by Bryan Koepke
He thought of his father and the photographs he’d taken at the Malum Farms casino on the last day of his life. He wanted revenge, and he needed to get Vinton Blackwell not only to settle the score, but also to redeem himself.
Reece spied the same trucks he’d seen from the air, but the black Range Rover was gone. He heard crunching and looked over to see Mobley making his way out of the forest to their right.
“Do you think you could pick a steeper hill to climb?” Mobley blurted out, still wheezing. His face was bright red and his hair was wet with sweat.
“You better sit down, Mike,” Haisley said, pointing at a large rock. Reece stared at the house through the lens and saw movement near the front door. He started snapping off pictures, hoping to get something he could analyze later.
“That looks like Shanks,” Haisley said. Reece looked to his left and saw him squinting through a pair of large green military-issue binoculars.
“Let me see,” Mobley said, jumping up from the rock. Mobley took the binoculars from Haisley and stood watching the house.
“We got those bastards,” Mobley said, making his first complete sentence since scaling the hill.
Reece followed the others down the hill toward the Tahoe in the dim light. The sun was dropping fast, and the last bits of light were yielding to darkness. Haisley was just ahead and Mobley was leading the way, cracking twigs underfoot and griping every step of the way. Reece smelled smoke and wondered if there was ever a time he didn’t require a cigarette. As Reece slid downward at a weird angle in the loose footing, he grabbed the rough bark of a pine tree, trying to slow his descent
They got to the truck, and Reece backed the Tahoe out of the woods and onto the gravel road. It was almost dark and he drove slowly with his high beams on, remembering the switchbacks they’d descended earlier.
“When we get back to the hotel, we need to come up with a plan. I don’t want to wait on this. I don’t want Cox stepping in and blowing this thing.” Reece said.
“We’re with you on this, Reece. We’ll figure something out, and put these bastards behind bars for good,” Haisley said.
As Reece drove around one of the switchbacks, he saw a flash of light through the trees. He turned left, driving up the steep road, and curved back to his right. Coming around the corner, he saw a large moving van pointing straight at them with its high beams on. It was coming fast and he was blinded. Reece hit the brakes and the Tahoe started to skid in the gravel toward the left shoulder. The truck stopped just short of a steep cliff, but the headlights were shooting off the steep drop into blackness.
“Back up, back up!” Mobley yelled.
Reece slammed the transmission into reverse, stomped on the gas pedal, and took them backward away from the cliff. All the while the moving truck was just sitting there in the middle of the road. Reece slowed their retreat as he neared the curve and wondered if he might be able to pull a U-turn.
“We’ve got company coming up behind us fast,” Mobley yelled.
“Guns,” Haisley said, then bumped Reece’s arm with his palm outward as if to say give me yours, but Reece kept both hands on the steering wheel and yanked left, shooting the tail end of the truck to the right for a U-turn. He hit the gas, pulling them forward in the opposite direction. They shot down the hill toward the other moving van. He saw a chance to slip past the truck on the right side, but couldn’t be sure if there was enough room. It was now or nothing.
“Hold on, I’m going for it !” he yelled. As they got close to the truck, it looked like he was going to make it. They were just about past when Reece heard the truck’s engine rev and felt their rear bumper smash into the side of the Tahoe. He floored the gas pedal, hoping to shoot by.
The bumper of the moving truck was grinding into the side of the Tahoe, and Reece could hear the metal crushing. They were sliding sideways. The Tahoe was starting to tip, and the right front tire was off the side of the cliff. Reece bit his lip and cringed.
“Holy shit!” Haisley yelled.
Reece pulled his foot off the accelerator and thought about trying to reverse, but it was too late. He jammed on the brake pedal and felt the nose of the Tahoe going over the side. In the rearview mirror the face of the truck driver was giving him a shit-eating grin. Reece squeezed the steering wheel in anger and held on.
