Jason struggled to get up.
“Hold it right there!”
Makar stood a few feet away, his Win Mag held high.
Jason raised his hands. “Don’t shoot, Makar. Please, man.”
“I have to.”
Jason’s heart nearly stopped. This was it.
I’m going to die.
Makar adjusted the rifle in his arms and aimed. Jason closed his eyes. The hunter squeezed the trigger—and the shot went wild. Jason looked up to see that Yana had bolted into Makar, knocking him off balance. She wielded a hefty broken tree branch in her hand and struck him with it as if it were a club. After the first blow landed, she raised the weapon and walloped him again. Makar went down, dropping the rifle as he attempted to protect himself with his arms. The branch swung down again … and again … mercilessly, viciously. It was as if Yana had been possessed by a demon. She cried and grunted each time she assaulted Makar, who, by the fifth bash, was no longer making any sounds.
“Yana!” Jason called, but she continued to beat the fallen predator, sobbing as she did it. She was a wild animal, her hatred boiling over and manifesting in primal violence. Jason managed to sit up and use the tree root for leverage to stand. His leg exploded in agony, but he moved forward and climbed out of the small pit. He managed to grab her arms and stop her.
Yana dropped the branch and collapsed into his arms, crying and sobbing. He held her as she buried her face in his chest. Jason gazed at the misshapen form on the ground. She had hit Makar at least fifteen times, battering the man’s head and chest, assuredly beating him to death. It was a good thing the sun had not yet come up; Jason knew that Makar’s skull was likely exposed and split, revealing the bloody organic matter within.
“You saved my life,” Jason said, still holding her.
She tried to catch her breath, as she separated from him and wiped her nose with the sleeve of Jason’s jacket.
“Thank you,” he added.
“I saw him just as I finished peeing,” she said.
“It’s okay, he’s gone now.”
“His friend is not far behind.”
“Maybe. Trey could be on a completely different side of the forest.” He knew better, though. The sound of the gunshot had carried farther than he would have thought. There was no question that Trey had heard it.
“We can’t stay here, Yana.”
“Did I kill him?” She was panting. She turned to look, but Jason took her chin in his hand and lifted her head toward him.
“I think so.”
She nodded. “Good. He deserved to die.”
Jason reached down and picked up Makar’s .338. His lessons at the range were going to come in handy, after all. He inserted an arm through the sling and wore the weapon on his back.
“Come on, let’s keep moving toward the lake.” He took her hand, and she let him lead her onward, just as a preview of dawn crept over the forest.
38
Some time prior to Jason and Yana’s encounter with Makar, Annie thought she might be lost. After a long period of trekking through the forest, it seemed she was getting nowhere. Everything looked the same in the dark. Captain Baines’s high-beam flashlight helped, but it only illuminated a circle of space in front of her. In a way, it created a kaleidoscopic effect as she moved forward, due to the similarity of the trees and foliage around her. Annie attempted to pinpoint landmarks as she went, but it was near impossible to do so. At one point, she heard shouts in the distance, but she didn’t know if the voices belonged to Greg and his friend Louis, or if they might have belonged to Trey or Makar. She had turned in that direction, but a half hour went by without her hearing another sound other than the bugs and the breeze in the trees.
Finally, the effort caught up with her and she had to rest. She found a large rock and sat on it to catch her breath and rub her wrists. The wounds smarted and itched, and her legs were sore. Her sneakers weren’t built for the rugged terrain, and they were taking a toll on her feet. Mostly, she was cold. Annie was astonished that it could be so frigid at night in the middle of August.
Looking at her cell phone, she saw that the time was nearly four in the morning. She’d been trudging through the forest for hours.
Christ, I’m lost.
She spent a few minutes with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, attempting to spread a blanket of calmness over her—otherwise she thought she might panic. Annie had always been a levelheaded person, someone who didn’t let stress get to her. Now, however, the unfamiliarity of the alien surroundings was doing a number on her psyche. She wished she had gone for Baines’s patrol car instead of diving into the woods. At least she could have used his radio to call for help.
Was there a way to make it back to the cabin? Could she possibly retrace her steps?
Not wanting to waste any more time, Annie stood and headed back in the direction she’d come. However, she was well aware that she could be completely turned around. Without a compass, she had no idea if she was walking in circles or moving away from the cabin. The whole thing was madness, every bit of it—the case, the revelation that Greg Paley was essentially The Bear, the fact that her neighbor Jason was mixed up in the mess, and the realization that she was lost in the goddamned woods. She could just imagine what her SSA was going to say—if she ever saw him again.
Stop it! You’re going to get out of here! You’re going to—
There it was again. A human shout.
This time, Annie knew exactly where it was coming from. She angled to the right and kept moving. The light beam led the way, but still the landscape continued to appear the same. It was an endless loop of moving through a dark tunnel of trees.
After twenty minutes of walking, however, the trees thinned and she came to a clearing with a stream flowing from her left to right. Annie took the precaution of using a tree for cover as she peered out into the relatively treeless corridor that ran through the woods. She aimed the flashlight along both banks of the stream and into the wall of forest on the opposite side.
Should she cross the stream? She was certain the voice had come from the other side.
