by Jeff Olah
Turning away from Lockwood and Jack, who’d both taken to incoherent criticism of one another, Mason knelt beside Savannah. He lifted her chin, and tilted her head backward. Still no breath sounds. He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Let’s go Savannah, we need you.”
One hand over the other, he placed them over the center of her chest and straightened out his arms. Leaning in, he gave twenty quick compressions and sat back. Water continued to run out of her mouth, although at a decreased rate.
Back over her, he began a second round of compressions, this time without counting. He pushed until his triceps would no longer allow him to continue. Her limp body now lying in a small depression, Mason shouted at the two men, “Help me!”
“This sand is too soft.”
They slid her along the beach to the more condensed sand at the edge of the water and stood back as Mason repositioned her body and again leaned over her. Continuing, he could feel her sternum dip lower with each compression. His shoulders began to tighten and his elbows ached. It wasn’t working.
Continuing as the others offered to step in, Mason wasn’t quite finished. Sweat gathered at his brow and dripped onto her blouse. Pausing for a moment to wipe his forehead, Savannah began to convulse, her limbs momentarily becoming ridged. After another ten seconds, she rocked to the left and coughed.
Mason gave an additional two compressions and leaned back. She coughed again, this time arching her back and expelling water three feet into the air. Mason rolled her onto her left side and patted her back as she drew in a single deep breath.
She continued to forcefully cough, expelling the remaining ocean water and began to shake. Somewhat more forceful than a chill, although not quite capturing the essence of a convulsion, she curled into the fetal position and wept.
The pulsing wind coming in off the ocean drove an unrelenting chill up through his spine as he tried to calm himself. Rolling away and onto his back, Mason was out of breath and his heart rate slowly began to return to normal. Laying his left hand on Savannah’s back, he felt for the rise and fall that accompanied her labored breathing.
Lockwood approached with Jack close behind. He stood over Mason and Savannah, wrapping his wet jacket tightly around his torso, attempting to stave off the chilled winds. “Mason… is she okay?”
Swiping the matted mess of hair away from his face, Mason sat forward. “What happened, why did I wake up in the ocean?”
Savannah turned back toward Mason and slid under his arm. She tried to speak and was only afforded two words. “Another car.”
He didn’t address her directly; instead he looked to the men for validation. “What’s she talking about?”
Lockwood sat in the sand next to Mason and Jack followed suit. “I was asleep as well, that is until just before we went over the side. My eyes weren’t yet open, although I heard Savannah speaking on the sat phone and asking about Eleanor.”
Mason turned to Jack. “You got anything else?”
Sitting next to Lockwood in the sand, the young man they knew as Jack had only been sent along on the trip as protection. He stood a hair above five feet five inches and with his sinewy frame couldn’t have clocked any more than one hundred twenty pounds. When first introduced to the group as a possible traveling companion, Mason laughed.
There wasn’t a scenario Mason could draw up where he felt the young man would be of service. He quickly shot down the idea and informed Brian that Jack wouldn’t be needed. He was immediately proven wrong and given a firsthand account of Jack’s special skills.
Eighteen of the residents lined the shore as Brian and Mason took the boat out to the two-hundred yard marker and dropped anchor. Brian lined up six empty soda cans along the starboard side and sat back. He yelled into the wind, “Show them.”
Mason watched as Jack fired six rounds from the shore, each one striking its target dead center. He smiled as Brian moved back to the wheel and said, “So, you think you may have a use for him?”
“Why go through all of this,” Mason asked. “Why not just tell me that he’s a good shot?”
“I felt this method would be more effective… and by the look on your face, I can tell I was right.”
Jack leaned in. “Yeah,” he said. “Savannah was talking to Megan on the phone and dropped it on the floorboard, by her feet. We both reached for it at the same time and when we looked up, there was a car coming at us. It was in our lane.”
“Are you sure? We haven’t seen another vehicle since yesterday morning. This would have been—”
Savannah righted herself, still leaning into Mason. “Yeah, it was a smaller car. It moved into our lane with its brights on. There was no way that they didn’t see us, it had to be intentional. Plus they didn’t stop to help.”
“So the phone is gone?” Mason asked.
“I’m not sure,” Savannah said. “It slid under the brake pedal and that was the last I saw of it.” She turned to Lockwood and said, “Will it still work, if we can fish it out?”
“It’s doubtful, and not really worth the risk for any of us.”
The group sat on the shore shivering and staring up at the highway. The guardrail was split open and the area where the SUV plunged into the ocean still stirred. Mason stood and walked to the water’s edge. “The phone’s gone and what are we… a few miles from home?”
“About five,” Savannah said. “I was actually calling Megan to let her know we’d be home and to have the guys at the gate be ready for us. So they’ll be expecting us soon.”
Lockwood pointed into the water. “Sean was tracking us with the installed GPS system. They’ll find us by morning, although we should probably get up onto the highway.”
“Really?” Mason asked. “Your plan is to sit out here tonight in the freezing cold and do what… wait? I don’t think so. I’m going back down there and grabbing whatever weapons I can find, and we’re walking back tonight.”
