Adrift: The Complete Novel

by C. G. Cooper

  His dogs had gotten so far out in front that he’d had to resort to using the rudimentary tracking device he’d picked up from a trade show in the spring. It didn’t tell him how far the dogs were, but it did show him which way to go. That along with his GPS and the electric training collars each of the dogs wore, was all that had kept the group on some kind of course.

  As he waited for his spotty GPS signal to refresh, he continued moving forward.

  +++

  The heat assaulted the men from every angle. Smoke poured in, making them cough in fits, obscuring their vision. One man tried to break through a barricaded window only to be greeted with a bullet to the face.

  They were trapped. Hollie’s mind searched for a way out. “To the basement!” he yelled over the crackle of flame, running farther into the house. The door leading to the bottom level was barricaded, but with the help of the others, the thick plywood peeled back.

  Streaming through through the opening, the men gulped in the fresh air from below. Hollie led the way down into the darkness.

  +++

  “You’re sure?” Max Laney watched the fire fight against the pouring rain as he talked on the phone. “Okay. We’ll head that way.”

  The gunman lying next to Laney looked over once he was sure his boss was off the call. “You want me to stay here and make sure they don’t get out?”

  “No. I want you with me. If Hollie’s merry band of senior citizens is still alive, they won’t be for long. Round up the others. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  Laney stood and watched the burning house for a minute longer, unconcerned by the damage. That’s what insurance was for. More importantly, in one grand move, he’d eliminated multiple threats.

  “Burn in hell, Hollister Herndon. Your buddy Briggs is next.”

  +++

  Wally almost fainted when he shone his flashlight into Johnny’s morbid face after running into the chair. “Oh my God!”

  Mickey Tomes walked over, holding a torn piece of his shirt over the side of his face that had been scorched by one of Laney’s incendiary devices. “Whew. Somebody got that boy good. Was it your friend that did that, Hollie?”

  “It was.” They’d searched every inch of the spacious basement for a way out. No luck. Smoke started to drift down. Hollie could feel the heat coming through the ceiling. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. “Come on guys, we need to find a way out.”

  “I gotta say, fellas, I’ve been in a pickle or two, but this sure takes the cake,” said Mickey. “You think we can get out the way we came?”

  “I’ll bet the whole first floor is gone. Don’t know if we’d make it far,” said one of the others.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’d rather take my chance running through fire than burning to death down here. What do you say, Hollie?”

  Hollie felt the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders. These men had come to help, willing to die if need be. The old ranger couldn’t let that happen.

  +++

  Max Laney took one last look at his home. The roof had caved in several places. He knew the frame would go soon. Putting it out of his mind, he turned and focused on the last piece of the puzzle.

  +++

  Another man gone. Only a handful left. Everette Turner glanced at his GPS. They’d hit a road junction in under an hour. He wondered what the roving shadow would do next.

  His answer came a second later when the ground rose up behind him.

  +++

  “Turn off the headlights. They should be right around the corner.”

  The driver did as Laney ordered, slowing to avoid running off the road. They could see maybe a few feet in front of the truck, rain beating down relentlessly from all angles. A flash from the passenger side.

  Laney pointed. “There they are.”

  Turning the truck to the right, they followed the intermittent flashes guiding them down a side road that had been invisible a moment before. The light blinked twice.

  “Park it here. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  Laney stepped out into the storm. Five men materialized out of the gloom. “We’ve got a little shelter set up over here, Mr. Laney.”

  Once they were all huddled under the makeshift tent, Laney outlined the rest of his plan.

  +++

  Mickey volunteered to be the first man up the stairs. It would be his job to get as far as he could and attempt to find the best way out. After a thorough dousing from the wet bar sink, each man lined up at the bottom of the stairs, grim-faced, some shaking slightly. They tied portions of wet clothing over their heads for protection. It wouldn’t be much, but it might give them a few precious seconds longer.

  “Now remember,” said Hollie. “We keep moving no matter what.”

  They all nodded as Mickey took the first steps up.

  Chapter 41

  Everette Turner didn’t move. He couldn’t. Something had wrapped around him like an anaconda, his mouth covered by what felt like a spongy paw. He didn’t resist, not even when he heard muttering from above and the splashes accompanying someone’s passing. It wasn’t that he was afraid. It had been the quiet, “Shhh,” in his ear as he’d been lowered to the soggy earth, the cold steel blade pressed against his throat.

  +++

  “Dog man! Yo, dog man, where the fuck are you?!”

  The hunting party shone their flashlights in every direction, as if warding off evils spirits. Fewer than half of their original number remained. They’d deluded each other into thinking that those missing had slipped off into the night, deserters to a man.

  “Maybe he’s too far off to hear us,” offered one of the men.

  “He was just up ahead of us. I saw him looking at his GPS. Dog man!”

  Still no answer.

  The leader of the ragged band looked down at his GPS. “There’s a road not far up ahead. Maybe he’s up there.”

