Living Proof

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Living Proof Page 12

by Peter J Thompson


  “Major, we need privacy. Relocate your officers for now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Durmo called out the command. The other officers quickly finished their conversations and left the room, leaving Durmo alone with the colonel.

  Colonel Pope sat down. He leaned his huge frame back in a swivel chair and closed his eyes. It almost looked as if he was napping. “Tell me the situation as you perceive it, Major.”

  “Well, sir,” the major cleared his throat and spoke slowly and cautiously, “It appears that two men breached security in an attempt to escape the Installation. One was killed, the other is still unaccounted for.”

  “You aren’t telling me anything that I don’t know, Major. What I want you to tell me is who these perpetrators were, and how were they able to escape this facility."

  “I don’t know that, sir. We’ve identified one of them—it was Green. Lieutenant Charles Green’s name was on all the papers, and we believe he was the one that was killed.”

  “Hmmm. It appears that a grave error was made with Lieutenant Green.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who was the second perpetrator?” Colonel Pope pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, removed his glasses, and began to clean them.

  “I don’t know, sir. As you instructed, we put a lockdown in place for the building and have accounted for all of our men. Green is the only one missing.” Durmo tugged on his right ear nervously.

  “Could it be one of the subjects?”

  “That would be impossible, sir. Our guards have been watching the monitors and…”

  “Have you physically inventoried the subjects?”

  Durmo paused a moment before answering. “No, sir. No, sir, I haven’t. Let me do that now.” Durmo started to reach for a phone, but Colonel Pope waved him back down.

  “I’ve already ordered a count, Major. We should have the results presently.”

  “Yes, sir.” Durmo tugged on his ear again.

  “What actions have been taken to apprehend this fugitive?” Colonel Pope put his glasses back on, carefully folded the handkerchief, and stood to his full height. He towered over Durmo.

  “We’ve dispatched units to search and apprehend. There was an accident at the main gate, however, so I understand that the search has been delayed temporarily while they clear the debris. The helicopters will be in the air shortly, though. As a precaution, we have also contacted the local and state police. They are setting up roadblocks, just in case he is able to somehow evade us.”

  “Good. I trust that won’t be necessary. How many—” The colonel’s pocket phone buzzed. He stopped in mid-sentence and picked up the phone. “Yes – I see – Bring me the full file.” He hung up the phone and closed his eyes for a moment, pausing before speaking. “Perhaps ‘impossible’ was too strong of a word, Major. One of the subjects is indeed missing.”

  “But, sir, the monitors—”

  “Had been tampered with. Previously taped sections were being replayed on a series of monitors. Do you realize the implication of this, Major?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Our Lieutenant Green had access to the computer system. Our security has been compromised.”

  “Yes, sir.” Durmo stopped tugging on his ear and his arm fell limply to his side.

  The colonel began to pace as he talked. “I want a full report on how they were able to breach our systems. I also want a complete investigation as to the identity of any potential co-conspirators. I want a list of anyone who had the means and opportunity to be involved in this. Do this quickly and discreetly, Major. If there is another Judas among us, we need to know who it is.” The colonel paused and stopped his pacing for a moment before he continued. “Bring me any files we have on our missing subject. You will notify me as soon as he has been apprehended. If he is alive, I want to question him personally. Our project is so close to fruition, this lapse has put everything we’ve worked for in jeopardy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get to work, Major.”

  Durmo saluted as Pope turned to go.

  Colonel Pope had his hand on the doorknob when he turned back to Durmo.

  “One more thing. Where is Captain Cain?”

  “He’s on assignment off base, sir.”

  “Contact him and bring him back immediately. He’s needed here now.”

  As Pope opened the door, the discordant blare of the alarm filled the room. When the door shut behind him, the room seemed strangely silent.

