eat
something.  Talk about what happens at the tunnel.”
    Pearly nodded and dropped from his horse.  He
grabbed Bama’s reins and, as Hanrahan slipped to the ground, he led the two
horses deeper under the redwood, tying their reins together on a low branch.
  He returned to Hanrahan with his rifle in one hand and a water jug
in the other.  Hanrahan accepted the jug as Pearly dropped to a crouch.
 He sat onto the cool ground and filled his belly with water.
    “ Place freaks me out,” Pearly
muttered, glancing around the clearing.  “Skeletons back there.
 Jungle up here.”
    Hanrahan nodded and passed him the jug.
    “ We’re almost there, friend.
 Won’t be long now.”
    Pearly rested the jug on the ground and sat down.
    “ Fucking Tilt,” he growled.
 “I’ve known that boy since before.  He didn’t deserve that.”
    Hanrahan smiled.  “Jesus, Pearly.  Wake
up.  Do any of us deserve any of this?”
    Pearly squinted at him and spat into the dirt.
    He leaned back on his elbows and stretched his
legs.  Pearly sniffed at the air and stood.  He rotated his body
until he showed the back of his canvas jacket to Hanrahan.  
    “ What is it?” Hanrahan
whispered as he stood.
    Pearly waved at him and cupped his hand to his
ear.  He pointed his other hand forward.  Hanrahan stepped toward the
horses and Pearly shook his head.  
    He leaned close to Hanrahan.  “Too close.
 They’ll hear us coming.”
    Hanrahan raised his chin.  The aroma of
cooking food drifted through the forest.  He stepped past Pearly and crept
back onto the path.  Twenty feet down the shrub-choked lane he spied a
thin stream of smoke drifting into the sky.  He motioned for Pearly and
carefully picked his way forward.  The path opened up into another
clearing and the sound of low voices floated toward them.  He brushed
gently against the manzanita hedge on his left and snuck forward.
    Two blue-clad soldiers lay on their sides, turned
away from Hanrahan, next to a fire.  A big iron pot bubbled on a hob above
the flames.  The men were talking quietly and one kept picking grass with
his fingers and tossing it toward the pot.  They were State militia, but
something about the scene made Hanrahan uneasy.  These men were too
careless, too relaxed.  He turned his head back down the path when a
branch snapped somewhere