by Joe Nobody
The headlights illuminated the shiny frame of a cell phone, the unit left resting on top of one of the picnic tables. It was ringing before he exited the cab.
“Yeah,” Zach answered.
“Open up all four doors on your truck and move away,” came a robotic sounding voice.
Zach did as instructed, unable to resist scanning the area for the spotter as he moved to the back of the truck, sure Sam would be able to hear his voice. While he couldn’t see anyone, it wasn’t hard to imagine someone with a powerful pair of binoculars checking to make sure he hadn’t stuffed a SWAT team in his backseat.
“You’re a smart man,” sounded the voice, obviously pleased to see the truck was empty. “Get back in and drive two more miles east. You’ll spot a farm lane on the right. Turn in. We’ll let the girl drive your truck out after we have you and the documents.”
“Okay, a farm lane two miles to the east. I pull in, and you’ll release the girl.” Zach repeated for Sam’s sake. The call was terminated.
Climbing in behind the wheel, Zach waited until he was back on the main road and then yelled to the back. “Ready?”
“Ready,” the voice behind him responded.
Zach found the lane, cautiously turning in. He saw the reflection of several vehicles parked 50 yards away, two men with rifles standing on each side of a tall woman. The prisoner was Cheyenne.
He stopped the truck and dowsed the lights. Reaching for the folder of papers next to him on the console, he opened the door and stepped out into the humid Louisiana night.
He sauntered thirty feet toward the gathered kidnappers and stopped, holding up a folder in the bright moonlight. “What now?”
“Bring it over here,” commanded a distant voice.
“Let the girl go. I’ll meet her in the middle. I need to make sure it’s her,” the Texan answered.
Two of the vehicles facing the ranger turned on their headlights, the sudden glare temporarily blinding Zach. Squinting and partially turning away, he could identify movement ahead of the bright beams – the motion of someone walking toward him.
“Zach?” shrieked Cheyenne’s voice. “Zach, is that you?”
“Yes. Keep on walking and get ready to drive the truck.”
Her eyes were wide with fear as she drew closer, flashing an expression of relief and puzzlement as she passed.
Zach continued his steady march toward the kidnappers, holding the folder of documents. He managed another dozen steps when a shout issued another command. “That’s far enough, Ranger,” boomed a somewhat familiar voice. “Take off your jacket and show us you’re not armed.”
“Major?” Zach questioned, halting in the middle of the lane. “Major Alcorn? What the fuck are you doing out here, sir?”
The low chuckle that followed sent chills up Zach’s spine. “Oh come on, Zach. I thought you would have put the pieces together by now. Who do you think killed Abe Hendricks? Think about when I walked up on you and that FBI puke having a free for all. You never even noticed the rifle I was holding, did you?”
Zach had relived that moment a hundred times. He searched his memory, trying to retrieve the image, but couldn’t. “No, sir, I didn’t. But I still don’t understand…”
“You’re about the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen, Bass. After you avoided Buffalo at the junkyard and my friends in Washington, I had to up my game. Those documents are never going to see the light of day. I just can’t have that.”
“I still don’t get it, Major.”
Again, a low, evil sneer echoed through the lane. “Zachariah Bass, you know you never spent much time at the head of the class. No matter – I’m done talking.”
Zach heard the sound of a shotgun’s pump chambering a round.
“Run, Zach!” screamed Sam’s voice from the woods, followed instantly by the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground and rolling across the gravel.
Zach spun away, shielding his eyes as the flash-bang grenade exploded.
Despite his standing more than 20 yards from the detonation, the ranger was briefly stunned by the blast. Six million candelas of white light combined with 180 decibels of thunder split the air, enough released energy to temporarily scramble the brain of anyone nearby.
Zach was darting for the truck as best he could, his gait wobbly and unsure due to the jumbled fluid between his ears. The Texas Ranger sensed, more than saw Sam scurrying slightly ahead of him in the same direction after tossing the device.
“Go! Go! Go!” the two officers screamed at a still-bewildered Cheyenne. Sam reached the truck just then, hopping into the passenger side, front seat, slamming the door behind her. The movement of the truck provided just the catalyst the traumatized Cheyenne needed to snap her out of her daze. She jerked the truck into drive, the pickup’s back wheels beginning to throw dirt just as Zach dove over the tailgate and through the narrow opening into the bed.
The ranger was tossed from side to side as Cheyenne fishtailed back onto the blacktop road, the sound of the squealing rubber and a racing engine making it clear that a high-speed getaway was in progress.
