Primeval egt-5

by David L. Golemon

  The beating had stopped about an hour before the sun rose and its rays started reflecting off of the moving Stikine. She had gone into the store an hour before and told Marla it was almost time to get the frozen bait for the Tlingit Indians to start their day fishing. She heard the girl moving around in the back of the store as she sat in her large rocker and listened to the sound of the many fishermen as they walked through the woods on the beaten-down path of a hundred years that wound its way down from the hills and mountains that surrounded the small fishing camp.

  She waved and nodded her morning greeting to those that raised their hands to Helena. They were surprised to see her out so early, as she usually was inside getting their bait for the morning fishing. Several of the older Indians knew exactly why she was out that morning — they had also heard the constant thumping of wood on wood throughout the night, and they, as she, had gotten very little sleep.

  "Thanks for the help!" Marla said as she kicked the front door open with her arms full of the white butcher's paper-wrapped bait. Sixteen packages for eight boats.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart — I just didn't feel up to facing that stinky mess this mornin'."

  "Oh, but it's okay for me to?" Marla asked as she made her way down the wooden steps.

  The old woman didn't answer as she watched her granddaughter move her small frame toward the river and the waiting fishermen. She smiled to herself as Marla handed out the mornings bait, and laughed and joked with the old Indians, and fended off the sly smiles of the younger ones. After her arms were empty, Marla adjusted the knitted cap she wore and then waved at the fishermen as they shoved off from shore, starting their small engines as they headed up or down river. Marla started back to the store, then she paused a moment and turned toward the tree line. She stopped completely in her tracks, and the old woman could see the girl was sensing something. Marla was so in tune to the river and woods, nothing could escape her knowing that something was different. Helena wondered if the girl had heard the Chulimantan the same as herself during the night.

  "What is it?" the old woman called from the porch, standing and letting the rocker sway back and forth by itself.

  Marla looked at her grandmother, and then back at the woods to her left. Then she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing I guess — just thought I — oh, never mind."

  Helena watched as Marla started walking back to the store. Her eyes went to the woods where the girl had been looking. She, too, was feeling something — she couldn't put a handle on that particular cup, but she knew something was indeed watching from the woods.

  Suddenly Marla stopped and listened, and then she clapped her hands as she heard a familiar sound coming from a distance. The old woman now seemed to relax somewhat as the same sound finally reached her ears.

  "You didn't tell me Charlie Kemp was coming, Grandmother!" Marla shouted and clapped once more.

  Helena shook her head and smiled. Marla loved the visits by the Mounties, especially Kemp. The RCMP sergeant always took her up in the Bell Ranger helicopter and then afterward supplied her with all of the gossip coming out of Vancouver and Seattle. Charlie was only about seven years older than Marla, and every time the girl returned to school, he would almost wilt and fall from the vine. The relationship was innocent enough, at least on Marla's side of the river, but Helena knew Charlie had a schoolboy crush that would only be called off by time and distance.

  Marla put her hand to her brow and blocked out the rise of the morning sun when she finally spied the red and white helicopter as it shot low over the trees with a loud whine of its engine. On the sides of the Bell Jet Ranger were the gold-painted crown of the Canadian government, and on the tail boom read RCMP.

  As the Ranger set down in almost the same spot as the Russians helicopters the day before, Marla ran to the door and pulled it open. She screamed aloud, she was so happy at seeing Charlie Kemp. The young sergeant didn't even wait for the turning blades to stop before he had thrown off his headset and jumped from the pilot's seat, and then smiling and yelling himself, picked the young girl up and twirled her around.

  As Helena watched from the porch railing, she smiled, and then saw that Charlie wasn't alone. She was stunned to see the commander of the RCMP station at Jackson's Bluff, Captain Dar Wilcox, climb from the backseat, and he also had Corporal Winnie Johnstone in tow. Three men in all — that meant they had taken Helena's call very serious indeed.

