Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds

by Joe Nobody

  While Butter and Grim finished checking each other’s load-out, Bishop and Watts studied a map spread across a squad car’s hood. With a long finger tapping several marked spots on the chart, the sheriff announced, “These marks indicate where we’ve had contact with the gang. Looks like they are based at the eastern end, around the old state park. That makes sense, as the locals tell me that area is thick with caves and slot canyons.”

  Next came the most important part of the operation – communications.

  Bishop pulled a military-issued satellite phone from his kit while Sheriff Watts produced an identical model. After a quick sequence of numbers had been punched, the lawman’s unit began ringing loudly. A successful test.

  “This will be monitored 24 hours a day,” Watts promised. “As soon as you find their hideout, call and we’ll be coming in force.”

  As Bishop checked his team, Sheriff Watts approached with a small can of bright orange spray paint in his hand. “I’ll have a deputy drive along this rim road every morning before lunch. If the satellite phones fail for any reason, spray the symbol of a cross where it can be seen from the road. We’ll get here as quickly as we can. Good luck.”

  Bishop nodded and smiled, “Backup plans are always wise. Thanks, Sheriff. We’ll see you in a few days.”

  The team leader then turned to his men and said, “Let’s go fellas. My wife is supposed to return from New Mexico soon. I want to be there to greet her. She’s not had the pleasure of my company for several weeks.”

  “Lucky girl,” grumbled Grim. “I wonder how much she’d pay me to slow this operation down?”

  The descent was steep, treacherous, and exhausting. Halfway to the canyon floor, Bishop’s muscles were screaming for mercy, his entire body drenched in salty perspiration. “Let’s take 10 on that next ridge,” he instructed between breaths. “I don’t want you guys getting hurt.”

  Grim threw a “You’re full of shit,” look at his commander, but didn’t say a word. Butter, in pure innocence, said, “I’m fine, boss. We don’t have to stop.”

  The two older members of the squad outvoted the younger legs and lungs in a silent election. Grim was suffering as well, just too damn proud to admit it.

  “I don’t think that sheriff likes you much, Bishop,” Grim finally mumbled, dropping his pack to the dust. “That son of a bitch picked the most difficult trail in the entire canyon on purpose. I bet he’s up on the rim over there, sitting in his air-conditioned car and watching us through binoculars. Probably having a grand old belly laugh at our misery.”

  “You’re probably right,” replied the Texan. “I should have given your charm and diplomacy more of a chance to win the man over.”

  Butter, slowly getting used to his teammates’ constant banter, ignored the back-and-forth prattle. “Sir, how are we going to find these bad guys? This place is huge… with a million places to hide.”

  Bishop grunted, “That’s simple. We follow the river and look for tracks. Anybody living in this canyon and growing crops has to carry a lot of water back to their camp. We’ll just find their trail and follow it.”

  The younger man was confused. “But if it’s that easy, how come the deputies didn’t do the same thing?”

  Grim smiled, shaking his head, “Bishop said it was simple, not easy. They’ll have lookouts, maybe snipers posted. They’re probably smart enough to try and cover their tracks. We have to search 28 miles of river without exposing ourselves, and that is going to suck.”

  Bishop nodded his agreement. “We’ll go with Grim and me in front, you bringing up the rear, Butter. We’ll move like a triangle, always keeping good separation. There’s no way one man can watch for signs and keep an eye out for sentries and ambushes at the same time. Two of us in front will give us a better chance of coming out of this without a backside full of buckshot.”

  The two team members nodded their understanding.

  “Let’s mount up. We’re burning daylight.”

  Terri was touched by the number of tribal elders and local officials that gathered to see her off. While her work in New Mexico had been rewarding, she was anxious to get home. Hunter didn’t seem to mind their extended stay, having made several new friends.

  “We’ll come back and visit, I promise,” she shouted and waved from the back of the Alliance SUV.

