by Victor Zugg
“Lead the way,” Chet said, as he started to rise up.
Sam jumped into a crouch and trotted to the thicker brush of the tree line. Chet was right behind him.
“On the left up ahead,” a voice yelled from the back of the truck.
The engine screamed, and the truck accelerated directly for Sam and Chet. The headlights caught them just before they entered the brush. A shot rang out and slammed into the tree next to Sam.
Sam crouched lower and trotted faster into the dark. Sam had gone a few feet when he ran headlong into a small tree. The trunk caught him in the shoulder. Sam thought back to his high school football coach, and the hours spent on tackling practice. He wasn’t very good back then and hadn’t gotten any better with time. Sam bounced back and then resumed his pace, now behind Chet. They both ran as fast as possible in the dark. Limbs snagged at their clothes and skin.
Behind them, Sam heard the truck skid to a stop and men piling out.
“An extra week’s rations to the man who shoots the first one,” a voice yelled. Sam recognized it to be Jones’ voice.
Shots rang out and bullets smacked the trees and brush around Sam and Chet.
“Hard left,” Sam whispered to Chet.
Chet veered to the left in front of a large oak tree. Sam followed on his heels. They both accelerated and were able to dodge most of the limbs for another fifty yards before they ran into a solid wall of brush. The limbs gouged and scrapped Sam’s face, neck, and hands.
Sam dropped to his knees and pulled Chet’s shirt until he too was on his knees next to Sam. In the almost pitch dark Sam could just barely make out the outline of Chet’s face. Sam took deep breaths to get his breathing under control.
Sam heard the men running and yelling through the brush. They apparently had not seen Sam and Chet make that left since they continued forward a good fifty yards from Sam and Chet’s position. Sam could tell by the sound of the men running that they were slowing. They finally came to a complete stop.
“We’ll end up shooting each other out here,” a voice yelled. Sam recognized Smith’s voice.
After a long pause, Sam heard Jones reply. “Okay, everybody back to the truck.”
A few minutes later, Sam heard the sounds of the men getting back in the truck. The engine turned over and caught into a low purr. Gears jammed, the lights flicked on, and the truck pulled away heading back toward town.
“Trap?” Chet whispered.
“Maybe,” Sam replied. “At least they’re not headed to the cabin. Let’s wait here for a while.”
The sound of the truck died off in the distance and the night time forest noises started up. Crickets began their incessant racket—a loud ratchety drone. Frogs began croaking to each other. Mosquitoes whined in and out of earshot. Sam heard Chet slap his neck.
“Bloodsuckers,” Chet whispered.
“Just be glad we haven’t been snake bit,” Sam whispered back.
***
The front door of the cabin swung open and Taylor stepped in carrying Sam’s rifle. He closed the door and then turned to see Tiff, Charlie, and Emma sitting in the family room. All three stared at him.
“Where the hell have you been,” Tiff asked.
Taylor leaned the rifle against the door frame. “Thought I would take a spin around the property,” he replied. “Seems clear.”
Tiff stood up. She flexed her fists at her side until her knuckles were white. “You went out there without letting me know?” she asked.
“I didn’t know I had to report to you,” Taylor replied in a calm voice. He took a seat.
“That’s why Elliot’s out there,” she said. “I thought you didn’t like the mosquitoes?”
“I kept moving,” Taylor said. “They never touched me.”
Charlie stood up. “Okay, okay, everything’s fine now,” he said. “Let’s get back to what we were doing.”
“What were you doing,” Taylor asked.
“Making a plan,” Charlie replied.
Tiff paused a few moments, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes more composed. “At first light, we need you in the tree line on the south side,” Tiff said. “Dad will be in the tree line on the north with his bow. I’ll be in here with Mom.”
“What about Sam and Chet?” Taylor asked.
“We stay flexible,” Tiff replied. “But that’s the plan if they are not back.”
“What about Elliot?” Taylor asked.
