Compound Fracture

by Franklin Horton

  A cinderblock garage with a corrugated steel roof and doors of the same material sat off to one end of the lot. In front of the garage, firewood was in various stages of processing, from round logs to split lengths waiting to be stacked. A gas-powered log splitter stood in the middle of a circle of firewood.

  One door of the garage hung asunder. Robert walked closer and saw the hasp had been pried loose with some type of tool. The frame was splintered and barbs of thin steel curled around empty bolt holes. He couldn’t leave without looking inside, though he already suspected what had been taken. Inside, he lost the ambient light provided by stars and had to turn on the infrared illuminator on his night vision.

  The illuminator glared off reflective surfaces, giving the room a surreal atmosphere reminiscent of a science fiction or horror movie. He expected at any moment to see a scientist in a hazmat suit or a toothy, clawed alien. All he found was a rather sparse shed housing a side-by-side ATV with a large bed for collecting firewood. A rack mounted behind the cab held a chainsaw, saw gas, and an ax.

  Robert lowered his shotgun-mounted night vision and drew a flashlight from his plate carrier. He closed his fingers around the beam to limit its reach while he played it around the room. There was a hook with old chainsaw chains, a bench with a disassembled chainsaw, and a specialized grinder for sharpening old chains. A yellow steel cabinet against the wall caught Robert’s attention. The labelling indicated it was for storage of flammable liquids. In other words, gas.

  He rushed to the cabinet, threw open the doors and found it empty. Someone had been there and cleaned it out. It was probably why they’d broken in there to begin with. Maybe if they’d found cans of gas they didn’t bother siphoning the side-by-side. Robert slipped into the driver’s seat and looked for the key. He felt a wave of frustration when he found the ignition empty. Then he remembered he was dealing with a government-operated campground.

  Robert played his light around the wall until he found a steel key box. Sure enough, there was one mounted on the cinderblock wall. He tried it and found that it was unlocked. When he opened it, there were several hinged racks holding tiny hooks, many filled with labelled keys. It took him a matter of seconds to find the correct one.

  It slipped smoothly into the ignition, bringing a smile to Robert’s face. The digital gauge showed around half a tank of fuel. That was fine. All he needed was enough to get up the trail and see what had taken place with Sonyea. If she was injured, he could use the vehicle to deliver her back up the trail to their own Razer. He turned the key off and thought for a moment. He needed to make sure he covered all the angles.

  The sound of the engine would likely bring the security detail running. He could use the lights on the side-by-side but he would be easily trackable, even when he raced up the trail, and into the woods. They might not have vehicles that could pursue him off-road but they could still shoot at him. With lights glaring he would present a clear target even at a distance. He needed to remove the night vision from his shotgun and use that to navigate. They could still hear him but hopefully the lack of headlights would delay them long enough that he could put some distance between them.

  Holding the night vision was awkward and would limit him to driving with one hand. There might be complications with that if the side-by-side didn’t have power steering. He definitely didn’t need to use the headlights though, because he might have to pause for a moment at the spot where he’d left Sonyea and Jeff. Sitting there with headlights would be like sending a beacon out to anyone pursuing him.

  He decided he’d thought this out long enough. Like boarding the moving truck earlier, there was a time you just had to quit thinking and act. This was the time. He released his night vision device from the rail on the shotgun and stowed it in the vehicle. He hooked the weapon sling over the gear shift since he wouldn’t be able to hold it during his evac.

  The last detail was swinging the double doors open so he could drive the vehicle out. He needed both hands so he worked by feel. He gently lifted the door that had been damaged in the break-in. It had a broken top hinge and was resting on the ground. He moved it as gently as possible but the wood framing shifted with his movement, producing a squeaking sound when it rubbed against the corrugated steel. It sounded deafeningly loud to him but he didn’t imagine it would actually carry that far through the dense foliage around the maintenance shed.

