by C. G. Cooper
“You still want to go in?” asked one of his companions.
“No use now. Let’s stick to the plan. We have everything we need.”
Hollie turned away from the home he’d known since birth, the taste of revenge on his tongue, metallic, harsh, yet enticing.
Chapter 37
First one then all of the dogs bayed. Everette Turner sped into a trot, the men behind him perking up and following. The rays from their flashlights led the way, eventually shining on the dogs who had arrayed around a large tree. The trainer followed their gazes, approaching with gun drawn.
“Is it him?” asked one of the mercenaries.
Turner ignored the question, still trying to see into the heavily vegetated tree, rain and darkness making it nearly impossible to see past the first level of branches.
Moving around the behemoth cautiously, Turner spied an opening in the canopy, squinting through the downpour.
“You can point your guns at the ground,” he announced to the men who’d constantly maintained poor muzzle awareness, repeatedly pointing their weapons at him.
“What is it?”
“Dead deer. Strung up there.” Turner pointed, up to where a doe had been wedged in between branches, entrails hanging, dripping blood to the ground.
“Why in the hell would someone want to do that?”
The trainer moved to his dogs, trying to get them to move away from the carcass. Even well-trained dogs could go astray at the smell of that much food. It didn’t help that they were tired and hungry. It was all he could do to get them to listen and stop their howling.
To make matters worse, one of the Laney’s idiots decided to climb up into the tree and try to dislodge the animal. This sent the dogs into a frenzy.
“I think I got…” The man in the tree was cut off with a muffled THUMP, followed by the deer falling to the ground. Every dog except the one Turner held by the collar jumped to retrieve the prize.
So enthralled were the men with the scene of the ravenous dogs attacking the carcass on the ground that no one remembered the man in the tree, except Everette Turner. Letting the last dog join the feast, Turner pointed his flashlight into the tree.
“I think one of you better help your friend,” he commented nonchalantly.
A ruddy faced hire looked at him questioningly. “What are you talking about?”
Turner simply pointed up. The man’s gaze lifted along with his flashlight beam. It took him a moment to make out. “Holy shit.”
More beams, more curses. The man in the tree sat with his back to the trunk, legs straddling a large branch, blood running from his mouth from the large stake impaled through his chest.
Bum my ass, thought Turner.
+++
Two blasts rattled the thick glass, making Max Laney turn from the kitchen table where he’d been monitoring the progress from his teams. The power still wasn’t on, but Laney could see where the blast had come from. The double garage that sat detached from the main house lay in a heap, wisps of smoke barely visible.
“What the…?”
One of the men who’d stayed behind to guard the main house ran into the room. “Mr. Laney, two rockets or something from the road. Whoever it was raced off before we could follow.”
“Rockets?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what it looked like.”
What was the purpose? Why not target the house instead? And more importantly, who the hell was helping Hollie? Laney had made sure Herndon’s farm was burnt to the ground. Another wrench thrown into this plans.
“Did you see what the car looked like?”
“No, sir. We couldn’t see that far. I don’t know how they shot the garage from so far away.”
The man was right. With the limited visibility surely it would have been impossible to take one shot, let alone two, unless…
The only people he knew that had that type of weaponry, possibly with night vision or infrared capability was the military. Laney wondered if maybe Briggs had called in the Marines, but that was impossible. It had to be someone local, someone with access, or maybe even a stockpile of military-grade weaponry.
Laney’s searched his mental database, sifting through the all the locals he knew. His breath caught as his brain lingered on one name: Eli Henderson.
+++
Eli Henderson couldn’t stop laughing. “I wish I could see the look on Max’s face. I hope his Lexus was in the garage.”
They sped along the flooded roadway, headed to their next task, every man smiling, reliving the days when they would have charged the objective on foot. That wasn’t their job this night. They had more important things to take care of.
+++
Once the dogs had satisfied their appetites, Turner was able to coral them and work on finding the trail. As he reached into his pack a prickle ran up his spine. Someone was watching. Turner could feel it even though the dogs didn’t notice.
Pivoting slowly, the experienced woodsman faced the opposite direction, away from the rest of the men. Frozen in place, eyes focused into the darkness, Turner swept his right hand from left to right, only visible to someone in the distance. He repeated the motion hoping someone was actually watching and that it wasn’t just his nerves playing tricks on him.
Chapter 38
Wally looked up at the sound of the front door opening. Business had been slow because of the storm and he was anxious to make any money he could. The place was empty. After the scuffle with the Laneys, he wondered more than once why he stayed.
Hollie stomped his feet on the door mat. “Good evening, Wally.”
Wally groaned, his stomach twisting in knots. “Now, I don’t want any trouble, Mr. Herndon. I’m just trying…”
The old man held up his good hand. “I’m not here to make trouble, son. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
Thinking of the warning he’d gotten from Max Laney, the bar owner hesitated. All he wanted to do was close up, go home, and ride out the storm. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Worried about Laney?”
