by Clary, LeRoy
His brother said, “Okay, you were right. I admit it as long as you don’t claim it happens all the time, and I’m impressed you used a big word like provocation.”
Mitch snorted a laugh and turned to us with a wave at the other. “My brother, Adam.”
We said hello. They looked different in their faces, but their actions and the slope of their shoulders were the same. So was their walk and obviously, their sense of humor.
Mitch said to us, “Normally, I suggest you keep that dehydrated food of yours for hard times, but none of us ate yesterday and we have a long way to go today. Do you mind sharing?”
I went for my pack while saying, “We owe you guys more than an MRE.”
Adam said, “Mitch and I were talking. He thinks you’ll fit right in with our family. Did he mention Montana?”
“He did,” I said as I passed out protein bars to go with the other.
“You’re welcome to come along with us. He says you are good people. Shot those men in the fleshy part of their legs when you could have done worse.”
I felt Mayfield’s eyes boring into me. I said, “That is a nice invitation., We have to talk, first, all of us. Then maybe Montana.”
When everyone was settled around the stumps and log, and the fire built up against the morning chill, Mayfield paced back and forth and said, “If the invitation is still open in a few days, and if we’re still welcome, we might join you. But you might not want us.”
Mitch chewed his power bar and said, “Going back there to that place you came from, right?”
She nodded. “We can’t allow them to kill everyone we’ve ever known.”
“Told you so,” Mitch said.
“We’d do the same,” Adam added seriously. “But we ain’t you and those are not our people down there. Mitch and I talked it out and we tend to stay out of the business of others. We can’t help you do what you gotta do. We won’t stop you either.”
Mitch said, “Well, what he’s saying is that we’ll move on today. But before we do, you’re welcome to ask questions and we’ll help you in that way. It isn’t that we don’t feel for you and the situation.”
I wanted to tell them thanks for their help and ask them to leave right away so we could discuss it in private.
Mayfield spoke before me. “How would you do it?”
“Would you even do it?” I asked.
They exchanged a glance and Mitch said, “If it was our people down there, we’d stop them any way we could.”
Adam spoke, sounding like Mitch was the talker of the pair. “If you do this, you have to know it will haunt you forever. None of those soldier boys back there can escape. Not one. There is no secret if just one of them gets away. They might promise you anything, but word will get out and you may as well go with us today if you’re not prepared to end it all.”
Mitch said, “He’s right. It’s all or nothing. And you have to count the bodies before and after. A man can stand a lot of hurt and still live to talk.”
Adam simply tossed a stick in the fire and nodded his agreement. It was the same conclusion I’d already come to. That didn’t make it more palatable.
Mitch said, “Bury them deep, but animals can usually find them and drag them out where they will be found. Burning them is even better but the smell is God-awful and it leaves evidence and indicates there may be something of value in the area to be searched for. It’s going to be ugly, no matter what you do.”
Adam said, “I saw the metal door. Most of the others did too. You shooting those two guards temporarily drew us all away. Today, they’ll begin an organized search of every square inch of the area, looking for clues.”
“Nobody tried the door?” Mayfield asked.
“Tried it?”
“It should be open until later today or tonight, maybe even tomorrow.” Mayfield blanched as she understood the information she’d revealed. If the brothers were working against us, they had their chance with her slip of the tongue.
Adam said, “Nobody went near the door. It’s like cursed, they hate it so much. I suppose we all just knew it was locked.”
“It is,” I lied. “Well, to others. There is a secret way to unlock it for another day, but only the outer door, not the stronger ones inside.”
That was almost the truth.
Mitch said, “If you are determined to do this thing, then I’d put the bodies inside there and cover the outer door with small trees, brush, and maybe even plant a few evergreens in front to hide it for years.”
Adam said with a crooked smile, “My brother and I have poor memories, so we’d appreciate it if you forget the part about killing everyone that knows about the location—meaning us, cause neither of us remembers where it is. Besides, we’ll be hundreds of miles from here. We hope you go to Montana and join us and our families—if we can remember the way to get there.”
He was playing dumb. Both remembered exactly where the door was, but neither was interested in what was down there. They had hired themselves out as guides, and that was all. They didn’t take sides. I trusted them.
Mayfield held out Mitch’s screwdriver and the container of oil.
Mitch accepted it wordlessly.
I said as I noticed they both carried pistols now. “Anything of ours you want? Take it. We owe you more than we can pay.”
Mitch shook his head.
“Bullets?” I offered.
“Wrong caliber. Won’t fit.”
Adam said, “When this is over if you head east, cross the mountain pass during the summer and keep walking east for about a month. Cross the Columbia River and keep going. Get directions from anyone you meet to Butte. We’ll be living around there, and you’re welcome to join up with us. Just ask around.”
Head east for a month? That sounded extreme but like a genuine offer we could live with. We shook hands, watched them disappear for the beginning of their journey, and Mayfield and I were alone again. Our next destination lay the other way.