  The prospect of a real road to walk on instead of the ankle sucking mud of the wild perked the men up. Now in a single file line, they moved off.

  +++

  The pressure eased off of Turner’s mouth, then off of the rest of his body. Easing his way around, coming to one knee, he tried to make out what he was looking at.

  Whatever it was looked like the outline of Bigfoot, hairy and oversized. It took a second for him to realize what it was, a ghillie suit.

  “Who are you?” Turner whispered.

  “Go home,” answered the camouflaged man in a raspy voice, turning away, already fading into the night.

  A chill flittered down Turner’s back. He’d met killers before. He’d hunted them for years in some of the worst parts of the world. Something about the way this man moved, the expression in his eyes, disconnected…

  Standing in the pouring rain, Turner shivered, only remembering a minute later to depress the button that would electronically recall his dogs. One silent thanks and he walked back the way they’d come.

  +++

  Mickey burst through the flaming door at the top of the stairwell, ending up on the ground. The wave of heat assaulted the next man in line, stopping their movement cold.

  “Keep moving!” yelled Hollie.

  Three more steps in, Mickey back on his feet, another man collapsed. It was Wally. Hollie bent to help him up.

  “I’ll get him,” coughed Mickey. “You find a way out.”

  Hollie looked all around, but all he could see was orange and grey, walls of flame and smoke laughing at the old men in their wake with their crackles and spit.

  Chunks of wood and drywall fell from an opening overhead.

  Suddenly a deafening crash caused Hollie to crouch, hands covering his head, waiting for the fatal blow to fall.

  +++

  The barking was all the warning they had. Appearing like swifts ghosts out of the nightfall, the dogs ignored the hunting party, running the opposite way that the men were slogging.

  “What the hell?”

  One of the men
tried to catch a passing hound, only to be snapped at by three of its companions. They were gone in a flash, howling at some unseen quarry.

  “Where the fuck do you think they’re going?”

  “Who gives a shit. Let’s get to the road. I’m tired and hungry.”

  Soaked and exhausted, not one of the men thought differently. With the road so close, they trudged on, not thinking twice about the retreating bloodhounds.

  +++

  “Did you hear that?”

  Max Laney nodded. “That was Turner’s dogs. They should be here soon. Everyone keep a lookout, weapons at the ready.”

  His men had taken shelter where they could, rifles and shotguns pointing across the road. Laney smiled, gripping a last surprise in his hand. It would be over soon.

  +++

  Water sprayed on Hollie as strong hands gripped him under the armpits, dragging him forward. He couldn’t see. The heat continued to assault his senses, his consciousness waning.

  Then suddenly, he was clear of the burning house, rushed down the front steps and dumped unceremoniously in the muddy front yard. He looked up, his vision clearing slightly, taking in the yellow grin of the man hunched over him.

  “Did you think we’d leave all the fun to you?” said Eli Henderson.

  +++

  Max Laney watched the road through infrared goggles, a present from his late wife. The dogs hadn’t appeared, but he could see a white blur moving closer. He assumed it was his men. Soon he could make out five forms moving and lifted the goggles. There were using their flashlights.

  “Idiots,” murmured Laney. But it didn’t matter. He hadn’t really expected them to capture or even find the elusive Marine sniper. They were part of his plan, but in a different way. They were the bait.

  He repositioned his goggles and waited.

  +++

  Hollie finished gulping the bottle of water that Eli had given him. “Did you see where Max went?”

  Eli nodded. “We saw two trucks take off up Highway Eighty Three. Pretty sure one of them was Laney’s.”

  “Let’s head that way. There’s a lot of road, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  +++

  The remaining members of the search party breathed a collective sigh of relief at the feel of asphalt under their feet.

  “Our guys should be right across the road. Come on.”

  They followed the man with the GPS, not one sensing the presence closing in from behind.

  +++

  Laney watched the men cross the road, dismayed, but not surprised, by the small number. His heartbeat thudded faster when he caught a spot of white in the distance, moving. It was faint, but it was there.

  Settling his breathing as he would on a safari hunt, Max Laney counted down the seconds, measuring the distance, his hand squeezing a bit harder.

  +++

  Just as the weary group reached the opposite side of the pavement, a thunderous explosion rocked the area, sending the men to the ground. A second later, the rest of Laney’s men assaulted on line across the road, firing as they moved.

  +++

  Laney had detonated the three claymores he’d personally emplaced in the kill zone. The hunting party had done their part, leading the sniper right into the ambush. Rising from his hidden position, Laney only hoped that Daniel Briggs wasn’t dead yet. He wanted to be the one to put a bullet in his head. He’d promised his men a bonus to whoever brought him back alive, even if he was just barely alive.

  Chapter 42

  Hollie looked out the window. “Jesus. Was that thunder?”

  “Sounded like an explosion to me,” said Eli, not taking his eyes off the waterlogged road.