Annie inched out from behind the tree and approached the edge of the clearing, some twenty feet to the water’s rocky edge. The stream didn’t look deep. She could probably wade across, but it was going to be damned freezing.
She started off into the open and reached the bank of the stream. Annie thought it best not to attempt the crossing while holding a flashlight, so she turned it off and stuck the end in her jeans front pocket—
—and a gunshot cracked on the opposite bank.
Annie felt the heat of the bullet, but it was a miss. She bolted back to the trees.
Another shot, another miss.
Whoever was shooting was near, on the other side of the stream.
Panting, she pulled around the nearest tree large enough to provide cover. She froze behind it and waited. Unless the shooter was wearing night-vision goggles, it was surely going to be difficult for him to see her. She stuck out her head and looked. A good section of the clearing and the other bank was visible. Annie stared across the water at the trees, hunting for any sign of movement.
And there he was. She could see him, for she caught a quick glint of light, perhaps a reflection off of the lens on the rifle scope. A man huddled behind a clump of bushes and a large rock. His head, shoulder, and rifle were exposed. Annie couldn’t discern who it was, but she knew it wasn’t Jason.
He fired the gun again, this time hitting uncomfortably close to her tree.
Shit, maybe he can see me, just like I can see him!
She knew she had to do what he least expected—and that was to attack him. Could she hit him from there? It would be a terribly lucky shot, but she had to try. Annie unsnapped the holster and drew Captain Baines’s Glock. Throwing caution to the wind, she rolled out around the tree and assumed a Weaver stance, aiming at where the muzzle flashes had come from on the other side.
He fired again …
and struck the tree.
Annie squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked with a loud discharge, and the man fell as he emitted a loud grunt. He dropped the rifle, too—it now lay unattended on the rock.
No way. Did I hit him? I really hit him?
There was silence.
Now what?
If he was faking, he’d pick her off as soon as she started toward him.
The problem was that Jason and the woman who had been trafficked and held prisoner were probably on that side of the stream, too. Since she had come to the river, it must mean she hadn’t been retracing her steps; and if someone was shooting at her from the other bank, it made sense that Jason had already crossed himself. She had to risk it.
Holding the Glock high, she ventured out, slowly walking into the clearing. The rifle remained on the rock. No movement.
Then she heard a light moan.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“Help … me … uhh …”
“Identify yourself!”
“Louis … Freund …”
“You’re hit?”
“Uhh …” His voice died out. Either he was a brilliant actor or he was truly in bad shape.
Annie continued toward the stream. She reached the bank, tested the water, and then plunged forward. It felt like ice. She drew a loud intake of breath through her teeth and suppressed a yelp as she moved forward, one leg after the other, until the water level rose to her lower thighs.
It took a couple of minutes, but she made it without losing her balance on the rocky bottom. It was the one case in which her sneakers and their rubber traction had come in handy. Annie climbed up the other bank, drew her weapon, and moved slowly toward the clump of rock and brush. She pulled the flashlight out of her pocket with the other hand and flicked it on. From twenty yards away, she recognized Freund’s Winchester Model 70.
“Show me your hands!”
She heard another groan.
Annie took a few steps forward. “Mr. Freund? Show me your hands!”
“Can’t …”
She believed him. Annie approached, skirted around the brush, and saw that Louis Freund lay on his back, one hand covering a serious wound at the base of his neck on the right side.
That was a lucky shot! she told herself, adding that to the list of extraordinary events that had occurred so far that night.
Annie squatted beside him, first running the beam over his body to make sure he wasn’t hiding another weapon. “Where’s Paley?” she asked.
Freund’s eyes were clenched shut in pain. He tried to shake his head. “Don’t … know …” His voice was a crackly whisper.
“Is anyone else nearby?”
“Maybe … Ma … kar … I think …”
“And the girl? Jason?”
Freund barely shook his head.
Annie gently moved his hand, telling him to let her see. He was bleeding profusely. Although she hadn’t severed his spine, she had possibly hit an artery.
He was going to die if he didn’t get medical attention quickly.
She hated to be cruel, but she thought … tough shit.
Annie reached for his trouser pocket, frisked him through the fabric, and felt the jiggle of metal objects. Her car keys. She pocketed them, went over and picked up the rifle, and stood over his head. “I’ll get you help when I can. As you know, it’s a little hard to call the authorities out here. I’m sorry. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
He just stared at her and bared his teeth, like a wild animal.
“Keep pressing on your neck. It’s all you can do for n—”
“Hey! Come back! Trey! I found them! Over here!”
The shout wasn’t far away. Near the stream.
It was followed by a gunshot.
Annie turned and moved in that direction. She slipped the Winchester sling around her shoulder to wear it on her back and drew the Glock. With the flashlight in her left hand, she allowed the beam to lead the way, although dawn was beginning to creep over the forest.
Although she tried to be focused on the task at hand, Annie couldn’t help thinking, Have I just killed a man?
If so, it would be the first time. She attempted to identify any feelings that might have bubbled to the surface, but found that she couldn’t. She had expected to be upset, maybe a little remorseful, or at the least a bit shocked. But she felt nothing. The emotions weren’t there. What did that mean?
