Loyal Be Jack

by Robert Tarrant

  Even though I believed I now had her location, I was still in the same quandary. And did I really have the location? Some guy named Eddie who frequents the Buck Pole identified the Whitehorse cabin and pointed it out on a map. I couldn’t point out the location on any map. The police are going to need to talk to Eddie or at least Gunny. There was no way that would remain secretive. My stomach was starting to roll. I was afraid to act — follow Gunny or call the police — and equally afraid not to act — not follow Gunny and not call the police. My fears were overwhelming me. I could feel myself freezing up inside. I knew I had to get a grip on my mind and think logically.

  I took several deep breaths and started to slowly jog around the parking area. After several laps around the small circle, I headed back up the driveway toward the gate. In my time outside, my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and I could follow the gravel driveway fairly well. After a half-dozen trips to the gate and back, I was panting heavily but my mind was clearing. I made two more laps walking around the parking area to catch my breath and slow my heart rate. I went inside and took a long hot shower. By the time I stepped from the shower, my mind was focused and I had a plan.

  I dressed and went up to the study to find a pad of paper. I was now focused on preparing for the anticipated mission Gunny was planning. I would plan for the rescue mission, but if it didn’t feel right when I got to the Buck Pole, I would tell Gunny it was off. I would focus on the mission but be prepared to abort it if I didn’t like the looks of the guys assembled or it didn’t otherwise feel right. I wouldn’t allow myself to straddle the fence but would be prepared to jump to the other side if necessary.

  I completed my list and leaned back in the desk chair. I looked at the boxes on the floor and piles of documents on the desk. Picking up the small stack of documents referring to Shifty, I muttered aloud, “Sorry, Benjamin, a more immediate issue has taken precedence over my promise to you. I will get back to this, though, I promise.” After placing the documents referring to Shifty in the top desk drawer, I returned the remaining stack of documents to the box they had come from. For some inexplicable reason, I felt that I needed to leave the office neat and orderly. Grabbing the notepad, I went downstairs to find the items I’d listed.

  The next few hours seemed to crawl by. I forced myself to eat a sandwich for dinner later. It was important that I not allow myself to run out of energy. About midnight I went outside and checked the temperature. It felt like the upper thirties. I dressed accordingly, with the camo coveralls Gunny had loaned me as the top layer. I had located a pair of dark brown cotton gloves and a black watch cap in the closet. I stuffed them in the pockets of the coveralls and pulled on the duck boots.

  I went outside and stealthily crept around the outbuildings. I was convincing myself that, dressed as I was, I could approach the cabin where Katharine was being held without detection. After a few minutes, I realized what a futile exercise it was. How could I assess my own visibility? My mind started to ridicule me, but I closed it off. Getting into the car, I headed toward the Buck Pole.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  As I was approaching the center of town from the east, a Michigan State Police car drove through the main intersection southbound. Was this the omen I needed to jump to the other side of the fence? I stopped at the intersection and could still see the taillights slowly moving southbound. I could catch them in thirty seconds. Surely a trooper would know what to do? While I was focused on the trooper’s taillights, headlights reflecting off my inside rearview mirror caught my eye. A vehicle was coming up behind me. Was I being watched? I hadn’t seen any vehicles behind me on the way to town, but was I actually paying any attention? I couldn’t remember looking in the mirror the way I had frequently done on the drive to the lodge earlier. I turned north and headed to the Buck Pole.

  I parked in front of the bar. There were no other vehicles in the parking lot. Maybe none of Gunny’s friends were here yet? As I walked to the front door, I watched a vehicle slowly drive by on the road. It was a car, but I couldn’t make out the make or model. I was fairly certain it had been the vehicle that came up behind me at the intersection. It continued northbound and disappeared over a rise. I saw no other vehicles moving.

