Chapter One: Butterfly Road
The interstate west of Gila Bend, Arizona cut a wide swath through the vast Sonoran desert. There, the long road appeared to run on forever into the deep blue distance of the horizon under the thin sheet of gauze cloud in the azure sky. It was seven in the morning. Long-armed sprinklers were spraying what looked like alfalfa in the wide green fields each side of the interstate. Heat was already up, rippling on the air and turning much of the water into steam, rising, shimmering and, finally, scattering in the oven-heated wind.
The Sergeant gazed out on the wide blue heaven and baked landscape hell below. He wondered why Hensley had attempted to smuggle her across in the midsummer; the worst time. Desperation? If that was true, then his love for the girl had turned him into a desperate fool. Now Hensley was…well, the Sergeant was not sure exactly. He did not know what became of the ex-soldier. That was what he was here to find out.
He looked to the dashboard, rechecked the locator device. Then he saw them: the yellow butterflies in the busy road. Hundreds of ‘em. Bright yellow wings with intensely orange wingtips bounded by black markings, though from his vantage point behind the steering wheel of the Jeep, the butterflies looked all yellow. Hensley was the real sap when it came to animals and little creatures, like the butterflies of the Earth. Yet, killing a thing so beautiful hurt the Sergeant, too. He knew the world was getting uglier. It needed more beautiful things. In his heart, he was not cruel, was not a terrible man—although he’d done many cruel and terrible things. The Sergeant wished there were another road. But there wasn’t another road. Only this road. He had no choice. He needed to arrive at the coordinates in the desert; the exact coordinates Gun had given him. And before it got too dark.