Ever Onward

by Wayne Mee

  Josh’s expression went from a concerned frown to a sly smile. “Catch the assholes with their pants down. I like it. Lead on McDuff!”, he said, giving a theatrical bow.

  If Josh was enjoying himself, Walter Pinkton was most certainly not. The one thing the two men did have in common, however, was that they were both quoting Shakespeare. While Josh glibly shot out a one-liner from MacBeth, Walter was religiously repeating the famous pep-talk from Henry V, seeking in the familiar words the courage to face the faceless enemy. Unlike Josh however, Walter was finding that he needed a hell of a lot more than ‘a little touch of Harry in the night’.

  Feeling distinctively mortal crouching in the shadows beside the rushing water, Walter’s reedy voice cracked as he mouthed the immortal lines:

  “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!

  Or close the wall up with our English dead!”

  Scar, hidden in the rocks some distance above, scanned the summit for signs of his prey, was oblivious to Walter’s whispered mutterings.

  “Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,

  Disguise fair nature with hard favored rage.”

  Walter’s own sinews felt like water and though his heart was racing, the only rage he could muster was directed at Jocco for putting him in this position!

  “Let us swear that you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not!”

  Unlike the warrior-king, Walter was filled with self doubt. Sweating despite the cold, he glanced to the left where a narrow cut opened onto the far bank. There, not thirty feet away, the two men he feared to face suddenly materialized. “The game’s afoot!”, burst into his befuddled brain, as he stood and began to fire.

  A riot-gun at close range is a deadly weapon. The short barrel guarantees a wide spread, the steel double-ought pellets guarantees maximum damage. All that was required of the user was that he point the thing in the general direction. If Walter had taken the time to do this, both Josh and Cobb would have been hurt if not killed. Luckily for them, Walter was in a rush. His first shot went off even before he had brought the gun around. The recoil jerked the stubby barrel up, causing his second shot to decapitate a nearby spruce tree. By the time he gained some control over the powerful weapon, both Josh and Cobb had him in their sights. Cobb’s M-16, still on triple-burst, punched him three times in the chest. Josh’s Defender pump, much like Walter’s weapon, sent a spreading swath of #2 shot into the former personnel officer’s face.

  What was left was not a pretty sight.

  “One down, one to go,” Cobb said.

  “Maybe. There could be more,” Josh replied.

  Cobb shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

  Both men cautiously moved up the river bank.

  Scar heard the blasts from back down towards the falls and swore. He thought of calling out, but decided against it. The little shit was probably dead and there was no sense in giving his own position away. Even if Walter hadn’t bought he farm, he was useless as tits on a bull anyway. Scar checked the banana clip on his H & K and moved to a better position where he could watch back down the trail.

  He didn’t have long to wait before a figure, flitting from tree to tree, came into sight. It wasn’t Williams, but it would do. Scar wrapped the leather sling of his rifle around his wrist for better support and peered into the scope. The cross-hairs lined up briefly on Cobb’s chest just before the man moved in behind a large pine. Sucking in his breath, Scar waited for the man to appear at the far side.

  He didn’t. Cursing, Scar looked up and saw Cobb scrambling on all fours down towards the river. Unwilling to wait for a still shot, Scar pulled the trigger on the automatic weapon. Full metal jacket loads streaked across the river, heating the air with their deadly passage. Rockchips flew, hot led wined as half a dozen bullets slammed into the stony riverbed.

  All but one missed their mark. Struck in the fleshy part of his left arm, the bullet passed clean through, missing the bone and leaving a bloody but not fatal wound. The force of it spun Cobb around and over a knee-high boulder. From the far bank, Scar fired again, this time holding the trigger back. The H & K bucked as the perforated barrel vomited death. One, two, three dozen rounds slammed into the boulder, punctuated by Scar’s wordless scream.

  Then the gun overheated and jammed. Scar frantically worked the slide to clear the breach, but to no avail.

  “Give it up, friend,” a voice said. “It’s over.”