Jolted by the less-than cushy ride over the rear suspension, Zach managed to right himself and regroup, wondering how long it would be before Sam instructed his ex-girlfriend to stop and let him out of the back.
After a few minutes of obviously traveling at extremely high speeds, Zach began to worry. Why weren’t they stopping? A distant popping noise, followed by the loud thwack of a bullet hitting the tailgate solved the mystery. Someone was shooting at them.
Zach pushed up the bed’s cover with his head, the sound of rushing wind filling the confined space. Peering through the narrow opening, he immediately understood why Cheyenne hadn’t let off the gas. There was a car just a short distance behind them, at least one more beyond that.
Two more bullets tore into the bed of the truck just as Zach spied the muzzle flashes and outline of a man firing from the pursuing car’s passenger window.
Ducking back down, he reached for his .45, but then realized he’d left it in the cab. A few seconds later, his hand brushed against the rifle case.
Zach smiled, unzipping the AR15. With the kidnapper’s urgent demand, there hadn’t been time to return the carbine to his safe. For once, the combination of a hectic schedule, the firearm’s qualification requirement, and his absentmindedness had paid off.
There were several full magazines in the case’s side compartment. Slamming one into the rifle, he released the bolt and turned on the holographic sight. “I’ve got a very unpleasant surprise for you, traitor,” he hissed.
Using his head to lift the cover just enough for the rifle’s barrel to clear, Zach tried to center the red dot on the windshield of the pursuing sedan. The moving truck and bumpy road made holding his aim impossible, but the lawman didn’t think pinpoint accuracy would be a critical consideration.
Flicking off the safety, he began squeezing the trigger.
Zach jumped at the report of his first shot, the confined space and metal walls of the pickup’s bed amplifying the small carbine sound like a howitzer. He recovered quickly, the realization that being deaf and alive was better than the alternative.
He began firing again, unsure where his shots were impacting, but pouring round after round into the space between the chase car’s headlights.
The driver’s first reaction was to brake, but it didn’t do him any good. Zach held his fire when the car swerved left, and then hard right into a field bordering the road. The change in direction was too fast, the momentum too great for the pursuer. The ranger smiled when he saw the vehicle’s lights begin somersaulting across the crops.
Evidently, the driver of the second car didn’t understand what had just happened to his mate. Now finding himself directly behind the prey, he accelerated to move up and continue the fight.
Zach’s rifle began spitting high-velocity lead into the newcomer, just as Cheyenne drove over an extremely rough stretch of road. Cursing the Louisi
ana highway department for the lack of maintenance, the Texan tried his best to hit the pursuer, but doubted he’d done much damage.
The rough road and missed shots evidently prompted the chase car to realize what had happened to its friend. Zach was disappointed when his target slowed considerably, drifting back to a safer distance.
Deciding he was wasting ammo, Zach stopped firing, watching the headlights and contemplating what Major Alcorn would try next.
As they sped along with the pursuing car keeping its distance, Zach had the time to evaluate the situation tactically. He knew the trio had a couple of distinct things working in its favor. The first was his truck’s size, its clearance, horsepower, and 4-wheel drive giving them an advantage off-road.
The second was that Sam’s presence had surprised the kidnappers. The adductors had to be asking themselves where the detective had come from, and how many more helpers Zach had waiting in the shadows. A small thing, but helpful nonetheless.
His thought process was interrupted by the slowing of the truck. Zach’s heart raced for a moment, thinking a stray bullet had damaged the engine or hit a tire. He readied to start blasting away at the distant headlights, but then felt the pickup sway as Cheyenne negotiated a curve.
He watched the lights following them blink and flutter, evidence of trees and other undergrowth hindering his line of sight now that the road wasn’t perfectly straight. At one point, they completely disappeared for a few seconds.
Zach also noted there were still two cars in pursuit.
Sam’s voice sounded over the wind, “You okay back there, Ranger?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s the plan?” Zach shouted back.
“We were hoping you had one,” the detective responded.
“Keep heading toward Texas,” he replied. “We need to take them off-road. We’ll have the advantage then.”
“Gotcha.”
A few moments later, the truck slowed even further. “There’s a little town up here,” Sam yelled back.
Zach wanted Cheyenne out of danger. The girl was an innocent, and the chances of a stray bullet or a collision were increasing with every passing mile. An idea popped into his head.
“Let me out,” he called, stuffing his pockets with spare magazines and a bottle of water. “You guys bust it for the border, and I’ll hold them off. I’ll make my way home somehow.”
