“They got Tara and Shyanne,” Preston said with a suddenly dry throat.
Harold winced. “My God.”
“I need a gun. They stripped us of our weapons. I don’t care if it’s a handgun. Anything will do,” Carl said.
Harold pulled out a pistol from his belt and handed it to Carl. “The others are scattered around here.”
“First we account for everyone, and I mean everyone,” Carl said as he tucked the gun under his belt. “And then we go after Tara and Shyanne. There’s about ten men at least holding them. We need all the weapons and ammunition we can get.”
Harold dashed past Carl. “Lorenzo knows the clear signal.” Harold then blew a loud owl’s call into the trees. Then, up in a pair of oak trees, Lorenzo and Alicia pushed their way out of a cover of leaves. Lorenzo held Alicia by one hand as he discarded the foliage.
“We got trouble!” Harold called out. “Carl’s back, but they got Tara and Shyanne.”
“Oh my God.” Alicia cringed. “Tara and that poor little baby.”
“I’ll help her down,” Lorenzo said. “Go get Rupert and Michael.”
Harold passed the Farrells’ tree with Carl and Preston just behind. Harold repeated his owl call. But neither Rupert nor Michael showed themselves. Harold started slowing down. “This doesn’t make any sense. They should be here by now.”
Then Carl stared off into the distance. A small branch was broken off near the bottom of a tree trunk. The break looked very fresh. An animal could have done it, but given recent events, Carl couldn’t afford to overlook any sign that something was out of place.
He broke from Harold and Preston, pushing past branches and tall plants to reach the site. Carl then looked down. The ground sloped into a slight ravine. Rupert lay at the bottom of the ravine, flat on his back, his eyes open, blood trickling down his forehead. His shirt also was coated with blood on the right side.
Carl cringed. The man was dead.
Harold shook his head as he looked over Rupert’s still form. He had been focusing on the man’s head for the past minute. “Took a shot to the chest, but the fall might have been what finished him off.” He pointed to a nasty bruise on the side of Rupert’s forehead. “Could have cracked his skull, died almost instantly.”
Carl allowed Harold and the others to look over Rupert while he continued searching the nearby forest. He was too mad to sit around doing nothing. While Lorenzo, Alicia, and the others had caught up with Preston and Harold at Rupert’s corpse, Carl continued checking out the surrounding area. He soon discovered more broken branches and trampled upon plants. There were also boot tracks in the mud just up the ravine. Those couldn’t have been made by Rupert.
“A struggle,” he said quietly.
Carl climbed up the other side of the ravine. Small spills of blood led up the ground toward a nearby tree. Part of the bark was broken off and a round spot of blood marred the trunk just over the break.
Michael. Where’s Michael? Did the bastards get him too? Carl loathed what the end of this trail would yield. This day was fast turning out to be the worst in Carl’s entire life.
Carl turned past a thin tree trunk. Another body. But it wasn’t Michael’s.
“Harold!” Carl cried out.
Carl checked the body. The dead man was dressed like one of Ben’s squad, complete with camo pants and a green face mask. He was planted face down in the dirt, with a stone resting on top of his head. Blood leaked from the back of the man’s head down the sides. Carl looked at the holster on the man’s belt. Empty. A quick look around told Carl the weapon was not here.
It was not hard for Carl to replay this scenario in his mind. This gunman must have shot Rupert, and Rupert tumbled into the ravine and cracked his skull or otherwise impaled himself. Michael, however, got the drop on the attacker, and the pair fought down the ravine and then back up it. Michael, likely in the throes of a flashback, savagely beat his opponent and finished him off with a stone he found in the grass.
A grisly end, but one this bastard deserved for what he had done to Rupert.
“That’s one of Ben’s men,” Preston said as he hovered over the body. Harold arrived just behind Preston.
Carl looked on ahead. “I don’t see Michael. I think he grabbed this guy’s gun and ran off.”
“But why’d he do that?” Alicia asked as she approached with Lorenzo.