  Hollie’s stomach tightened. “It came from up ahead.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can. Any faster and we’ll be off the road.”

  “Do what you can, Eli. I’m afraid we might be too late.”

  +++

  I heard firing. The repeated shots from a high caliber rifle. Booms from a shotgun, or was it two? Was I dreaming?

  Opening my eyes to the pelting rain. No pain. That was good. I tried to sit up. I couldn’t. Something was on top of me, but not uncomfortably so. Feeling with my fingers, rough, slick, a tree trunk. But how?

  My mind searched for the answer. The animal that had taken over my body tried to force its way back into control. I couldn’t let it. Resisting the temptation of slipping back into my primal state, I strained to get free of the fallen tree, and the firing moved closer.

  +++

  Max Laney watched his men move, hoping they would find Briggs alive. If they didn’t and he was dead, it wouldn’t matter. The firing slowed as the men stalked cautiously, calling to one another as they closed in.

  +++

  “What’s that up ahead?” Hollie squinted into the distance.

  “I think it’s a light. Should I slow down?”

  “No. Keep going.”

  It looked like someone was trying to flag them down. The rain had subsided just enough. They barreled down the pavement, Hollie’s eyes narrowing.

  “Go faster.”

  “But…”

  “Just do it.”

  Eli pressed the pedal nearly to the floor, still worried about the standing water that could send them careening out of control at any moment. He gripped the wheel and focused forward. His hooded eyes went wide as he realized there was a person standing in the middle of the road.

  Hollie saw his friend pull off the gas. His voice came out like the rasp of a reaper, “Run him over.”

  Eli hesitated, but Hollie grabbed the old man’s knobby knee and pressed it down, revving the engine, RPMs jumping.

  They both saw the shock on the man’s face right before they slammed into him, the danger registering too late, the flashlight and shotgun flew high, the crumpled body trampled by the speeding truck.

  +++

  Laney turned to the left seeing headlights in the distance. They’d posted a man in each direction to redirect drivers. Obviously the idiot they’d put on the south end of the road hadn’t listened. Laney cursed and rose to meet the vehicle.

  +++

  The truck’s high beams cut into the night, aided by the miraculous respite of rain. Hollie saw them first. A line of men moving into the tree line. Putting his submachine gun to his shoulder, his companions in the cab doing the same, he opened fire, rounds smashing though the windshield.

  +++

  Laney’s men were temporarily blinded by the blast of the headlights, half turning away, the others ripping the night vision goggles from their faces. The first man went down in a hail of bullets that reached out and touched the man next to him, sending them both to the ground.

  The two marauding vehicles tore into Laney’s ranks, old men now young again, disciplined, ruthless, deadly, avenging angels.

  +++

  Jaw clenched, Max Laney backed away from his position, watching as the roughnecks went down all too quickly. The remaining group of hunters had come to the road, curiously, stupidly, only to be mowed down, looks of shock plastered to their faces.

  Cursing his string of bad luck, Laney hopped into the truck and took off in the opposite direction.

  +++

  Eli Henderson searched the bodies, all dead save one, and he would die shortly. “I’d say we did pretty good, boys. Just like the old days.”

  His comrades joined the search, grimly going to task, adrenaline still coursing like a raging drug, keeping them young if only for a few more minutes. More than one man knelt down to say a silent prayer over the dead, not because of regret, but because above all, these warriors knew the worth of life. They’d fought and bled for their country in lands far from its shores. They’d left as boys and come back men. They’d lost friends, some family.

  Hollie was the most frantic, searching each man methodically, hoping Daniel was not among them. “Daniel! Daniel!”

  Soon the others repeated the call, spreading the line, moving into the woods.

 
+++

  I heard the calls. They sounded like muted gurgles. Maybe it was a trick. They couldn’t blow me up or shoot me. Maybe Laney was trying something new.

  I felt rather than heard them moving closer, my mind realizing my hearing had dulled from the explosion. Squirming under the push of the tree, I stopped. Something about one of the voices pierced the ringing in my ears.

  Hollie?

  +++

  Hollie heard it first, thinking it another survivor from Laney’s cadre, he moved in cautiously.

  A grated sound, like a man gasping his last breath. Closer. Closer.

  “Hayi. Hayee. Haay,” came the voice.

  Hollie panned his flashlight back and forth, zeroing in on the sound. Most of the vegetation was shorn, a result of the claymores. A large tree lay up ahead. Movement. A hand waving.

  Chapter 43

  The men stared at me as I gulped down my fourth bottle of water. To say that I was parched was an understatement. I don’t think they knew what to make of me. I probably looked like a monster with my makeshift camouflage, most of which I didn’t remember putting together. The beast had done it without my help.

  They’d managed to pull me out from under the giant log unscathed. Despite my reassurance that I wasn’t hurt, one of the men, a former Navy corpsman, inspected me from top to bottom.