“If he’s not back by then, I’ll go get him,” Tiff replied.
Taylor didn’t say anything. He just let his head fall back on the chair’s headrest while he thought.
Emma got up and started toward the kitchen. “We should at least eat something.”
Charlie followed Emma out of the room.
Tiff took a stern stance. “This is why I didn’t marry you,” Tiff said.
“What?” Taylor replied without raising his head.
“Your attitude.”
“What about my attitude?”
“You’re an egotistical asshole,” she said firmly. “And I hate that sorry ass smirk of yours.”
Tiff turned and marched out of the room. Taylor smiled as he closed his eyes and relaxed.
***
“How long’s it been?” Chet asked in a low voice.
“Half hour or so,” Sam replied.
“What do you think?”
“About what?” Sam replied.
“Trying to find the Hummer,” Chet replied.
“I have no idea where the Hummer is,” Sam said. “Do you?”
“Not really,” Chet said, as he slapped the side of his face. “If they’re back in the morning before we find the Hummer, we’ll really be screwed.”
Sam slapped his neck and then rubbed the mosquito bite. “If I were Jones, I would have left two or three men to cover the road. There’s no way we can move through this shit without being heard.”
“Yeah. Damned if we do; damned if we don’t.”
Sam and Chet were silent for a few beats, except for the slapping at mosquitoes.
“Actually, what I would do is bypass us first thing in the morning,” Chet said. “Assault the cabin and then come back for us. He probably figures we left somebody at the cabin.”
Sam stood up. “Okay, you convinced me, let’s find that truck.”
Sam took a step and heard the snap of a dead branch under his foot. They both froze. Even the crickets and frogs froze… for a few moments, and then they started up again. Sam took another step, being more careful with his foot placement. For several minutes they worked their way toward the road.
Sam looked around. “It’s lighter than before,” he said in a low voice. “The moon’s out.” Sam could see Chet’s head nod up and down as they both continued making their way through the trees and bushes.
Sam stopped. “The road is right there,” he whispered as he pointed.
They moved from tree to tree until they were finally behind a large pine at the edge of the low scrub at the side of the road. They both moved their heads side to side scanning the road for several moments.
“Anything?” Sam asked softly. Sam glanced at Chet and saw him shake his head back and forth.
Sam stepped from the tree. He saw the muzzle flash and heard the blast a millisecond after the round smacked the pine tree. He jumped back behind the tree just as muzzle flashes and blasts opened up from the other side of the road about fifty yards north of their position. Rounds whizzed by and impacted tree trunks and branches all around them. Chet raised his rifle.
“Don’t,” Sam said, as he put his hand on Chet’s shoulder. “Let them think we’re hit.”
A few moments later the firing stopped. Sam and Chet both sunk to their knees and then went prone on their stomachs facing the shooters.
“I count three,” Chet said softly.
“Yep. And they’re moving toward us.”
They both began to back scoot into the thicker brush behind them. They had co
vered fifteen feet when Sam rose to a knee behind a small tree trunk.
He pulled his 9mm and motioned for Chet. Chet got to his feet as Sam began to skulk from tree to tree parallel to the road, in the direction of the approaching men. Sam could see their silhouettes walking single file on the road toward where Sam and Chet had been. Sam and Chet kept moving, placing their feet carefully before taking a step. When they were thirty yards from their previous position, Sam stopped. Chet pulled up next to him. With the moon higher and lighter, they watched through the trees and brush as the silhouettes stopped out on the road directly in front of Sam and Chet’s new position but at least twenty-five yards away. The men swept their rifles back and forth pointed generally at where Sam and Chet used to be. That’s when Sam heard the truck engine, far off in the distance, coming back toward them.
Sam and Chet used the sound of the approaching truck to mask their steps as they slunk deeper into the trees. By the time the truck screeched to a stop, Sam and Chet were seventy-five yards away, in the thick trees and bushes. Sam could just make out the muffled sounds of the truck doors closing and voices, but not clear enough to make out what they were saying.