  The second door swung freely. At the end of its arc, it emitted a groan from the rusty hinges that brought a wave of nausea to Robert. He might as well be announcing his plans over a loudspeaker. When he had that door resting solidly at the full swing of its hinges he returned to the side-by-side. He relaxed and cleared his head. Once he started the vehicle, it was on. There was no backing down.

  He turned the night vision on, started the engine, then raised the night vision to his eye. His heart nearly stopped when he found two men standing directly in front of him, just outside the door. It was so unexpected, so startling, that he was paralyzed for a moment and simply stared at them. When one of them shouted at Robert, ordering him out of the vehicle, it broke the spell, and it registered that they were wearing night vision too. That was how they’d managed to get so close without him picking up their lights.

  Robert slammed a palm against the rocker switches that controlled the headlights. An array of lighting burst to life on the front of the vehicle, overwhelming their optics, forcing both men to turn away and shield their eyes. Robert dropped a hand to his holster and drew his Glock. He leaned to the left, cleared the windshield, and double-tapped the leftmost man. The first round hit armor. The second caught him in the neck and a dark geyser erupted.

  The man to the right was panicking. He’d flipped his night vision out of the way and tried to line up a shot but was still blinded by the headlights. Robert stomped the gas pedal. The side-by-side spun, then caught traction and slewed forward. The driver scrambled for cover but was in the center of a gravel lot with nowhere to go. Robert aimed for him, forcing the man to dive to the side at the last minute.

  Robert groped for his night vision, grateful he’d taken the time to hook the lanyard to the webbing of his plate carrier. He got it in front of his eye, then used his steering hand to kill all the lighting. Another man charged into the road from the side, trying to get a look at what was going on, clearly not expecting to find himself in the path of a charging vehicle that he couldn’t see. Robert’s immediate reaction was to go for his gun but he had no free hand with which to shoot.

  Instead he used the only weapon he had, slewing toward the man. Even though he couldn’t see the vehicle bearing down on him, the man honed in on the growing whine and knew he was the target. He dropped his gun and leaped backward into the brush, his arms clawing and flailing as he tried to escape the onrushing vehicle.

  Robert cut it close but avoided hitting the man, even though he could have. Despite the vehicles being tough, crashing into something the weight of a man might bend the bumper back into the tire or cause the plexiglass windshield to come crashing in on him. Better to avoid it if he could. Behind him, there were lights, flashlights searching for him, their beams cutting swaths through the dense trees to either side of him.

  There was a burst of gunfire. He didn’t hear anything hit the vehicle but he began weaving back and forth, making himself a hard target just in case. It sounded like a single rifle dumping a mag one round at a time. Robert dropped an eye to the speedometer and saw he was only going twenty-five miles per hour, already hitting the maximum capability of this particular vehicle. It definitely wasn’t a Razer, made for work instead of fun. It should be fast enough as long as he was only trying to escape men on foot. If they got a truck on the road, he was screwed.

  As if that very thought manifested it, the trees around him were suddenly illuminated in the high beams of very bright headlights. Robert cursed. He would have slammed the steering wheel with his fist but he didn’t have a free one. To his horror, the headlights were getting closer. Caug
ht squarely in the lights, there was no use wasting time with the night vision any longer. He let it drop on the retention lanyard and slammed the dash again, turning on the banks of lighting.

  There was a gunshot. This one was different, probably a shotgun. He had a hard time telling anything over the scream of his engine. The glow of headlights was growing in the cab of the side-by-side. It was now bright enough that he could have read a book, or even a set of annoyingly small Chinese instructions. The truck tailing him was getting too close for comfort. If they opened fire on him, he was a sitting duck.

  Robert grabbed up his shotgun, shoved the safety button, and aimed it out the door behind him. He was unable to aim but he pulled the trigger and the weapon boomed. He couldn’t tell if the shot produced any effect or not. He pulled the weapon back into the cab and pumped the action, then fired again. The erratic jerk of the headlights illuminating the cab told him that this shot did something.