The Tahoe capsized and started rolling sideways down the steep embankment. In the rapid revolutions Reece lost all sense of which way was up. He heard the engine of the Tahoe rev and Mobley talking loudly, but not making sense. Pushing his feet past the brake pedal into the floorboard, Reece tried to brace himself for some kind of stability. The noise was horrendous with snapping trees and scraping metal.
He heard the other two groaning. Reece closed his eyes and hung onto the steering wheel. His ears filled with the sound of breaking glass. At any second he expected the Tahoe to explode into a fireball, killing them all.
When the noise stopped, Reece lay in a daze. His head was throbbing the same way it had the day he’d been in that St. Louis interrogation room. He smelled gas and fought to open his eyes. He could feel gravity pushing his head into the ceiling. The Tahoe was upside down, and he was still strapped into the truck by the seatbelt across his lap and shoulder.
Reece opened both eyes and looked out the shattered windshield. A large tree limb had punctured it a few inches to the right of his head and scraped the side of his face. He struggled with the seatbelt and unlatched it, falling down into a crumpled mess on the headliner. Reece tried the door, but it was jammed shut. He heard a groan from somewhere behind and looked into the rearview mirror to see what it was. The mirror was gone. Reece heard voices in the distance yelling. They were coming closer. He pulled desperately on the door handle, rocking back and forth trying to get out. He could still smell that gas and was beginning to panic.
Something touched his left shoulder and Reece looked over. Haisley was poking him with a tree branch. He was outside the truck, kneeling on the ground. His forehead was stained with blood and his eyes were bloodshot.
“You got to get out of there, Culver. Can’t you smell the gas?”
Reece tried the door again and Haisley ran around the front of the truck to help. The two men tried, but they couldn’t get it to budge.
The smell of gasoline was intensifying and the voices up above were getting closer. Reece could make out their words. Shanks’s men were coming for them. He had to get out. He thought about kicking out what was left of the front windshield, but he was in an awkward position and couldn’t get his legs up to kick out the glass.
“Use my side, Reece. You got to get out before this thing blows.”
Crawling across the ceiling, Reece got to Haisley’s door. He spied a small gap where Haisley had kicked it open to get out earlier.
He squeezed through and felt the steel door frame scrape hard across his back. Reece tried to stand up, but he was dizzy, and he dropped instantly to his butt. He was trying to stay conscious. His head was spinning and he felt his left eye twitching. To calm himself, Reece took deep breaths. He smelled the gas and tried once again to stand. He was on his feet, but he felt wobbly. The voices up above him, Shanks men, were getting closer.
“Where’s Mobley?” Reece said under his breath.
“He’s right here, but he doesn’t look good,” Haisley said.
Reece felt the twinge of a smile and felt like asking if Mobley ever looked good. Using the truck for support, he made his way around the back of the Tahoe and saw Mobley’s backpack. He reached inside for it, watching a trickle of fluid run down the slope toward his boot. He sniffed the air and realized it was gasoline.
Reece stumbled around the truck toward Haisley, with the backpack hoisted over his right shoulder. It was heavy and he wondered what Mobley had brought along. Haisley had the heavy man propped up against a tree and was wiping blood out of his eyes with the back of his shirtsleeve. Mobley wasn’t moving.
The voices from above were getting louder. Reece he
ard a gunshot and felt Haisley’s hand on his bicep, urging him down the hill. No words were spoken, but Reece knew what Haisley wanted. Together, they picked Mobley up, and with him leaning down with an arm around each of their necks started skidding down the steep slope. Mobley grimaced fiercely in pain and Reece was glad he was still alive.
They hobbled their way down the loose-scree slope, gaining distance from the truck. Reece could distinguish the voices and figured there were two or three men hot on their trail. He reached into his coat and felt his gun in the right pocket and a smashed box of ammo in his left. He kept skidding down the mountain, trying to keep from dumping Mobley. They started going out of control, and Reece grabbed a tree to slow his descent. The rough pine bark scraped his hand, drawing blood. He felt the pain and took a deep breath. He almost went down sliding across a patch of ice and then stepped in between two branches, stopping when his foot sank into the deep snow.
