by Don Easton
“And if he was wearin’ a wire or somethin’, Luke would have found that when he searched him.”
“For shore,” Zach replied.
“I’m pretty sure nobody knows he’s here. Still, I told Luke to keep an eye in all directions in case someone was coming to try and rescue him.”
Goddamn it.
“But the more I think about it,” Jeremiah continued, “I don’t think anyone will.”
“Yup, I agree. Once we find him, we can pretty much do anything we want. Ain’t nobody will know. If we take ’im alive, we can skin ’im like a possum and find out what he knows.”
That’s a pleasant thought.…
“It’s cold. Let’s go back inside,” Jeremiah suggested.
As the sound of their footsteps retreated, Jack peeked around the corner. Luke had reached the top of the tower and was using the binoculars to scan in all directions.
Okay, maybe he’ll tire of doing that after a while. He then eyed Zach and Jeremiah. They remained standing inside the open door to the bunker. Come on, guys. Go back inside where it’s warm and close the door.
Neither did, and over the next half-hour there were a few shouts back and forth to indicate that neither Reverend Bob or Luke had seen anything.
At 8:00 p.m. Luke complained that he was cold and a moment later Jeremiah relayed that Zach would relieve him as soon as he went to the washroom and then they’d take turns manning the tower in one-hour shifts.
A few minutes later Jack saw Zach climb up the tower and Luke then descended and joined Jeremiah at the entrance to the bunker.
Are they going to stand there all night? Jack felt his frustration growing, then decided that he’d chance making his next move at 9:00 p.m. when Jeremiah was climbing up the tower to take his turn in the hope that Zach would be distracted at that point.
At 8:30 p.m., Jeremiah and Luke, both with their weapons slung over their shoulders, left the bunker and started strolling toward the hangar. Really, guys? Couldn’t you go for a walk someplace else? He ducked back and listened at the sound of their footsteps crunching on the gravel, coming closer with each step. Come on, you assholes! Turn around and go back to the bunker!
Seconds later he knew they’d passed by the front of the hangar and were approaching along the side toward the end where he was hiding.
Shit!
He tried to ignore the pain in his knee and hobbled along close to the hangar where rain had washed away and compacted some of the gravel. He then rounded the corner to the far side and stopped.
The footsteps followed, and when he heard them approaching along the back of the hangar he knew he was in serious trouble. He couldn’t continue around to the front because he’d then be visible from both the tower and the camera monitor.
He looked at the treeline. No way. They’d hear me and I’d be cut in half long before I could reach it.
Desperation sunk in. Can I jump these guys when they round the corner? Even with my bad knee, surprise will be on my side. If I grab the strap to an M16 and tear it off whoever’s shoulder and use it before the other guy shoots me or I’m knocked to the ground, maybe — Jack paused.
Shit, I’m going to die.
As hopeless as he felt it was, he crouched near the corner of the hangar with his hands readied in front of him as he prepared to leap up on one leg in a surprise attack.
Reverend Bob’s voice erupted from near the door of the bunker. “Still nothing?” he yelled.
“Not a thing,” Zach yelled back from the tower.
“Where’s Jeremiah and Zach?” Reverend Bob yelled.
“We’re here,” Jeremiah yelled out from around the corner where Jack was crouched.
The crunch of gravel retreated and he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He stared at his trembling hands, then made fists to try and stop it.
I’m getting far too old for this shit.
“He’s had to have holed up behind a rock or something,” Reverend Bob yelled. “We’ll get him sooner or later. Either if he tries to move or after daybreak.”
“Could be a long night for him,” Zach shouted down. “It’s starting to rain again.”
“Yes, a little help from the Almighty doesn’t hurt,” Reverend Bob replied.
Jeremiah’s voice then sounded from the opposite side of the hangar. “How did he get the bikers to help him? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Maybe they didn’t,” Reverend Bob replied. “Vath might have set us up.”
