“So you know the house,” I said.
“And every foot of the land around it,” he said. “I’m supposed to get you there and back. But it won’t be easy, especially after they know your Jane has escaped.”
“So how do we do it?” I said.
He laid out a map on the table. “We’re here,” he said and pointed to a spot on the north side of a river. “We cross this river and go over this big road, I-40, and then keep moving south-southeast until dawn. In daylight, we hide in the woods. After dark, we move up to the house. Longman, Jeffers and some others stage a diversion, a small attack from the east on one of the guard stations. Just make a lot of noise, attract attention, and pull out. That’s when we’ll go in.”
“How?” I said.
“We’ll be dressed as soldiers,” Biltmore said. “I have uniforms and weapons for us. Your hair and beards are neat enough. We’ll need to look and act like the real thing. But let me do any talking. Your mountain accents might give us away.”
“This house is a big place, ain’t it?” Riley said. “How do we know where to look for her?”
“The army kept some of my people there as workers,” Biltmore said. “They’ve told me where she is.”
“Can they be trusted?” Riley said.
“If not, we’re fucked,” Biltmore said.
“Reckon so,” I said. “But how do we get Jane out?”
“We’ll go northwest and west, cross the river, and up into these hills,” Biltmore said, moving his finger across the map again. “Not many roads there. So the soldiers will have a harder time chasing us. We can hide out there with people I know, then head northeast to the city or northwest to your mountains. Depending. That’s our best chance.”
“What about to the north, the way we came in?” Riley said. “If you ain’t around, it’ll be the only ground we know.”
Biltmore considered this for a moment. “That’ll be hard. The soldiers will figure you’ll want to run north, back to the city. All they have to do to stop you is put men on the big road and along the river. With their trucks, they’ll get men there before you, even with a good head start.”
Riley and I stared down at the map, absorbing all this.
“Once they start looking for Jane,” Biltmore said, “it’s going to be raining shit. Buckets of it.”
Riley and I nodded, looking at Biltmore.
“And boys,” he said, “if those bastards catch us, you can do what you want, but I’m saving one bullet for myself.”
Riley let out one of his low whistles.
For a moment, I pictured the soldiers closing in and looking down the barrel of my own pistol. Something inside me squirmed. A spasm of loose watery panic. Then I remembered Jane’s voice coming through the radio, unafraid.
“So when do we cross that river?” I said.
“Now,” Biltmore said.
CHAPTER 30
I felt like shouting when I stepped into the cold water of the river. We carried the uniforms, our weapons, and a little food in a pack on top of our heads. By the time I reached the far bank, I was gasping for breath.
We rested and let the cold water run from our clothes for a minute. Then we went up a steep slope filled with dense brush. At the top of the slope was the big road, I-40. When we were almost to the top, one of the Government patrol trucks rumbled toward us. When the light swung our way, we crouched low in the brush and waited for the truck to pass.
We crossed the road, one at a time, at a run. After going down the slope on the far side, we moved up through some hills, across another small river, heading south and southeast. Just before first light, Biltmore scrambled up a little draw, pulled away some brush, and waved us into a small cave dug into the hillside. Once we were all inside, he replaced the brush.
“Make yourselves at home,” Biltmore said, sitting on the dirt floor next to the entrance, “we’ll be here until dark. Change into the uniforms and leave everything but your weapons and ammo here.”
We had more than twelve hours to wait. So we each took a four hour watch. While Biltmore took the first, I tried but couldn’t manage to fall asleep. Too many thoughts were flying around inside me. It was actually a relief to stand my watch.
When I woke Riley for his turn, I lay down and tried to sleep again. After a while, I heard Riley say, “Having trouble?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Me too,” he said.
That was unusual for him.
“We’ve come a long way,” he said.
“Yeah, I wonder how far since nightfall.”
“No, since the beginning, with Jane, and all.”
“Oh yeah, a long way.”
We were silent for a bit.
“Something I been meaning to tell you,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Just wanted to say, whatever happens next--good or bad--I’m glad I did this.”
“Good,” I said. “Me too.” And I had to hold back tears.
“No need to talk of it again,” Riley said.
“No need.”
“Well, better rest. It’s apt to be a lively night.”
“Yeah, I’ll try,” I said and closed my eyes. But sleep never came.
When I saw the Biltmore House, all I could say was, “Damn.” I had only seen things like this in the old history books. It stood like a little mountain against the night sky. Bright electric lights shone through dozens of windows.
I turned to Biltmore and whispered, “You grew up there?”
He smiled and put a finger to his lips.
We hid in a clump of trees 30 yards or so from the north end of the building. It seemed the worst place to enter because there were many soldiers around. Two were standing guard, and others were unloading a truck and carrying boxes into the building. There was no choice, but to trust Biltmore.
We sat in the trees until there was a boom and a flash of light from the east. It was followed by the sounds of rifle shots and machine guns. Then there were more booms from the same direction, each louder than the one before. Then the rifles and machine guns continued, back and forth like an angry argument.
At the sound of the first boom, Biltmore came out of the trees and trotted toward the soldiers, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Riley and I followed.