  The two security men Diana had tasked to escort her home were the typical stoic professionals. As they sped across the New Mexico desert on the way to Texas, she couldn’t help but wonder how Bishop had ever tolerated such low-key, anti-social co-workers.

  The thought prompted another round of worrying about her husband. Without thinking, she asked the two men in the front seat, “Has there been any word on Bishop’s mission? Do you know if he’s still up in the panhandle?”

  Before the words had left her throat, she regretted the questions. Even if they knew, or had heard a rumor, they wouldn’t tell her. It just wasn’t done.

  What happened next struck Terri as strange. Instead of the anticipated, immediate response of “No, ma’am,” the two bodyguards exchanged an odd gaze. She had just spent several weeks intensely studying expressions during heated negotiations. It was easy to read this one as, “If she only knew.”

  Terri realized that if she didn’t handle the next few exchanges of conversation carefully, both men would retreat into the sanctuary of feigned ignorance. She decided that making them spill the beans would be her final challenge of the trip. A car game that would help pass the time.

  “Been causing trouble again, has he? What’s he been up to now? Chasing the pretty girls around Alpha, I’d wager?”

  The accusation was so ridiculous, she expected the tactic to yield a quick denial and then open a different door. Instead, the driver looked into the rearview mirror and flashed a clear nonverbal response with his raised eyebrows. Terri interpreted the look to mean, “You know about this?”

  Now Terri’s interest in the little game became serious. No way would Bishop ever cheat on her. What the hell was going on back in Alpha?

  She played along, “Yeah, I’ve been aware of his wandering eye for quite a while. Relax guys; we’re trying to work through it. It’s no state secret.”

  “How long have you been married, ma’am?” came the question from the passenger seat.

  That did it! These two muscle-bound goons knew something… or thought they did.

  “A long time. But it’s not all Bishop’s fault, I suppose. He’s not a bad looking sort, and I know lots of women are attracted by his reputation. No matter, though - If I ever catch him with his pants down, both the bitch and he will receive a dose of my 9 millimeter’s lead.”

  For the second time, Terri’s fishing expedition yielded unexpected results. Her threat actually caused both of the men in the front uneasiness. The driver shifted nervously in his seat. The passenger shot the driver a look that indicated he clearly took Terri’s threat seriously.

  If Bishop and I ever get short of money again, I need to get these two in a poker game, she thought.

  A foul fog of silence clouded the interior as the miles rolled past – so much so that Terri became uncomfortable herself. To break the ice, she upped the ante, “You guys just wait until Nick hears about this. If Bishop’s playing around, Nick will take care of his sorry ass for sure.”

  The two security men exchanged a look of pure terror, the passenger and senior man turning abruptly to meet Terri’s gaze. “Ma’am, we never said a word. I want that on the record. We both like our jobs.”

  Terri was stunned. What on earth could cause such a reaction? She was sure both of the guys in the front seat would walk into a hailstorm of bullets or charge an active shooter without a second thought. Why had her empty threat to talk to Nick caused such fear?

  Less than a mile had passed before she put the pieces of the puzzle together. Diana.

  Both of the men in the front seat were probably on Diana’s security detail. The last time she’d talked to her dear friend, the tr
oubled Alliance leader had praised Bishop for being there while Nick was in the hospital.

  “You’ve got the best man in the whole wide world, girlfriend,” Diana had claimed. “He’s been propping me up while you’ve been gone, day and night, and I owe both of you a huge debt.”

  Terri started laughing, the ridiculousness of the entire affair striking her as humorous. Bishop and Diana? Seriously? She’d speak to Nick all right. He needed to give his security men some awareness training.

  “Guys, do you really think my husband is having an affair with Diana? Really? Come clean with Aunt Terri. I promise I won’t tell Nick if you give up the truth.”

  Again, neither man in the front answered, but the small beads of perspiration on their foreheads were telling. The driver reached to turn up the air conditioner.