  Turning, he saw Josh standing less than ten feet behind him, the Defender pump leveled at his stomach. Scar’s ruined face distorted into a hideous grin. “Well, Farmer, looks like it’s just you and me.”

  Josh eased to the side, trying to see if Cobb was still alive. As his eyes flicked towards the far bank, Scar thrust the jammed rifle directly at Josh’s face. Raising his shotgun to deflect the thrown weapon, Josh was tackled around the waist and pushed backwards. Both men toppled over a fallen log. The force of the landing punched the air from Josh’s lungs and loosened his grip on the Defender.

  “Bastard!”, Scar hissed, clawing for Josh’s throat, at the same time trying to knee him in the groin. Josh head butted him in the nose, then drove the heel of his hand into Scar’s chin. Rolling away in pain, Scar frantically groped for the .357 in his shoulder holster, but the gun had been shaken loose by the fall. As Scar scrambled for the Army Colt at his side, Josh rammed into him, sending both men off the bank and into a deep pool in the river.

  Frigid water engulfed them, sapping their strength and threatening to seize their hearts. Locked in a deathly embrace, both men kicked their way to the surface. The .45 was now in Scar’s hand. Swinging the weapon around, he slammed the butt into Josh’s shoulder. Pain coursed down his arm, then faded, frozen by the icy grave that sucked at them. The heavy Colt. in Scar's hand raised again, slower this time, for the glacial melt made no distinction between good and bad. Half frozen fingers fumbled for the safety. 'Click'. Now for the trigger...

  As though in a dream, Josh watched as the Tanto appeared in his hand, flashed upwards, the icy water glistening on the blade as it slashed across Scar’s exposed throat.

  Surprise mingled with shock in Scar’s one good eye as his life’s blood gushed out. The clear, glacial water was stained pink. Slowly the Colt fell from his hand. Josh kicked the dying man into the current and scrambled for the far shore. By the time he made the bank, Scar’s body had already been carried over the falls.

  “Josh!”, Cobb yelled, hobbling over the water-smoothed rocks. “Josh, are you okay?” Blood from the flesh wound in his arm left a spotted trail. Cobb winced as he sat down beside his friend.

  “Better than you,” Josh replied, seeing the bloody arm.

  “Hell,” Cobb grinned. “The asshole only nicked me, but you got him good.”

  “Ya, well that ‘asshole’ nearly blew my brains out.”

  “You should have offed him from behind,” Cobb said grimly.

  Josh gazed at the frothing lip of the falls. “We’ve been chasing that bag of shit for a year now. I wanted to see his face before I killed him.”

  Cobb nodded, his face a grimace of pain. “Was it worth it?”

  Josh’s voice seemed as far away as his thoughts. “Until a few days ago I would have said yes. Now I just want my boy back.”

  Cobb placed his good hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get him out, Josh. Flame too.”

  Josh attempted a smile. “Sure, but right now we have to stop that bleeding.”

  Leaving Cobb with his arm thrust deep into the rushing stream, Josh left to retrieve the dropped weapons. By the time he returned, Cobb’s wound was washed clean and numbed by the cold water. After dressing it and giving Cobb two pain killers, they lit a small fire and ate. Scar’s pack had produced a variety of freeze-dried food, a flask of rum as well as six grenades and extra clips for both the H & K and the .357. While Josh played chef, Cobb field stripped each of their weapons.

  “This H & K is a real piece of work,” Cobb said, the
appreciation for fine craftsmanship clear in his voice. The pain-killers had done their job, and a few belts from the flask hadn’t hurt either. Both men had been going full out for the last two days and knew they needed an hour’s rest for what still lay ahead.

  “How so?”, Josh asked, more out of a desire to continue the conversation than out any real interest. When left alone to his own thoughts, they always turned to his captured son.

  Cobb listed the H & K’s high points. “Laser scope with infra-red capacity and digital distance read-out, perforated barrel for rapid cooling, thumb switch for single, triple or fully automatic, side ejecting and a banana clip that holds fifty rounds.”