  Gunny was waiting just inside the door as I entered the bar. “Great, you’re here, Jack. Just let me lock the door and turn out the lights. We’ll go out the back door, through the kitchen.” He stepped past me and locked the door I had just entered. Then he went behind the bar and flipped several light switches. The “OPEN” sign went dark as did most of the interior lighting. I followed Gunny through the kitchen and out the back door. Four men were standing around two four-wheel-drive pickup trucks. Two were the ones I had seen Gunny speak to earlier. The other two didn’t look familiar at all. Gunny introduced me to everyone. Buzz, Hound Dog, Ironhead and Terry. Each, in turn, shook my hand while looking me directly in the eyes. It was as if they were taking stock of me. My effort at taking stock of them was limited to determining how much alcohol I could smell. Not even a whiff. Everyone seemed cold sober and keenly focused.

  Gunny said, “You’re with me, Jack.” He pointed to the nearest pickup. Without a word, the others climbed into the second truck, a crew cab Ford with a power winch on the front. As Gunny slid into the driver’s seat, I noticed for the first time that he was wearing a prosthetic hand. He must have observed me noticing because he said, “Yeah, I wore it tonight. I don’t wear it around the bar that much because I’m always knocking drinks over with it. You’d think I’d get the hang of it after all these years, but I’ve just found it easier to leave it off when I’m tending bar.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense to me.” I didn’t know if it made sense or not, I’d never had a prosthetic, but what else was I going to say?

  As we drove out of town, Gunny asked, “You don’t have a gun do you, Jack?”

  “Not with me.”

  “Didn’t imagine that you did. The case in the back has an AR-15 and a shotgun. Shotgun is for you. You okay with that?”

  “Sure.” What was I going to say?

  Gunny must have heard the tentative nature in my voice. “When we get there, I’ll keep you out of the fray, but you should be carrying a gun for appearances’ sake.”

  My nerves got the best of me. “Hey, I can hold my own in a gunfight.”

  In the dim light of the truck’s interior, I could see Gunny grin. “Sure, Jack, but we’ll let the younger guys do the shooting.” His voice became a little pensive as he added, “Hopefully, it won’t come to anybody shooting.”

  We had gone north out of town on a road that quickly transitioned from pavement to gravel. I knew we must be angling east as we hadn’t crossed I-75 but otherwise I was lost. Gunny slowed to a crawl a couple of times as he looked closely at trail roads intersecting our route. Finally, after consulting the folded topographical map he had in his lap, he made a turn onto a two-track trail road. The tracks of the road were clearly visible, but from the height of the weeds in the center, it was obvious it hadn’t been used in some time. Maybe all summer.

  We crawled up the trail road for a few minutes and then broke out into a larger opening. With the dense stand of trees on the far side of the clearing, it was obvious that the trail road ended there. Gunny stopped the truck and turned off the motor. A few seconds later, the other truck rounded the last turn and pulled into the clearing. We all piled out of the trucks. Everyone seemed focused on pulling on gear and checking weapons. I noticed that everyone had a long gun, either a rifle or shotgun, and the two ex-military guys, Hound Dog and Terry, both had pistols in holsters slung low on their thighs. Gunny handed me a short-barreled shotgun with a pistol grip. I asked, “Is this thing legal?”

  Gunny laughed. “Yeah, it’s legal. It’s a Mossberg Shockwave. Doesn’t even need a federal permit.” He showed me the basic operation of the gun and then said, “I honestly don’t think it’s a very useful weapon.”

  “Geez, thanks, Gunny.”

&nbs
p; “No, don’t get me wrong. You’ve got six rounds of double aught buckshot there. You can ruin a man’s day in a heartbeat. It’s just that it’s difficult to be accurate with it. They say to fire from the hip, but it’s really easy to fire wildly that way.” He demonstrated aiming the shotgun at eye level. “I find it most accurate to hold it up like this. Just keep it away from your face because you don’t have any stock to butt against your shoulder. Be real easy to end up with a broken nose and black eye.”

  “Again, thanks, Gunny.”

  “I keep it behind the bar. Never had the occasion to need it but just feel better having it there.” He patted me on the back and said, “You won’t need to use it either, Jack.” I sure hoped he was correct.

