Kayla pulled the trigger three times, sending all three rounds into Cho's chest. He lurched against the Land Rover, spun once, then fell to the ground, facedown.
She smiled as she put the gun to the back of his head.
Kayla pulled her trigger twice more.
Sonny felt dust on his tongue before he realized his mouth was hanging open. She'd killed him.
Just like that. Just as casual as you please. Pulled out a gun and blew his brains all over the dirt road. It wasn't fair. Cho had made it out of camp, escaped whatever it was that had gobbled up everyone else. And she'd just up and killed him.
You're going to pay for that, sister, Sonny thought. I don't know how, but I'm going to make you pay.
Who was she and what was she doing out here? Sonny's curiosity flamed at a level just below his rage. He turned away from the scene of Cho's death and started back toward Route 21, a mere three miles away. He could be there in a few hours, then try to flag help, maybe catch a ride to Milford and alert the state police.
On second thought, he decided to stay well off the road. No telling when that psycho bitch would come driving along. He'd cross through the Wah Wah Valley, heading for any one of the dozen mines that dotted the San Francisco Mountains. The San Frans were about eleven miles away — he wouldn't arrive until 2:00 a.m., at the earliest.
Sonny stopped suddenly, the small cloud of dust he kicked up drifting lazily in front of his feet. He knew the site was worth billions. He knew Connell kept the place a secret, but other people — EarthCore people — had to know what was going on. They wouldn't let a treasure-trove like Funeral Mountain slip away. The camp was obliterated — how long would it be before EarthCore sent people out to investigate, to look after their investment?
It hit him that 2:00 a.m. might be too late. If he knew EarthCore would send people soon, then so did the woman that killed Cho. That was probably why she killed Cho, to keep him from calling for help.
She killed him to buy time.
But buy time for what? She couldn't get much ore out of the mountain before EarthCore people came looking, at least not enough to make it worth killing a man. She couldn't haul ore by herself, and he'd seen no one else at the camp's ruins.
So, if she couldn't haul a fortune from the mine, what could be important enough to kill Cho and any other survivors she might have found? The walkie-talkie continued to crackle with static — he still couldn't call for help. Sonny wouldn't be to the San Francisco Mountains for another ten hours. He couldn't have local cops and the Utah State Police at the site until tomorrow afternoon at the absolute earliest.
She'd be gone by then. Just as he knew Funeral Mountain meant death, he knew she'd be gone. He might never know what she was up to, or what was important enough for her to kill Cho. She'd never be heard from again.
Sonny clenched his fists and snarled at himself. He knew what he had to do. He could keep heading for the San Frans, but sooner or later his mind would get the best of him and he'd head back anyway. Any time spent walking away was wasted time.
He spat his wad of Copenhagen onto the ground, took a swallow from his canteen, put a fresh pinch in his cheek and headed back toward Funeral Mountain.
Chapter Twenty-five
Mack and Lybrand moved forward, crawling on their bellies most of the time, walking at a half-crouch the rest. Mack's muscles voiced constant complaint. Fatigue was beginning to take its toll — making his concentration slip. He'd need more than just thirty minutes of sleep, and he'd need it soon.
"Do you hear something?” Lybrand called out from behind him.
The words sent an instant chill down Mack's spine. His breath caught in his throat as he listened for the click-click of a silverbug. But he didn't hear that. Instead, he heard a low echoing rumble.
"What is that?” Lybrand asked. “Sounds like when you put you ear to a seashell."
"Yeah, it does sound like that,” Mack said. But it sounded like something else, something he'd heard before but couldn't place. He pulled the map from his belt and stared at the confusing web of tunnels and caves. Up ahead about 300 yards was a large tunnel, larger than most.
"I think we're almost there,” Mack said. “There's a big tunnel up ahead that goes straight to the Dense Mass. We'll be able to walk the rest of the way."
"Well let's get going,” Lybrand said. “I never thought I'd be so excited to just stand up and walk."
Mack stuffed the map back into his belt and crawled forward, the back of his mind searching his memories for that mysterious rumbling sound.
Moving as quietly as a piece of dry grass blowing across the desert sands, Sonny crawled to the top of a ridge that gave him a clear view of the camp's ruins. His position also let him keep tabs on the little concealed spot used by Cho's killer. At that moment, she was down in the ruins, poking around the few visible spots of broken wood or twisted metal, unaware that Sonny watched her every move.
Hopefully unaware, Sonny reminded himself. She sees you, and you'll wind up just like Cho.
Sonny watched her move through the ravaged camp. She had a nasty looking machine gun slung across her back, and in her hands she carried a box. Every now and then she'd find something of interest in the sand, place it in the box, then continue on her strange excavation.
It had surprised him how skilled she was at hiding her position. She was no desert newbie. He'd completely missed her warren during his first cautious pass through the area. She knew her business, all right, and she knew it well. Eventually he'd spotted the Land Rover. No amount of camouflage is going to hide a Land Rover, even in the mountains. From there it was a simple matter to track her to her hiding place, although she'd done a remarkable job of covering her trail. Her nest offered her a perfect view of the former camp. She'd been there all along, watching, waiting.
The camp remained as it was when he'd last seen it, obliterated and almost invisible. He couldn't help but think that the mountain had come alive and swallowed the place up. A few pieces of charred wood or blackened metal peeked out from beneath the sand and rock, but only a few.
One smoldering pile pumped thin black smoke into the darkening night, its small, dying flames dancing softly amid glowing embers. Obviously a fresh fire; he hadn't seen it when he'd last left the camp. He peeked through his pocket-sized binoculars. Even under the low magnification, he could make out a blackened skull sitting on top of the pile, grinning amid the flickering flames. She'd brought Cho's body back to camp, cut it up, and burned it. But why? Another mystery added to an already full plate of unaccountable actions.
Whatever she was up to, she would have to make her move soon. Her clock was running out. EarthCore might swarm down on the place at any moment. Sonny had no clue what she was up to, and that lack of knowledge ate at his soul like a cancer.
The mystery woman finished up her scavenging and headed back to her warren. She wore webbing jam-packed with ammo clips and a large handgun in a shoulder holster. Normally Sonny would have admired the long blond hair that gracefully danced in the breeze, and the sway of her hips, but not now. Not after what she'd done. Right now there was only one way he could admire that body.
When it was cold, motionless, and dead.
Kayla lugged the box of equipment toward her nest. She'd tried counting bodies and checking them against the list of personnel she'd made during her observations, but quickly found the task impossible. Buried body parts littered the area, most of them charred and blackened by fire. She had to hand it to the creatures; they were definitely thorough.