“The attacker must have triggered Michael. He’s been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He might have thought he was back in the city fighting off those anarchists.” Carl took a few steps through the woods. “He won’t know where he really is. He might be thinking Tara’s in danger and go off to look for her, but he doesn’t know what’s really going on. Damn. If he reveals himself to Ben, Ben might take it out on Tara and Shyanne.”
Carl came to a stop. Their situation, already horrific, just had managed to get even worse.
Harold, Lorenzo, Carl, and Preston just had finished positioning Rupert on his back and placing a mass of twigs, mud and soil on top of his body. It was done quickly. Carl would not leave Rupert in the woods. Sadly, they could not take him with them and find a proper burial site elsewhere, at least not until they rescued Tara and Shyanne, and even then, Carl could not know what their status would be after that. They may not be able to come back here at all. The tragedy of Rupert’s death was that he never would make it back to Tennessee or know the fate of his family there.
Carl was not willing to spare any more time. “We have to find them,” he said with grim determination.
“God knows what Ben and his men will do to them.” He did his best not to consider the actions of such evil men. He already possessed enough rage to last a lifetime.
A soft crack of thunder rumbled. It was quite faint, and for a moment Carl mistook it for an airplane. The thought filled Carl with both excitement and dread, the idea that help might finally be arriving but on the other hand that trouble from an enemy country also could be showing its hand. But the gathering of gray clouds pointed to the more logical conclusion that a storm was coming. A cold wind blowing past only supported that conclusion.
“Rain.” Ricardo’s mom looked around. “What do we do?”
“If we see it coming, I bet Ben and his goons see it, too.” Carl slowly marched forward while studying the sky. “If so, they’ll be headed for shelter. They’re not going to sit around in the rain. You saw their gear, Preston. You noticed they didn’t have any survival gear or packs with them. That means they either have a camp nearby or they are operating out of a shelter, maybe a little shack or a house somewhere.”
“Then they won’t be going far,” Harold said.
Lorenzo scratched his head. “If only we could pick up their trail.”
Carl turned to the west. “Preston, we just came from that direction. Let’s backtrack and see if we can find their trail.”
Harold and Lorenzo leaned down over the print in the mud. “It’s a boot, no question,” Harold said as he looked into the woods. Carl widened his path by a few paces, carefully studying the ground. He did not want to accidently step on a boot track before he had a chance to locate the trail.
“Ten men. There’s no way that many men won’t leave some evidence.” Carl soon found confirmation of his suspicions—pressed-down grass, broken twigs, and more prints whenever there was just dirt. “Bingo! This is where they went.”
“Mister Carl,” Ricardo’s mom spoke up, “How far do you intend to take me and my son?”
“Mom, what do you mean?” Ricardo looked up. “I want to help Miss Tara and Shyanne.”
“I understand you’re worried,” Carl said, “but I can’t separate you from the rest of us.” Then he gazed at the Farrells. “Lorenzo, Alicia, I want you to stick with Ricardo and Maria and protect them if Ben’s men show up again.”
“Gotcha,” Alicia said as she and Lorenzo backed up toward the rear of the pack. Ricardo’s mom grimaced but said nothing more.
Another clap of thunder
rocked the skies. That one was closer. The light also was fading. Carl continued onward. He was grateful for the approaching storm in one respect. All the wind kicking up leaves and the pitter patter of rain that soon would arrive would shield the approach of Carl’s party.
As Carl walked, he wondered what Ben’s camp would be like. If he found a group of tents and Tara and Shyanne were being held inside one, it would be difficult to pinpoint their location. If the flaps were closed, they would have to take the tents all at once. Given the number of men they were up against, that would be impossible. On the other hand, a house would be harder to break into. Carl would need to locate a door, break through it, and quickly discover Tara and Shyanne and get them out while fighting off Ben and the others. However, houses also had windows. If he was lucky, he might spot Tara and Shyanne through the glass and be able to plot a move to free them.
