by Roger Hayden
Two of them, including Jacob, approached from a distance on Greg's left; the other two were coming from the right. Greg repositioned himself on the far side of the tree, away from the man's puddle of urine, and covered himself with camouflage net. Lying on his stomach, using the bug-out bag as an arm rest, he held up his rifle and looked through the scope. He aimed at the center-mass of Jacob's head. The temptation to pull the trigger was there, but Jacob had information he needed, and Veronica was relying on him.
He waited until the four men were closely grouped together. Even if they were to run after he fired the first shot, they wouldn’t get very far. Concern grew among the men about where the fifth member of their team was. They looked around and called out to him, appearing frustrated every time their calls were met with silence.
“Where the hell is he?” Jacob asked.
Dixon answered. “Knowing Taylor, he probably fell into a hole somewhere.”
Thomas, a man with a ponytail and tattoos on his neck, laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” Jacob said. “We need to find him and move on.”
They continued to stand in their circle as Greg strategized. If he could handle the situation without further bloodshed, he would try that. But he didn’t see things ending peacefully. News of his presence would ruin any chances of getting Veronica back. For good measure, he had the dead man’s rifle at his side.
Jacob looked around nervously. “All right. Everyone back to the jeep. Chris, go find him.”
Chris, a bulging, muscled bulldog of a man, objected. “I don’t know where he went. Hell, he was just here a minute ago.”
“This ain’t right, man,” Thomas said.
Jacob continued. “None of this is right, but we have to find him. We have no choice. We’re going to take the jeep and drive it another mile or so down the road and start another search.”
Chris ran his hands down his face in frustration. “This is damn stupid.”
Jacob simply looked at him, waiting for him to walk away.
“I have no idea where that fool went!” Chris said.
“I think I saw him go up there,” Thomas said, pointing to a jagged hill of stone on the other side of the dirt road.
“You kidding me?” Chris said.
“Just do it,” Jacob said. He signaled to his men and began to walk back to the jeep, leaving Chris standing there on his own.
“Five minutes,” Jacob added.
Greg watched them move away. Now another member of their team was alone, and Greg knew that it was time to act. He rose quietly from the ground and removed his camo netting. The other men were close to the jeep. Jacob got in the passenger seat while Dixon got behind the wheel. Thomas slung his rifle around his shoulder and climbed into the back. Greg then watched Chris quickly ascend the hill.
The jeep’s engine started, and Greg got ready. He set his Remington down and grabbed the rifle. Crouching low to the ground, he moved as fast as he could and darted across the road with a noticeable limp in hot pursuit of Chris.
Against All Odds
The men sat in the jeep, unaware of the figure moving across the road behind them. Jacob sighed as Dixon ran his hands through his hair, scratching at his head. Thomas stared ahead blankly, not much interested in the outcome. He considered the entire mission a waste of time. All the firepower and protection at the base, and they were out looking for one man. To break the silence, he decided to voice his opinion.
“Why don’t we just let this dude come to us, then take him out. What y’all so scared of?”
“We’re tying up loose ends,” Jacob said. “That’s all.”
“Well, your loose ends are cutting into my TV time.”
“What TV?” Dixon asked. “We don’t get a single station on base.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about network TV. I got me a hard drive full of porn.”
Dixon laughed.
“Thanks for letting us know,” Jacob said. He couldn’t help but think of Veronica and the things he wanted to do to her. As far as he was concerned, Thomas and everyone could watch all the pornography they wanted. He had the real thing. One way or another, he was going to make it work. Veronica would come around soon enough. He’d make sure of that.
Greg advanced up the hill, moving with stealth despite the pain in his leg. He hated feeling limited in his movements and only hoped that Jacob suffered from the same. He saw the lone man moving ahead with his back turned to him, mindlessly scoping the area in search of their missing man. Greg rushed toward him and by the time Chris turned around, there was a rifle in his face.
“Drop you weapon!” Greg said. “Do it, now!”