  He racked the slide again, preparing for yet another shot, then realized he was at the turn to the campground. He whipped the wheel to the left, the vehicle going into a four wheel slide. He stayed on the gas, trying to keep that momentum pushing forward. The motion forced him to grab the wheel with both hands and he lost hold of the shotgun. It clattered to the floor but stayed inside the cab. Fortunately, the trigger did not snag on anything and fire inside the cab.

  His pursuers were still on him, his maneuver having given them advance warning of the upcoming turn. He chanced a look behind him and saw them straightening out. They were on the gas now, accelerating hard after him and closing fast. If the shotgun was handy, he’d have sent more rounds in their direction, though he didn’t dare risk fishing around for it. Piling into a tree wouldn’t have helped anything.

  He knew his next turn had to be coming up soon but everything looked different at this speed. He hit the open grassy field and knew it was here somewhere. He whipped the wheel again and the vehicle slewed, losing traction momentarily in the grass. His pursuers were still behind him, gaining, and, in his mind, lining up what would be a fatal shot.

  Then he saw the yellow pipe gate that closed off the trail from the campground. Knowing that pipe gates were not always enough of a deterrent, the Forest Service had dumped several backhoe loads of dirt in front of the gate. That was okay. Robert was certain he could get around it.

  At the gate, he eased around the dirt pile and steered the narrow vehicle onto the hiking trail. The Razer might not have been able to make this narrow gauntlet but the smaller trail-width vehicle had no problem. It occurred to Robert that the ability to get onto this trail probably wasn’t simply good fortune. The rangers might take this very vehicle this way to collect firewood from downed trees.

  By cutting his speed to negotiate getting around the gate, Robert allowed his pursuers to close on him. He waited for them to get out and open fire on him. He was on the trail and accelerating uphill. He didn’t feel like he was moving quickly enough. No speed would have been fast enough. The men on his tail were not thinking clearly, though. They’d become so laser-focused on catching him that they didn’t take the opportunity to stop and shoot at him. Instead they were intent on running him down like a wild boar. They’d lost clarity and were making bad decisions.

  They swerved their Toyota pickup around the dirt pile and the pipe gate. On a muddy slope, they punched the gas and all four wheels spun. The driver was determined to make the Toyota fit through an opening that was at least two feet narrower than his vehicle. It was physically impossible. When he couldn’t make it, he tried to reverse and look for another opening, but the vehicle slid broadside into a tree, pinning the passenger door closed. They were stuck.

  Robert couldn’t see all this but noticed that the headlights were no longer gaining on him. Realizing they’d either stopped or been stopped, he waited for the shots to come. It was then he realized that he was still running with headlights, presenting a nice bright target for anyone wanting to shoot at him. Panicked, he shoved the rocker switches to the off position, groped for his lanyard, and got back on his night vision.

  Ahead he saw the first switchback. He spun around, not even slowing, knowing that this would not only put physical distance between him and his pursuers, but dirt too. There would be a physical barrier they could not shoot through.

  With this brief joy came a wave of recognition. He dropped off the gas pedal and coasted to a stop, hit the parking brake, and got out. He lowered his night vision and came back up with a flashlight. He tapped the switch on the base of the light and stared at the road behind him.

  This was the switchback where he’d left Sonyea and Jeff. This was where he’d expected to find something.

  There was no one there.

  30

  Robert fought against panic. Far below him, he could hear the crunching of metal as the Toyota’s driver fought to free the vehicle from where it was pinned. As long as they were engaged in trying to get the vehicle loose from the tree they weren’t firing at him. He scrambled around, shining his light over the ground, looking for any clue of what had happened here. Was this even the right spot?

  He saw a flattened area, the leaf litter scraped to the side. When he stood there it seemed vaguely familiar. Was it the spot where he’d watched the campers before turning his post over to Sonyea? He could see nothing on the ground. No signs of struggle, no lost gear.