“Of course. You saw what he did to my place. Johnny’s as crazy as they come, but Mr. Laney will tear my life apart if he wants to.”
“Do you owe him money?”
“I do, just like most of us in this town.”
“What if I told you that if you help us, you’ll be free and clear of Laney’s loan?”
Wally scowled, not able to believe the words. He’d been in Laney’s debt ever since he’d moved to town. First it was a helping hand. Next it was a small loan to buy the bar. Every time the economy went south, Wally had no choice but to seek assistance from Laney.
“Unless you have a whole lot of money, I don’t see how you can say that.”
Hollie smiled. “Let’s just say Laney’s time is about up. Now, are you with us or against us?”
“Who’s us?”
“Come on. Let me introduce you.”
+++
The hammering had stopped. Laney walked through the house, inspecting the work, one of the hired hands following close behind. “Did you get the front door?”
“We did, Mr. Laney.”
“Good. Have the others get everything cleaned up and then meet me in the kitchen. I want to go over what happens next.”
“Uh, Mr. Laney, some of the boys were wondering if we might take turns getting a little shut eye. It’s been a long day, and…”
Laney’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not paying you to sleep. You tell the others that if I find one of them dozing off, so help me…”
Cowering slightly at the silent rage radiating off of his employer, the man nodded and left to find the others.
+++
They’d decided to leave the body in the tree instead of trying to drag it along after the dogs. One of the men made a note of the GPS coordinates and plodded on after the others.
Their pace had slowed considerably despite Everette Turner’s lead. Time after time he had to stop and wait for the rest of the group to
catch up. He wondered how effective they’d be when they caught up to their quarry. Just before continuing from where they’d found the dead deer, Turner had overheard some of the men talking, betting who would deliver the killing blow to the fugitive.
Laney had told Turner the wanted man was to be brought back alive. Either the posse had other expectations or Laney had lied. Turner believed the latter.
On they marched, he following the sounds of his dogs, the rest lost in their misery, bitching with every step.
Minutes later, they demanded another stop. Turner nodded and found a tree to stand under, wondering how long the rest would last. He’d brought enough energy bars and water to last a day. If needed he knew he could make it last for three.
The others hadn’t planned as well. The one’s who had brought anything to eat brought an assortment of candy and snacks. Most had finished their supply barely an hour into the hunt. Turner could see the strain in their sunken eyes. They were dehydrated and exhausted.
“Where’s Pete?” asked one of the men, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air, his rifle leaning against a tree.
“I think he went to take a leak,” came the answer from another.
Five minutes later, still no Pete.
“Pete! Pete!” went the call into the darkness. No reply except for the deluge from above.
“Hey, dog man. Bring your bitches back and help us find Pete,” barked the ringleader.
Turner shook his head. “I’m not getting paid to babysit you boys. Mr. Laney’s paying me to find one man. Now, I suggest you send a couple of your men to do a quick search for Pete. In five minutes I’m heading off that way.”
The leader of the band contemplated Turner’s words, the indecision plain on his face. Pushed to the point of exhaustion, the man was having a hard time focusing. “Fine.” He shined his flashlight at two others. “You and you. Do a quick loop around, but keep us in sight. Pete probably went to take a dump and fell asleep shittin’ on a log.”
The joke went over flat and the two lucky picks stomped off in separate directions to look for their missing member.
+++
Scott Carr, a diminutive man with a pot belly, dirty ball cap drooping, tried to focus on the way he was going, but his head pounded from dehydration. Looking up at the sky he opened his mouth to drink the rain, his own supply having been consumed long ago.
The moment did little to alleviate the headache or his thirst. He sighed and pointed his flashlight at the ground, looking to avoid more falls in the slippery mud. Something moved. He looked closer, wondering if it was a trick of the light on the water. Again the movement.
Carr moved closer, the finger of his right hand tense on the trigger. Suddenly, like a scene from a horror movie, a dark form that looked like an elongated bush, sprang from the mud causing Carr to fumble with his weapon, dropping it to the ground.
Stumbling backwards, a scream stuck in his throat, Carr kept his shaking flashlight focused on the two eyes, glowing like a snake’s, as they took him down.
+++
Turner watched as Laney’s men went back and forth, cursing and grumbling as if it would make a difference.
“Where the fuck is, Scotty?”
Lucky pick #2 returned empty handed. They’d waited ten more minutes for Scott Carr.
“I’ll bet he went home. Said he was feeling sick,” offered one of the men.
“Laney’s gonna kill him if he finds out. Scotty! Scotty!” The calls tried to pierce the blackness. Again, no reply.
“Gentlemen, I suggest we keep moving. My dogs are getting jumpy.” Turner had recalled his pack that now paced eagerly around their master.
Once more the indecision from the leader. “Shit. Okay, let’s get going.”
On a clipped command from Turner, his dogs bounded off into the darkness, far less hindered than their human companions. The trainer took one last look at the others and followed his hounds.
