Ever Onward

by Wayne Mee

  “I’m fine,” he said, reaching for his pack. Princess was instantly on her feet. “Let’s get going. I want to make the shelter before dark.”

  Donny the Geek’s red tam could be seen moving back up the trail. “They’re coming!”, he said, running into the clearing. “They’re still way back there, but they’re coming!” Nuts Wilson drew his .44 Magnum and Tiny hefted his long deer rifle. Sloan, sitting on the raised floor of the lean-to, put down the canteen he’d been drinking from and pushed off the safety on his Uzie. Only Hec remained undisturbed.

  “Okay, gents,” the lanky woodsman drawled. “You all know your places. Don’t nobody fire till they’re all right up here.”

  Tiny gave a mock Gestapo-like salute, then moved off into the higher rocks in front of the three-sided building. Since he had the rifle with the scope, Hec wanted him up high where he could cover the entire killing ground. Donny and Nuts hustled off to either side of the small clearing and Sloan went to his position behind a stand of stunted pines to the right of the lean-to. Watching them move clumsily away, Hec was reminded of a herd of lost cows. Checking the safety on his own rifle, he silently faded into the trees on the left.

  About five minutes later a lone figure topped the rise before the clearing. Three more quickly followed. Two men and two women. Then he saw the dog! He’d forgotten about the bloody dog! He’d seen the tracks back at the Marcy Dam, but none since. How’d they get a bloody big hound like that down Avalanche Pass?! That changed everything! They couldn’t wait till the four ha d walked up to the shelter --- the bloody dog would smell the strangers long before that. They had to be taken at long range!

  Hec spit and sighted down the barrel of his trusty rifle, yet it wasn’t at the dog that he aimed, but the bearded man beside it.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “Just get clear of those bloody trees!”

  Josh felt right away that something was wrong. For one thing it was too quiet. For another, Princess was standing stiff-legged, ears up and growling softly. She’d caught the scent of something down there, something she didn’t like. Flame started to move past him, but he caught hold of her arm, his keen eyes scanning the glade.

  The lean-to was empty. No smoke from the firepit. No sign of... then he saw it! The canteen on the floor! The large hound’s growl deepened. Trina stepped past them, stopped and turned.

  “What’s ---”

  The sound of a high powered rifle broke the silence. At the same time the side of Trina’s head exploded. The girl’s body spun around and fell across the trail.

  “DOWN!”, Josh screamed, grabbing Flame and shoving her off the path. The startled red-head slid down a short drop and landed in a tangle of scrub. Gunfire filled the air. The wine of bullets was all around. A line of 9 mm. slugs stitched their way up the trail. Trina’s dead body jerked as the bullets ripped through her. Josh crouched down and yelled at Eddy, who stood staring slack-jawed at Trina’s riddled corpse. The high powered rifle barked again. Princess, standing beside Josh, was struck in the chest and knocked down. The faithful hound whined once, licked his hand and died.

  “Eddy! MOOOVE!!”, Josh screamed.

  Woodenly, Eddy walked towards Josh, who promptly pushed him off the trail. Suddenly Josh felt a searing pain in his back. Then he was falling. Josh rolled on his side, gasping for breath. The pain in his back had lessened. The sound of the gunfire hadn’t. Flame had crawled back up the slope and was firing at the lean-to. On his knees now, Josh saw Eddy scramble up beside her. A moment later the sawed-off shotgun boomed twice. Flame had reloaded her Smith & Wesson and was once more blasting away. Josh grabbed Eddy.

  “Got to... get away! Down! Off the trail!”

  “But they KILLED HER!”, Eddy screamed. “They blew her --- !”

  Josh yanked Eddy towards him. “She’s GONE, Eddy! GONE! Now, get moving downhill! Into the trees! NOW!”

  Eddy glared back, hate warring with love in his wild eyes. At last he nodded and helped Josh to his feet.

  “Flame!”, Josh yelled. “Let’s go!”

  The red-head fired three more rapid shots, then followed, Trina’s blood and brains spattered over her face and bare shoulders.

  Wordlessly the three started down the steep ravine. Behind them the firing stopped and the cursing began.