  Ramon drove the Humvee to the end of the gravel road and turned onto the main highway. In the course of an hour, his world had changed. He’d actually escaped—he was outside, alive, and free. Running for his life, but still free. It didn’t seem real. It was like a fever dream. Everything was so vivid, so achingly beautiful. The sky a fairy-tale blue, the sun reflecting off the sand in blinding splashes of white. The blacktop ahead shimmered from the heat.

  It was all so real—hyper-real—but it felt like it was happening to someone else. Or it was happening to him, but he was in a movie theatre watching it unfold in Technicolor. In a way, he was happy. Ecstatic almost. Or at least a part of him felt that way. The other part was a step away from a full-blown panic and just wanted to find a place to hide.

  It had to be morning—the sun was still rising toward its peak. But it was hot already. Ramon’s shirt was wet, nearly drenched with sweat. He glanced behind in the rearview mirror. There were no vehicles behind him, just a column of black smoke from the burning tanker. With any luck, that would buy some time. Ramon took a deep breath and tried to relax and think rationally. But he couldn’t. His head felt like a balloon that had been blown too big. It was too strange to believe. He had been executed, brought back to life, used as a human guinea pig by the United States Army, escaped, and was now running for his life. He needed some time to let this all sink in.

  He needed time to figure out his options too. Where would he go? What would he do? Everything was moving too fast. From the moment Green walked into the room, Ramon had been reacting. There was no time to think, it was all instinct and following Green’s lead. It was too bad about Green—he seemed like a good man, a true hero even—and now he was gone. Ramon tried not to think about it, but couldn’t help picturing how Green’s looked right before his body slipped out of the Humvee and landed on the road.

  Even though Ramon knew Green less than an hour, he felt a sense of loss. That and the certainty that if Green were here, he would know what to do next. Now Ramon was alone with God-only-knew what behind him. He took another deep breath and tried to contain the panic. He was free, but none of this would matter if he made a mistake now. He forced a deep breath and focused on the task at hand.

  He checked the gas gauge. It was much lower now than just a minute before. The tank had to be leaking—probably the result of a stray bullet. At the rate the gauge was going down, Ramon knew that he wouldn’t get far before the engine sputtered to a stop, leaving him stranded and vulnerable. He checked the mirror again and didn’t see any vehicles behind him yet. But if they weren’t after him now, they would be soon. He had to do something fast.

  The terrain surrounding the road was flat and barren, the only vegetation brushwood and scrub, stunted plants that could survive the long periods between rainfalls. Ramon scanned the horizon. There was one exception. About a half mile down, just off the road, a stand of trees towered over the surrounding ground. For the trees to grow that high had to mean there was water. He headed toward them.

  When he was close, Ramon pulled off the road and drove over the sand and through the scrub, making a beeline for the trees. Eight ironwoods were clustered together along the banks of what must have been an old riverbed. It was baked dry now, but the ground sloped downward and it looked like it was the course that the water took when the rains came. The path of the river would have run across the road if not for a large culvert built underneath. Ramon drove the Humvee past the grove of trees, down to the riverbed, and into the culvert. The engin
e was coughing as he pulled to a stop. The Humvee fit with room to spare.

  Ramon turned off the Humvee and tore his uniform shirt off, leaving his undershirt. He was hidden for now, but if he didn’t move, he was as good as dead. He checked the gun he’d taken from the guard at the base and pushed it down in his waistband, covering it with his T-shirt. He picked up Green’s duffel bag, walked out of the culvert, and scrambled up to the side of the road.

  Hugging the ground, he looked over the guardrail. There were cars coming, but they were still in the distance. Ramon ducked down until he was sure that the oncoming car wasn’t an army vehicle. It was a red convertible. Ramon jumped up, stepped into the road and waved, trying to force the car to a stop—but the car sped up as it blew past him.

  He moved back to the side of the road. A semi-truck was approaching. Ramon put out his thumb and tried to smile and look calm, but his heart pounded like a jackhammer. The truck rushed past him, but then downshifted and braked, coming to a stop a few hundred feet down the road. Ramon raced down to reach it.

