Page 51 of Shadows Reel

“Everybody. The geocache site went out over social media,” Tristan said.

“When you say everybody, do you just mean antifa assholes like you?”

“No—everybody.”

“They use Signal, Telegram, and Gab and other software to communicate,” Geronimo explained to Nate. “Encrypted shit no one can trace. Everybody knows where the weapons are located except for the cops.”

Tristan nodded his head in agreement.

Geronimo said to Tristan, “Looking through your contacts here, I can’t find his name.”

“He’s not listed by his name,” Tristan said, blushing with apparent embarrassment.

“What’s he listed under?”

“Shaman.”

Nate rolled his eyes while Geronimo located the contact details.

“Found him,” he said. “Does he know you well enough that if we sent him a text, he’d respond?”

“Probably not,” Tristan said. “Plus, he doesn’t communicate by text because someone might intercept it.”

“Sticks to threads on encrypted sites, then?”

“Yes.”

Gernonimo suddenly looked up. “Who selects the items in the weapons caches he leaves?” he asked.

“Axel, I guess,” Tristan said. “It’s not like we place an order or anything.”

Nate was confused by the question.

“I’m keeping your phone,” Geronimo declared.

Tristan’s reaction was visceral. He thrashed and tried to kick out of his bindings. “No—you can’t take it. You have no right to take my phone,” he shouted.

“You don’t have any rights on my property,” Geronimo said. He patted his shotgun and arched his eyebrows when he said it.

“Please, don’t do that,” Tristan begged. There were tears in his eyes.

“Why is he going to Seattle?” Nate asked.

Tristan said, “There’s a lot going on up there, man. A lotbrewing right now. We’ve got the fascist Nazis on the run up there. It’s the place to be.” Then: “Can you give me back my phone?”

—

They’d left Tristan Richardsonon the side of US 287 near Tie Siding, Wyoming. There wasn’t a single building in sight and the only man-made objects were electrical transmission lines in the distance and wind turbines in various stages of construction. The wind howled and rocked the van.

Nate watched Tristan fade to a tiny black dot in his rearview mirror.

He said to Geronimo, “I’m kind of surprised how few antifas there were in Denver. I thought there was more.”

“Not really,” Geronimo said. “People out there think there are thousands of them in every city. But from what I can tell, there’s just a loud few. Like I said, they could be rounded up in one night, but it doesn’t happen.”

“You have a really nice house and I like your falcon setup.”

Geronimo had two impressive mottled white gyrfalcons in perfect physical condition. Gyrfalcons were the largest of all North American raptors.