by JT Sawyer
A few minutes later, he liberated the round from the casing. He gently dumped the thimble-sized amount of black gunpowder onto the rock just as Brian squatted down beside him with the stripped wire.
“You must’ve been some kinda Eagle Scout,” said the older man in a gravelly voice.
“Never made it to Eagle, actually, though I was in the scouts for three years.”
“Where’d you learn all this stuff then—about the tracks and trees and stuff?”
“I was in the Special Forces for a number of years and before that I grew up on a working ranch in the desert.”
“Desert, huh. You can have that shit—all those scorpions and snakes. I like the Rocky Mountains just fine.”
Mitch emitted a faint smile, understanding the sentiment but craving to be at home in his beloved Arizona as they spoke. Lisa and Daryl dumped a pile of thin twigs and wads of crushed inner bark into the firepit and then went back to gather more. Mitch extended his hand out towards Brian, gesturing for the wire. Then he wrapped one end around the two battery terminals, letting a four-inch section of exposed wire jut out into the miniscule batch of gunpowder.
“This will probably take a minute for the juice to flow into the wire and heat up enough to ignite the pile,” he said, grabbing a handful of the bark and shoving it next to the edge of the powder. “At least in theory,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He reached for the knife and used it to sharpen the tips of two eight-inch-long saplings.
“What are those for?” said Brian.
“Just some improvised fighting tools, probably not unlike the shivs and shanks the prisoners make where you work.” When he had finished sharpening the ends, he tucked them into his beltline where he normally kept his fixed blades. He had always believed that a knifeless man is a lifeless man and sought to keep several blades on him at all times.
Julie brought her pile of twigs over and set them down, her teeth chattering as a few beads of water dripped off her bangs. Mitch was concerned about her wellbeing the most as she was clearly suffering from the cold conditions. Anyone that became injured would only slow their progress forward and, though he wasn’t fond of the woman, he wasn’t about to abandon her in the wilds. She’d surely be dead by morning from the elements.
His attention was diverted back to his work area as a hissing sound emanated from the gunpowder and a single rivulet of smoke began swirling up followed by an intense burst of white-hot flame. He quickly brushed the pile of fine bark onto the heat source, watching the fibers ignite. Then he judiciously began applying small twigs in a semi-circle onto the flames along with a pinky-sized piece of pine sap he had scraped off an overhanging branch. The resin acted like low-grade fuel and increased the heat output. The log shelter around them was bursting with the pungent smell of sizzling pine within minutes. Amidst the crackling wood, the shelter was filled with silence as everyone cast primal gazes into the flames. Mitch began piling on some finger-sized kindling then a few forearm-sized branches gathered off the ground behind him.
“Aren’t you worried about the ceiling catching on fire?” said Lisa.
“That’d be a good signal fire—maybe somebody would see it from a distance,” said Daryl.
Mitch flung a few pinecones onto the conflagration and scooched back a foot. “We probably shouldn’t let it get any bigger than this, even as wet as it is outside.” He crossed his legs, wrapping his arms around his shins. “And to answer your question, I’m guessing there’s no one around this area for miles due to this canyon being closed off for the flooding operation.”
Mitch looked around at the others and could see the fear quelling in their eyes now that the fire had thawed them out a little. If they weren’t staring at each other or the flames, they would glance up at him as if expecting him to issue an order or impart some advice. He realized, by default or perhaps unconscious design, that they viewed him as a trail guide. All he wanted was to be out of this canyon and to have Dev in his embrace. Dev, how I miss you. If only you were here with me now—better yet, if we were in some cozy cabin away from the world. He thought of the fragrant aroma of her hair as he held her in his arms; her lithe figure as he caressed her curves; and those almond-colored eyes that could unravel his soul. He took in a deep breath, letting his mind linger over the soothing memory of her lovely face, then he straightened his posture and held his chin up, looking at each person as he spoke.
“As the grip of the night and the cold increases, focus on the one thing that matters most in your life, whether that’s a loved one or your faith—whatever that is for you, keep it in your sights. That’s the guiding force that can help get you through this. For myself, no one will keep me from the person I love, in this life or the next. I plan on seeing the sunrise tomorrow and the one after that.”
A few of them sighed and clenched their fists while others simply nodded in agreement and then lowered their heads. Mitch heard Julie muttering a Hail Mary while Brian merely stared into the flames.
Nicholas stepped into the firelight and began clapping his hands. “Very uplifting, Pastor Mitch. You plan on shacking up here until morning when room service knocks?”
“Why are you such a dick?” said Lisa. “You are always the first to criticize but don’t man up with any solutions.”
Nicholas began digging the tip of his muddy shoe in the ground then flicked some dirt in Lisa’s face. Brian leaped forward and shoved him against a moss-covered log. “That’s as far as you go, shitbag. You’re excess luggage out here as far as I’m concerned. I deal with pieces of garbage on a daily basis that have more character than you.”