  The driver reached over to open the door. “Hey, Amigo, what the hell you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” The driver was a middle-aged Hispanic with a cowboy hat and a friendly expression.

  Ramon forced a smile. “It’s a long story.”

  He climbed up and settled into the seat with a sense of relief. The truck pulled back onto the highway and reached cruising speed. Ramon suddenly had a strong feeling he was going to be all right. Not long after, he saw the first of the helicopters, crossing back and forth along the road, searching.

  The sun was on its way back down as the black Chinook helicopter touched ground in the dry riverbed near the culvert. The whirling twin blades raised a cloud of dust that hung in the air. A squad of soldiers were gathered there. Most were engrossed in tasks, but some were relaxing, leaning aimlessly against their vehicles. When they saw the helicopter, they quickly found things to do to make them look busy.

  Captain Cain was inside the culvert examining the abandoned Humvee. Once the helicopter landed, he walked out of the culvert and approached the aircraft. He’d been finishing up some business in the eastern part of the state when he received the call. He’d come straight away and joined in the search, but it seemed to dead-end here.

  The whole sector was crawling with troops. It looked as if half the camp was involved in the search, helicopters as well as ground troops. But so far, they’d come up empty. It was beginning to look as if the subject really had escaped.

  The side door of the chopper opened and a ramp telescoped down to the ground. Colonel Pope bent low as he stepped out of the doorway and motioned for Cain to come on board. He held a file folder in his right hand.

  “Come quickly, Parker.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cain adjusted his sunglasses, walked up the ramp, and went inside. The interior of the helicopter was divided into two portions. The pilot and co-pilot occupied the front. The rear portion was set up as a command center for Colonel Pope. The space was laid out for maximum efficiency. It contained a table with a built in computer and a full communication system. On each side of the table were two oversized leather captain’s chairs.

  Colonel Pope settled into his chair and dropped the file folder onto the table. “We are faced with an unpleasant situation, Parker.”

  Cain sat in a chair opposite the colonel, took off his sunglasses, and picked up the folder. “How bad is it, sir?”

  Pope sat stiffly in his chair. He paused for a moment before answering, “It appears that the subject has made it through the roadblocks. We’ve combed through every inch of land in between. I have no doubt that he has escaped.”

  Cain shook his head then opened the file. The first page contained a picture of Ramon. “Who is he?”

  “One of our acquisitions from Dr. Meeks. A convict by the name of Ramon Willis. He appears to be a most unusual subject.”

  “How’s that, sir?” Cain stared hard at the picture.

  “It’s all there, Parker. Our Mr. Willis was a convicted murderer. He executed a businessman in Bay City. The court assumed it was all drug-related. The case was circumstantial. As one would expect, he claimed his innocence. As point of fact, he maintained his innocence right to the end. He was, according to our information, a model prisoner. He obtained an education while inside. He appears to be an intelligent and willful subject. This is the same subject that compromised Corporal Jenkins.”

  “He had the virus? Is he contagious?”

  “I’m assured that he is not. All indications are that he is completely healthy and physically sound. However, he does have knowledge of our operation. His very existence is proof against us. Also, there is the possibility that he may have evidence of some form in his possession.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “We don’t know, Parker. This is pure conjecture, but our security was compromised. It’s entirely possible that he has documentation in his possession.”

  Cain leafed through the dossier. The sound of the blades spinning above them made conversation difficult. He raised his voice. “What do you think he’s planning on doin’, sir?”

  “What would you do if you were in his shoes, Parker?”

  Cain thought for a moment before answering. “I might just chuck the whole thing and head for Mexico. It’s not far away. He’s Mex, he’d blend right in. He could forget the whole thing and start himself a new life. That’s what I think I’d do.”

  Colonel Pope shook his head. “No. No, you wouldn’t. I know you too well, Parker. You would not avoid a confrontation.”

  “I guess you’re right about that, sir. So you think this guy might have some kind of hard-on for us?”