  Donny the Geek’s face was awash with blood. Up close it looked as though every pimple on his sallow face had erupted. In truth, he had taken a load of #4 buckshot. Luckily for him the pellets had been nearly spent by the time they struck, or Donny the Geek would be Donny the Dead. As it was he looked like someone had dumped a pail of red paint over his head. Miraculously his eyes hadn’t been hit, but he could now whistle with his mouth closed.

  One of Flame’s slugs had ripped off Nuts Wilson’s left ear. The pain had made him bite through the end of his tongue. Blood now dribbled off his chin.

  Sloan, Tiny and Hec had escaped unscathed, though all three were none too happy with the results. Sloan was especially peeved.

  “A woman and a fucking dog!”, he hissed, kicking the hound’s limp form. “Both men got clean away!” He rounded on Hec, his Rugger 9 mm. in his hand. “A woman and a fucking dog!” Sloan raised the Rugger. “This time I AM going to blow your fucking head off!”

  Hec snorted. “And just how the hell are you going to get out of here without me?” Not waiting for an answer, he bent down to examine Trina’s body.

  Sloan stood over him, shaking with rage. “Walk out, asshole! Just like we walked in!”

  Hec shook his head. “It’s way over twenty miles back to the cars. With the kid bleeding like that, he won’t make five. As for your man Nuts there, he’ll probably bleed to death before the kid.”

  Donny and Nuts eyed each other, both on the ragged edge of panic. Hec stood up and continued. “John’s Brook Lodge is a hell ova lot closer. There’ll be shelter, hot food and a First Aid kit. Some of your boys might even be there by now. Kill me and none of you’ll make it.”

  “Bullshit!”, Tiny growled, swinging his rifle around to point at Hec’s gut.

  Nuts Wilson raised his .44 and pressed it against the side of Tiny’s head. His tongue, swollen and bleeding, made his words grotesquely comical. “I dun’t wunt ta kul ya, Tuny. Bu I wull if I huv ta! Hec cun gut us ut a here. Ya cun’t. Nutun persnul.”

  Donny, looking like a skinned extra from a third rate monster movie, nodded and pointed his .38 Special at the tall Asian. “Ya, Tiny. Nothing personal.”

  Hec looked at Sloan, wry amusement in his wolf-grey eyes. All three assholes were now pointing guns at someone. Part of Hec wanted to laugh. “Even with my help it won’t be that easy now.”

  Sloan stepped up and glared at the woodsman. “Why not?!” It came out as a hiss.

  Hec nodded at the bodies at his feet. “Two things you don’t mess with in these parts; a man’s woman and a man’s dog. You boys have gone and messed with both.”

  “So?!”

  Hec shrugged. “If I judge this fella right, it won’t be us hunting him now, but him hunting us.”

  “Oh shit!”, a small voice whined. It came from Donny the Geek.

  Chapter 33: ‘CAT AND MOUSE’

  The Adirondacks

  New York August 18

  They kept going downhill till they came to a stream. The land was steep and heavily treed, the water cascading through a narrow, rocky slot. The rugged slopes of Mount Marcy began on the far side.

  “Need a break,” Flame gasped. Flopping down on a rock shelving, she began to wash the blood and sticky gray matter off her face and shoulders. Having little success, she finally went and stood beneath the closest falls.

  Josh eased his heavy pack off and worked his shoulders. The pain was still there, but fading. Opening the pack, he saw a small hole on the front and back. The bullet had gone through a thick guide book and three nested cooking pots before striking his shoulder. Wincing from the pain, Josh pulled off his bloody soaked t-shirt.

  “Here,” Flame said, sloshing ove
r to kneel beside him. “Let me have a look at that. Oh, shit! I can SEE the bloody bullet!”

  Flame continued to fuss, but Josh was still too shocked by Trina’s death to worry about a flesh would. He could still move hs arm so it couldn’t be that bad. Flame looked at him for a long moment, then took his Tanka knife. Her fingers moved gently over his back, then a sharp, sudden pain danced along his spinal cord.

  “Got the bastard!”, she hissed. “Thank God it wasn’t deep!” Digging in their first aid kit, she quickly cleaned and bandaged the shallow wound, then found dry shirts for both of them.

  While Flame was seeing to Josh, Eddy sat watching their back-trail, the short, heavy shotgun loaded and ready. Thick pines and rock outcroppings blocked the view, but Eddy watched just the same. From the look on his face, he seemed to hope someone would come. When no-one did, he stomped angrily over to Josh.

