The road wound through the pines, the elevation rising and falling. Jack felt like they spent more time going uphill, but he knew the area was more or less flat on average. They’d only been walking for two hours after getting a late start when they reached a long downhill section. As they approached a sweeping left-hand curve, Dusty returned, crouched down and whined. Jack could tell something was bothering her, but not what.
Hoover stopped and was staring at a point well around the corner, ears cocked. Jack had worked with both the breeder and a trainer long and hard to train the dogs to watch for trouble. With lots of custom guns and repair jobs on the property, he wasn’t comfortable with just an alarm. He wanted a deterrent and help with keeping an eye on the place. Few things were a better deterrent that two huge dogs that guarded their turf.
He unslung his rifle and popped the chest pack loose from the main pack straps. The weight shifted off the pack frame and settled on his shoulders. Jack dropped the big pack on the ground, leaving the chest pack hanging from its own harness. He cinched the body strap tight to keep it from flopping around.
“Hoover, stay.” Jack headed off the road, cutting the corner toward a clump of pine trees further up the corner. Taking the binoculars from his chest pack, he scanned along the road. He spotted a red car with three people standing around it. He tried to hear what they were shouting at each other, but he was still too far away. He studied the scene for a moment as facts fell into place. A red Subaru Outback with the right side on the gravel shoulder. There were two men and one woman with the car between them. At the rear corner on the driver’s side was a woman in a royal blue vest, a dark blue long sleeve shirt, and jeans. She was holding something thin and curved in her hand.
The two men at the front of the car moved toward the rear. One was a big man, at least compared to his companion. Both dressed like local farmhands or ranchers in jeans, earth colored jackets, and baseball caps. As they came around the driver’s side, the woman moved to the opposite corner. Jack didn’t like what he was seeing. He stowed the binoculars and crept forward. The two men split up. She waited while they closed in from both sides of the car. When they were close, she darted forward toward the smaller man. The tire-iron flashed out, he ducked, covering his head as she raced past. She was now at the front and the men at the rear.
Jack worked his way forward. There was plenty of cover, but everyone at the car was so intent on what they were doing no one bothered to look up the road. At fifty yards the shouts coming from the people ahead were clear enough.
“Leave us alone! You come any closer, and I’ll hit you again you son of a bitch!”
The big man worked his way toward the front of the car. “Now girl, I told you, we’re just looking for a little fun. You just do what you’re told, and we won’t have to hurt that little girl.”
The big man jumped forward, trying to get a hand on the tire iron she was swinging, but she was fast. As she swung at him, he stepped back, collided with the corner of the car and lost his footing on the gravel. She spun and charged at the smaller man swinging the tire iron. The smaller man, terrified of the weapon, covered his head and ducked to avoid the blow. She scampered past and was now at the back of the car again. Jack wasn’t sure how long they’d been playing this game, but from fifty yards away she was looking frazzled. What the hell do I do?
Jack had no intention of letting this get any further, but he didn’t want to just shoot them either. He opened the case for his ear-plugs, figuring this might be the exception that proved the rule about the stupidity of warning shots. Things went from bad to worse in a hurry. The big man pulled out a handgun and fired a shot through the driver’s window. The gun belched flame and smoke, a small cloud rose from the barrel.
“Damn it,” the big man yelled. “I’m tired of playing girl. Drop that tire iron, and we’ll have ourselves a little party. Maybe we won’t have to shoot you and have at that little girl.”
The woman screamed. Jack could also hear muffled screams coming from inside the car. Both men were on the driver’s side of the car now. With the window shattered, it would be easy to get the door open, and there was nowhere for the occupant to go. The woman saw the futility of her situation, dropped the tire iron and fell to her knees.
Not gonna happen. Jack set his hat on the ground and dropped the ear-plugs into it as he shifted to a better spot. From a kneeling position, he lined up on the man with the handgun. Both men were moving down the edge of the car toward the woman. Jack paused until the skinny guy was standing right behind his partner, both grinning like idiots. Jack squeezed the trigger. The rifle stock slammed against his shoulder, and the concussive sound of the shot hammered his ears.