  “In all likelihood, he will run as far from here as possible and hide. If he does try to go against us, he won’t dare go to the authorities. He’s a convicted murderer. And if he did, chances are no one would believe him. Odds are that he will disappear quietly. But what if he doesn’t? We can’t take that risk.”

  “How about contacts, sir? Any close relatives?”

  “The prison visitation log is in there. There was no wife or girlfriend. There were some cousins that visited when he was first incarcerated, but they haven’t come in years. He had contact with a number of people in the anti-death-penalty movement, but his closest contact seemed to be his attorney, Barry Resnick.”

  Cain turned to the section on Barry Resnick. “Right. I see that mentioned here.” He set the file down and looked back at the colonel. “What’s our plan goin’ to be?”

  “As I remember, you like to hunt, Parker?”

  “Yes, sir. Back in Tennessee, I was huntin’ rabbit an’ coon with my daddy before I could talk. ”

  “Yes, and what did you do when you hunted for rabbits?” Pope shifted in his chair and leaned forward.

  “First you got to go where the rabbits are.”

  “Exactly, Parker.” Pope stood up to signal the end of the meeting. “Pick your team. Use whatever resources you require. Find this subject and dispose of him. We can’t afford the risk.”

  Cain smiled. He hadn’t been on a good hunt in ages.

  11

  After three weeks in the fields, Ramon had turned dark from working in the hot sun. The days were hard and long. His knees ached and his back hurt like hell from stooping down to pick the beans. But he couldn’t remember when he’d felt better. All he had to do was look around and he’d feel a rush. The sky was so big here. So big and so blue. He didn’t know how he’d survived all those years in prison without it. Just breathing the outside air made him feel alive. Even the pain felt good.

  Life was starting to feel normal again. When he first escaped, Ramon was sure they’d find him quickly. He was constantly checking behind his back, jumping at any sudden movement. Fearing the shadows. Now, it was amazing how much he’d changed in these few short weeks. His confidence had returned.

  “Quieres agua?” Juan Marin, a slender young Mexican, stood up in the next row and o
ffered his canteen. He’d come into the camp at the same time as Ramon.

  “Si.” Ramon reached for the canteen. He took a long sip before handing it back. “Gracias.”

  “De nada.” Juan bent down and returned to his work. Ramon stretched his arms as he stared out at the mountains in the distance. Somehow, he’d made it. He was finally free. Ramon bent back down and grabbed a fistful of beans as he thought back to all that had happened over the last weeks to bring him here.

  Standing on the side of the road, waiting for the helicopters to show up, he’d been prepared to die. When the truck stopped, it felt like a new beginning. It was like someone was watching out for him, that God was telling him that it was all going to be all right. The truck-driver was lonely and happy for the company. He started talking as soon as Ramon got in. About fifteen miles down the road, the traffic came to a halt. The flashing lights of a squad car up ahead, indicated either an accident or a roadblock. With the helicopters buzzing around, a roadblock was more likely. The driver noticed Ramon’s apprehension.

  “There’s a space behind the sleeper,” he’d said. “It’s a little tight but they’ll never find you there.”

  He was right. They made it through the roadblock without any trouble. Later, when Ramon had crawled back into the seat, the driver continued talking as if nothing had happened. They rode together for several hours, but the driver never asked for any kind of explanation. He dropped Ramon off in McAllen, Texas, a town just across from the Mexican border.

  The road where Ramon got out was at the top of a ridge. Looking down, past the trailer parks and factories, a diamond of light reflected off of water far below. The Rio Grande. And on the other side was Mexico.

  It would be evening soon. He could easily make his way down to the river. There were spots where he could cross. The Border Patrol monitored the area, but they wouldn’t be expecting someone to be sneaking out. Once he was in Mexico, he could blend in and disappear. That would be the end. The end of this life anyway, but an opportunity for a whole new existence on the other side. He was still young. And things were looser in Mexico—he could start over, make himself into the person he wanted to be. Find a girl, start a family, live the life of a free man.

 

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