  “What now?”, he demanded, a hard edge in his usually soft voice. “We going to let those murdering bastards get away or what?”

  Josh looked from one to the other, then shook his head.

  “What the hell does that mean?”, Eddy demanded, anger and frustration bringing him near tears. “Christ, Josh! They SHOT YOUR DOG AND BLEW TRINA’S BRAINS OUT!”

  The echo of Eddy’s shouted words seemed to hang in the air, making the silence that followed all the deeper. At last Josh spoke, his words an icy whisper. “They’ll pay, Eddy. I promise you they’ll pay.”

  Eddy glanced at Flame, then back to Josh. Something that might once have been a grin contorted his face. “How?”

  “We beat them up Marcy and take them when they come out of the trees.”

  Flame looked uncertain. “What makes you think they’ll go on to Marcy? They might turn back.”

  Josh shook his head. “Not this group. They’ve come too far to quite now.”

  Eddy stood up. “So have we. Let’s get moving!”

  Hector Billingsly was worried. The ambush at the shelter should have worked, yet here he was, left with four assholes that couldn’t find their feet with both hands! To make matters worse, two of them were already hurting bad, and the other two looked jumpy enough to shoot their own shadow! He’d not exactly lied when he told them that John’s Brook Lodge was ‘a hell ova lot closer’ than turning back. It was closer, only about half the distance, but he’d neglected to explain that they have to up, over and down Mount Marcy to get there --- and Marcy was one bitch of a hike! He toyed with the idea of just fading away, but soon ruled that out. Sloan may be a Grade A asshole, but he was a powerful asshole, and a man couldn’t stay up in these mountains forever. If he came out without them, Sloan’s men would have his balls.

  Besides, part of him still wanted to ‘out-fox the fox’!

  “Hey, Hillbilly”, Tiny weazed. “Take five! My leg’s killing me!”

  Hec cast his wolf-grey eyes back down the trail. Tiny was hanging on to a sapling, rubbing his knee. Sloan was already slumped down on a boulder. Further back, Nuts Willson was still slugging up the path, his head wrapped in a blood stained shirt. Behind him, creeping along like a snail out of its shell, came the kid. Hec hawked up a wad of phlegm. The little shit still wore the red tam, only now you couldn’t tell where the hat left off and the skin began. Hec figured the kid would be lucky if he made it up Marcy.

  “See anything?!”, Sloan croaked.

  Hec shook his head. Not since crossing the log footbridge a half hour back had he seen any sign of the three they were after. He fingered the bullet in his pocket. Smart bastard! Leaving that note with the 30/30 shell had shaken them all! ‘Payback’s a bitch!’

  “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?!”, Tiny had raged. “The fucking Lone Ranger?!”

  But the messaged had had its affect. Every step of the way since then they had expected an ambush. Just a few minutes ago Nuts had shot a tree-stump. Turning his back on the others, Hec started up the trail. They’d follow. They had no choice.

  Twenty minutes later the five of them scrambled up a steep draw and left the stunted trees behind. Near 5,000 feet above sea level, the climate was too harsh for anything but rock to grow. A splash of yellow paint and the odd cairn were all that marked the mile-long path up the wind-blasted cone of granite. Knowing that now they were the most vulnerable, Hec had them spread out. Creeping forward, weapons ready, they peered into every crevasse, checked behind ever outcropping; yet they found nothing.

  They were half-way up the barren summit when the bullet slammed into the rock beside Tiny’s head, chipping off jagged shards that stung his face and neck. The sound reached them a moment later, distant and low, quickly blown away by the wind. Tiny put his hand to his cheek. It came away red.

  “Christ! I’m hit!”

  Leaving the tall Asian standing half-way up the exposed slope, the other four dropped to the ground. Donny the Geek and Nuts Willson both fired wildly up into the jagged outcropping fifty yards ahead. Hec grinned. He knew they weren’t there. The bullet had struck before they heard the gun. A long-shot. Probably from somewhere near the top. Hec spit. Nice shooting.

  While the others gathered around Sloan, Hec scanned the open slope to the right. The rock dropped away into a scrub-filled gully. His hunter’s eye followed the gully around and down. Panther Gorge lay in that direction; an open, windswept cliff that dropped a 1,000 feet to the forest below. A rough, steep hump blocked the view from the top. He’d been that way once, and once was enough! But now it seemed he’d have to try it again. They’d beaten him to the summit and now lay waiting, but if he could get around behind them ---

  Hec called for Sloan and the others to follow, then slid down into the gully, not much caring if they came or not.