  Gunny turned to the others and said, “Radio check.” Everyone, except me, dug a small handheld radio out of their pocket and took turns testing until everyone was on the same frequency. Then Gunny said, “Okay, Terry and Hound Dog, you guys take off. Buzz and Ironhead will follow in a minute with Jack and I a minute later. Once we get there, you guys take a look and then fall back and tell us what you think the play should be.” Terry and Hound Dog nodded and disappeared into the woods without another word. A minute later, Buzz and Ironhead followed. As Gunny and I entered the small trail, I couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell these guys came up with their nicknames. Must be stories there.

  It was overcast but, thankfully, not raining. The trail was slick, though, from the rains of the past few days. The rubber-soled boots I had on were great to keep my feet dry but unstable on the inclines of the muddy trail. The shotgun I carried wasn’t heavy, but it didn’t have any type of shoulder strap, so I had to carry it in my hand. The weapons everyone else carried were slung across their chest or shoulder, leaving both hands free. I was beginning to think it would have been better if Gunny hadn’t gotten a weapon for me, even if it had made me look like a wimp.

  A few minutes into the trek, I found myself breathing heavily and starting to perspire under all of the layers of clothing. I kept focusing on Gunny, ahead of me on the trail, and thinking that if a guy in his seventies could keep up, I should be able to. I recalled that Eddie had estimated it would be a couple of miles to hike in from this direction. Of course, I had no idea how far we’d gone, so no idea how much farther to the cabin. The terrain was constantly rising, adding to the slipperiness of the trail.

  After what seemed like fifty miles and several hours of slogging along, Gunny held up his hand in a stop sign and crouched to one knee. I did the same. Well, I actually fell to both knees and bent at the waist panting. When I was finally able to get my heaving chest under control, I looked up and saw Gunny talking into his radio. He turned toward me and waved me forward. It was all I could do to rise to a standing position and trudge the ten yards between us.

  When I again slumped to my knees, Gunny asked, “You all right, Jack?”

  “Yeah, fine. Just a little winded.”

  Gunny replied, “Man, you’ve got to get out of that bar of yours and get a little exercise. You’re a young man. A little walk in the woods shouldn’t be that tough for you.” The smirk on his face softened the words a little, but the truth in them still stung. Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with a witty retort. Gunny continued, “Terry and Hound Dog are at the cabin. We’ll hold here for a minute. They’re going to get as close as they can and make an assessment. They’ll back out and rejoin us to make our final plans.”

  Gunny reached into the small pack he carried and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a long drink and handed the bottle to me. I took an equally long pull on the bottle. It felt great on my throat. All of my panting was making my throat sore. Gunny retightened the cap and dropped the bottle back into his pack. I pulled a power bar from my pocket and broke it in half, handing half to Gunny. He nodded approvingly and took it. I might not have thought of a gun or water, but I had put power bars on my list of preparations for the mission.

  After not nearly enough time for me to recover, Gunny’s radio crackled softly. He said, “Let’s move forward and meet up with the others.” Gunny rose and headed up the trail. I made several attempts to rise but found my knees locked into the kneeling position. Finally, using the shotgun as a cane, I was able to get my body into an upright stance. Fortunately, I didn’t blow my head off in the process. I slipped a couple of times on the muddy trail but finally got going.

  I came around a curve and found the five of them squatting around a wide spot in the trail. Terry was drawing in the mud with a stick. A topographical map laid next to his drawing. Gunny looked up at me and said, “Here, Jack, we’ll make room for you.”

  I said, “No, that’s fine. I’ll just stand here and lean over you.” I didn’t think I could get up if I kneeled again, and I wasn’t about to let these guys see me using the shotgun as a crutch.

  Terry finished sketching out the location of the cabin and several notable natural features surrounding it. He looked up at Gunny, and Gunny nodded for him to continue. Terry indicated the positions from which we would approach the cabin. He and Hound Dog would take the point and make entry while the others of us covered the exterior sides. He told us that there was no light visible through the window in the back nor signs of activity around the cabin, but given the fact that it was 3:30 a.m., that was to be expected. He added that they had seen signs that people had come to the cabin, weeds tromped down on the entry path, but it didn’t look like very many people.