Four hundred and five grains of lead sped toward the target at 1,740 feet per second. One hundred and fifty feet after it left the barrel, the bullet slammed into the man holding the handgun. It punched through his sternum, heart, and spine almost without notice. A spray of blood, flesh, and bone chips trailed as it exited his body. With plenty of energy remaining, the bullet slammed into the second man with similar results. Hydrostatic shock generated by the big heavy bullet left a massive wound channel. The hearts of both men were torn to shreds, first by the bullet and then the shockwave of its passing.
The man with the gun rocked back into the body of his partner and dropped the handgun. His partner stumbled back, and they both toppled together into a single pile on the ground. Jack worked the lever, ejecting the spent case and loading another round into the chamber. He watched the fallen men for a few more seconds through the sights. There was no motion.
A SECOND SHOT echoed off the nearby hills, and the woman screamed again thinking they’d shot her daughter. A moment later she heard the girl calling to her as she climbed out of the car. Her eyes fixed on the young girl, she tried to rise, to reach her daughter but something held her in place. Her mind raced, trying to understand what had happened. She wondered if they’d shot her instead. Was shock preventing her from feeling it? Had he missed? In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the young girl was in her arms. It was then she noticed the men lying on the ground, unmoving. It made no sense. Had he shot himself by accident?
Jack stood, ears ringing from the shot, earplugs, and hat lying on the ground, forgotten. Rifle aimed at the ground, he jogged toward the car and the girls.
Dusty ran forward then slowed to a walk as she approached the woman. She was shy around new people, they reacted with fear, and she didn’t like that. Head down, at a slow walk, she got to within eight feet then dropped belly down on the ground. She scooted forward another four feet and stopped, resting head on her paws, waiting. The woman and her daughter sat on the ground holding each other, tears of relief, streaming down the woman’s face.
“Mom, it’s another man.” The girl pointed up the road toward Jack. “Mom! He has a gun.”
The woman grabbed the tire iron and spun to face Jack.
“Whoa.” Jack stopped, still twenty feet away, and knelt down. He set the rifle on the ground, careful to avoid scuffing it, then stood, hands held wide. “Ma’am I’m not going hurt you or your girl. I’m sure those men are dead, but I’d be more comfortable if that gun wasn’t lying right next to them.”
“You stay where you are!”
“Okay, okay. Dusty, come.”
It was then woman noticed the big dog lying on the road less than five-feet away. She turned, her eyes widening as the size of the dog registered. Dusty gave a snuffle then turned and headed back up the road to stand by Jack.
“Ma’am, do you know anything about guns?”
The girl who was maybe fourteen or fifteen ran and picked up the gun. “I’ve shot a gun with my dad, so you just stay away.”
“Lexi, bring that here,” she said as she backed toward her daughter. The girl gave the gun to her mother.
Jack was sure he recognized the gun as a Remington 1858 black powder revolver. Most likely a modern replica. He couldn’t tell if it was a cartridge conversion or cap a
nd ball. Judging from the dissipating cloud of smoke and the lingering smell he guessed black powder. “Ma’am, that gun is a single action revolver, and the way you’re holding it, it won’t do you any good.”
Jack took a few steps sideways away from his rifle. He needed to get them calmed down and being near a gun right now would not do the job.
“You stay there!”
“Ma’am, you see my rifle on the ground there? I’m moving over here away from it. I don’t mean you any harm. So, just try to calm down. I’ll sit over here where I can’t reach the rifle, okay? Then we’ll talk.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Sit on the ground right there by the side of the road. If that dog tries to attack me, I’ll shoot it, and then I’ll shoot you.”
“If I’d meant you harm, I wouldn’t have let you get to that revolver. Speaking of… about that gun—”
“No! I’m keeping it. You stay there.”