It means you’re pissed off that you have to do this, she told herself. You’re having to clean up the ugly mess these misogynists have made.
“Trey! Over here!”
She hurtled forward toward the sound. Locating the source, however, proved more difficult than she thought it would be. Annie decided to flick off the flashlight to avoid being seen by the caller, whom she presumed to be Makar. She thought she had detected an accent in the speech. Had he found Jason and Yana?
Annie pushed ahead, ignoring the scrapes and slashes of tree branches and brush. Five, ten minutes went by. She feared she had missed him, or he had moved on farther ahead.
The ground ahead was darker, some kind of hole. Annie turned on the flashlight and cast the beam over the terrain. There was a body in a shallow depression. She approached carefully, shined the light over the head and torso, and she winced. The man had been severely beaten with a blunt object. She squatted closer. It was indeed Makar Utkin.
Who did this? Trey? Not Jason! No way …
She couldn’t imagine Jason Ward inflicting this kind of violence on another person. Had Trey gone off on one of his alleged anger spurts and murdered his best friend? Not likely. It couldn’t have been his father, or could it? No, that wasn’t rational. It had to be either Jason or … the trafficking victim. Of course. Yana Kravec, whether she was traveling with Jason or not, must have committed the deed. She would have possessed the hatred and need for vengeance.
Annie moved on, thinking that all of this had to end soon before others lost their lives.
39
Daylight was slowly streaming through the branches and leaves. Birdsong filled the air, replacing the drone of insects. The gray dawn brought a mist that hovered over the ground, reminding Jason of paintings that depicted fantasy scenarios—he had a wild incongruous thought that Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretel might show up. As long as the Big Bad Wolf stayed away, that’d be all right.
As he and Yana stumbled along, he kept thinking, Where the hell is a road? The lake? Anything?
The forest seemed endless. He had no idea how far they were from the cabin or his car or any sort of civilization. He was about ready to stop and veer toward the stream just to give them a better geographical landmark, but Yana’s legs suddenly buckled. She collapsed and rolled on to her side, coughing and wheezing.
“Yana?” He halted and knelt beside her. She made a soft choking sound as she cleared her throat and spit dark phlegm.
“Sorry …” she said.
“That’s okay.” He wasn’t doing so well, either. The gash on his leg wasn’t deep, but it still bled. His trouser leg was soaked in dark redness, and he’d been tracking a little as he hiked.
“I can’t go on …” There were tears in her eyes. “I can’t …”
“We have to. There’s got to be a road somewhere soon. Look, it’s morning. There will be people out. We’ll find someone to help us.” She continued to breathe heavily, her eyes closed. Jason felt her forehead—she was burning up. “Damn, you have a fever.”
He stood and took a good look at their surroundings. Nothing in sight but trees. Where could Trey be? It was only a matter of time before he tracked them down.
“All right, let’s rest,” he said. “For a little while.”
He removed Makar’s rifle from his back and set it on the ground, and he sat on a flat rock beside her. Examining the wound on his leg, Jason saw that it was dirty, black, and ugly. He imagined that all sorts of germs were having a grand time infecting it, and if he ever got back to the real
world he’d end up losing the limb to gangrene.
Would be my luck …
Jason reached in his pocket and pulled out the cell phone. It was down to 18 percent of battery life, but he felt a burst of excitement when he saw that there was a single bar of service on the grid.
“Holy shit!” He punched “talk” and heard a dial tone. Jason immediately dialed 9-1-1. His heart picked up its rhythm when he heard ringing on the other end. The call answered—and a voice recording said, “All of our operators are busy. Please hold the line and someone will be with you as quickly as possible.”
“Really?” He cursed aloud. “At 6 a.m. on a Saturday? They’re busy?”
He waited as an elevator music arrangement of “Nights in White Satin” played in his ear. It made him want to throw up.
Then the connection filled with static. “Shit.” He stood, his leg smarting as he did so. He’d been ignoring the pain up to that point, but there was nothing he could do about it as it worsened. He moved away from Yana, limping forward in an attempt to gain a better service signal. The line went in and out as the song selection switched to “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown).” Jason said aloud, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me …”
He stopped and gasped, staring straight ahead.
Two black bear cubs stood watching him, positioned about twenty feet away. Their backs were around three feet high from the ground and their bodies were slender. Jason had read a little about bears when he was considering joining Mr. Paley on a hunting trip. Mother bears usually had their cubs in winter, so by August the little ones would be six or seven months old. Small enough to still look like cubs, but big enough to be dangerous. Because at that age, the cubs were still living with—
Jason immediately ended the call and froze.
—their mother.
The animals stood next to some kind of berry bush, where many of the small globules of fruit had fallen on the ground under it. Both bears made vocal noises not quite mature enough to be threatening growls as they stood their ground. Jason turned his head left and right, searching for other movement nearby. She had to be around. It was breakfast time; the mom and her teenagers were out looking for food. These bears were old enough to wander away from Mama, and they had found a treasure—but they wouldn’t have roamed far. Mama bears fiercely protected their young at that age.
In the Hush of the Night Page 25