  "Well, well, Captain Dar, why do we have the pleasure of having the commander of the northern territory to our humble camp?" Helena asked as she moved to the opening in the porch where she waited at the top of the wooden steps.

  Dar Wilcox removed his green bush hat and looked around the camp. He had a serious look on his tanned face.

  "Damn, did those Indians already start their day?" he asked as he wiped a bit of sweat from his brow.

  "Just missed them, why?" she asked as the captain bound up the stairs and put his arm around the old woman and hugged her to him.

  "Well, with that call of yours, I don't want anyone running into these fellas until we can find them and check out just what their story is, aay?" He looked around and then finally down at the old woman. "Just how in the hell are ya, Helena?"

  "Tolerable, Dar, just tolerable, I've been enjoying Marla's company lately."

  Wilcox looked down at Charlie and Marla, who were laughing as they approached the store with Corporal Winnie Johnstone in tow.

  "Looks like you're not the only one enjoying her company," he said as he finally released her. "You did good calling us. Speaking of which, Winnie, get in there and let the base know we arrived alive, and we'll keep in contact from time to time."

  "You plan on staying a while, Dar?" the old woman asked as the other mountie stepped onto the porch.

  "Yeah, maybe a day or two. Figure after we find out what those Russian boys are doin,' we might throw a line into the river and see what we can take back home with us."

  "That's good, Dar, real good. I know how hard you Mounties work," Helena said with a jab in the captain's rib cage.

  "You better watch it, us Canucks don't take to joking about our work!" he said as everyone laughed.

  As they entered the store, several dark shadows moved from the deeper parts of the surrounding woods and finally made their presence known to the sun and river.

  * * *

  Captain Darwood Wilcox sipped his coffee while leaning against the store's long counter. He smiled as the blond-haired and blue-eyed Charlie Kemp showed Marla the magazines he had brought her. Hell, the captain thought, the damn things are only two months old. He shook his head and then shouted into the back room.

  "Well, Winnie, did you get ahold of them?"

  Winnie Johnstone stepped from the back room, followed by Helena. The old lady shook her head.

  "Yes, Captain, told them we may be a few days up here and that we'd call in if there was trouble."

  "Dar, I don't believe you're taking this thing as seriously as you should. These fellas… well, let's just say they didn't look like the salt of the earth."

  Wilcox sat the coffee cup on the counter and smiled at the old woman. "Ah, you worry like a mother hen, prob'ly poachers is the most we're lookin' at here. If they're as heavily armed as you say, we'll observe only, and then call in the big boys. We overfly 'em with the Ranger and let them know the Mounties are still here."

  "Oh, great, you'll overfly 'em with that old rickety Bell Ranger while they have brand-new Sikorskys parked around here," Marla said as she finally tore herself away from Charlie, who in turn watched her walk away appreciatively.

  "Oh, I think we can handle them, don't you, Charlie?" Wilcox asked, frowning at the way he was looking at the young girl.

  "I can outfly anyone or anything in the northern territory," he said as he finally stopped looking at Marla's butt.

  "Cap'n, we have company here, you better look at these old boys," Winnie said as he stood at the large plate-glass window.

  Captain W
ilcox turned and walked the few paces to the window. He immediately saw six men standing by the RCMP helicopter, and then his face went flush as one of the men opened the pilot's side door and reached into the chopper. He reappeared a moment later and gently closed the door.

  "What in the hell do them fellas think they're doin', they can't — Winnie, go tell them to get away from government property."

  The corporal looked back at the captain. "Cap, have you seen what those boys are carryin'?"

  Wilcox saw immediately what his man was talking about. What he hadn't noticed in his cursory look at the men was that each one was holding an automatic rifle. He counted three AK-47s and three automatic weapons the likes of which he had never seen before. They were all dressed in camouflaged green and black fatigues, just like the ones he and his men were wearing. Then he gasped and straightened as one of the men emptied a full magazine into the engine compartment of the Ranger. The holes appeared in the housing as if by magic.