Stepping forward, Jack now stood next to Mason. “I’ll go in. I’m a better swimmer and I know how much you hate the water. Anyway, you pulled these two out before I even realized what was happening.”
“Be my guest,” Mason said.
Jack kicked his shoes aside, pulled off his jacket and walked into the knee deep water. He turned to Savannah and said. “Are you gonna tell him?”
“Well… uh… I mean, yeah. But we really don’t—”
“Mason should know,” Lockwood said. “And, yes I heard you speaking to Megan about that too. He needs to know.”
“Enough… we don’t have time for this. If there’s something you need to tell me, please spit it out.”
Savannah pulled her knees into her chest, still trying to shield herself from the offshore winds. “Mason, I was going to tell you, but we got cut off while Megan was explaining what happened.”
“You mean, when you dropped the phone.”
“Well, yeah… I guess.”
“What exactly do you know, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Mason,” Savannah said. “Eleanor went missing tonight.”
171
After three failed attempts, Jack finally retrieved two weapons from the SUV, although he wasn’t exactly sure they’d even fire. These were older models and ones he had yet to lay his hands on. Scanning the area, they appeared to be alone on the beach, although firing a couple of practice rounds into the night was still probably not a good idea. Mason slipped the pistol into his waistband and Jack draped the rifle over his shoulder. They climbed the short distance back to the highway as the reminders of their accident came rushing back.
Evidence of their departure from the highway was littered across the southbound lane. The right front quarter panel lay next to the severed guardrail. Broken glass covered the edge of the highway and filtered down through the steep embankment. Although the day’s first light was still an hour away, the violence associated with the accident was obvious.
The group of four moved away from the field of debris and stopped near the
downed speed limit sign. Mason stepped out first and asked the others to stay on the shoulder. Running the short distance to the embankment on the opposite side of the road, he waved them over. “Jack, wait here with them. I’ll hit the top of this ridge and check the rest of the highway.”
Mason targeted the peak of the forty-foot hill above as his point of reference. From there, he figured he’d be able to see far enough south to plan a route back home. The steep grade and damp foliage forced him to slow to a crawl. Hand over hand; he pulled himself through the overgrown hillside as the others waited below.
A mile, maybe two, that was all he could see. Walking the highway back toward home wouldn’t be an option. The moon, dropping out of the sky, offered very little light along the two lane road. The high perched treeline and dense brush enveloped the roadway in shadowed swatches large enough to swallow whole city blocks. The illuminated shoreline would have to serve as their route back home.
Bracing himself for the descent back to the highway, something caught his eye. Unsure what he’d just seen, Mason moved through the trees until he had an unobstructed view to the north. Taillights, although they were well over a quarter-mile away, he could see that the car was parked and the doors were open.
Two figures silhouetted against the backdrop of the ocean appeared to be crouched near the edge of the southbound lanes. Mason continued to watch their movements as he slowly started back down toward the highway. Just before losing them to the trees and still over twenty-five feet to the highway, Mason stopped.
The two individuals to the north ran back across the highway and jumped into their car. The taillights blinked and the car began to move away. He watched a moment longer as the car slowed, made a U-turn and started back down the highway toward them. Whoever these people were, they were coming back.
He needed to reach the bridge before they did. Launching himself back down the steep hillside, overgrown tree branches slapped at Mason’s arms and legs. He stepped heavy through the wet dirt, and with each stride, the difficulty of staying upright increased. The last ten feet were a blur as his momentum carried him face-first out onto the shoulder.
Coming out of the bushes a few feet from the others, he slid to a stop on his chest. Jack turned quickly; rifle sighted on the disturbance, as Mason hopped to his feet and held out his right hand. “It’s me.”
Jack lowered his weapon and ran to Mason. “Man, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Mason said. “I’m good, but we gotta go… now.”
Savannah and Lockwood also hurried over. They stood at the shoulder with Lockwood pacing. “What did you see, how’s the highway look… can we get going, I’m freezing?”
Brushing the debris from his clothes, Mason started for the far side of the bridge. “No time to explain, just run!”
They were here. He’d thought that they had at least another thirty seconds, although his internal clock misfired. They were here. The sound of the motor back dropped against the still of the night caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand. The headlights falling on the highway just ten feet away, he motioned to the churning water below. “We have to jump.”
Savannah turned to Mason, “What’s going on?”
“No time, we have to go,” Mason said. He then turned to Jack. “You ready?”
“Right behind ya.”
“But,” Savannah said.
Mason clutched her left wrist, turned and then did the same to Lockwood. He pulled them to his side and jumped.
They hit the ice cold water as one, a tangled mess of body parts slamming into one another. Mason was the first to enter the water with Lockwood landing on his back. Savannah slammed into both of them, pushing Mason down. The depth in this area, not quite what he anticipated, he hit bottom. He pulled his feet up under him and pushed to the surface.