Up above, he could hear tree limbs breaking near where the truck had come to a stop. Reece pushed Haisley’s shoulder and held his finger to his mouth.
The two men stood silent, listening, and could make out three voices.
“Do you see tracks? Which way did they go?”
They pressed on, edging down and to their right, away from the truck and the men who were hunting them. The forest was pitch black now and Reece started to feel lightheaded again, squinting to see.
He lost his footing on some loose shale and stumbled. Haisley made an “oomph” sound, and all three of them went down, sliding toward who knows what in the darkness. Reece’s foot caught a tree and he spun sideways, coming to a stop. He caught someone’s arm and stopped him too. Reece lay there, stunned, catching his breath. For the first time he had a chance to notice the beauty of the starlit blackness above.
Chapter Seventy-Two
The steep terrain was covered in loose pine needles, rocks, and downed trees. The forest was more sparse here than in other areas below the road and made it easy for the Chevy Tahoe to skid down the slope. The air was already chilly and Shanks could feel the temperature dropping as night set in.
“Hold your fire,” Shanks yelled from the steep slope above them.
“They’ll get away,” the second man protested.
“If you hit the gas tank, we’ll have a hell of a mess and the police will come. You’ll ruin everything,” the first man yelled, losing his footing and going down with a thump.
“We’ve got to track them. We can’t just let them go,” Shanks said.
“I think they’re over this way,” the first man said, shining the beam of his flashlight down past the Tahoe.
“Okay, you two take the right side and I’ll go this way to the left. If you find them sleeping later on, use your knives and slit their throats. We can’t afford to let these intruders go. They came snooping and now they have to pay the price,” Shanks said.
The men split off as Shanks instructed and worked their way down the mountain. The two on the right stopped every couple of feet to shine the light from side to side, determined to catch the three who had escaped.
Shanks pulled out his cellphone and dialed his house.
“Hello,” one of his men answered.
“It’s me. Get one of the others to help you and come fetch the moving trucks. Leave a car on the road with the keys under the mat, so I have a way back to the house.”
“Do you want me to get Blackwell or one of the others to come help you?” the gate guard asked.
“No, I’ve got it under control,” Shanks said. He shoved his phone into his pocket and continued down the mountain in the darkness. To the right he spotted the flashlight beam from one of his men sweeping back and forth. After going a good ways, Shanks stopped his descent and stood leaning against a large pine tree. The rough bark of the ponderosa felt good on his back.
What wasn’t so good were the bastards in that Tahoe. Where the hell did they come from? He couldn’t help but suspect that they were the same people who had buzzed the property in the plane. If so, that meant they were organized. Although he didn’t think they were cops.
Having such loose ends at a time like this made him very angry. When he found those bastards, they were going to pay for their meddling. He’d make sure to set coyotes on them and rip them to pieces.
Chapter Seventy-Three
“You okay?” Haisley asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Reece said, pushing up into a sitting position. He pressed his left hand down into the snow-covered rocks, and a wrenching pain coursed through his left shoulder. Reaching across his chest, he searched his shirt for blood. It felt dry. Blood wasn’t a good thing to be leaving behind in this kind of country. It would bring predators at night and make tracking them easier once daylight hit. Reece figured he could dispatch any animal that came calling with his .357 Magnum, but knew the sound of gunshots would draw Shanks’ men to their position.
“How about Mobley?” Reece asked, listening to the silence of the night. He jerked at the sound of voices over to their left.
Haisley whispered, “We need to get some distance between us and them. If we can get enough far enough away, we can make a small fire. That’s the only way we’re going to be able to survive the night.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Reece said.
“Mobley seems to be compliant with coming along, so we’ve got that on our side,” Haisley said, sounding like he was back on the force.
