The Serpent and the Crow

Book 3: Chapter One

Wade's horse navigated the rough terrain. Undeterred by the rolling thunder that rumbled in the sky. The mountainous region left no room for error. Jador, Hank, and Martinez following his rear.

It had been a couple of hours already, and they still received no word from Douglas and Cortez. The first hour, it might have been a communication malfunction. He thought perhaps they needed silence to maintain stealth. They were in serious trouble. No matter how fast Wade wanted to hear from his buddy again. There was no faster approach than on horseback. Traversing a gradient that increased in difficulty.

Hank said, "Wade, look."

He glanced up ahead through the pines and observed smoke rising. It looked faint, but it was smoking. Whatever was on fire, the rainfall would have extinguished it.

The band of detectives rode as tight to the sight of smoke and dismounted. They drew their Weapons. They approached in silence.

Wade pressed against a tree trunk, brandishing his treasured Colt. He peered through a bush and looked at a work-truck written off curtesy of stubborn ponderosa pine. Smoke billowed out of the hood. The windscreen had smashed upon impact. The fire inside the hood still burned as the rain pitter-pattered on the hood.

Schofield popped around in a crouched position as he pulled his guns on the work truck cab.

"Lord almighty," Wade said.

Cortez's face seemed singed from the fire that ensued after the crash. Wade checked his six, making sure no one was moving to pop up and deny his pension with a hasty ambush.

He shouted, "We need a medic."

Jador rushed through a bush with her shotgun drawn. She flew to secure the work truck while Wade undid the belt and moved her to the ground.

Jador's face filled with horror.

"Sala!" She screamed.

"What the fuck is going on, Sergeant?" Hank said.

"Detective Cortez needs medical aid now."

"Is she dead?" The Chief said.

Tears streamed out of Jador's eyes. Wade saw how considerable this hurt; he had not known her for long. But no one wanted to see their partner like this. No matter what differences you may have had.

Cortez spluttered blood out of her mouth.

Jador said, "She's alive, Chief!"

Wade moved Cortez's chin up. The laceration was too high. It was through her chin rather than over her carotid arteries. But she still needed medical attention, and the burns were severe on her face.

"Alright, Sheriff Martinez has agreed to take Cortez down to that abandoned quarry we passed on the way up here," Hank said, "set flares, and wait for medivac team for extraction," Hank said.

"I'm going too," Jador said.

"Of course, you are. Now, move out."

The Sheriff, and Jador, used Hank's horse to ferry Cortez's body. There was an abandoned road up ahead, a shortcut to the deserted quarry.

Hank had the idea that if a work truck was billowing smoke out of its ass, there had to be a road nearby. He found the route after the work truck veered off. It showed to be a brush cut road used for smuggling. Wade had seen a few in Texas where Mexican cartels used forgotten goat tracks to transport people and drugs.

Wade insisted the Chief use his horse. He felt Hank would not bitch too much about the climb. But he realized he could not continue without help. Wade preferred to be on his feet anyhow.