“That’s fine, but you can’t fire that gun the way it is now. Even so, I’d appreciate it if you’d point it over that way.” Jack paused, trying to think of some other way to de-escalate the situation.
“Look, my rifle’s way over there and I’m sitting here. Why would I do that if I was trying to hurt anyone?”
“Mom, he’s right, besides, if he moves you can still shoot him before he can stand up.” She looked at her daughter, then Jack, sitting on the ground with his arms resting on his knees. Jack’s mouth was too dry to swallow, but he tried anyway.
It seemed to take forever, but she took a deep breath and lowered the gun.
“Thank you.”
“Now, to make that gun work, you have to pull the hammer back before it fires. Point it in that direction and pull the trigger, it won’t shoot.”
“Why are you telling me that?”
“If you intend to carry a gun, you ought to know how to work it.”
She considered whether taking advice from a strange man was a good idea. A small sigh escaped her lips, as she turned and raised the gun, pointing up the hill to the west. She gingerly pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. “How did you know?”
“I’m a gunsmith, it’s my job to know. I can’t be sure from here, but I think that’s a .44, and it’s a handful. Have you ever heard of Dirty Harry?”
Surprised, her mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Do you feel lucky punk? Well, do ya?”
Jack laughed, and almost immediately felt nauseous. “Ah, ma’am I need to move, I’m gonna be sick.” Jack rolled over and heaved. The strength went out of his arms, it was all he could do to not fall face first in his own vomit. Jack’s stomach turned again and he wretched, coughing. He stayed that way until he was sure it had passed. He still felt sick, but his stomach seemed to be finished for now.
Jack didn’t know if it was the release of tension, the adrenaline, or the profound realization that he’d just killed two men that had triggered his reaction. Perhaps the rapid change from a life-threatening situation to laughter had just pushed things over the edge.
“Mister, are you okay?”
It was the girl. Jack rolled back to a sitting position and wiped his mouth. Dusty lay down and put her head on her paws, unsure what the problem was. She knew the pack leader was nervous but not why.
“No, not really. I will be. I’ve never shot anyone before…but I sure as hell just killed those two men.” Jack closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on his emotions.
He could hear voices, but they seemed far way.
“Mister? Here, drink this. It’s water.”
Jack looked at the girl. She was kneeling down, holding the water out at arm’s length. He noticed the woman was now over by the bodies, maybe seeing if they needed help, more likely making sure they were dead.
“Thanks.” Jack took the bottle. He took a swig, swirled around and spit it out. He rinsed his mouth once more before he took a deep drink from the bottle.
“Ah, that’s better.”
The woman had returned. “They’re dead, and they deserved it.”
She stopped and put her arms around her daughter. Jack noticed she was no longer holding the gun.
“They came up the road heading toward Susanville. I thought maybe they could help with the car. But the big one, he grabbed me and tried to feel me up. I got away, and after a few trips around the car with them chasing, Lexi tossed out the tire iron I keep between the seats. I got a good shot in on the skinny one, I think maybe I broke his arm. After that, he wasn’t all that eager to get hit again.”
“That might do it.”
“We’d been going round and round for what seemed like forever when I guess he tired of the game and shot out the window. I thought sure he’d killed Lexi. When I realized he hadn’t, I knew I’d have to give them what they wanted, maybe then they’d leave her alone.”
Jack looked at the girl, tall, long blond hair, sweet round face, large eyes, long legs, with a body just on its way to womanhood.
“No.” He shook his head. “Probably not.”
Jack sighed. “I could wish I were somewhere else, but I guess in a way I’m glad I was here. Damn it. I was just going to scare them off until he pulled out that gun.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, then Jack got up. “I need to get Hoover and the cart. Will you be okay here?”
“Who’s Hoover?” she asked.
“My other dog. This is Dusty, I’m Jack. Jack Donovan.”
“I’m Rachael Madison and this is my daughter Lexi. Look… Jack, thanks for doing what you did. You probably saved our lives.”