  No blood.

  He threw the beam of the light up against the tree where he thought he’d left Jeff. The chain was still there. This was definitely the right spot. He hurried over and found the cuffs hanging open, still padlocked to the chain. Robert shook his head. Had someone let the kid loose? Sonyea didn’t have a key. Maybe Jeff had one? It would have been easy to miss the tiny key in the tentative search he’d made of Jeff’s person. He’d been looking for a gun or a knife. Something big and dangerous, yet a tiny key was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.

  Before he left, he had one more place to check. He returned to the spot he’d left Sonyea and shined his light down over the hill. He was looking for a body, confirming that Jeff had not killed Sonyea and disposed of her. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he didn’t find a body. If Jeff had killed her, he hadn’t left her here.

  There was a shot in the distance and bark exploded from a tree near Robert’s head. He hadn’t even noticed that the sounds from the stuck Toyota had quit. The men must be on foot now. Running in his direction. Coming for him. He clicked off the light and ran for the side-by-side.

  The engine kicked to life when he turned the key. He opted for driving by night vision, not sure how vulnerable the next switchback would leave him. Even at its slow utility vehicle speed, the machine was way faster than anyone could walk or run up this incline. With each minute, Robert felt a degree of relief, a little less worried that he would take a bullet to the back.

  In short order, he was topping out on the forest road and entering the vast mountain meadow cleared at the top. The light of billions of stars trickled down on him, brightly illuminating the field for anyone wearing night vision. He paused to orient himself, trying to remember where he’d left the much faster Razer. Determining that it was along the tree line to his left, Robert punched the gas and the vehicle spun in that direction.

  When he failed to spot anything with his night vision, he turned it off and used the vehicle’s bright headlights. He figured he’d put enough distance between him and his pursuers that he had a little window of time. His anxiety was still through the roof. Then he found what he was looking for–a wide area of beaten down grass told him he’d found the right spot, but the Razer was gone.

  Robert slammed the dash with his fist. “Dammit!”

  After stewing for a moment, he killed the engine and got out, walking around in a circle. Four points of compressed grass and a path of beaten down weeds confirmed he was in the exact spot where he’d parked the machine earlier. Playing his flashlight around, looking for any clues, he caught the reflection of shiny pl
astic in the grass.

  It was a pair of zip ties. They were used but had been cut loose with a sharp knife. Robert got a sick feeling in his stomach. There was no reason Sonyea would have done this. It had to be Jeff. But it made no sense. Why would he have not turned her over to the families? There were plenty of armed men ready to take her. If Jeff had done that, it was unlikely Robert could do anything to get her back on his own. So what was Jeff doing? What was going on in his head?

  He raised the flashlight, examining the path the machine had taken. It was going back in the direction from which they’d come. Robert considered this. Was that just coincidence? Maybe Jeff had some other location he was going. Perhaps he was just tired of it all and was going to head back home and put all of this behind him.

  That was how Robert felt at the moment too. Tired of it all and ready to go home. All this time and effort he’d spent, yet he was no closer to being home than he was a week ago. If anything, his situation was more dire, depressing, and perilous than ever before. He didn’t have the folks at the compound to help him. He didn’t even have Sonyea to cover his back and complain to. He had nobody but himself. He had never felt so alone and desperate in his entire life.

  The feeling made him want to get in the side-by-side and head home. He could call it quits on everybody and everything outside of his immediate family. Just the thought of his family conjured a desperate longing for them. He wasn’t the most affectionate man in the world sometimes. Maybe he wasn’t the best father either, but he loved them with a fierce loyalty that made him nearly crazy to be home.

  What was waiting on him back at the compound? More of the same? There was nothing attractive in that. Could he even make it back to the compound? If he chose the other option, running away, could he even make it home from here or would he die in a ditch somewhere, shot by some roadside bandit?