  Suddenly, the whole concept of the rescue operation became very real to me. A group of men, most of whom I had never met until two hours ago and knew nothing about, were about to attempt a rescue from kidnappers who were likely armed. Were these guys even marginally qualified? Maybe I was putting Katharine in more danger than she would be in if I did nothing but meet the kidnappers’ demands. I didn’t even know yet what their demands were. Suddenly, I felt lightheaded. I was glad everyone was looking at the drawing in the dirt and listening to Terry because I was certain I was swaying, on the brink of collapsing in a heap.

  I heard someone say, “Jack. Jack, you still with us?” The flashlight that had been shining on the drawing in the dirt was now shinning in my face. “Jack, you okay?”

  I croaked, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  Gunny took the bottle of water from his pack and handed it to me. “Drink some more water, Jack. You’re probably dehydrated.”

  I drank the rest of the water in the bottle while everyone else checked their weapons and prepared to advance toward the cabin, which Terry had said was about four hundred yards farther up the ridge. Terry seemed to be in command now, following the informal handoff from Gunny. He asked, “Ready?” and looked from man to man. Everyone, in turn, nodded affirmatively. When he got to me, with doubts reeling in my mind, I hesitated. He took a couple of strides toward me and asked, “Jack, you ready to do this?” Even in the darkness I could see his eyes glowing with intensity. It was the same intensity I had seen in Justin’s eyes before. The intensity of a warrior going toward the battle.

  I thought to ask him if he was confident that we could rescue Katharine without her getting hurt, or worse, but his eyes seemed to answer my unspoken question. I nodded and said, “I’m ready. Let’s go get her.”

  Terry had explained that the trail we had been following led from where we had parked the trucks toward Club Stream on the backside of the ridge. Now we would be going cross country and truly uphill. We ended up working our way through the thick trees and dense underbrush in a ragged V formation with Terry and Hound Dog at the point, Buzz and Ironhead down one side, and Gunny and me down the other side. Between the tree canopy and the overcast sky, it was almost pitch-black. The only positive of the dense undergrowth was the fact that everyone was moving forward very slowly, affording me the opportunity to keep up.

  Finally, we crowned the ridge, and I could see the cabin directly ahead of us. I could make out the outline of the window in the back, and it was obvious there was no light inside. As planned, B
uzz and Ironhead stayed on the backside of the cabin, and Gunny and I followed Terry and Hound Dog in a looping arc toward the front. Once we reached the front, Gunny and I took up positions about twenty yards from the cabin. Terry and Hound Dog crept slowly toward the door. The cloud cover was starting to break up a little, and I could see them as they took up positions on either side of the door. Terry reached out and turned the doorknob. The door must have been unlocked because an instant later the door flew open and they disappeared inside. The inside of the cabin exploded in light that poured out through the open door. I hadn’t noticed them each clamp a high-intensity light to their weapons as we made our final approach.

  It was only two seconds from the time the door was flung open until I heard Gunny’s radio say, “All clear, there’s no one here,” but it seemed like hours. It took equally as long for the words to register with my brain. No one here. Where was she? Did the kidnappers know we were coming? What the hell happened? Did we have the wrong cabin? Gunny was making his way toward the cabin, and I followed.

  The interior of the small cabin was totally illuminated by the two bright lights Terry and Hound Dog had affixed to their guns. I decided the small flashlight I had included on my list of supplies for the mission was unnecessary and left it in my pocket. Gunny and I stood just inside the door and looked around. A small bed was jammed into one corner, but it had no bedding on the stained mattress. A small table and two chairs occupied the center of the room. A counter, with a sink that looked like it had spent the first fifty years of its existence in someone’s bathroom vanity, ran across the back wall. There were no signs of a water supply, and the drainpipe could be seen under the open counter protruding through the back wall. My guess was that the sink was used to wash with water carried in with other supplies and the waste water just ran out the back onto the ground. There was a small cluster of canned goods on the shelf under the open counter but otherwise no signs of food in the room. From the faded labels I guessed that those canned goods had been here a very long time. In general the place looked like it hadn’t been occupied anytime recently.