She said, “That damned door will lock again tonight or tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I said as if sure. What I was sure about was that we were heading for trouble before the sun went down today.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Since most of the trip to the meadow by the stream had been uphill, returning to the entrance of Deep Hole was easier and we moved faster. At first, we talked little. Later, as we walked back over the fallen tree crossing the river, our destination and purpose became more real.
We drank at streams, ate another power bar, reloaded the spent ammo from cleaning and testing our guns, and we worried. Our fears were real, the enemies we were about to face were also. The place where we’d ambushed the two soldiers and captured Mitch was easy to find, and we followed their trail back to the top of the road.
They were still camped there. We counted. The two wounded were lying on the ground near the campfire. Four performed chores around camp. Ten were split into two groups of five, searching the ground while walking shoulder to shoulder back and forth. That left two more unseen.
We climbed a hillside and lay on a ledge fifty feet high, overlooking them. I used the binoculars to examine the door to Deep Hole and found that not even the ground in front was scuffed as if they were frightened to get near it. Before taking any actions, we had to locate the pair of missing soldiers.
I finally spotted movement far down on the road below us, past a stand of low evergreens. The missing two were standing guard duty about two hundred yards away. Even I was disgusted when we found they were resting with their backs to trees, talking and joking with each other as if on an outing. From their vantage, they watched downside of the hill along the road where trouble would most likely arrive if it came.
It was also the logical way for them to flee if we attacked from above. They would have to be stopped.
Opening fire on the larger group would be easy, at first, with our rifles. If we fired quickly, maybe we could hit five before the rest took cover. Assuming the two wounded we
re those who were shot the day before wouldn’t be involved, that still left the two men on guard duty and nine others.
Not near good enough odds. Eleven against two.
In a shootout with that many opponents, either or both of us could be hit and killed.
Mayfield touched my shoulder. She placed her lips close to my ear and said, “I’ll go get the guards. Then, give me a couple of minutes to find a good spot for an ambush. Then you open fire when you think the time is right.”
“I won’t get them all.”
She said coldly, “They are trainees. Recruits. The ones able to escape will take off and run right at me. There is only one way down this mountain. After that, I’ll work my way back up to the camp and help you.”
It was like listening to someone cold, someone I’d never met doing the talking. As I resurveyed the area and planned the attack in my mind, I realized it was the only way. My position was less than fifty yards from their camp, but as I would lie on the protected shelf, my body would be hidden by the vertical, unclimbable rock of the hillside below me. Only a small portion of my head would be exposed because I’d be shooting downward.
Our rifles were a huge advantage. They shot straight and were almost quiet. The flash suppressors might keep our locations hidden for a few precious moments longer and allow a couple of additional shots. The scopes were invaluable.
Mayfield gave me a bump with her fist on my shoulder as encouragement. When I turned again, she was already moving into the deeper shadows. We were committed. With her went my last chance to back out.
I was going to become a killer.
My stomach roiled and threatened to heave, which would alert the entire camp. Our plan relied on surprise. Despite the acid taste in the back of my mouth, I forced my body to relax as Sarge had taught me. My eyes shifted from where she had disappeared into the forest on the side of the mountain to the men below me.
I made a minor change in my plans. I had been going to shoot those closest to me first, which had seemed a good idea. However, that would allow those farther away to dive into the brush or run further away for safety, creating longer shots and putting us more at risk if we had to track them in the forest.
If I managed to hit a couple of those farthest away first, they might fall and not be immediately noticed, leaving me with easier shots of those closer and I’d be better able to keep track of all of them.
It made me sick to think of killing the men as dispassionately as their relative distance from me dictated. Physically ill. What would I be like after?
Surprised at myself, I drew a few deep breaths and felt a calm descend. Everything was shunted from forethought. My brain closed down and shut out whatever might come later, even the fact that one or both of us could die.
Choosing the right targets in the right order became paramount. Anticipating where each would scramble after the first shots allowed me to plan.
My eyes caught a flicker of movement down the road. Mayfield was also prone, her rifle raised and ready to shoot. The binoculars went aside, and I chose my first targets through my scope, three men standing together, talking and laughing, but they were located at the far end of the camp near the latrine. I made a last mental count. They were all there.
Looking towards Mayfield again, I saw one of the guards slump against the tree he leaned on. His head fell to one side. He’d been shot. Then the other slowly slid from his sitting position to lying at the base of the tree.
It had begun.
My scope again centered on the three in a group that was the greatest distance away. Pop, pop, pop. They fell quietly, almost together. The latrine where they had been was over a slight hill, out of sight of the main camp.
Nobody closer raised the alarm. I shifted the scope and found two more at the other edge of the camp. They were facing trees, urinating there instead of where they should have. It felt wrong to shoot them then instead of letting them finish, but the others nearer the campfire were giving them a measure of privacy by not looking in that direction. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I fired twice at each.
I refused to look at their faces as they fell, having aimed at the center of their chests as Sarge had taught me.