Their voices then became murmurs, so Jack crept back along the end of the hangar and peeked around the corner. He saw Reverend Bob go back into the bunker while Jeremiah and Luke stood in the open doorway.
In ten minutes it would be Jeremiah’s turn to go the tower to replace Zach. That’s when I’ll head for the treeline. But then what? What chance do I have of one person leaving on his own and me jumping them at the gate? Or even trying to hide and hope someone shows up to rescue me?
The rain had started again, heavier than before. He stood close to the hangar for protection, but the wind was gusting and his jeans were soaked within minutes.
Maybe it’s good, he told himself as the rain ran down his face. It’ll help cover the noise from the gravel. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes to go. But then what? Think!
As he stood there shivering he put his hands in his pockets and felt the piece of plastic that he’d used to wrap Ferg’s hair sample.
What were his last few moments like? Thinking you survived being run down, only to be shot in the face.…
He fidgeted with the piece of plastic between his thumb and forefinger as his mind replayed what Ferg went through. It gave him an idea.
An idea that might work if I can make it to the shooting range without being riddled with bullets.
Chapter Forty-Eight
At 9:00 p.m. Jack saw Jeremiah head toward the tower. Zack was also watching and started to descend the tower to meet him.
Perfect! Should give me time!
He hurried back to the far side of the hangar and then cut out across open ground toward the treeline. He moved slow as he tried to be stealthy, wincing each time the gravel crunched out of fear that Luke would hear him. When he was three-quarters of the way across, he looked back and saw Jeremiah’s silhouette entering the top of the tower. Forget stealth — go!
Moments later he crawled behind a bush and waited. There was no yelling from the tower that he’d been seen; better yet, there was no barrel of a sniper rifle aimed in his direction. Luke also hadn’t appeared from around the side of the hangar. So far, so good.
His next goal was easy to achieve. It took only a couple of minutes to make his way through the bushes to connect with the road leading out. When he arrived at the edge of the bushes, he paused.
Okay … focus. I don’t think this section of the road is monitored … but he also mentioned sensors. Where the hell would they be? If the perimeter is covered 100 percent, what percentage is the inside covered?
He crawled on his belly through the mud and clay on the road, pausing to roll in it to camouflage himself, before continuing on. Although the rain added to his discomfort, it also aided him in being able to slide downward with less effort. In places where the design of the road offered a small embankment or ditch, he used it to his advantage. In other areas, he kept to the ruts.
For the parts of the road that he knew were monitored, he cut a wide swath around them through the forest, but out of fear of tripping a sensor, even in those areas he decided to crawl as much as he could.
It was 10:30 p.m. when he reached the turnoff to the range. In the darkness he could make out the birdhouse containing a camera that had strategically been placed on a tree to monitor the main road.
He lay in the mud and stared at it. If I wasn’t injured, I could probably run down there and be at the gate in ten minutes … if help was arriving … which it isn’t. Then again, there are at least two cameras monitoring the road between here and the gate. I wouldn’t have ten mi
nutes before they’d be on me.
He crawled off the road onto the lane leading to the range and didn’t rise until he got to the clearing. Here he was completely out of sight of the tower and he hoped in an area where there were no sensors or cameras.
* * *
It was approaching midnight when Reverend Bob pointed to a camera monitor and yelled, “I see him! I see him!”
Jeremiah and Luke raced down the flight of stairs to the command centre.
“There, there!” Reverend Bob exclaimed, stabbing at a monitor with his finger.
Both Jerimiah and Luke huddled in for a look. One of the monitors showed Jack heading down the road. He was limping, then stumbled and fell before getting to his feet again.
“He came out of the bush here,” Reverend Bob indicated, touching the screen. “If he’d come out a little farther down, I wouldn’t have seen him.
“I think you may have winged him,” Luke suggested.
“Luke, hang on to your M16!” Reverend Bob ordered. “Jeremiah, you keep monitoring.”