  Josh filled his pipe from a zip-lock bag of tobacco. “Sounds like you’re in love. Want to swap for the M-16?”

  Cobb smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  A half hour later both men, now walking arsenals, headed on the last leg of their journey

  John Lonefeather and Charley Little Dog made their way quietly back to the LAV. Though the news they carried was vital, Jim Carrol had forbidden them to use their walkie-talkie this close to the lodge.

  “Shit!”, the older Indian said. “Those buggers came down hard! Bent the tail section all to hell!”

  “Ya, but they still made it back in one piece. I was hoping the buggers would crash!”

  John Lonefeather, keeping up the ground-eating pace, spoke over his shoulder. “You know, Charley, I think that was King Shit himself in that chopper.”

  Charley chuckled. “Well, whoever it was, he was really

  pissed.”

  A quarter of a mile further they were challenged by two of Carrol’s guards. One of them brought them into the makeshift camp. Jim Carrol himself met them. Eddy and the other members of the LAV were with him. When word of Jocco’s damaged chopper landing at the lodge was given, Carrol called for an immediate all out attack.

  “But you can’t!”, Bobby Stewart yelled. “Mr. Williams said Jessie and Flame would be killed at the first sign of trouble!”

  “And what’s that to me, boy?”, Carrol demanded. “We’ve got the bastard trapped. We’re blocking the only road. He can’t get out, his men can’t in and now he can’t fly away. I say we take him now before his men break through!”

  The crowd around him cheered and began to surge forward. All there had suffered because of Jocco, had felt his casual cruelty tearing at their already shattered lives, and each one was hungry for revenge. Eddy, beside himself with worry, did what he had to do in order to save his best friend’s son. Drawing his revolver, he pressed the stubby barrel into Carrol’s stomach.

  The large man’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

  Eddy pressed harder, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I promised Josh we’d wait for him, and by God, we going to wait!”

  “You’d shoot me?”

  Eddy cocked the short, powerful gun. “If I have to.”

  Carrol snorted. “You’d not leave here alive.”

  “True, but then --- neither would you.” Eddy’s smile was surprisingly like his best friends.

  Nate, standing close enough to have heard, spoke quietly to both men. “For Christ sake, Jim, listen to him!”

  Carrol turned to the older man. “I’ll die rather than let that murdering snake get away!”

  Nate sighed. “Perhaps it doesn’t have to come to that. What if Eddy sends the LAV down to fortify the roadblock? Sam Waterford’s an army man. He’ll know how to best use it. The rest of us can surround the lodge. With his helicopter damaged Jocco’s trapped. If he makes a break for it, we take him, if not, we wait for Josh.”

  Carrol drew a pensive breath, glancing down at the heavy revolver. “You know that we’re all probably waiting for a dead man?”

  “Maybe,” Eddy said. “But we’re going to wait just the same.”

  Carrol met the smaller man’s gaze. “You’ll send the LAV down to the roadblock?”

  “Gladly, as long as we don’t move against the lodge till tomorrow at sundown.”

  Carrol stood silent for several seconds, then nodded and thrust out his hand. “Done! But I want that lodge sealed off tighter than an old maid’s asshole.”

  Eddy looked at the meaty paw held out to him. His heart still racing, he uncocked the Cobra, holstered it quickly and shook the offered hand. Carrol’s other arm wrapped him in a firm embrace.

  “You’ve got balls, Eddy, I’ll say that for you! It’s not often a man has a friend that’s willing to die for him!” Then, more quietly: “Would you really have shot me?”

  “Only once,” Eddy replied, willing his voice not to shake.

  Carrol’s deep laughter carried over the shouts of his men. “Once would have done it, Hoss. Now, let’s get that cannon on wheels of yours down to the roadblock!”

  Chapter 50: ‘ALMOST THERE’

  Jocco’s Hunting Lodge

  Sequoia National Park

  California, May 27th

  As Charley Little Dog had so sagely remarked, Jocco was indeed pissed. The wounding of Ace and the near crash landing back at the lodge had sent him into a white rage. To make matters worse, he’d been unable to contact Scar and had just learned that a bunch of rag-tag half-breeds were successfully blocking the only road in or out. Feeling like a trapped animal, Jocco screamed into the mike.