Sam and Chet stepped quickly through the darkness and brush when abruptly Sam stopped in mid-stride. He focused on the blob in front of them. There, before them, in the dull light of the moon, stood the Hummer.
“Son of a bitch,” Chet said, as he continued forward and put his hand on the Hummer’s hood. “Talk about luck.”
Sam joined Chet at the Hummer. “That’s one problem out of the way,” he said. “How do we get past the other problem?”
***
“I’m getting worried,” Emma said. “It’s been a long time since they left.”
“What time is it?” Charlie asked.
“Got to be after midnight,” Tiff replied.
Tiff, Charlie, Emma, and Taylor sat around the kitchen table. Residue from MRE packages littered the table.
“I feel like I need to check on Elliot,” Tiff said.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Taylor said. “Probably sleeping.” The corners of his mouth curved up into a slight smile.
Tiff stood up. “Don’t care,” she said. “I’m going to check on him.”
Charlie stood up. “I’ll come with you.”
Tiff nodded, and they both headed out of the kitchen while Taylor and Emma remained at the table.
“What should we do?” Emma asked.
Tiff stopped at the doorway. “You might as well try to get some sleep,” she said. “We’ll have plenty of notice if anyone’s coming this way.”
Tiff and Charlie continued into the family room where Tiff retrieved her rifle and Charlie picked up his bow and the quiver of arrows.
They exited the cabin, walked down the drive, and up the paved road in front of the cabin about a hundred yards.
“Elliot should be along here,” Tiff whispered. In a low voice, she called out for Elliot. A little louder, she called out again. No response.
“Where is he?” Charlie asked.
“Wish I knew.”
“Where’s he supposed to be?” Charlie asked.
“We talked about a hundred yards up, probably on the right, which would be right here,” Tiff said.
She called out again even louder. No response. “Something’s not right,” she said, as she peered into the trees with the dull light of the moon. “He wouldn’t have gone that far off the road, and there would be no reason to be anywhere but here.”
Tiff waded into the short brush on the side of the road and swiveled her head back and forth. “Elliot, where the hell are you?” she yelled. When there was no response she stepped farther into the brush.
“We’re not going to find him in the dark,” Charlie said. “Maybe he really is asleep.”
“He doesn’t sleep that soundly,” Tiff replied, and then paused to consider what she had said. She glanced at her Dad and then back to the tree line.
“I agree, something’s wrong,” Charlie said. “But we need the light of day to figure it out.”
Tiff screamed Elliot’s name, not caring who heard her. She listened a few beats but heard only the night sounds of the forest.
“Come on,” Charlie said. “We’ll find him first light.”
Tiff took the few steps back to the pavement while looking over her shoulder. With her hand, she wiped the tear sliding down her cheek.
CHAPTER 23
Sam felt Chet’s elbow poke him in the side as they reclined against a tree. “Are you awake?”
“Yep,” Sam replied.
“It’s getting lighter,” Chet said.
Sam rotated his shoulders, stretched his neck, and then got to his feet. “I must have dozed. You?”
“Maybe,” Chet replied as he got to his feet scratching his neck. “Tell me again why we didn’t spend the night in the Hummer.”
“Hear better out here.”
Chet nodded and opened the driver’s door. Sam went around to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid in the seat.
“I say we just punch it out of here,” Chet said.
“Might as well,” Sam replied. “If they’re still on the road, they’ll hear as soon as the engine turns over.”
Chet closed his door and turned the key. The engine fired to life. Sam closed his door as Chet slammed the gearshift into first, stomped the gas pedal, and wrenched the wheel to the left. The Hummer leaped into a tight turn mowing down some short bushes. Chet maneuvered the truck around until it was back on the original tire marks heading out of the woods. The Hummer dove through gullies and jumped over hills while plowing through the brush.