  Helena grabbed Marla by the shoulders and pulled her to the side of the counter.

  "You get up to Warriors Peak, and you stay there until you hear from me that it's okay to come home. You hear me?"

  Marla was staring at her grandmother with wide eyes. She could only nod her head that she understood, as her eyes flicked from Helena to Charlie and Winnie as they unholstered their nine-millimeter weapons from their belts. Then she saw Captain Wilcox do the same.

  "Charlie, go with Marla, make sure she's clear out the door before this mess gets too ugly, then get in the back and call Jackson's Bluff and tell them that we have a situation up here."

  Charlie was rooted to the spot of floor he was on and didn't make a move to follow the captain's orders.

  "Charlie! Move, goddamn it!"

  Finally, his paralysis broke as he ran for Marla and then they both quickly disappeared.

  "Helena, you skedaddle, too, you're too big a target."

  Wilcox flinched when he heard the old woman as she chambered a round in her twelve-gauge shotgun.

  "You shove it up your ass, Dar Wilcox. This is my property and I don't plan on seein' it shot to pieces."

  The captain shook his head as he took a deep breath. On his way to the door he tried to figure out just what in the hell he was going to say to the largest armed force he had seen in the territory since the Canadian army held maneuvers in this area over ten years ago. He didn't like the feeling of his shaking as he opened the front doors and stepped out onto the porch.

  "You men," he shouted as he took what he hoped was a stance of authority in front of the six heavily armed men who stood in a straight line facing the store, "you're in violation of Canadian law for illegal automatic weapons and destruction of government property."

  He watched the men as they made no move. They acted as though he hadn't said a word. Then he felt Winnie step out on the porch and take a position beside him.

  "Damn it, boy, I wanted you to stay in the store. The less they know the better."

  "I have a feeling these boys wouldn't care if there was a Canadian regiment in there with us, Cap."

  Wilcox knew the corporal was right: these men were killers and he was just lying to himself if he thought otherwise. He felt foolish for what he had said to the men already… like they would just lay down those horrible-looking weapons and come quietly.

  One of the camouflaged men stepped forward of the others. He brought the AK-47 up and rested the wood stock on his hip. He was now only about a dozen yards from the storefront.

  "The man and woman who left the store through the back way are now in our custody. Your radio has already been destroyed, both in your helicopter and the aerial for the store. There will be no magical rescue for you. Lay down your weapons, and only what needs to be done will be done."

  Wilcox knew immediately that Helena was right, the man spoke with a thick Russian accent. His dull expression told the Mountie that this man had been through this, or something very similar before. The man's eyes never once moved, as the others behind him also stood motionless.

  "We have men on the way here, we're not alone," the corporal said as he held his small nine-millimeter outward with both hands, still pointed low, but pointed forward nonetheless.

  The man in front of the line half turned and spoke in Russian. Before Wilcox knew what was happening and even before he could react with a scream of warning, one of the men quickly raised a rifle and with blinding speed fired one shot. The round hit Corporal Winnie Johnstone in the forehead and threw him backward one step until his momentum slammed him against the wooden wall of the front of the store where he slumped and then fell over dead.

  "I will not ask again," the man said.

  "My God, my God…" Wilcox said as he lowered his weapon to his side.

  The man in front of the line of killers frowned once more and then shook his head. He then quickly gestured at someone Wilcox could not see. As he watched, Charlie and Marla were led from around the back of the store, in between it and the icehouse. Marla looked angry as a seventh man held her arm and with the other pushed Charlie out in front of them. Without hesitation, the man who had spoken, raised his AK-47 and fired a three-round burst into the chest of Charlie Kemp, who just stared as if he were dumbfounded by his sudden death. He finally went to his knees and then to the ground face first.

  "Ah!" Wilcox screamed at the same time as Marla.