  “I don’t give a shit how many men you’re loosing! Just smash through those fuckers and get up here!”

  On the other end of the line, Tim Galt palmed the sweat off his grimy face. Rifles and small-arms fire could be heard in the background, punctuated by yelling and screams. “We’re trying our best, Jocco. George the Man’s here as well, but these bastards are good! They’ve got the road blocked with old cars and fallen trees. Each time we move up they hit us from three sides!”

  “Outflank them, asshole!”, Jocco yelled. “Send troops into the woods!”

  Tim’s voice trembled. “We’ve already tried that --- twice. Neither group came back.” Before Jocco could reply, a loud explosion was heard and George the Man’s excited voice replaced Tim’s.

  “George here, Boss. They’ve just brought some kind of heavy tank up to the roadblock and are shelling us! Two of our trucks are already in flames!”

  “Charge them!”, Jocco bellowed.

  “Christ, Boss,” George replied. “We’d be cut to ratshit! Besides the cannon, they’ve got a 50 caliber on a swivel turret!”

  Another explosion, louder than the last, shook the air. All Jocco heard was static and screaming. “What the fuck’s going on?!”

  “... hit the ... behind us! ... flames all ... road! Got... pull back...or... trapped here!”

  The connection went silent, leaving Jocco shouting into a dead mike. He tossed it aside and turned to face those clustered around him. Bobby-Joe Burlis, Pam the Bitch, Eva Madeau and Pussbag all stared back at him, awaiting his orders. Ace sat off to one side, quietly bleeding to death. The young pilot was trying desperately to finish a fifth of Scotch before Cobb’s slug finished him. These and the six guards outside were all that was left of Jocco’s kingdom.

  ‘How had it all gone so fucking wrong?’, he asked himself, his mind searching for a way out. Suddenly his cold smile was back. “Bobby, get McBride in here. Pam, you and Eva bring up the woman and the boy. Now!”

  As the three jumped to obey, Pussbag shuffled closer, his bayonet in his hand and madness in his eyes. Jocco placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Soon, old friend, soon, but first we have to prepare a fitting welcome for the good professor.”

  The sky behind them was ablaze with pinks and reds as the two men stood gazing down at the lodge. The sun was still high enough to cast its brilliant rays into the valley below, bathing the large wooden building with its golden light. Josh, looking through his binoculars, swore softly.

  “What is it?”, Cobb asked.

  “He’s got Jessie and Flame tied out front.”

  Cobb swept the two storied building with the scope from Scar’s captured rifle. Two
guards out front, two more up on the second floor balcony. Between these last two Jessie and Flame hung suspended from the eves, their hands stretched over their heads, their feet resting on the top rail of the balcony. Jessie’s face was hard and fierce, like a tethered hawk. Flame defiantly tossed her long mane, obviously spitting venom at her captors.

  “At least they’re alive, Josh.”

  “Ya, but for how long?”

  Cobb shrugged.

  “I can’t leave them there like that,” Josh said, his voice an agonized whisper.

  Cobb considered the distance between himself and the lodge. A good 200 yards at least. “Well, I could probably take out the guards in front, but the ones up top are too close to Jessie and Flame. If we get nearer...”

  Josh shook his head. “I have to get inside. If not, as soon as there’s trouble he’ll kill one and still have the other to bargain with.”

  Cobb suddenly grabbed Josh’s arm. “You’re not going to give yourself up?”

  “If I have to.”

  Cobb’s hand tightened. “You can’t make deals with scum like that. He’ll make you watch them both die, then kill you too!”

  “I know that,” Josh replied, his voice as hard as the metal object he held in his fist. “But at least he’ll go with us.”

  Cobb’s gaze fixed on the grenade in Josh’s hand. “Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.”

  Josh met his friend’s stare. “One way or the other, Cobb, I’ll set Jessie free.”