Despite the nearly silent rifles, and the soldier’s distance from the others, a wordless shout of warning sounded from the group in the center of the camp. Someone had noticed and was sounding a warning. I saw and heard the man screaming as he pointed to the last two men I’d shot. My bullet struck him. Then I shot another closer to me who seemed confused or paralyzed with fear. Another had turned and sprinted for the trees. I hit him at the very edge of the forest, just before he would have escaped.
Two had leaped to their feet and ran down the road before they fell from Mayfield’s rifle.
A shot struck the rock face right in front of me. I rolled to one side and when I reached a position to fire again, I found the shooter. I centered the crosshairs on his middle, pulled the trigger and he fell.
I’d kept track as we fired.
There were twelve of them. The two we wounded a day earlier were struggling to their feet. But there were four more unaccounted for. Somewhere.
Nobody was moving. Not me, Mayfield, or them. One of the wounded raised a pistol and fired twice in my direction. Both bullets struck within a foot of me. Who said their guns and ammo were no good? The other wounded man had managed to grab a rifle and had it almost centered on me.
Reflex brought my rifle to bear and my finger pulled the trigger just as the rock-face below me exploded with the impact of another bullet. In fear, I killed both of the wounded men.
That still left four healthy soldiers out there. Four mouths to spread the word of what happened and where the entrance to Deep Hole was. Any of the four could and probably would bring hundreds of troops back here.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Mayfield shifting positions. She was coming closer, I thought and was about to shout at her to remain where she was when I realized she had only moved far enough to dive behind a massive log along the side of the road. Her head barely rose above the top, her rifle aimed up the hillside, preventing any from running away. She had a perfect field of fire.
A sharp buzz of a bullet passed so close to my head I felt a puff of air that told me to get down. The sound of the shot echoed off the of the mountain. I wiggled to my left, where a small boulder gave me a little more protection.
I eased ahead and the yellow flash of a gun aimed at me as it fired told me where one of them was. As I started to shoot, another broke from cover and fled downhill. He was running directly at Mayfield, not knowing she was there. I ignored him and fired three times at the place where the flash of the gun had revealed the shooter’s position. A man slid into view as he fell.
A lucky shot by me. I breathed a sigh of thanks.
When I looked to my side, the runner lay sprawled, his head pointing down the hill. Mayfield hadn’t missed.
It grew quiet again.
Nobody moved.
There were two left. We couldn’t let any escape. Night was coming.
If we didn’t get them before dark, I guessed that they would escape and all we’d done was for nothing. The deaths meant nothing.
It had become a stalling game. If they remained out of sight until dark, they could slink away. My mind kept repeating that. If we moved to flush them, we’d get shot. At least, shot at.
I used the time to reload. Then placed the rifle at my side and started a slow sweep with the binoculars, moving from left to right at the far side of the camp, so as little of me was exposed as possible. Another sweep, a little closer, very slow and methodical. Then another.
I found a foot unaccounted for. A slight depression in the ground concealed a soldier, all but the one foot. I reached for my rifle and as I did, Mayfield stood, rifle to her shoulder and she fired once before dropping back to the ground.
I looked where she had shot and found another body, higher up on the slope below me, the rifle still p
ointed in my direction. From her position she had seen him climbing higher and getting into a position to shoot me. My heart made a thud and my attention returned to the foot barely in view.
I aimed carefully, fired, and missed. Dirt kicked up next to the foot, and a soldier leaped to his feet and sprinted down the road, zigging to one side, then zagging to the other, his rifle carried in one hand.
It was a bad choice of directions. He didn’t know about Mayfield waiting down there. Ten steps later, he was dead.
I recounted twice the battle and counted bodies before standing. Eighteen, although only fifteen were in my sight. I stood and waved. We met and hugged as we cried. There were no words to share. Few emotions. I was void of feelings. The dead men surrounding us were our fault.
Mayfield pulled back from the hug. “Listen to me. I want to get this done right away and leave this cursed place forever. I won’t stay here tonight even if we have to walk in the dark.”
“Agreed.” I trudged up the hillside on the road to the door. I grasped the handle and pulled it. As before, it was so heavy it took all my back and legs to break it loose and open. A few boulders placed against it kept it that way. The little green light inside was still on.
I went to the pile of things we’d left inside and unfolded the tarp. Outside, where the first of the dead lay, I rolled him on to the tarp and tried to pull him. It hardly moved. Mayfield joined me and we pulled together until the body was inside and rolled it off the tarp to the stone floor.
I shouted at the speaker and told them I wanted them all to be there in two hours. I had an announcement to make they all needed to hear it.
Seventeen bodies to go.
The moon was high in the night sky when the last of them were inside. It felt like longer than two hours. With the delivery of each body, we cursed those below loud enough, so they had to hear. The bodies lay where they had rolled when we cleared the tarp for the next one, all but the last who still lay on it. Our work was far from finished.
Assuming those in Deep Hole were waiting to hear from us, I addressed them, damned them, and told them the truth about the surface, and what they could expect from the survivors who hated them so much. I told them about the eighteen bodies we were hiding in the room, and that we’d do a last curtesy to our friends below by trying to conceal the outer door from future discovery.