“I think that’s north,” Reece said, pointing and then realizing that Haisley couldn’t see him in the darkness. “If we walk far enough, we’ll get to I-70. It’s north of here and there should be cell towers along it.”
They stood up, and Reece went first, with Mobley behind and Haisley following. Moving tree to tree, the men felt their way across the mountain. The chill of the night was setting in with the sun’s heat long past. Reece was glad they’d worn hiking boots and ski jackets, but each time he grabbed onto a tree he felt a spike of pain shoot through his shoulder. He knew it was injured, but there was no time to stop, especially with Shanks’s men tracking them.
Going blind was going to take forever. Reece passed Mobley off to Haisley and moved ahead at a faster pace. He heard something below them and stopped to listen. It was the rushing water of a stream or river. That filled him with hope, because wherever that water was going would lead to civilization.
Reece could hear Mobley groaning as Haisley brought him down the hill. If there was a mountain stream below, they would probably find a flat spot where they could camp for the night and, if need be, clean up the large man’s wounds.
“You hear that?” Reece whispered.
A heavy hand landed on his back. “What is it?” Mobley grunted, slurring his words.
“Sounds like a stream. We have to go another five hundred feet or so, and we can take a break,”
Reece cast an eye back up the slope they’d just traversed. It was pitch black now, and all evidence of daylight had been erased from the mountaintops.
Reece pressed on, taking small steps. The trees were spaced farther apart in this stretch, and he felt dirt skittering under his feet. He took a deep breath, smelling the fresh earth, and felt his shoulder throb. A hit of Charlie Anders single malt scotch would taste pretty sweet right about now.
“Haisley, this seems like a good place to stop and make a fire,” Reece announced at last.
“Look up above,” Haisley said.
Reece turned toward him and saw the lights of both trucks driving along the switchbacks.
“Maybe they’ve given up.”
“I think we should keep going a while longer. We’re too easy of a target for them here. The Tahoe is straight above us,” Haisley said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s Mobley I’m worried about.”
“He’s come this far. He can go a little farther.”
Reece wrapped his arm around Mobley’s round back and coaxed him forward. The ground was smoother down here, with only an occasional rock. The
water to the left trickled, making its way south along its rocky course. Reece stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and held it there. That position seemed to provide some relief from the throbbing pain. Mobley was covered in sweat and wheezing hard. Reece willed him along, pulling forward.
“You up there?” he said when he lost track of Haisley.
“Yeah,” Haisley said a long way off.
Reece pulled Mobley toward the distant spot. He could just make out the shape of large, jagged rocks ahead of them. They seemed darker than the darkness he was squinting to see through.
Reece felt a hand grab his left forearm, and he groaned in pain. “Let go,” he managed to say.
“You hurt too?” Haisley said, releasing his grip.
“Yeah, I tore up the shoulder on that fall.”
“Check this out, I found a good place to build a fire, and I found this in Mobley’s pack,” Haisley said, waving the beam of a small flashlight at Reece’s feet.
“Careful with that. As dark as it is, that light can be seen for a long way. They might still be out there tracking us.”
Reece dropped to his behind and lay back, gazing up at an array of stars. The sky was clear black and the heavens above looked brighter than he’d ever seen. The cold ground felt good under his back and Mobley had gone quiet. Reece was hoping he’d finally passed out. The night was dead silent. Haisley volunteered to scout for firewood, since he had full use of both of his hands.
Reece caught himself drifting toward sleep. He knew he needed to stay alert, but the thought of sleep was too sweet to ignore. He was beat. A twig snapped somewhere out in the woods. Still dozing, he ignored it, savoring the promise of rest. Another branch snapped and he sat up sharply, listening and straining to see out past the rocks. He thought of his gun and reached inside his coat, finding it in the inside pocket. Listening hard, Reece heard another limb snap, closer this time. He shifted over to the U-shaped rocks they’d taken shelter in and peered around the corner.