Sucking wind as his head reached above the water, Mason turned right and spotted Lockwood also coming out. They both started toward shore and managed to catch Savannah. He helped them both get past the jagged rocks onto the south side of the shore, before turning back to the bridge. “Jack,” Mason said. “Let’s go.”
From a kneeling position at the edge of the highway and nearly twenty feet above, Jack shouldered his rifle. As the car pulled to within a hundred yards, he locked in. “Mason,” he said without taking his eye off the scope. “Get moving. I’ll make sure they can’t follow us. I’ll catch up.”
With five miles of sand to push through and the night growing colder, Mason didn’t see the point in debating the plan. “Good luck, Jack; just don’t do anything stupid.”
No response from above as the car’s engine grew louder and then went silent. Mason turned and pointed to the water along the shore. “Let’s go. The sand is more packed down there. It’s easier to run on.”
“Run?” Lockwood asked.
“Listen, we don’t know who these people are, or what they want. I’m going to assume for the sake of our own safety that it’s not good. So, yes we need to run.”
“Well,” Lockwood said. “I’m not too sure I’ll be able to—”
Breaking the crisp night air, the sound echoed for miles. He wasn’t sure what was louder—the echo in his ears or the pounding of his heart. As the first round left Jack’s rifle, Mason did know one thing… the time to run had come.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Mason,” Lockwood said. “I’m hurt.”
172
Sighting the windshield, the darkened image of what he was dealing with became clear. He hated those ridiculous fluffy dice hung around the rearview mirror. His step-father had a pair like that in every vehicle he owned. To say that man had a few problems would be like saying the world that they now lived in was a bit tedious.
Their wakeup call came as the driver’s door opened. Jack slowly breathed out and sent the first round in through the top center of the windshield. The interior of the vehicle exploded, blowing glass out onto the highway and the men onto their backs next to the vehicle. Once the dust settled, the dice as well as the first six inches of the car’s roof were gone.
The men lying beside the late model compact sedan writhed in pain. The driver rolled out of sight and down the short embankment as the passenger scratched at his face, obviously attempting to remove the fragmented pieces of glass.
As the driver appeared over the hood, Jack sent a second round in though the grill, lifting the hood a few inches. He waited and watched as both men scrambled to their feet and moved to the rear of the vehicle.
“They’ll be busy for the moment,” he said to himself before moving away from the scope and laying the rifle along the guardrail.
“What do you guys want?” Jack thought.
He then took turns craning his neck to the left and then to the right, working through the cold induced stiffness. His back also beginning to tighten, he knew better than to stand and reveal his position just yet. He’d give them a few minutes to contemplate what may be coming next, before hitting them with a much more pronounced message. He figured by then that he’d be free to stand and leisurely walk out of here. He’d seen it many times.
They just needed a reason to walk away. He was about to give it to them.
From this distance and through the naked eye, he was unable to make out exactly what they were up to, although he could see that the individuals behind the car were beginning to fidget. Jack blew into his balled hands and rubbed them together, the sensation coming back into his fingers with each passing second.
Back to the rifle, he raised the scope to his right eye and placed his index finger alongside the trigger guard. He moved from the left side of the street and came to rest on the roof of the vehicle. Something was different. He could no longer see the two individuals, although he knew they hadn’t run and if they got back into the car, well… then they deserved what was coming.
Lining up the front of the vehicle, Jack quickly fired two rounds, one into each of the front tires. He’d already disabled the sedan with the second
shot fired, this was just to let whoever was stationed fifty yards away know what they’d face if they attempted to follow.
Sliding down the embankment and out of sight, Jack checked his weapon. “Two rounds left, just perfect.” He figured he wouldn’t need them, although being this far behind without backup was a bit unsettling.
One last look through the scope told him everything he needed to know about how the rest of the evening would progress. Even if he hadn’t seen it, the unmistakable thud of the trunk slamming shut would have warned him. “Maybe toying with these guys, wasn’t my best idea?”
Stepping away from the vehicle, the two silhouetted figures moved to the opposite side of the highway and disappeared into the shadows. Even at this distance, the weapons they’d retrieved were unmistakable.
Directly below, the frigid waters weren’t going to be an option. Jack needed to somehow move another fifty feet down the highway to the grass covered hillside. He’d have a direct route to the sand from there and within sixty seconds, he could disappear into the night and catch the others.
Back to the guardrail, Jack fired one last round, cover for the short trip he needed to make. A massive pine tree near where the two individuals left the road exploded as he jumped to his feet. He tossed the rifle over his shoulder and sprinted to the open hillside.
Onto his side and sliding to a stop, Jack slipped passed a small chain-link fence and used his momentum to carry him down the steep grade. The ocean sat thirty yards ahead and with no real way to stay hidden, he clung to the hillside.
“Five miles… I haven’t had to do this in a really long time. Oh well, I guess it’s time to find out what I’m made of.” Jack flipped the collar up on his coat, tossed the rifle over his right shoulder and began to jog through the soft sand.
“Should we be out here in the open like this?” Savannah led the way as the trio moved slowly and less efficiently than they’d like. “I think I heard five or six shots, are we sure Jack’s ok?”