Chris froze and allowed his rifle to fall onto the ground. He was big and bulky, but he wasn’t stupid. There was nothing he could do, not with a rifle between his eyes, except remain silent and complicit.
“Now put your hands up. I wanna see nothing but the palms of those hands,” Greg said.
Chris quickly raised his hands into the air.
“Good,” Greg said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back to the jeep, and then you’re going to call out to your men and we’re going to have a nice discussion. You stay in front of me at all times and I promise not to hurt you. But if you pull anything stupid, you’re going to get shot. Understand?”
Chris nodded. “Who are you?” he asked in a faint voice.
Greg didn’t answer. “Let’s move.”
“Are-are you the terrorist we’re looking for?”
Greg jerked his rifle to the side, signaling Chris to move. “I’m no terrorist. I’m just someone not to mess with.”
Chris staggered back down the hill as Greg followed closely behind with the rifle pressed firmly against his back. Greg looked like some crazed militia man to him. His hair was messy and unkempt. He had a beard and looked dirty. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, making him even more threatening to Chris.
They reached the bottom of the hill and walked down the dirt road with the back of the jeep in view. Greg had eyes on both sides of the jeep as well as where everyone was sitting. It was only a moment later that they noticed his approach. He was ready to fire if anyone made a threatening move. His objective, however, was to keep Jacob alive.
“What the fuck?” Dixon said from the driver’s seat. Through the rear-view mirror, he saw them approaching the jeep—Chris in front, with a man carefully walking directly behind him. Jacob swung his head around as Thomas did a double take, thinking at first that Chris had found their missing man.
Dixon and Jacob immediately jumped out of the jeep, aiming their rifles as Greg advanced with Chris blocking him.
“Drop it!” Dixon yelled from behind the vinyl cover of the driver’s open side door. Jacob took a similar position and held his rifle steady, searching for a clear shot. His eyes lit up when he realized the man behind Chris was the very person they were looking for. It was surreal and ethereal at the same time.
“Is that him?” Thomas asked, ducking to the floor of the jeep.
“Just stay down,” Jacob told him.
Greg stopped about ten feet from the jeep, and with one hand on Chris’s shoulder, pushed the rifle harder against his back. Chris still had his hands up. His legs were shaking and he begged the men not to fire at them.
“Let him go,” Jacob said to Greg. “You’re not getting out of this. Come with us quietly, and I’ll make sure you’re handled fairly.”
“Where is she?” Greg shouted. “What have you done with her?”
Dixon didn’t know anything about where Veronica was being held. He looked to Jacob. The question itself was intended for one man only. Jacob knew that Greg would stop at nothing to get her back, and that was exactly why Greg had to be taken out. The sooner the better.
Jacob steadied his aim while trying to deflect Greg’s question. “How’s the leg?” he asked with a smile.
“Never been better. Now I’m gonna ask one more time, and if you don’t answer, none of you will make it back to the base a
live.”
Chris squinted and sighed heavily. His lips quivered and his legs continued to shake. “Please, Jacob, tell him what he needs to know!” he shouted.
“Don’t worry, Chris, he’s not going to do anything. He needs you standing there, because he’s a coward.”
“Fuck you! You’re not the one with a gun pointed at your head.”
“Time’s running out. Tell me where she is,” Greg said.
Jacob showed no urgency or fear. “I dropped her off at Disney World. I think she’s in the line for Space Mountain right now.”
Greg assessed the situation and made note of the three areas of fire. He had a clear shot at Dixon, another one at the head of the man crouching inside the jeep, and a pretty good shot at Jacob’s face.
“Give it up. You lost, man,” Dixon said. “Now put that rifle on the ground and come out from behind ol’ Chris.”
“I’d suggest you men lay your weapons down and give me the answers I need. Last chance,” Greg said.
Chris kept his eyes closed and mumbled under his breath. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”
Jacob shook his head in frustration. “The hell with this.” He fired two quick shots, hitting Chris in the chest and head, missing Greg completely. From inside, Thomas wisely hit the floor of the jeep again, covering his head. Surprised, Dixon scrambled at first then followed Jacob’s lead, firing multiple shots at Greg, but only hitting Chris instead.