“Dad! Bullshit!” Jeremiah said. “I’m not your little boy anymore. I’m coming with you!”
Reverend Bob was taken back. “Uh —”
“He’ll be out of camera range in a couple of minutes,” Luke noted.
Reverend Bob turned to Luke. “Okay, you stay. With luck he’ll be dead in a couple of minutes. Otherwise, you may see him when he enters the next zone before the gate. Zach won’t be able to see him from where he is, but phone him and let ’im know what’s going on.”
Reverend Bob piled into his SUV as Jeremiah, clutching an M16, hurried to get into the passenger seat. Seconds later they careened down the road to where Jack had been seen.
The tension, coupled with the excitement they felt, reduced both of them to silence. The only noise was that of the windshield wipers and the sound of the engine as both men stared out the window, trying to see past the outer reaches of the headlights.
It was when they rounded a sharp curve that Jeremiah broke the silence. “There he is!”
Jack was visible in the headlights, limping and scrambling wildly down a straight section of the road ahead.
“Get ready!” Reverend Bob yelled as he jabbed at the power button to lower the driver and passenger windows. “If he bolts left, pass the gun to me! If he goes right, then you shoot ’im.”
The headlights revealed the panic on Jack’s face when he glanced back and saw the SUV racing toward him. He spun to the left, but only took one step before slipping in the mud and landing face-first on the road. He started to rise and then slipped again.
At this point Reverend Bob knew Jack didn’t have time to get to safety — and believed he knew it, too, when he raised his muddy fist and gave him the finger.
“That fucker! We got ’im!” Reverend Bob screamed while ramming the gas pedal tight to the floor.
Chapter Forty-Nine
It happened in an instant. A loud zing followed by a thunderous crash of twisting metal and broken glass. The cable, smeared with mud and tied diagonally across the road from one tree to another, was virtually invisible until the last second. It took less than that for the SUV to hurtle along the cable and into the tree it was tied to.
Jack scrambled to his feet, grabbing a jagged fist-sized rock he’d placed in his pocket as he lurched toward the SUV. He’d expected the airbags to go off, but was hoping that he’d be able to bash one of them on the head and grab a weapon before they recovered. His intended target was the passenger, thinking there was more chance of that person being armed.
He didn’t know who the passenger would be because the headlights had blinded him and he’d only caught a quick glimpse of Reverend Bob’s face when he gave him the finger.
As he drew closer and viewed what was before him his jaw slackened at the unexpected carnage. The airbags had not deployed.
Jeremiah lay with his upper body sprawled on the hood after being propelled through the windshield. His head was twisted back at an odd angle and part of his skull was bare with the scalp hanging to one side.
You’re dead.…
The windshield on the driver’s side had held, but a large circular mass on the glass blurred what was happening inside. Movement said that Reverend Bob was still alive.
Jack hustled around to the driver’s side as Reverend Bob pushed himself off the dash where he’d been wedged above the steering wheel. He then slumped sideways against Jeremiah’s legs and started coughing up blood.
Jack yanked on the driver’s door, but it only opened a crack. Briefly they locked eyes, then Reverend Bob looked toward the passenger seat. Jack saw the barrel of the M16 protruding above the seat on the far side.
Reverend Bob winced as he struggled to move Jeremiah’s legs aside in a bid to reach the weapon.
No you don’t, you bastard!
He yanked on the door again, but it still didn’t open, so he opted to smash the driver’s side window with the rock. It prodded Reverend Bob to try harder and blood spluttered from his mouth as he reached over his son’s legs and grappled for the barrel.
He was too late. Jack reached through the window and grabbed him by his shirt collar and hauled him back.
Reverend Bob then made a feeble attempt to twist and break free, but the effort caused him to gurgle and cough up more blood.
Got a broken rib or two through your lungs, asshole?
Jack then gripped him with both hands and started to drag him out through the side window. It was then that he saw Reverend Bob fumbling with the airbag cover. What are you doing? Trying to hang on to the steering wheel?