Nicholas shoved the man’s hand off his chest and stepped to the side. Then he let out a wicked laugh. “What are you all holding out for—playing summer camp in this little lodge? We’re all fucking dead. You think we’re getting out of here? Whoever planned this is either stalking us right now or plans to whack us when we get to that cabin.”
“Maybe he’s right,” said Julie. “I mean about them stalking us, shadowing our every move.”
“If these are tracking devices in our backs, then that wouldn’t be hard to do,” said Daryl. “They would know where we’re at during every move.”
“I disagree with this FIGJAM,” said Mitch, pointing to Nicholas, who tilted his head in confusion at the word.
“It means ‘Fuck, I’m Good, Just Ask Me,’” said Brian, who began to chuckle.
“I haven’t seen any other signs of passage in this canyon since we all came to,” said Mitch. “I think they dropped us off and departed, knowing they could track us via GPS in this canyon with only one route to walk.”
“A chokepoint,” whispered Daryl, who had moved closer to the fading flames.
“But they can’t predict every move we might make between this morning and now,” said Lisa. “I mean, what if we found a route in some side canyon to climb out of here—something they missed. I’ve come across those kinds of trails before on my own hikes in places like this.” Lisa rubbed her hand along the back of her neck, saying each of her words slowly while glancing over the faces of each person. “Unless one of them was right here in this group.”
Everyone went silent as each person began swiveling their heads and staring at the others around them.
“That’s a pretty bold assertion,” said Daryl.
“You’re saying one of us in this Lincoln Log cabin is the one who killed Mulhere and dumped us here?” said Nicholas, who started walking towards the entrance. “This just keeps getting better. I’m going to get some firewood.” Before leaving, he stopped to look back at Mitch and then Lisa. “When Batman and Wonder Woman figure out who the bad apple is, give me a holler.”
“You actually think one of us is Kruger or connected with him?” said Julie to Lisa.
“Who said anything about it being Kruger for sure—wouldn’t that make a nice mystery story for you to write about?” said Lisa.
Julie scowled, canting her head towards her. “Don’t even go there, bitch. In
case you hadn’t noticed, each of us is intimately connected with the man—both men.” She leaned back on one hand. “Is there someone else I’m missing who had the motive for doing this? Oh, wait—maybe it was your fiancé you mentioned because he’s having second thoughts about enduring life with you.”
Lisa shot forward and belted the woman with her open hand across the right temple then moved up and drove a fist into her face, glancing her knuckles over Julie’s pale cheek. “Because of you, I lost my fucking job.”
The journalist tumbled back onto the pine needles as the three men sprang into the melee and broke apart the enraged pair before Lisa could get off another blow.
“Cool it,” yelled Mitch as he yanked Lisa back towards the entrance. He held her arm and ushered her out into the rain.
“You know she had that coming?” shouted Lisa, who flicked Mitch’s hand off her.
“I’m not gonna disagree but we need calmer heads right now if we’re going to get through this.”
He could hear Daryl and Brian inside, trying to calm Julie and inspect her injuries. Mitch had felt a sense of respect for Lisa from the first moment he met her. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he felt a mild connection to her, maybe because she had grown up in the West or because she was just tough as hell. He wasn’t privy to all the details of her medical malpractice but wondered how such an independent and intelligent woman like her was ever tied up in all of this. His hunch from working as a field agent with the FBI was still jabbing away at his gut though and he also suspected that there had to be someone in the group who was mixed up with the puppet masters outside the canyon.
The assumed GPS trackers in their epidermis and the mystery pack with the topo map weren’t enough to maintain momentum to reach the cabin before the waters flooded the canyon. Someone in this group had to make sure they stayed on track. He doubted it was Nicholas—he was too self-loving to place himself in the wilderness where his lotiony hands would get dirty. Despite her recent outburst, Lisa just didn’t fit the bill of a scheming killer. Daryl seemed the least likely as he was older, retired, and had spent years tracking down the paper trail on Kruger. That left Brian and Julie. The latter came across as too physically fragile and out of her element in the backcountry. She would probably die out here if left alone. Then there was the sinewy warden. Brian was very capable of physically enduring great hardship—both mentally and physically given his livelihood. He also had no prior connections to anyone else in the group. Mitch kept wondering if he had been bought by the older Kruger or was being extorted somehow. Then again, any of the others here could’ve been offered a sum of money or coerced into being complicit. Mitch took a deep breath, his mind racing over the possibilities. Still, Brian is the only person that had no previous relationships with anyone here. It has to be him. In spite of their initial confrontation, Brian had sidled up to Mitch and taken on a supportive role in helping others. Is he trying to deflect attention away from himself by playing the good cop? His heart raced at his next thought. What if he is Roan Kruger? He’s’ just old enough to fit the bill—he could be claiming he’s the warden. Then again, Nicholas and Daryl are almost the right age too. Nah, their backgrounds are well known. His head was swirling from the jumble of theories. He glanced back at Brian, who was dabbing a cool garment over Julie’s swollen cheek. It has to be him. Mitch knew from years of mantracking that when you came across a confusing array of tracks along your subject’s trail and lost the route, intuition as well as scientific reason played a huge factor in trying to regain the trail and deduce the path ahead. Right now, with not enough supportive evidence, he had to feel his way and assume that Brian was the villain in their fold.