The shots tore into Chris, whose body erupted with chunks of flesh flying into the air. Greg struggled to hold up the bullet-riddled body as it began to slump over. Jacob and Dixon continued to fire, and Greg felt a bullet nick the top of his shoulder, tearing through his shirt. He hesitated no longer.
Using Chris’s shoulder for leverage, he aimed first at Dixon and fired a shot right through his head. Dixon collapsed after his head blew out from the back. Greg brought the rifle around Chris’s neck and took a shot at Jacob, striking him through the same shoulder he had hit before. Jacob was helpless to remain standing and fell to the ground screaming in agony.
Greg pushed Chris’s body to the side, where it collapsed like a bag of lead.
Greg dug the buttstock in the pocket of his shoulder, held the barrel steady, and moved forward, ready to end the showdown. He fired directly through the back of the jeep, and he could hear shouting. “Don’t shoot, man, don’t shoot!”
“Come out of the jeep and keep your hands up.”
Greg could see Jacob struggling on the ground, lying below the open passenger door. He was moving to his rifle, which had fallen beside him. He then saw booted legs stepping out of the jeep, followed by the rest of the pony-tailed man, who rolled out onto the ground.
“Don’t move!” Greg said. “Stay where you are.”
Thomas had other ideas. He jumped up and ran away from the jeep in sheer panic. Greg sighed and fired a shot into his back, dropping him instantly. All the gunfire had echoed throughout the mountain, and Greg worried that the sound had traveled to the base. He hadn’t wanted it to turn out the way that it did, but he had done what was necessary to stay alive.
Jacob continued his struggle, trying doggedly but ineffectually to retrieve his rifle. Greg approached the passenger side of the jeep, kicked the rifle away, and stood over him. Jacob looked up and brought his hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. Greg looked like a shadow, backlit by the light.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Greg said.
Jacob spit blood on Greg’s boot. “You son of a bitch. Shot me in the same damn place. You’ll never get inside, and even if you do, they’ll kill you. They’re probably organizing another team to come out here right now.”
“Where is she?”
Jacob laughed, holding his wound as blood flowed out—forming a thick red pool in the dirt. “They’re gonna pass her around like a piece of meat. Not sure if she’ll be much good to you after that.”
Greg knelt, pulled his knife from his side, and jammed it into Jacob’s wound. Jacob screamed in a high-pitched voice. His piercing howls of pain were startling. Then it was followed by low growls and grunts of exhaustion.
“I can do a lot worse,” Greg said, holding the knife in.
Jacob’s face was pale and pouring with sweat. He looked to be in a state of shock as his body trembled and his mind raced.
“In-in a holding cell,” he stuttered.
“Where?” Greg asked.
Jacob began to cough blood. “She-she’s in a holding cell. Monitoring her for Ebola. Now take this damn knife out of me!”
Greg removed the knife and stood up as Jacob screamed out again in pain. He looked like he was about to pass out. His eyelids grew heavy as he drifted in and out of consciousness. However, Greg wasn’t done with him yet. He pushed his boot in Jacob’s side and nudged him.
“What holding cell? Where is it?”
“On the base,” he answered in a tone of delirium.
“I know that, but where are the holding cells located?”
“Your mom’s house,” Jacob said with a crooked smile.
The response didn’t make any sense to Greg, and he didn’t think there was much more he was going to get out of him. He knelt down and held the blade of his knife against Jacob’s throat.
“This is for Aunt Tilda.” With one quick motion, he slit Jacob’s throat open. He choked as blood flowed from the gaping wound. His eyes rolled back into his head and his body went still. Jacob wiped his knife off on the fabric of Jacob’s shirt and then stood up. He didn’t have a lot to go on, but he knew that Veronica was still alive, and that, at the very least, he had gotten vengeance for Tilda and her neighbor, Joe.
With little to go on, Greg prepared for his next move. He believed it was only a matter of time before they sent others outside the base to investigate after hearing gunfire. He had to clear the scene of the bodies and the jeep. The jeep, however, was an asset he didn’t want to let go of. The less distance he had to travel on his injured leg, the better.