The cover popped off and Reverend Bob then reached inside the cavity.
Oh, shit! Jack grabbed his wrist, smashing it back against the steering wheel while shoving his own hand in. He felt the butt of a pistol and pulled it out. As he did, Reverend Bob broke free and made another reach for the M16. He stopped when Jack fired the pistol into the air.
“That’s the only warning you’re getting,” Jack yelled.
Reverend Bob paused, then slowly pushed himself into an upright position. He looked at Jack and nodded.
Jack grabbed him by the collar with one hand and started to haul him out through the window.
“My boy,” Reverend Bob gasped as he tried to twist his body and peer onto the hood as he was being dragged out the window.
Your boy? Now you worry? You stupid bastard! Your boy is dead because of you.
“Is he…?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him,” Jack replied sarcastically. He then shoved the upper portion of Reverend Bob’s body onto the hood so he could see his son’s head.
“Jeremiah! Jeremiah!” Reverend Bob let out an anguished cry. “Oh, Lord, no! Please have mercy —”
“Yup, I’d say he’s dead.” Jack waited a moment as Reverend Bob stared at his son’s body. “Too bad you decided that guns outweigh the value of a seatbelt or an airbag. Or is that part of your constitutional —”
Reverend Bob’s phone rang and their eyes met as Reverend Bob fumbled for his pocket.
“Not a chance!” Jack yelled, yanking him off the hood and slamming him onto the ground on his back.
Reverend Bob’s body convulsed and he spewed more blood while Jack took the phone from his pocket.
“Yeah,” Jack said, by way of greeting as he stood up.
“Rev’! You okay?” Luke asked excitedly. “Zach came in. He heard a crash and then a shot!”
“I got ’im,” Jack gasped, disguising his voice by making it sound croaky. “But he strung a cable across the road and I wrecked my truck. My boy’s hurt bad. Both of you get —”
“No!” Reverend Bob managed to splutter. “Don’t —”
Jack’s first instinct was to kick Reverend Bob in the groin, but his leg was in too much pain so he opted to fall with his elbow across his chest instead. A bloody mist sprayed out of Reverend Bob’s mouth, covering Jack’s face, but it ended any further words that Reverend B
ob might have uttered.
“What was that?” Luke asked.
“Jeremiah’s hurt bad,” Jack said as he lay across Reverend Bob’s chest with his hand clamped over his mouth as an extra precaution. “I don’t want him moving until you’re both here to help. Hurry!”
When Jack shoved the phone in his pocket, he realized that Reverend Bob appeared to have lost consciousness. He rolled off his chest and sat on the ground staring at him. Pink bubbles escaped from Reverend Bob’s mouth and turned to foam as it oozed down the side of his chin.
I wonder if I lay you on your side if it would help keep one lung clear so you could breathe?
He got to one knee.
Then again, I wonder if you hadn’t shot Ferg in the face if he’d still be alive? Either way, I guess we’ll never know.
He stood up and retrieved the M16 from the SUV.
Five minutes passed before Zach and Luke arrived and slid to a stop in front of the cable before bursting out of the truck and running across the road toward the wreck. It was then that Jack stood up from the far side of the SUV and aimed the M16 over top of Jeremiah’s lifeless body.
“Please, give me an excuse to shoot you,” he pleaded.
Neither did.
Chapter Fifty
By late Sunday night, Dawson and those with him were more than a little worried.
Dawson brooded about what to do as he sat on a log beside Schneider. The last contact with Jack had been the night before when he’d called them from the washroom of the Jack in the Box restaurant.
The only good thing was that Sunday appeared to have been a relaxing day at the camp. There were no indications from anyone they saw moving back and forth between the trailers to indicate anything was amiss.
“Even if he couldn’t get a chance to call, you’d a least think the asshole would have done us the courtesy of taking a walk outside so we’d know he was okay,” Schneider grumbled. “He should know that we’d be sitting in the bush watching.”