Dark Project

by Sean E Thomas

  Even from the distance, Sable was able to recognize the tall man who greeted the Bronco’s driver. “It’s Ramsey. Bill and Lee must be in trouble.”

  “You worry too much,” Masters said. “We’re here to stop the bad guys.”

  Dean stood and brushed himself off. Sable watched in horror as Dean pulled out his pistol and shot the new arrival. The report was sharp. The bullet lifted the young man from the ground and threw him backwards. He lay on the ground, clutching at his chest.

  Sable pulled his gun from his holster, and Masters placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  “We’re out-gunned and out-manned. Patience, we’ll get them later,” Masters said. “We can only hope no other innocents get in the way. If they do, do it.”

  Behind Dean, Ramsey’s remaining man brought his weapon to bear, but Ramsey motioned for the man to put it down.

  “I should have known.” Sable clenched and kneaded the steering wheel as he watched the body being tossed into the lake.

  “I thought Ramsey was in the Fort Greely slammer.”

  “Apparently not. From now on, we can’t give Dean’s men any quarter.”

  * * * *

  As Bill approached the Robert Campbell Highway, he tried to decide his route. If he went back to Camaracks, he could head to Whitehorse and then to Skagway, or he could continue toward Ross River or hide in Faro. Heading toward Ross River gave him more options, but he knew they’d arrive at the same conclusion.

  “You can get up. It’s clear.” Bill sloughed through the stop.

  Lee stretched in the seat. “How far are they behind us?”

  “Thirty minutes.” Bill increased pressure on the accelerator. The Robert Campbell was packed dirt and gravel, meaning they could make time.

  “Not much of a lead.”

  “Worst case, we grab our packs and head for the hills.”

  Lee studied the Milepost. “I see. Once we’re on the Pelly River, we use our kayaks and the only way they can find us is with a chopper.”

  Chapter 45

  The top of Ramsey’s car disappeared into the water and a slow, steady stream of bubbles broke the lake’s calm surface. As they continued with the hunt, the atmosphere in the stolen Bronco was thick with hate. When Dean had killed the stranger, he’d felt exhilarated. It had revitalized him and made him feel in control. It was like sending a warning message to Ramsey’s group.

  Ramsey angrily picked up the mike and squeezed the transmit button. The click echoed in the Bronco. Ramsey had to settle for a portable radio, the other was at the bottom of the lake. Frustration permeated his voice. “Angel TOO, THIS IS WUN, your location? OVER.”

  “WUN, TOO. No sign of our target, OVER.” Static covered the voice.

  “TOO, THIS IS WUN, no sign of target. We’ve had to change our mode of transportation to Candy Red, OVER.”

  The other team’s vehicle came around the bend. “WUN, TWO, ROGER, I have you in sight, OVER.”

  * * * *

  Sable stopped in the shadows of the trees and watched the rendezvous. He picked up and focused the binoculars.

  “They’ve met up again.” Masters stretched. “They still haven’t found Kincaid.”

  “Good. Luck is with us.” Though Sable knew he couldn’t be seen, he slouched into his seat. He handed the binoculars to Masters. Then he drew his .44, opened the cylinder, and spun it. It was fully loaded.

  As the Bronco pulled away, Sable followed, but after a short distance, the Bronco stopped. Sable followed suit. Ramsey got out and approached an elderly man who had come out of the brush flapping his arms up and down in desperation.

  “Give me the dish,” Sable said. He rolled down the window and lined the cone with the target.

  “What can I do for you?” Ramsey said.

  “Someone’s stolen my truck,” the old man said. “Do you have a phone to call the Mounties?”

  “But isn’t that your car in the trees?”

  “Nope. Let me show you.” As they walked over to the campsite, Sable strained to see. The old man pulled out a wad of bills and pointed to the Taurus. With lightning speed, the soldier drew his gun and shot the man.

  “What the hell?” Masters asked.

  “They don’t want any witnesses.” Sable’s hand moved to his gun, but with great effort, he brought his hand away. “Damn, damn, damn! Another man dead and we couldn’t do a damn thing.”