  Terri finally stopped giggling, “Look, guys, you can speculate all you want. I’m well aware my hubby’s been keeping close company with our fearless leader. Diana told me so personally. I even know he’s been there a few times into the wee hours. They’re extremely close and have fought side by side. She’s going through a rough period right now, and Bishop is helping her like any good friend would. You need to tell your security buddies that they’re completely off base and misreading the entire thing. If Nick finds out about this, he’ll have all your asses running across the desert until your feet fall off.”

  She could tell her words were making them both think, instilling doubt into their perspective. When neither man offered any proof, or countered her statement, she knew they were only speculating.

  Is the Alliance really so stable and boring that security men have to resort to high school rumors and gossip? Is that good or bad, she pondered.

  Bishop wanted to swat the sand dragon, or mega-deer fly, or flying tarantula, or whatever the damn pesky insect was that kept buzzing his face. It was a big bastard and notably aggressive. Despite the harassment, the tracker didn’t dare move quickly. Motion drew the human eye, and right at that moment, he was slightly exposed on a ridge. Attracting the attention of a competent shooter with a large-caliber rifle could ruin one’s day.

  Again, the winged pest buzzed his nose, but the Texan didn’t move. At least not quickly.

  “You’re letting that little bug distract you,” Grim whispered from nearby.

  “Little?” Bishop hissed back. “That son of a bitch is wearing biker boots and sporting prison tattoos.”

  Grim grunted, “Maybe he thinks you’re cute?”

  Gradually working the cross hairs along the canyon wall, Bishop studied a dark indentation, keen to detect any sort of movement or shape that didn’t belong there. Nothing.

  Another slow sweep through the 24x magnification brought a large pile of boulders into view. There were 100 hides in that formation alone. He began studying each. He was scanning the elevated ground ahead and growing bored with the entire affair. Scouting in an environment with multiple elevations and a billion perfect concealments was proving to be monotonous work.

  Bishop was surrounded by walls of the brightest crimson rock he’d ever seen. Over the last few days, the Texan had noted that the sunlight changed the stones’ hues like a prism. The scenery was breathtaking, ranging from formations that looked like they belonged in a classic Western movie, to oddly rounded hoodoos sprouting from the canyon’s floor.

  He estimated the walls were about six miles apart at their current location. The river seemed to prefer the southern rim through this stretch, often hugging the steep cliffs so tightly that his team had to backtrack in order to find a good crossing and continue upstream. No one was in the mood for a swim.

  So far, they hadn’t found a single clue or indication that humans occupied the massive stone and sand formations. Not a footprint, whiff of campfire smoke, or telltale dark green of growing cannabis. For the hundredth time, Bishop wondered if the good sheriff had his facts straight.

  Watts was a competent man tasked with an impossible job. Being a lawman before the collapse was tough enough. Trying to establish law and order after an apocalypse could make even the strongest character shiver. No, Bishop thought, those guys are in this canyon somewhere. How on earth we find them is another matter. But they’re here.

  About the only advantages Bishop had were knowledge and experience. He knew most sentries and lookouts would be posted on the high ground. It only made sense to allow the guards the longest possible viewing angles and thus give the maximum amount of warning.

  It would have been impossible to visually search every nook and cranny of the canyon’s walls and formations. There were so many places where a man could hide and shoot… and kill the unsuspecting intruder. So he narrowed each sweep to the higher elevations. Places where he’d post an accurate shooter with a big optic.

  There was nothing.

  For four days, they’d been repeating the same process, working their way along the river at an extremely slow pace, stalking, and keeping to cover. All of Grim’s bravado aside, Bishop understood why law enforcement had given up searching for the banditos. It was like trying to prospect for gold in Indian country; you could never stop watching for hostiles long enough to properly hunt for the treasure.

  In a way, the people they sought were a more difficult problem than any war parties faced by a 49’ner. The dope growers didn’t want to be found, and that added a level of complexity.