He needed to get to the burn pit but couldn’t get close enough in the daytime without risking exposure. He couldn’t drive the jeep too close to the base without them seeing him either. Whatever he was going to do, Greg needed to do it fast.
He pulled Jacob’s body away first, dragging it under his stakeout tree and leaving it there. Next came Dixon, Thomas, and then Chris—who was undoubtedly the most challenging to move. When he was finished, he was soaked through with sweat and exhausted. His leg was throbbing. With their bodies piled together, Jacob covered them with his camo netting, then grabbed his bug-out bag and sniper rifle and put them in the jeep.
He gathered all their weapons and placed them in the jeep as well. He collected shell casings and covered the blood of the dead men, visible on the road, by kicking sand over it. Then it was time to drive the jeep to a new stakeout spot where he could wait until nightfall.
After taking the wheel, he moved the manual shift into drive and calmly left the scene. He drove along the trail leading up the mountain, looking for somewhere to hide. He found a location between two mountain ridges, among some bushes and trees, and parked. He had more camo netting in his bag and hoped that it was enough to cover the jeep.
Greg got out and moved with haste, tossing the netting over the top and covering it with branches and leaves. The ridge wasn’t far from the road, but it was far enough away that anyone driving by wouldn’t notice a thing. At least, he hoped that was the case. Greg placed his bug-out bag behind a particularly large bush and sat with his rifle to the side and a pair of thermal binoculars on hand collected from Jacob’s team.
He looked through them and saw everything in a grainy-gray tint, but there was no body heat colorization. He waited in anticipation, but an hour passed and no one came. Greg thought they had to have heard the gunfire, if only as distant pops in the air. Another hour passed and there was still no sign of a search party.
What’s their game? Greg thought.
He got up to st
retch. It was late afternoon. The overcast sky had provided him with moments of shade and relief. The sun, however, was beginning to sink below the horizon. In the next hour, the sky went from a light blue to gold with dark purplish streaks. Greg couldn’t help thinking there was still beauty in the world despite what was happening.
By nighttime, he hadn’t seen or heard anyone. Perhaps there would be no search party. Under cover of darkness, he planned on changing positions. He opened a pack of crackers from his MRE, took a few bites, and washed it down with water from his two-quart canteen. He felt closer to his goal now and more determined than ever.
After resting and unintentionally nodding off under the stars, Greg awoke in the middle of the night and prepared to make his move. His plan was to get as close as possible to the burn pit and then ditch the jeep, covering it in the same manner he had done with the bodies. Once he got to Veronica, it could be their getaway vehicle into the mountains. Then they’d take the van to safety.
Greg was optimistic, but he’d seen enough horrific things over the past few months to know that things seldom worked out as planned. But he was alive, and he was pretty sure Veronica was too.
He uncovered and loaded up the jeep, then did a quick scan of the area with the thermal binoculars. There were no vehicles or people around. He did, however, see a pack of coyotes in the distance, displayed as orange and reddish four-legged figures. He went back to the jeep and opened his bug-out bag, sitting upright in the passenger seat. Five standard-military M4 rifles were piled on the floor, plus Greg’s Remington. He fished through his bug-out bag and pulled out a small plastic zip-sack. Inside was the very device that would allow him to navigate down the mountain without headlights: his PVS-7 Night Vision Goggles.
Greg attached them to a plastic head-piece and strapped it over his head. The goggles were perfectly aligned with his eyes, and when he turned them on, he could see everything in front of him displayed in a grainy-green tint. He started the engine and drove back out into the road. The coast was clear.
He drove down the first hill, shifted the jeep into neutral, and cruised his way down the winding roads to the bottom of the mountain. The wind blew through the jeep’s open flaps, providing a refreshing breeze from the cool night air. He navigated the dark roads with the assistance of his NVGs while staying alert for any wildlife on the road. During his brief five-minute journey down the mountain, nothing impeded his path.