But on the other hand, Ben or one of his men almost certainly would spot them coming. With the number of men Ben possessed at his command, surely he could afford to have one or multiple men on lookout. They might shoot Tara and Shyanne before Carl or his friends could get close.
As Carl finished running through the possibilities, he noticed the land dropped off into an old hunting road. It was not very big, perhaps the size of three adults if they walked side by side, so it probably was not intended for vehicles. However, it provided a steady and definable path for the group to take, but the road stretched from left to right. Which way did Ben’s group take?
Carl checked the tracks. They turned to the right. While the road cut through a more open area in the woods, there still was a lot of cover on their sides.
“Harold,” Carl said, “keep an eye out. I don’t know if they planted sentries behind them but I don’t want to take chances that we’re being watched.”
Harold looked down to his boys. “You know what to do.”
Matthew and Tom spread out, with Matthew looking up to their left while Tom surveilled the right. Harold raised his gun and gazed past Carl to the foliage above.
As they walked, the cloud cover nearly finished blanketing the sky. The sun was now gone from view, and they were marching under a canopy of darkness. It fitted Carl’s mood well as he trudged forward.
Chapter Seventeen
Harold lowered his binoculars. “There it is.”
Carl took the eyepieces and gazed through them. The small ranch house lay just off the side of the old hunting road. But with the now dark sky it was hard to make out details of the structure, other than it was small and small candles were providing the interior of the home with its light. The presence of boot tracks leading off the road toward the dwelling only confirmed Carl’s suspicions.
Carl turned from the home to the grounds beyond the ranch house. The land to the right, which faced the front of the house, was too open. Someone easily could spot an approaching party from that angle. The land off to the left dropped off into thick woods, but it also sloped downward, so an approaching party would have to scale inclining land to reach the back of the house. Fortunately, the slope wasn’t very steep. Experienced outdoorsmen or soldiers would not have a hard time navigating that terrain.
“We’re going to move in from the left side,” Carl said. “But first we need to look out for sentries, although with this approaching weather I doubt anyone’s going to want to stay outside for very long. Nichols is military. He might be feeding these guys some combat maneuvers.”
Carl wretched. He should have said “ex-military.” Nichols was not fit ever to call himself a soldier or wear an American military uniform again. Clearing his throat, Carl added, “If we can, I want to get close enough to the house to find Tara and Shyanne, and also see what we’re up against.”
“Better to send more than one man,” Harold said.
Carl scanned over further into the woods beyond the house. “But one man can be in and out much faster.”
“And one man can be lost in those woods if he’s jumped,” Harold said. “You disappear for too long and someone’s going to have to search for you. I don’t think you want that.”
Carl shook his head. “Fine, but only a small number.”
“My boys and I are perfect for the task.” Harold turned to his two sons next to him.
“I want to go as well,” Ricardo said.
“No!” Maria clutched her son by the shoulders. “Ricardo, it is too dangerous. They might see you!”
“But I’m fast, Mom.” Ricardo turned to Carl. “Please, let me help.”
“No, she’s right,” Carl said.
“Carl!” Ricardo shook his fist. “You know I am very fast. None of the bad guys caught me in the mall when I zipped in and out of the elevator to the hiding place.”
“Yes, I know, and you did good. We’re all proud of you. But this is different. There’s a lot of trees out there and someone could be hiding behind them. It’s not about speed. It’s about awareness. I’ve been trained for moments like this, and Harold and his boys, although they don’t have military training, they still have outdoors experience.” Carl cleared his throat. “Besides, five of us going out there would be too much. It’s also a numbers game. I think it’d be best if you stay here to watch your mother. These animals take women. They’d certainly come after her if they saw her.”
Ricardo stepped closer to his mother. He seemed to get the point. Carl hated to dampen Ricardo’s enthusiasm, but he had no choice.
“Alright.” Ricardo nodded, with a much smaller smile.
“Thank you.” Carl nodded to the boy and his mother before turning to Harold.