  “Bastards.” Masters pulled out what he called his varmint gun and cradled it. “We’ll get our chance to even the score.”

  Ramsey leaned over the body and retrieved the money.

  * * * *

  The Ford wavered on a straight stretch of road as Bill was pulled into a vision. The windshield became a movie screen portraying a large man who pulled a gun and shot an old man standing next to their Taurus wagon. The blare of a horn pulled Bill back to reality and he saw a semi bearing down the center of the road.

  Lee grabbed the wheel and fought desperately to wrench the wheel from his grasp. “Bill. Bill, give me the damn wheel.”

  “You’ve got it!” Bill let his hands drop and took his foot off the accelerator. Lee carefully guided the pickup to the side of the road. The semi continued driving down the center of the road, passing inches away, kicking up rocks which hit their truck, and shaking it in its backdraft.

  “What are you trying to do? Kill us?” Lee asked.

  “I couldn’t help it. I had a vision, the intensity of which drowned out reality,” Bill said.

  “You’d better let me drive.”

  “You got it.”

  “What did you see?” Lee asked.

  As Bill recounted the vision, they switched places. Once behind the wheel, she stomped on the accelerator. Spraying gravel behind it, the Ford coughed and sputtered as it increased in speed.

  “What the—” Lee took her foot off the pedal and the engine evened out.

  “Gas.” Bill looked over at the gauges. “For a moment I thought I was passing my bad luck with vehicles to you, but this one is a gas hog.” Bill pointed to the gauge. The needle rode slightly above the E.

  “What do you suggest, Clyde?”

  “First, we need to get off the road.”

  “But we’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s forty miles to the Faro cutoff.”

  “We’re sitting ducks.” Bill scanned the road up ahead and pointed to an overgrown logging road. “Take that.”

  “What then—hitchhike? It’ll leave us in the open.” As Lee pulled into the road, the setting sun blinded Bill. The pickup cut a swath through waist high brush which closed back on itself after it passed.

  “No. Our best bet is to hike past Trenton Peak to the Pelly River. Then we can use our kayaks to double back to the Dawson Highway where we’ll continue our life of crime by stealing another car.”

  “Some country hike.”

  Chapter 46

  Dusk settled and darkness wasn’t far behind. As Colonel Ramsey sped down the Robert Campbell, Dean felt the instability of the Bronco as it skated over the gravel road. What troubled him was Ramsey had killed the fisherman with the same lack of remorse as he would have. Ramsey said he didn’t want to leave any witnesses or evidence they’d been there. He’d even made his men sweep the campsite, move Kincaid’s Taurus and bury the old man in an unmarked grave.

  “Why haven’t we caught up yet?” Dean asked.

  “They’re near, but the question is where,” Ramsey said.

  “Get a chopper.”

  “Sure. We can cover the terrain faster.”

  “So you think Kincaid left the road?”

  “If I were him, I would. Look at all the wilderness to get lost in.” Ramsey slowed the vehicle, scanning the sides of the road.

  * * * *

  Darkness set in rapidly and the spruce, fir, alder, and birch trees lining the logging road masked the meager light left in the sky. Shadows from the trees seemed ominous as Lee, hunched over the steering wheel, squinted at the road ahead. Even with his e
xcellent vision, Bill found it difficult to see. “Turn on the lights.”

  “Let’s go.” Lee groped for the switch. The lights blazed out, flooding the road with a brilliant halo.

  “We’ll make the mountain in a few more minutes.”

  “Does the road go to the river?”

  “No.” Bill squinted while he tried to follow their route on the map.

  “Well, I need sleep.”

  “Find a good place, pull off, and we’ll set up camp,” Bill said.

  “It’ll be impossible to find us now.” Lights from the dash illuminated Lee’s face.

  Lee hit the accelerator and Bill slammed into the door. “Watch it. You don’t have to hit every bump.”

  Without warning, the pickup sputtered, coughed and the engine died, leaving them to coast down a small hill.

  “Wouldn’t you know it!”

  “Well, get this thing off the road.”

  “There looks good.” Lee gestured to a small copse of trees.

  “Leave the lights on, we’ll use them to set up camp,” Bill said.