The Hummer tore through the tree line in the dull light of early morning and shot onto the pavement. Chet muscled the wheel to the right and slammed on the gas.
Sam unconsciously ducked expecting gunfire to pummel the truck’s metal skin, but gunfire did not come. He gradually relaxed, raised his head, and looked to the rear. “The road’s clear,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “I guess they regrouped back in town.”
“Or they went on to the cabin last night,” Chet offered.
A sickening feeling washed over Sam. “Or that.”
Chet got the Hummer up to its sixty-five max speed as he ripped down the back roads toward the cabin. When they were within two miles Sam motioned with his hand to slow down. Chet let off the gas. The Hummer slowed to thirty.
“Drive in or walk in? Chet asked.
“If they’re not there already I suspect we don’t have a lot of time,” Sam replied. “Drive in.”
Chet kept his eyes forward and to the left while Sam scanned their rear and right side. The morning sun was beginning to shimmer through the trees to the east bringing more light to the surroundings.
About a hundred yards out from the cabin Sam motioned for Chet to stop. “Let’s have a listen before we drive in.”
Chet brought the truck to a halt in the middle of the road and killed the engine. They both stepped out and listened. Sam walked around to the driver’s side of the Hummer and joined Chet. Birds chirped, squirrels rustled through the leaves, but that was it.
“I say we go on in,” Sam said, as he stepped toward the rear of the truck. Something caught his eye in the woods and he stopped his motion to take a second look. Something white just visible through the brush. Sam took a few steps to the side of the road for a better look.
“What is it?” Chet asked.
“Not sure,” Sam replied, as he stepped into the brush along the roadside.
Chet stepped to the edge of the pavement. “Probably just trash,” he said.
Sam moved closer to the tree line. “Probably.”
Chet scratched at his beard as he glanced down the road to the rear. “The shitheads could be on us at any moment.”
Sam had moved into the tree line. “They may have already been here,” he said.
“How do you know?” Chet asked.
Sam knelt down in the brush. After a
few moments, he motioned for Chet to come over. “It’s Elliot… he’s dead.”
Chet hustled through the brush and knelt next to Elliot’s body. “That means they must have attacked the cabin last night.” Sam detected a rare twinge of anxiety in Chet’s voice and watched as he jerked his head around to scan the surroundings.
Sam examined Elliot’s torso. “There’re no bullet wounds.”
“What?” Chet said, as he looked back down at Elliot.
“No wounds,” Sam said, as he ran his hand over his chest and around his neck. His hand paused behind his neck. “His neck is broken.”
Chet reached down and felt the vertebrae. He then glanced at the empty holster. “Where’s his gun?” Chet asked as he stood up and looked around.
Sam glanced up for a moment while he continued to exam the body. “Looks like he was eating.” He looked at the tree nearest the body and saw Elliot’s rifle leaning against the trunk. “His rifle is here.”
“Over there,” Chet said. Sam watched him walk a few feet away and bend down. He stood up with Elliot’s pistol in his hand. He smelled the barrel. He then checked the magazine and the chamber. “His pistol hasn’t been fired,” he said. “Still has a full mag.”
Sam stood up and looked around. “How the hell could someone get close enough to snap his neck without him getting off at least a shot?”
Chet stuck the pistol in his waistband and walked over to Elliot’s rifle. He picked it up, smelled the barrel, checked the magazine, and the chamber. “Rifle hasn’t been fired either.” He started back toward the Hummer. “The cabin, brother.”
Sam removed two extra 9mm and two 5.56 magazines from Elliot’s pockets and then made his way back through the brush toward the Hummer. He handed the 9mm magazines to Chet.
***
Tiff blinked her eyes open and then leaped from the sofa in the still pitch dark room. She scurried to the window and pulled the blanket back. A sliver of dull light entered the room. She put her hand on the pistol still in the holster on her hip, picked up her rifle, and hurried to the front door.