“Alright, we’ll do it as you called, but I go first.” Carl said as he handed the binoculars back to Harold. “But whatever you do, don’t ever let these sons of bitches get you from behind.”
Harold, Thomas and Matthew gathered close to Carl at the front. “Lorenzo, Alicia, Preston, you guys guard everyone and keep yourselves under cover until we get back.” Then he turned and smiled at Ricardo. “And you too, Ricardo, of course.”
“Carl, I wish I was out there with you,” Preston said grimly, “Shyanne…”
“I know.” Carl allowed himself a moment of admiration for his companion. For someone who had lived his whole life in the lap of luxury and even had held disdain for the use of force to be willing to put himself in such danger was a remarkable turn. “You’re doing the best good by protecting the others. Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance very soon.”
“Mister Carl!” Matthew was gazing into the woods with a small eyepiece. “I see someone!”
“Shit.” Carl snatched the binoculars from Harold and took a look. A face zipped past a gap in the trees. The man moved fast, but Carl processed the face on the spot. There could be no doubt. “Michael,” he whispered.
“Michael?” Preston joined Carl. “He’s alive?”
“Yeah, but he’s way too close to the house. My God, he might know Tara’s in there, or at least he’s still hunting for her.” Putting down the binoculars, Carl walked past Harold and his boys. “I’ve got to stop him. If Ben’s men see him, it could blow our entire rescue. Harold, you and the boys are going to have to case the house for me.”
Thunder clapped in the sky above them. Carl quickly broke into a run through the woods. “C’mon!” he cried out.
Carl pushed past tree branch after tree branch to bridge the gap between him and Michael. Who knew what state of mind the man was in? Was he fully aware of his circumstances, or was he trapped in the throes of a flashback to an earlier time when he and Tara were fighting for their lives? Would Michael even recognize Carl if Michael saw him?
He was so consumed with reaching Michael that his boot slipped on a suddenly declining piece of ground. If he had not grabbed onto a nearby tree, he would have slid and perhaps tumbled down the ravine that had opened up in front of him. He now had reached the inclining ground behind the house and he did not even know it!
Carl shook his head wildly to unscramble his brain. Between Tara and Shyann
e’s kidnapping and his horror at Michael blowing their rescue plan, he was losing his wits. He had to focus.
And what if Michael isn’t lost in a dream? What if Michael decided to go rescue Tara on his own whim? He challenged you before. How far would he go?
Any effort to focus on the task at hand instantly was shattered when the tree Carl was holding onto suddenly burst open at the trunk just above Carl’s head. The explosion blew Carl right off the tree and into the ravine, falling along with a shower of bark shavings and fragments.
A gun. Someone shot at me. The bullet penetrated the tree instead of Carl’s flesh, which was about the only lucky break he caught from the bullet. The loud bang rattled Carl’s ears, and the sudden impacts he took as he rolled down the ravine jabbed and bruised his skin. Even when he finally stopped at the ravine’s bottom, he was so dizzy and disoriented that for a moment the world above was nothing but a blur.
It also gave his shooter time to close the gap. Carl only was able to sit up and turn his head before he discovered Harper and his gun hovered over him on the slope to his left.
“Well, look who I found!” Harper laughed under his camo mask. “I had to get out and stretch my legs and I see some target practice. Great way to work off the claustrophobia of that damned house.” A clap of thunder cut through the skies. Scattered drops of water started pattering the ground around them. “I’m going to have to take cover in there with all those assholes soon if I don’t want to get drenched.”
“If you think it’s too packed in there, I can suggest lightening the load by a few people,” Carl said.
“Your friends? Good luck getting Ben to agree to that. Me, I don’t really care about taking in girls, but it’s not like we can meet them down at the grill any more, can we? I guess some of us do have our…needs.”
Carl trembled. He didn’t care if this asshole did have a gun on him. He wanted to plant his head in the dirt. Only the fact that he still was rattled from the gunshot and the fall kept him rooted to his spot.
Silent Interruption (Book 3): An Uncertain Passage Page 13