Mitch’s mind raced back to the feel of the cold as he noticed the rain letting up. He saw Lisa fold her arms and she started pacing in a circle while the cold droplets fell on them.
“Maybe this is the whole plot—for us to strangle the person in the group we detest the most.” She flung her head back, reflecting on her words. “I didn’t mean that literally. I mean, I would never actually kill someone—you must know that. I just wanted to shut that harlot up.”
Mitch raised both hands up, palms out. “Hey, you’re the one who swore that Hippocratic oath.”
“Yeah, an oath, right. Not that that matters anymore. My medical career is over. One mistake that got blown to hell during the Kruger case by reporters like Julie. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve been quietly relieved of my duties at the hospital. Instead, it turned into a media show parading my face all over the national news.” She lowered her chin and pressed her fingers into her forehead. “I was a good doctor but the forces at play were determined to drag me into the ring with the Kruger trial.”
“I can tell you are a compassionate person.” He paused and looked back into the shelter at Julie. “Well, maybe not all the time.” He stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Look, why don’t you help me gather some firewood.”
Mitch shined his headlamp out into the surrounding forest. “Where the hell is Nicholas?” Then he remembered he had left the .357 lying near the firepit. A reckless move and one he chided himself for making, chalking it up to his fatigue. He poked his head back inside but didn’t see it and remembered Nicholas was the closest to his position when he was lighting the fire.
Chapter 14
An hour after sundown, with the storm briefly abating, headlights appeared in the driveway. Dev stepped out from the guesthouse and waved at the sight of the Marshal as he emerged from his muddy Suburban. A few seconds later, a white SUV with the sheriff’s logo on it pulled up.
“Where is Mitch?” said Ed Roth, walking into the spotlight created by his vehicle’s headlights with his AR held in a low-ready. Dev understood his need for concern—getting a call at night to drive to a remote location where a homicide had been committed. She was puzzled that there weren’t more law-enforcement officers but figured it was because of the rural nature of the area.
“He’s not here, just his truck. The guy who attacked me is lying to the right of the guesthouse like I mentioned on the phone.” She motioned with her arm, inadvertently exposing the pistol in her waistband beneath her jacket that she had obtained from her attacker. Roth raised his rifle towards her chest as the sheriff, a muscular man in his mid-forties, came up alongside with his Sig-Sauer pistol drawn.
“Talk to me, Roth—what’s going on?” said the sheriff, who looked puzzled by Roth’s aggressive change in stance. “I thought you said she was a friendly.”
“That’s right. She’s the one who called me—a friend of Mitch Kearns—you know, the mighty tracker from last fall’s manhunt.”
“Yeah, so. You said there was a homicide here.”
“I’m not your problem,” said Dev, pointing to the contorted figure scrunched against the wall of the guesthouse. “That man—he’s somehow associated with Kruger.”
Roth tapped his index finger on the rifle above the trigger, his eyes shifting from the dead body back to Dev. “Yeah, Kruger, right. So you say—you wanna remove that firearm you got and drop it on the ground?”
Dev used her left hand to withdraw the pistol and lowered it onto the glistening grass.
“Now continue with your story.” Roth walked up and grabbed the weapon while keeping up his AR.
“We should clear the two buildings first,” said the sheriff, whose nameplate revealed to Dev that he went by Brenner.
“There aren’t any other hostiles.” Dev paused, reflecting on her choice of words, realizing she didn’t want to draw too much attention to her tactical background. “I swept through the house and outbuildings. He was the only one here.”
Brenner waved his arm towards the front porch of the guesthouse. “Why don’t we get out of the rain and then you can start from the top with what the hell happened here.”
Both men lowered their weapons. “I’ve got this, Brenner,” said Roth as he led the way to the porch.
As they stood equidistant
from each other under the white eaves of the weathered porch, Brenner noticed the battered face of the dead man next to the woodstove. He turned towards Dev and then took a step back from her. “You did that to him—with what, a sledgehammer?”
“One of the steel rifle magazines on the table. It was a lucky blow which sent his head into the woodstove.”
Both men gave each other a look of surprise and then quickly scanned the unusual contents of the guesthouse, noticing the laptop, weapons, and maps. Dev relayed what Mitch told her about his visit to Mulhere. She didn’t mention anything about the intel she had gleaned from Petra or her own suspicions that something was amiss during her wait at the airport.
“So, you drove up here after you couldn’t get a hold of Mitch?” said Roth, who was giving her an icy stare.
“My flight had been endlessly delayed and I wasn’t about to spend the night sleeping on the terminal floor so I got a rental car and came up here hoping to find Mitch.”
“And you ran into this guy who then attacked you?” said Roth, nodding with his chin towards the body.