Page 99 of Battle Mountain

And with that, Geronimo quickly reloaded his shotgun and slapped fresh magazines into the grips of his .45s. Then he broke into a run down the mountain.

—

Geronimo moved withsuch speed and stealth that he nearly ran into the professionals in the dark. The four of them had crept down the slope and had positioned themselves within sight of the lights of the B-Lazy-U below, as if they were awaiting some kind of signal to move out. Their broad backs were to him.

The scene on the valley floor was otherworldly, Geronimo thought. He could see scores of dull, orange-colored luminary candles far below, set up in lines to mark pathways through the grass lawn. The luminaria threw off just enough light that he could make out groups of onlookers in lawn chairs or sitting on blankets.

Between where he was and the lawn below, three figures dressed as Roman centurions wound their way down an S curve of a mountain path toward a stage that had been set up at the end of the lawn. They were carrying sputtering torches. As they marched, thunderous classical music blared from speakers.

The vets seemed to be entranced with the goings-on in front of them, until Geronimo raised his shotgun and said, “Gentleman, this is over. Lower your weapons, turn around, and get face down in the dirt.”

The four of them froze.

After a beat, one of the vets slowly turned his head. His white skin was darkened with camo face paint that reflected the low lights from below. He had a quizzical expression on his face.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

Geronimo said, “Geronimo Jones, at your service. I’m the guy who really doesn’t want to shoot up my brothers at the moment. But it’s your choice how this goes down.”

The man next to the vet who’d turned his head said, “Sergeant, he has the drop on us.”

“Did you engage those hippies up on the mountain?” Sergeant asked Geronimo. “We heard the fight going on, but we couldn’t get any intel.”

“Axel didn’t tell you we took out your second wave?” Geronimo said. “How very like Axel.”

Geronimo noted that the four of them were wearing tactical armored vests and carrying AR-15s and combat shotguns much like his own. If they turned on him, it could get very dicey, he thought.

He heard footfalls thump behind him, and he knew it was Nate without turning around. A second later, Nate stood next to him, breathing heavily from his run down the slope. All four of the vets had now stood up and turned around to look at them.

“Do what he says, boys,” Nate said.

The four vets exchanged glances. One of them cursed under his breath. Then, one by one, they laid their rifles aside and drew their sidearms out of their holsters and dropped the weapons in front of them.

“The worst of the worst are down there on that lawn,” the man called Sergeant said. “They’ll continue to get our brothers and sisters crippled and killed in more shithole countries if someone doesn’t stop them.”

Nate said, “We’re sympathetic to your cause, but we’re not going to let you finish your mission.”

“Some of us are more sympathetic than others,” Geronimo said with a side-eye glance toward Nate. Then, to the vets: “We’re going to zip-tie your hands and feet together for now and keep you out of the action. I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Afterward, Nate turned to Geronimo and said, “You’ve got this.”

“Where are you off to?” Geronimo asked. “Do you know where Axel is?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then what are you…”

But Nate was gone, running down the rest of the mountain toward the ranch.

—

Allison emerged fromthe vegetable cellar with a fully automatic Glock pistol in each hand. She looked both ways, then started walking toward the lodge. She kept in the shadows as she did so.

On the stage, the three new Centurions handed their torches to other similarly clad members and stood to face the crowd on the lawn. The Imperial Legate stepped to the microphone and announced, “Please help us welcome our newest Centurions” to applause from the people on the lawn. “After the initiation oaths arecomplete, please join us in the lodge to celebrate the membership of our three newest warriors.”

Allison approached the side door of the lodge when she heard asnick-snickmetallic sound from the darkness to her right. A man appeared with mean eyes, a blond ponytail, and a massive revolver in his hand aimed at her. He’d just cocked it.

“Allison Anthony,” he said. “Don’t take another step.”

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