Every soldier, even those standing guard, had turned in the direction of the explosions and gunfire. They were talking with one another. Had any of them looked in our direction they would have seen three black-clad soldiers, rifles slung, trotting up to join the curious crowd.
As we came up to the soldiers, Biltmore asked the nearest one what was going on. The man just shrugged.
The sound of gunfire slowed to individual shots and then stopped. We stood with the soldiers until someone behind us yelled, “Show’s over. Back to work!” The soldiers lined up to take a box from the back of the truck. Then they carried the box through a wide doorway into the building.
The three of us did the same. The guards at the doorway didn’t even look at us as we passed. We followed the other soldiers down a long hallway, lit with the electric lights. Then we went into a large room, a kitchen with tables, ovens, big pots, heat, and the smells of food. The room was full of soldiers carrying, putting down, picking up, and opening boxes. There were some men in the aprons running around shouting orders. Complete confusion.
We put our boxes on top of a pile. Instead of following the other soldiers back to the truck, Biltmore went out through another door. Riley and I followed.
The three of us walked single-file down a hallway, went down some stairs, and made several turns. We passed a few soldiers coming the other way, but they ignored us, and we ignored them. I had lost all sense of direction and had no idea how to get out of this place.
We kept walking until Biltmore stopped and peeked around a corner. He whispered to us, “This is it. One guard. We walk up. I talk. When I clear my throat, ‘Ahem,’ Take him. No noise. No blood. Can you do that?”
We nodded.
I was so scared I didn’t catch all of what Biltmore was saying. Something about an officer wanting to see the guard right away. I just looked at Biltmore and tried to keep my face blank. The guard was answering when Biltmore cleared his throat, “Ahem.”
I slammed my right forearm into the guard’s throat and forced him against the wall. His eyes went wide with pain and surprise, and then rage. Riley pinned his right arm while Biltmore drove a knee into his balls, once, twice, three times. The guard’s eyes changed from rage to a weak desperation. Finally, his eyelids fluttered and closed. When I took my arm from of his throat, he slid down the wall to the floor. Riley grabbed his rifle.
Biltmore got keys from the guard’s belt and started trying them in the lock. He opened the door a crack, looked in, and said to us, “Bring him in.” Biltmore held the door open as Riley and I carried the limp body through. We dropped it next to the wall. Biltmore shut and bolted the door.
The room had six metal doors, each with a little hatch at about eye level. It reeked of vomit and old piss. Biltmore went down one side, and I the other, opening and looking through each little hatch. My heart was pounding, but there was a grin on my face. We’re going to make it, I thought. Jane’s here. In one of these cells.
But Jane wasn’t. I found only a soldier, passed out on the floor in one of the cells. A drunk. Stunned, I had no idea what to do next. I turned to Riley and saw it.
The guard was leaning against the wall and raising a pistol. Just as I shouted, “Riley!” the guard fired twice into Riley’s back. Riley staggered forward and fell.
Biltmore raised his pistol and fired, hitting the guard in the face. The man slid to the floor leaving a wide smear of blood on the wall.
By the time I got to Riley, he had rolled over on his back. Blood was bubbling up and coming out of his mouth. He looked up at me, confused. Fading. Almost gone.
I stood over him, unable to move.
Biltmore grabbed me, shook me, made me look at him, and shouted, “He’s dead! Let’s go!”
I still wanted to close Riley’s eyes, to say goodbye, but I wanted more to stay alive.
CHAPTER 31
Biltmore and I stepped out into the hallway. He locked the door behind us and pocketed the key. He ran to the left, and I followed.
We turned a corner, and I saw an officer come out of a doorway, pistol drawn. Before I could lift my rifle to shoot, Biltmore shouted, “Sir! An accident! We need a medic!”
The officer stopped, uncertain for a moment, and then said, “I’ll call.” He went back through the doorway.
Biltmore and I followed the officer into a small room. The officer, standing next to a desk, was reaching for what I suppose was a telephone. His back was to us, and he had put the pistol on the desk. Without turning toward us, he said, “Where do we need the medic?”
Biltmore drew a knife, put a hand over the officer’s mouth, and pressed the tip against his throat. I closed the door and grabbed the pistol from the desk. I pointed it at the officer.
“Make a sound, and I’ll kill you,” Biltmore said. “Understand?”
The officer nodded. His eyes were wide open. Fear. I could hear his breath, whistling in and out of his nose.
I heard the sound of many boots pounding down the hallway outside, soldiers getting closer. Then, they passed and turned the corner, receding into the distance. It was quiet again. The officer’s eyes had followed the noise as it went past.
“Answer my questions,” Biltmore whispered, “and you’ll live. Understand?”
The officer nodded again. His forehead was sweaty, and his whole body trembled. His eyes bounced around the room looking for a way out, looking for help.
“Where’s Jane Darcy?” Biltmore said and took his hand away from the officer’s mouth. I was afraid the officer would cry out, but all he did was gasp for more air through his mouth.
“Answer me,” Biltmore said and pressed the knife a little harder.
“Not here,” the officer said. “Today they kept her in the city. I don’t know why.”