Chapter 39
“Everyone ready?” Hollie looked to his men, all except Wally nodding grimly. The bar owner sat in the back of the suburban looking like he might vomit at any moment.
They’d managed to recruit three more men, in addition to Wally. All were in some kind of debt to Max Laney.
Hollie knew that what they were doing was risky, but they didn’t have much of a choice. Everything started and ended with Max Laney.
They made it the rest of the way on foot, leaving the vehicle parked on the side of the road. Hollie took a deep breath. His mind made up, he pressed forward, walking far enough inside the tree line that he could still see Laney’s driveway. There wasn’t a soul in the front yard. While that seemed somewhat odd to the ranger’s recollection of a proper perimeter defense, Hollie assumed that Laney had consolidated his resources to the main house.
Hollie signaled a halt, and extracted his night visions scope. He panned from side to side, looking for any sign of movement or light. Nothing from the grounds or the house.
A moment later they were moving, the military veterans taking the lead. Once they were as close to the house as they were going to get without being in the open, Hollie did one more inspection with his scope. Nothing.
“I’ll go in first. If I get to the door, you follow.”
Nods from the men.
Keeping his profile as low as his body would allow, Hollie prowled across the drive and up to the house. He could just make out the boarded up windows and front door. Stepping up onto the front porch, Hollie took a knee, listening. Only the steady rain and occasional thunder.
Two men followed, soon kneeling next to Hollie.
“No way in on the front side. Let’s head around back.”
“You want me to go first, Hollie?” asked Mickey Tomes, a wiry black man who’d been a green beret in Vietnam. He held an M16-A2 ready in his gnarled hands.
“No. You wave the others over, then follow a few feet behind. I don’t want any booby traps taking more than one of us out.”
Hollie crept his way around the house, slow steady steps. Still no resistance. He could now see the back porch where he and Daniel had talked with Laney. That seemed like weeks before. No sign of anyone, but the back door wasn’t boarded shut.
He waited for the others to catch up. Mickey Tomes was the first.
“Anything?”
“The back door isn’t boarded up. I’m going to try that first.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Hollie nodded, motioning for the other to stay put.
Seconds later, Hollie and Mickey had their backs to the stone facade, the door between them. Hollie tried to see inside, even using the light sensitive night vision scope. Nothing. No movement. No light.
On a whim, Hollie tried the doorknob, slowly. It turned and the door slid open. Mickey had his weapon trained into the dark interior, his eyes trying to pick up the outline of the enemy. Nothing.
Knowing he was limited by his wounded arm, Hollie signaled for Mickey to go first. With a nod, the old green beret glided in, stepping cautiously on the tile kitchen floor.
“Clear,” he whispered as Hollie’s eyes adjusted to the deeper dark inside.
His ears felt suddenly sensitive as the muffled rain beat down relentlessly outside, but the house was still. Hollie inspected the area with his scope, the image much clearer than it had been outside. No sounds. No movement.
He poked his head out the back door and motioned for the others to follow. They would search the house with all but two of the men who would guard the exit.
The six men made it to the formal dining room when they heard shots from the back yard. Hollie rushed back to the kitchen. A body lay in the doorway, one of his latest recruits, Earl Newland, a pudgy alcoholic who’d lost his family farm to Max Laney the year before.
Hollie backed away from the door, taking cover behind the granite-topped island. He’d just made it to the far side of the kitchen to see if he could get a better vantage point when a shot cracked in the distance, the round s
hattering dark granite just above Hollie’s head a nanosecond later.
+++
“Did you get him?”
“Just missed, I think.”
Max Laney patted the man on the back. “Keep them pinned down.” Extracting a small flashlight from his rain slicker, Laney flashed it twice toward the house.
+++
Hollie saw the flashes in the distance, followed by thumping sounds from above. Footsteps on the roof. He thought he heard a vehicle engine.
A moment later, he watched as Earl Newland’s body slid out of the doorway. “What the…” The white paneled van scraped its way into place, effectively blocking the exit.
+++
Laney pulled a small control panel that was encased in a waterproof bag out of his pack. Flipping a toggle switch, the panel lit up green. Looking at his house one last time, Laney clicked all four buttons, imagining the chaos inside his old home.
+++
Hollie heard a pop and then a scream from the adjoining room.
“Fire!”
The first small explosion was followed by three more. The kitchen ceiling glowed red hot and then the flames came, hungrily devouring the wood beams.
The others had converged in the kitchen, looking to Hollie for guidance. He was momentarily at a loss, having just led his troops into an ambush.
Chapter 40
Men were dropping like flies. After the fourth man disappeared, the search party leader kept everyone in a tight group, warning the others that he wasn’t above shooting them if they fled.
Turner watched it all with amusement. The hunters had become the hunted. A small part of the former military policemen wondered if the man in the shadows would differentiate him from the rest of the bunch. He knew it was pointless to worry. He’d learned long ago that whatever was going to happen would happen. Still, he kept his weapon holstered, hoping that the sight of less aggression could help his odds.