  After Lee parked the truck, Bill quickly set up the two-man tent and laid out the sleeping bags while she unpacked. Bill looked at Lee. Signs of fatigue were evident even in the dim light, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed more prominent. As he glanced at his watch, he couldn’t believe it. It had been a little over a week since the explosion. For most of the week, his life and hers had hung in the balance as if suspended by a thread.

  Bill stepped from the tent and stretched. “Do you want me to cook you anything for dinner?”

  “Too tired.”

  “Well, you need to drink and eat something, even if it’s water and trail mix.”

  Lee mumbled something and pulled the flap of the sleeping bag over her head. Bill turned off the truck lights, and slipping in next to her, tried to make himself comfortable, feeling every stone beneath the bag. Lee nestled her head on his shoulder. He was wide-awake, listening to every sound in the forest.

  * * * *

  In the pitch-black night, spotlights swept the foliage as the candy red Bronco moved at a snail’s pace along the shoulder of the road. The high intensity lights cut only a few feet past the edge of the road. Ramsey intently examined each foot of landscape, looking for an opening into the forest.

  In the distance, Dean could see the lights of a vehicle approaching them. “Ramsey—”

  “Colonel, to you.”

  “All right then, Colonel, flag down a vehicle to see if they’ve passed Kincaid.”

  “For once, you’re thinking.” Colonel Ramsey stopped the Bronco, got out and leaned his head back through the window. “You might actually have a little something upstairs.” Then, he walked to the center of the road and motioned for the approaching car to stop. When he strode up to the vehicle, the driver rolled the window down only partially. Dean strained to hear the conversation.

  When Ramsey climbed back into the Bronco, Dean asked, “Did he see Kincaid?”

  “He didn’t pass anyone in the last two hours.”

  “They’re either in Faro or very near.”

  “If they’re in Faro, my men will deal with them. If not, we’ll find them.”

  “Are you sure they haven’t doubled back?”

  “Very sure.”

  “Well then, let’s get a room in Faro and start looking for them at first light.” Dean leaned wearily against the door. “I’m exhausted and starved.”

  “We’re staying out here.” Ramsey laid a map across the wheel and took out a penlight. “There’s MREs in the backpack.”

  “You don’t expect me to stay out here all night long while you search for them?”

  “It’s time you understand I’m running this operation. You’ll stay out here until the job’s done.” Ramsey’s eyes reflected as gemstones in the subdued light.

  Ramsey made a u-turn and headed west.

  To Dean, Ramsey had confirmed his life was being prolonged at the colonel’s whim. He had to stay alive long enough to get the formula and turn the tables on Ramsey. If it took the rape and torture of McNeal to loosen Kincaid’s tongue, so be it.

  Chapter 47

  Monday

  Chirping of Canadian jays pulled Bill from his deep, troubled slumber. In his confusion, he thought he was back at the cabin. Smells of eggs and bacon frying and coffee perking wafted through the tent flaps. He searched his foggy mind, for he hadn’t remembered bringing fresh food. Of course, he’d packed freeze-dried food. As he rolled over and stretched, nearly every muscle in his body screamed in pain. He looked out from the tent to see Lee stooped over a campfire. As he pushed himself up, he felt where every rock had needled his body during the night.

  “Good morning, Clyde,” Lee said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

  Bill stretched, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and slipped out of the tent. “Being rather domestic, aren’t we?”

  “Well, when I couldn’t wake you up, I thought this was the only way.” Lee raised the spatula. “Someone had to get an early start.”

  “Where did you find the water?”

  “Over there.” Lee motioned with her head. “I found a small steam.”

  “I hate to rush you but we need to move.”

  “If they come after us, they’ll be on foot too.”

  “And we’ll have the advantage of the forest. Why doesn’t that comfort me?”

  “I blew it by cooking breakfast over an open fire. The smoke can be seen for miles.” Lee scowled and pulled the coffee pot and frying pan off the fire. Then, she kicked dirt over the fire.

  “We’re miles from the main highway. I’m sure they didn’t notice the fire.”

