Read Canyon: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (The Traveler Book 2) for Free Online Page A

fall in behind the Humvee. Skinner couldn’t tell how many of them were Cartel and how many were civilians. There were maybe a dozen total.
    Skinner stopped two houses from his own and crouched low. He scanned the crowd again. None of them were Cartel. None was armed. None was wearing a hat. None was doing anything other than standing around looking dumfounded by the machine in the street.
    The man in the back of the Humvee jumped out. He reached back into the bed and pulled out another weapon, bigger than a rifle, though it wasn’t something Skinner recognized.
    “Y’all are going to want to step back,” the man called out to the crowd. He pulled the weapon up to his shoulder, his silhouette giving away how large a man he was, tall and muscular.
    Skinner pulled his rifle up and leveled it against his own shoulder. He knew the distance wasn’t good for the Browning, but he wasn’t going to let someone shoot holes into his house.
    He drew the man into his sight and pulled the trigger at the exact moment an explosion of light and the percussion of a cannon blast tore through the air.
    Skinner couldn’t tell where his shot hit. His eyes were focused on the instantaneous inferno his house had become.
    His eyes wide, his breathing quickened, Skinner stood and started marching toward the Humvee. The man wasn’t looking for him. He’d hit him by surprise.
    A loud, skin-crawling scream came from the crowd. Skinner instinctively looked to his right. The crowd was gathered around a body on the ground. A woman was screaming and moaning as she held the body. Another woman tried to console her. A couple of others turned toward Skinner and pointed at him.
    The Humvee was already on the move, speeding away. Skinner stopped and took a second shot, aiming at the man standing in the bed.
    “You killed him!” the moaning woman wailed. The crowd parted and Skinner saw her face. Even in the dark, he could see the anger. “You shot my husband. Why did you shoot him? I don’t—”
    Skinner leveled the shotgun at her head and snapped the trigger. The blast silenced her and sent the crowd running back to their homes.
    He looked at the mess. He wasn’t happy about it. While he didn’t want her dead, he’d learned a long time ago not to leave an angry person alive. It could only come back to haunt him. Revenge, he knew, was a powerful motivator. It made good people do bad things and bad people do worse.
    The heat of his burning home took the chill from the air. It was hot on his neck. He turned around to look at the flames.
    The fire devoured his home, crackling and popping as it chewed through the wood frame. He didn’t recognize the man in the back of the Humvee. Still, he knew who he was.
    “Captain Skinner,” a voice called from his left.
    Skinner swiveled with the Browning in position to fire. It was Tom Horn, the posse boss. He was running toward him with a half dozen grunts trailing behind him. Skinner lowered the shotgun, holding it with one hand where the stock met the receiver.
    “Where the hell you been?” Skinner asked when Horn was close enough to hear him above the fire.
    “I did what you asked,” Horn said breathlessly. “I went and gathered some men.” He nodded at the house. “What happened?”
    “Mad Max.”
    “The guy from Rising Star?” Horn tugged at his brown cowboy hat. “The one who took the woman?”
    “That’d be the one,” Skinner said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it and slid it between his pursed lips. “You see a Humvee pass you on your way?”
    Horn shook his head. “No. I think I heard it though. Must have turned off the street.”
    Skinner drew the cigarette from his mouth and slowly exhaled. He closed his eyes and listened to his house burn.
    “You seem kinda calm,” said Horn. “I mean, ain’t you upset? I’d be madder than a wet hen and fixin’ to whoop somebody good.”
    Skinner chuckled. “Oh, I ain’t calm,” he said. “I’m simmering