Jack nodded. “Why don’t you get your stuff from the car. I’m heading north. Lakeview first, to check on some friends and from there I’ll be heading home. I live a bit north of Omak, just this side of the Canadian border. I can at least get you as far as the next town.”
“You’re walking?”
“Everyone is walking,” He called back over his shoulder as he grabbed his rifle and headed back up the road.
Rachael just stood, staring. Jack stopped part way up the hill and bent down to pick something up. As he disappeared around the corner, she shook herself free from the daze of the fading adrenaline rush. She turned to the Subaru and popped the back hatch.
Lexi stopped to stare at the two dead bodies, then walked forward and gave the big one a hard kick in the leg.
“Asshat.”
Rachael pulled boxes from the car to reach the suitcases. She wondered if she could trust this man. His reaction to the shooting surprised her. Rachael wondered what it would take to kill someone, even when it was to save someone else. Why had he involved himself? Was this man expecting something in return? I’ll find out soon enough, she thought. He doesn’t seem the type.
Checking the contents of various boxes, she left all but two. Photographs and jewelry got transferred to an empty box, music CDs to the other. She moved her dresses and heels from the big suitcase to a box. It was unlikely anyone would steal them before she got the car towed. She focused on taking things she would miss if they were taken.
She gave Lexi a roll of duct tape and told her to tape up the broken window to keep the rain out and went back to sorting.
Jack came down the hill with Hoover and the cart. His backpack was once again strapped in place and his hat back where it belonged. He stopped and watched the women work around the car for a few minutes.
“Rachael?”
“Hmm?”
“You need to lighten the load as much as you can, we’ve got a long walk ahead of us. Rugged clothing, extra boots or shoes, essential stuff.”
“I did, I can come back for this stuff when I find someone to fix the car.”
“I wouldn’t count on coming back. It’s possible I’m wrong, but we’ve got twenty miles of walking before we reach a town.”
Jack thought about explaining the situation right then, but he needed to get away from the dead bodies. “You’re planning to carry all that?”
Rachael stopped sorting boxes, stood and
looked at the pile on the ground. She glanced at Jack, surprised at the size of his backpack. It was obvious Jack had his hands full and wouldn’t be able to help. Her gaze returned to the boxes in the back of the Outback and the bags and boxes on the ground.
“I guess not.”
“Clothing, shoes, or boots you can walk in. Stuff you can’t stand to lose. The kind of things you’d take if you were fleeing a burning building.”
“Right.” Rachael went back to sorting.
Jack just shook his head. He’d gone through the same thing, and it wasn’t easy. Most of it would have to be left behind, and Jack knew they’d never be back to the car. He didn’t want to give them more bad news after what they’d been through. Another hour of walking would bring them to the campground, and Jack needed to be away from here.
Jack set his pack down and moved toward the dead men. He needed to be sure nothing useful got left behind. Jack glanced at the bodies, and his jaw clenched, He paused, closed his eyes and swallowed. He didn’t want to get closer, but he had to check.
“Oh man.” Jack winced and backed up a few steps.
At least one man had voided his bowels, and the stench was horrible. Jack pulled his buff up to cover his nose trying to block the smell. He rolled his neck and heard it pop. It had been years since Jack felt as tense as he did now. He squeezed his eyes shut. Sooner started, sooner done, he thought. With a sigh, he stepped up to the men again.
The big man wore a gun belt with a large knife, a holster for the revolver, and two smaller pouches. He’d buckled it over the top of his pants. Jack opened one of the smaller pouches. “Yeah, spare cylinders, it’s still cap and ball.”
Lexi was standing close by, holding her nose. “What’s a cap and ball?”
“The gun your mom has. It’s a replica of a Civil War-era Remington 1858 New Army. These,” Jack held up a cylinder, “are how you reload it quickly. Which is not all that quick when you get right down to it. It uses black powder and round balls.”
Rachael came over to see what was going on.
Solar Storm: Homeward Bound Page 5