Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW THE BIG BEND, there was no easy way to describe how to get out to the Far Six. Not all the roads were marked, some of them changed names depending on if you were traveling east or west, and the gravel strip that ran back to the house from the 19 didn’t have a name at all.
Chris had once tried to find his house on Google Maps, only to discover it was completely lost within digitized blocks of green and tan.
It was like it didn’t exist at all.
You could find it with grid coordinates, and maybe orient yourself and make sense out of the paths cut through the scrub from the air. You might find it on a southbound flyover, or pick out some of the decaying fencing of the old cattle ranch this used to be. Damn hard, but not impossible. Duane Dupree had known this land like the back of his own bloody hand and drove Chris out here in the dark of night to watch him die, without any problem at all.
Chris took the phone off speaker and handed it back to Amé. Despite the Spanish he’d been studying, he’d never be able to guide someone out to the Far Six.
“Tell him what he needs to know,” he said to Amé. “I want to finish this.”
But Chris had a gut instinct that the voice on the phone would find them without any trouble at all.
SIXTY-ONE
After the call, America followed Danny out to the porch, pulling him back by the arm.
“I do not want you to do this. You do not have to do this. Please listen to me . . .”
He looked down at her arm, holding him back. “You know, it’s weird. I haven’t been sleeping well, not for days. But not because of this, not about Fox Uno. It’s been all these bad dreams about my time in Afghanistan. They just started up, out of nowhere. They’ve been getting worse. I don’t why. Why now?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Mostly about this place called Rumnar, a tiny village. We were ordered to conduct a search-and-clear mission there, only one day after one of the guys in our unit stepped on an IED. Blew himself all to pieces. It’s not like that had never happened before, or never happened after, but that one day . . . sometimes it only takes one day, right? Anyway, we were convinced that someone in Rumnar had planted that device. We finally had someone to blame, or thought we did. It was a bad time, a bad place, and the only thing that mattered was making sure that the man next to you got out alive.”
“Danny . . .”
He smiled at her, sad. “When this is all over, I think I need to talk to someone about what happened there. About my dreams.”
“That’s good. We can do that together.”