Page 100 of Shadows Reel

From the dark of the back of the van, Nate said, “That’s good. He can’t hit anything with his pistol, anyway.”

Joe rolled his eyes and the driver laughed. It was good to hear Nate’s voice.

“Excuse me,” the passenger said as he opened his door. “This is as far as I go.”

Joe stepped back so the ginger-haired man could exit the vehicle.

“Take care now, Randy,” the driver called out after him. “Go home. Get on the straight and narrow. Get a job. Maybe I’ll see you around in Denver.”

“Maybe,” Randy said. He passed by Joe with a furtive glance on his way into the terminal.

The driver patted the passenger seat, indicating for Joe to get in.

Joe did. He grimaced when he saw Nate sitting behind the seats with his back propped against the interior wall.

“How are you doing?” he asked him.

“Oh, just dandy. You?”

“Busy. We took down some Nazis.”

“Damn,” Geronimo said.

Nate grinned his cruel smile. “I wish I could have been there.”

“Ah, we didn’t need you,” Joe lied.

—

As they crossedthe Columbia River into Portland on the six-lane Interstate Bridge, Joe looked out his window. There was more water in view than existed in the whole of Twelve Sleep County, and possibly in the state of Wyoming. The buildings of downtown Portland glistened across the river to his left.

Geronimo briefed him as they drove.

“...So we’ve got to find him tonight and get those birds back. By tomorrow they’ll be in a jet on the way to the Middle East.”

“Are we sure he’s here?” Joe asked.

Geronimo brandished Tristan’s phone. “We think so. We hope so. We’re kind of running on fumes and wishes at this point.”

“He’s here,” Nate stated from the back. His tone held no doubt. Joe believed him. Nate had that ability. His friend knew when bears, wolves, or mountain lions were around. It was uncanny. Axel Soledad fit into that category of predatory beast.

“He’s got a guy with him,” Geronimo said. “Randy told us the guy is named the Blade and he served with Axel in Special Forces. Axel picked him up outside a prison and they loaded a bunch of guns into their van. I think I shot the motherfucker back in Seattle, but I don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”

Joe nodded. “Have you considered calling the police? Alerting them about Axel’s transit van?”

Geronimo chuckled. “What do you think?”

“You’re just like Nate,” Joe said.

“I take that as a compliment.”

Joe tried to track where they were headed, but most of the standard green highway signs were defaced by graffiti. So were the sides of the buildings and fences that flanked the highway. As they descended into the city, he noted tents and crude shelters wherever there was bare ground.

Geronimo took the I-405 South exit onto Couch Street and Burnside. He took a left on Burnside.

Joe couldn’t help but marvel at what he saw. Every bank and most businesses were boarded up with plywood. Trash covered the sidewalks and gathered in the corners of buildings. Homeless people slept on the sidewalks and only some of them had sleeping bags.

“Where are we going?” he asked Geronimo.