Jane wasn’t even here, I thought. Riley died for nothing. All of this. For nothing.
Biltmore clamped his hand on the officer’s mouth again and moved the knife, slicing deep. The officer looked right at me, very surprised. I stepped back to avoid a spurt of blood. Biltmore lowered him to the floor. Then he wiped his knife and hands on the dying man’s uniform.
The officer was making terrible soft gurgling sounds as he clamped both hands on his bloody throat. His legs kicked in little spasms as the blood poured from his neck. I put his pistol back on the desk.
“Quiet,” Biltmore whispered. He opened the door, leaned out into the hall, looked both ways, then stepped out and turned left. As I closed the door, I noticed the gurgling sounds had stopped.
This time we didn’t run. We walked down the halls, taking several turns and a stairway that went up and up. At last, we reached a landing. We moved to our right down a hall, took a left, and went down another hall. There was a door at the very end. We went through it into a room, and I closed the door behind us. The electric light in the ceiling was off. But a faint light was coming in through a row of windows. The room was crammed with dusty old crates, boxes, and broken furniture.
“Watch the door,” Biltmore said. I got behind a pile of furniture and pointed my rifle at the door. I was shaking and breathing hard. Biltmore was behind me at the windows. I glanced at him and saw he was working on a window latch with his knife.
“From here we jump,” he said. “Then go northwest to the river.” When I looked at him again, he pointed the direction with his knife. “We’ll cross and hide in the hills.”
He gave up on the latch and moved to the next window. “Fucking rust!” he said.
The thought that I had failed Jane again hit me, and I wanted to drop to the floor. Then the latch gave way, and Biltmore opened the window. No time to think.
“Something happens to me, keep going,” Biltmore said.
I nodded.
Biltmore put his knife away, picked up his rifle, and looked out the window. Then he jumped, hit the ground, and rolled. In a moment, he was up on his feet. After I had jumped, we started down the dark slope, moving side by side, a few yards apart, watching for soldiers.
We had just reached the first clump of trees when I heard a loud ringing sound coming from the building, and big lights started going on all around it.
“Shit!” he said.
We went single-file through the trees and bushes, Biltmore leading the way, down the long hill. Before we went across a road next to the river, we stopped and looked around.
“Looks clear,” Biltmore said, “Let’s go.”
We ran to the riverbank. I pushed my way through some brush and stepped off the bank into the river. I was out a few yards, when I heard the rumble of a Government patrol truck approaching fast on the road. Its search light was sweeping toward us. I saw Biltmore wasn’t in the water yet. Maybe his coat had snagged on something. Then the search light hit him, and I could hear the truck trying to stop, tires squealing like hurt pigs. Biltmore lifted his rifle. A machine gun on the truck started firing. I saw the first bullets ripping him apart. For just a moment, a bright red mist surrounded him. Spraying blood lit up by the searchlight.
I ducked my head under the water and pulled my feet up so the current would move me downstream, away from the soldiers. The cold water felt like a hand trying to crush me. I forced myself to stay under until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then I let my head come up and, gasping, I looked back. I could see soldiers, lit from behind by the searchlight, standing over what was left of Biltmore’s body.
I went down again, and let the current take me further. When I stood to make my way to the far bank, I was well away from the light and the soldiers. Then the shivering hit me, and I had trouble moving my legs
. I lost my footing, fell, and felt the rifle slip off my shoulder. It vanished in the river.
It took me a long time to get out of the water and onto the bank through tangled branches and brush. My arms and legs felt weak and clumsy. All I could do was crawl.
I stopped and put my face in the mud. I wept. I wept for Riley and Jane. I wept for Biltmore, a stranger who had saved my life a dozen times that night. Most of all, I wept for myself, because I was alone, shivering in the mud. I wept because I had failed everyone. I wept because it was so easy to weep.
Just when I thought I had come to the end of myself, I felt Mary’s book inside my jacket. Sodden, but still there.
I thought of the old man, with the sharks coming for his great fish. I knew it would be sad, but I wanted to know what he would do. I wanted to finish the story. I wanted to live after all.
Then I pushed myself up from the mud and looked up the dark slope. Trembling hit me. I couldn’t stand, not yet.
I began to crawl.
CHAPTER 32
Around noon, I realized no one was looking for me.
I crawled, then stumbled, then ran up into the hills, always looking over my shoulder for the soldiers. At dawn, I hid in a big thicket. I would wait until dark before moving west again. I was hungry and thirsty, but as the sun rose, the cold in my bones went away.
Although I wanted to sleep, I stayed awake. I dried and cleaned my pistol as best I could, and hoped it would still work. But the hours passed, and I saw no sign of soldiers searching for me. No airplanes circled overhead. Nothing.
I wondered if the soldiers knew there had been three of us. Riley and Biltmore could have killed the guard. After Riley died, Biltmore could have done all the rest. The men who shot Biltmore had not seen me in the river.
Either they didn’t know about me, or they were looking elsewhere. Riley and Biltmore had died. Jane was still in prison. But I was safe. I wanted to weep again. Not now, I thought. Save all that for later.
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