  “Why can’t they leave us alone?” Lee scooped the food onto paper plates.

  “I’m—” For a split second, Bill saw the image of Dean standing over Lee’s bloody body, and then the vision faded. “I’m not sure why they want us, unless it’s for revenge.”

  “The youthful appearance of the village—a youth formula.”

  “Shit. If they think I have a formula, they’ll never leave us alone.”

  “What did you see?” Lee looked concerned. “Are they coming?”

  “Oh, you mean the pause. It was nothing. I was lost in thought.” The whine of a small plane drew Bill from his thoughts as it passed overhead.

  “It was them, wasn’t it?” Lee asked.

  “Let’s eat, pack, and get out of here.”

  “But we’re in the middle of nowhere. How could they find us?”

  * * * *

  The cool breeze blew in the window and the bright, morning sunlight blinded Dean. He was bored, tired, and tense. They had covered the route from the turnoff to Faro and back to Frenchman Lake several times during the night without finding any trace of Kincaid. Yet, Ramsey seemed a maniac driven by revenge. It appeared Kincaid had won. Dean stretched and yawned. “Admit it, you’ve lost.”

  “Not yet. He’s out there, I can feel it,” Ramsey snarled.

  “Well, let me out at Faro and I’ll find my way home.”

  “You started this and you’ll see it through to the end. And do you think you’ve got a home?”

  The static from the radio came alive. “Death Angel, WUN THIS IS TREE, I have contact, OVER.”

  “Angel TREE, THIS IS Angel WUN, Location, OVER.”

  “WUN, THIS IS TREE, no confirmation on target. It may be a reflection of a windshield or a tin can. Need on ground confirmations.”

  “Location?”

  “TREE miles east and TEN miles north on an old logging road.”

  “TOO, THIS IS WUN, did you receive the last transmission? OVER.”

  “WUN THIS IS TOO, ROGER. Will RECON position, OVER.”

  “Angel WUN, OUT.” Ramsey gave a toothy grin. “Now I’ve got you.”

  “How can you be so sure? It could be a false alarm.”

  “A hunch.”

  “You don’t even have a confirmation.” Dean’s exhaustion fell away as
he listened expectantly to the radio.

  “A gut feeling.” Ramsey tromped on the gas. Tires screeched, spun, and threw gravel.

  Minutes later, Ramsey cut to a logging road north of the highway. Though covered with brush, broken branches and tire tracks told the story. The Bronco left the ground, rode on two wheels, and swayed violently before dropping back. Ramsey fought for control of the vehicle. Just then, the Bronco hit a high mound of dirt and leaped four feet into the air. It landed nose down, driving the front shocks into their mounts and the front wheels into the ground. Then the rear flipped high into the air, almost catapulting the Bronco. As it dropped, the recoil forced the truck back into the air and it landed on all four wheels, swaying from side to side. Ramsey regained control. He looked in the mirror and smiled. “Nothing like getting your blood pumping before breakfast.”

  “You could’ve killed us.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t that what life’s all about, excitement and death? One is never more alive than when he’s at the edge of death.”

  The break in the static stopped the conversation. “Angel WUN, THIS IS TOO, positive contact, OVER.”

  “TOO, THIS IS WUN, Any sign of the target?”

  “WUN, NEGATIVE, OVER.”

  “TOO, land and wait.” Static crackled from the radio.

  “WUN, NEGATIVE. The only landing area is at the top of the mountain.”

  “TOO, does the logging road go to the top?”

  “WUN, Yes. Over the top and down to the river.”

  “Good, bring the chopper in from the back of the mountain so you can’t be heard and set up an ambush. We’ll drive them to you,” Ramsey said.

  * * * *

  Sable continued to follow Ramsey at a discreet distance. He looked down at the speedometer only to find the needle didn’t even register.

  “When are these bastards going to eat, take a break, or sleep?” Masters rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “When dealing with special types,” Sable said, stifling a yawn, “don’t expect to— Damn.” He shielded his eyes from the morning sun and saw a Cessna flying above the forest to the north.

  “Say it ain’t so.” Masters pulled out the binoculars. “These guys don’t play fair.”