Lex Nelson's Arc

Chapter 5 of 13

The hidden wells map pulled her south through the night and into a pale morning. The camel plodded steady. The dog ran ahead, nose low, then stopped cold between two tall stones that leaned over the trail like crooked teeth. Lex reined up. The wind had gone quiet. That was the first wrong thing. She slid down and crept wide of the path. Behind the larger rock she found a small wood shelter, a stack of split logs, two full canteens, and the gray bones of a fire that had burned for days. Someone had lived here waiting. Not hours. Days. Under a stone by the firewood she found a folded note. The handwriting was rushed and ugly, but the meaning was plain enough. A woman on a camel. A dog at her heel. Coming from the north on the wells route. Pay on delivery. Whoever wrote it had known her shape, her animals, her road. The first shot cracked off the stone above her head. Lex dropped flat. The Malinois bolted left, drawing a second shot wide. She rolled behind the smaller rock, rifle up, breath slow. Two muzzles, maybe three, popped smoke from the ridge. She fired once at the nearest flash and heard a man cry out and go quiet. She whistled sharp. The dog tore up the slope while she ran the other way, low and fast, the camel spooking south on its own. A bullet kissed her sleeve. She made the open scrub, kept running, and did not stop until the rocks were small behind her and her lungs were full of fire. She sat in the dust and counted. Rifle. Knife. Canteen. Rope. The note in her pocket. No camel. The dog limped in a minute later, bleeding from one ear but alive. Lex pressed her hand to its neck and stared back the way she had come. The map was poisoned. The bidder had sold her. And somewhere south, the auction clock was still running.