  People involved in illegal acts, like harvesting an outlaw cash crop, probably developed certain skills. They’d been hiding from the authorities for years. Just because society had gone to hell around them didn’t mean they’d get careless or abandon what worked.

  Palo Dura was gorgeous, a wonderful place to camp with the family, hike, maybe even do a little climbing. It was hell on earth to search for a relatively small group of men. The perfect place to grow weed if you didn’t want to be found.

  The insect chose that moment to bite Bishop behind the ear, the sharp pain drawing an unthinking slap from the frustrated Texan.

  The swift movement and noise drew a harsh look from Grim, but even the grizzled old contractor was too tired to comment. For a moment, neither of them moved, both waiting for the sniper’s bullet to slam into their flesh.

  No lead arrived.

  Bishop waved his man back, the two retreating down into a shallow ravine that afforded some cover.

  “That’s it,” Bishop spat. “I’m so tired, I’m making stupid mistakes. I’m going to get us all killed. We’re done with this.”

  “What about the sheriff and his crooks?”

  “There’s got to be a better way,” Bishop declared. “We could have a thousand men on horseback and still never find these guys. We’re out here risking our asses for a hopeless cause. I’ve got better things to do with my life.”

  Grim shook his head, “Now what can possibly be better than humping a 60-pound pack up and down these rocks in 90-degree heat, brother? This is the high life. That last rabbit we snared was excellent fare, and the filtered river water is like wine.”

  Bishop grunted but didn’t reply. He just didn’t have the juice.

  Grim noted his boss’s lack of comeback and got serious, “I can’t say I disagree with throwing in the towel. We’re covering less than five miles a day, but it seems like 50 on my knees and back. We could sure use some aircraft to help narrow down the search.”

  Bishop scanned the cliffs surrounding them, something tickling his mind. A large hawk was soaring above them, the Texan jealous of the bird’s effortless hunting technique. It reminded him of something….

  “I’ve got it! That guy in New Mexico… the toymaker dude. We need some of his drones.”

  Grim liked the idea. “Think they might loan us a couple of those flying observation posts? They sure gave us hell, and that U.S. Special Forces Team didn’t fare so well either.”

  Bishop’s mind returned to the current mission. Their lack of success didn’t sit well, the Texan finding it difficult to accept failure. Yet, they were out of food, low on m
orale, and completely lacking confidence. Watts would be disappointed, no doubt about it.

  Sometimes you get the bear, sometimes the bear gets you, Bishop thought.

  “Let’s get out of here. If I never see a red rock again in my life, that’ll be fine with me. I’ll ask Terri to contact our new friends in the Land of Enchantment and see if they can loan us one of those drones,” Bishop announced.

  It was still early, and the team could make good speed over the ground they’d already cleared. Two hours later, a sole SUV rolled down the rim road, a sheriff’s emblem on the door.

  The deputy spied the orange cross and reached for the radio as Watts had ordered. Before he could push the mic’s button, three dirty, exhausted-looking men appeared beside the lane. “Don’t bother,” Bishop shouted. “We don’t need the cavalry; we just need a ride out of this shithole.”

  Terri was glad she’d decided to stay in Alpha. Nick was being uncooperative, wanting desperately to be back at work… or out of bed… or to fix his own grub. In a way, she’d didn’t blame the big guy. He wasn’t the sort to quietly suffer weeks in the hospital and the restricted movements that accompanied recuperation. Diana needed all the help she could get.

  Then there was Bishop out gallivanting around some remote canyon up in the panhandle. No one knew for sure when his team would be returning. Nick thought it would be any day now. While the recovery and associated law and order made her feel safer at the ranch, it still wasn’t the place for a lone mother and small child. She missed home, but could wait a few more days until her husband returned.

  Finally, there was the new ambassador from Washington. Diana had asked Terri to attend the emissary’s welcoming reception, a casual affair to be held at the courthouse.

  Diana had been upfront with her best friend, “I want your opinion on this guy. You read people better than anyone else I know.”