  “Any sign of them?”, Flame yelled, Earl’s battered .306 cradled in her arm.

  Eddy, a dozen yards further up, shook his head.

  Flame turned back to Josh. “Looks like you scared the sit out of them, Lover!”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Josh flipped down the rear sight of his Winchester and glanced around. Eddy, near the summit, commanded a 360 degree view. Josh himself could see the trail over the rocks below him, but the large bulge towards Panther Gorge bothered him. When Sloan and the others started up, they’d be in the open. Unless...

  Josh made a sudden dash for the top of the bulge. Flame, cursing, followed. When she got there, Josh was already firing.

  “What the...?” Then she saw the flash of a red tam disappearing round a rock shoulder 200 feet below.

  Josh was already moving back up the summit. “They’re trying to go around instead of over!”, he yelled. Scooping up his pack, he began jogging down the far side, his back sending shafts of pain down his spine.

  Flame and Eddy followed.

  “Where will they come out?”, Flame asked, doing her best not to lose her footing on the steep rock.

  “They’ll stay in the scrub, maybe even move down into the trees,” Josh replied. “Probably pick up the trail at the Panther Gorge Fork.”

  “Then we’ve lost them?”, Eddy growled.

  “Not if we get there first!”, Josh hissed, bounding down the rocky path.

  “Are you sure you know where the Hell you’re going?”, Sloan demanded.

  Hec, not bothering to reply, continued to force his was through the scrub. Tiny pine needles scraped his legs. To the right the land fell away down a sheer cliff. Clouds floated below him. In the distance a hawk cried out. Hec kept going, ignoring the curses and grunts behind him. He knew that whoever reached the fork at the far side of Panther Gorge would control the only trail down from Marcy; and with or without Sloan, Hec intended to get there first.

  He almost made it. Leaving the other four to fend for themselves, Hec jogged along the rugged slope and through the thick scrub, cutting the John’s Brook Trail just above the fork. Scanning the upper slopes for and sign of those he hunted, he sprinted down into the stunted trees, confident that he had arrived first. Rounding a large, frost-split boulder, he came face to face with Flam
e’s Smith & Wesson.

  “Go ahead, asswipe,” she grinned. “Make my day.”

  A bit melodramatic, but effective. Hec’s rifle slid to the ground, a resigned grin on his stubbled face.

  “No need to get excited, miss,” Hec drawled. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Bullshit!”, Flame hissed, slamming her gun into his face. The heavy barrel knocked out what few teeth remained and Hec dropped like a stone.

  Eddy appeared, shotgun in hand, murder in his eye. Prodding the limp form with the stubby barrel, he cursed and drew a knife. Bending down, he yanked Hec’s head back by the hair, exposing his throat.

  “Eddy, no!”, Flame cried, reaching for his hand.

  Eddy looked up, the glittering blade matching the fire in his eyes. “Why not?”, he hissed. “The bastard would do it to us!”

  “Yes he would,” Josh said, coming up to stand beside Flame. “And if you want to be just like him, go ahead, cut his throat. But before you do, think about this. If we start killing in cold blood, what makes us so different from any of them?”

  Eddy’s face clouded, his rage and humanity warring within. The knife moved, pressed against Hec’s white throat, then fell away. Eddy stepped back, his shoulders shaking in dry heaves. “I...I loved her!”

  Flame took him in her arms, gently stroking the back of his neck. Eddy’s muffled sobs filled the still air. Josh embraced them both, then backed away, taking a length of rope from his pack.

  “Flame, help me get this one tied and into the trees. The others will be along soon. Eddy, watch the trail.”

  Moments later, when Hec was bound and gagged and tied to a tree, they were all back at the large, split rock.

  “What now?”, Flame asked. “Wait here and take them like we did the first one?”

  Using his light field glasses, Josh peered through the split, searching their back trail. Sloan and Tiny were halfway down the rocky slope. Nuts Wilson staggered along some distance behind. The red tam was nowhere in sight. “If we can. The third one looks about done in, but the two out front might put up a fight.” He glanced at Eddy, who once again had taken up his deadly shotgun. “We’ll try it again, but be ready.”