  Charlie managed to roll onto his back and look up as the man holding Marla pulled her by the hair. The man with the AK-47, its barrel still smoking stepped up to Charlie and raised the weapon one last time and fired one round into his face. Then he turned away with no expression and looked at Wilcox.

  "I said, drop your weapon. You see what happens when I am forced to give an order twice."

  Wilcox tossed the nine-millimeter out onto the gravel. Then he didn't know what to do, raise his hands or keep them lowered.

  "Thank you," the large crew-cut Russian said and raised the AK-47 one last time and fired another three round burst into Wilcox from twelve feet away. One of the rounds hit the plate-glass window and it shattered. Helena screamed and then rushed out onto the porch. She saw Dar Wilcox and tossed her shotgun away as she went to his side. The captain of Jackson's Bluff RCMP Station 12 was dead as she kneeled beside him.

  The leader of the group gestured for the man holding Marla to take her to the old woman.

  "Finish this business and let's get back to camp, we have wasted enough time here."

  The man smiled and then started pulling Marla toward the store.

  "Wait," the man said as he held up a hand. Then he cocked his head to the right as if he were listening for something. "Throw both of them in the freezer and then come back out here."

  The man stood with a struggling Marla squirming in his grasp waiting for an explanation.

  "Move, you fool, we have company."

  As the men listened, they heard the sound of an aircraft as it approached from beyond the bend in the river. The leader, Gregori Deonovich, saw something that made him blink. An old-fashioned seaplane, the likes of which he had not seen since he was a child came around the bend in the Stikine, its large wings tilting so far over that it looked in danger of hitting the rushing river only thirty feet below it.

  "Take them inside. We may need them if something unexpected comes of this."

  The man ran, dragging Marla with him and then he gathered up the old woman with surprising strength.

  Without shouting one order, Deonovich sent his men scattering. They immediately took up firing positions but he knew they had moved too late as the Grumman seaplane fell lower to the river — he couldn't believe his bad luck, the plane was going to land at the fishing camp. He actually saw the man piloting the old craft wave a greeting, and then lower it as fast as he had raised it.

  "Bring that aircraft down!" he shouted.

  Suddenly, five automatic weapons opened fire on Alice Hamilton's antique Grumman, and as they emptied magazines into the plywood frame, the
Russians became more than happy as they saw large pieces of wood flying off the seaplane as it started falling for the river below.

  Deonovich smiled as he knew the plane couldn't maintain its integrity with the large caliber rounds slamming into it.

  "Sorry, my friends, this is the wrong day to come and fish this end of the river."

  * * *

  Ryan released the autopilot with little fear. He had disengaged the new system Alice had installed several times during their long flight just to get a better feel for the ancient Grumman. Will Mendenhall, suffering from a severe backache and stiff neck from his rotten sleep in the cabin, had gratefully spelled Collins to keep Ryan company on the last leg of the flight into the fishing camp.

  "Well, here we go, hang on back there," Ryan called out as he reduced power to the two Pratt & Whitney engines. The Grumman started to ease itself from the sky as Jason watched out of his side window at the approaching Stikine River far below.

  "Damn, that has to be the most twisted river I've ever seen. You sure you can land this thing without cracking up?"

  "Come on, man, when a navy pilot can't land on water, something's wrong, wouldn't you think?" Ryan said, smiling as he pumped down the hydraulic wing flaps while using his other hand to turn the large rudder. "It's not like we're coming into a hot LZ or anything."

  "Hey, I thought you only landed on carriers. Have you ever landed in the water before?"

  "No, in the navy we call that crashing," he said as he again looked out of the side window and saw some men on the riverbank below. He raised a gloved hand and waved, and then he saw what those men were carrying and dropped his hand. As the Grumman made its shallow dive, there were several loud thumping noises.

  "What in the hell was that?" Will yelled over the loud engines.

  "Take evasive action, Ryan, we're taking ground fire!"

  Mendenhall heard the call from the rear cabin and knew it was Captain Everett who had shouted, but at first he couldn't comprehend what he said.