“Bullshit!” Sam yelled back. “I’m staying with you.”
“No, you have to get Cheyenne back on our home turf. Once you’re in Texas, you can protect her and send reinforcements if needed. Now stop this damn truck, and let me out.”
For a moment, Zach didn’t think the two women in the cab were going to do as he wished. He could see a scattering of houses, a church, and other signs of civilization passing by. Just as he was preparing to launch into an angry tirade, he felt the truck braking hard.
The ranger was hopping out of the back before the pickup reached a complete stop. He hit the pavement and instantly made a run for what appeared to be a closed gas station. At the early hour, no one had been privy to his exit.
Alcorn’s posse wasn’t that far behind, entering the town just as his pickup barked the tires, accelerating away in a blue cloud of burning rubber and dust.
Zach centered the rifle’s red dot on the approaching car and then adjusted the shot according to his estimate for a reasonable lead. He started squeezing the trigger.
Nothing happened for the first few shots. Just when he thought his bullets had completely missed the racing car, the vehicle swerved sharply, scraping one of the town’s utility poles along the passenger side. Zach rapid fired at that first car, his barrel tracing as the vehicle drew abreast and following with shot after shot as it zoomed by.
The second pursuer stopped well short of Zach’s position, distant dome lights announcing that at least one person was exiting the vehicle.
Now with foes at two angles off his position, Zach decided to buy the girls some time, fading back into the shadows and sneaking into the town. With any luck, the gunfire would motivate the local residents to call the Louisiana authorities. He was pretty sure Alcorn and his henchmen wouldn’t want to deal with the cops.
Zach moved down what could only be described as a typical, small town residential street, keeping away from the pools of illumination generated by the corner streetlights.
Dogs were barking all over town, a few windows glowing bright as the sleepy citizens tried to figure out what was going on.
The ranger kept moving, knowing time was on his side. A little less than 10 minutes passed before he heard the first siren, wailing its announcement in the distance. It soon had company.
“Heh, heh. That would be the calvary. Alcorn and his fellow criminals will bug out now,” the Texan whispered to himself. “They won’t want to explain what’s going on to the locals.”
He identified a good hiding spot, a small, dark grassy gap between two garages. The perfect vantage, but thank gawd I won’t have to be here long, he mused. Putrid-smelling trashcans lined one exterior wall, offering excellent cover, and there didn’t appear to be canines living on this block. One of the two houses attached to the garage hide was for sale and seemed to be vacant.
Ducking down behind the cans, Zach waited, heeding the symphony of sirens streaming his way. “I’d give anything to see Alcorn’s face,” he whispered.
The first patrol car rolled slowly down the street a few minutes later, its blue lights flashing, the driver-controlled spotlight searching yards and alleys. Zach considered surrendering, but decided to wait it out a little longer before making a move. Alcorn was one of the smartest men he’d worked with, and there was no telling what that crafty son-of-a-bitch would come up with.
Zach stayed put, seeing no reason to expose himself via any sort of movement. He had an excellent tactical position, good egress, and was within 100 yards of deep woods should he be discovered. He knew that most criminals gave themselves away by moving. He’d seen it a dozen times, the mere passing of a police car flushing out a fugitive like a bird dog scattering quail on the prairie. It didn’t matter if it were a city street or the West Texas desert, criminals evidently became nervous, scared, or impatient and would flee a perfectly good hiding spot. He wasn’t going to be so stupid.
One of the orbiting squad cars stopped directly in front of the Texan’s refuge, the deputy inside patrolling with his windows down. Zach could hear the car’s radio blaring through the opening.
The cruiser’s headlight illuminated the base of a massive oak ahead, the driver mesmerized by the movement of what appeared to be an errant armadillo. Zach’s jaw dropped when he recognized Major Alcorn’s voice boom over the car’s radio, “The suspect is wearing blue jeans, a white dress shirt and possibly a western hat and boots. He is well over six feet in height with a muscular build and closely cropped hair. He is armed with a shoulder-fired weapon and handgun. He may attempt to identify himself as a law enforcement officer. We have reports that he has even flashed a counterfeit badge. He is extremely dangerous.”
Shit! Zach thought. Alcorn’s got the locals bamboozled.
The ranger’s frustration escalated quickly… and not only regarding his current situation. If Alcorn had alerted the entire state of Louisiana to his false report, Sam and Cheyenne’s chances of getting home had just plummeted as well.
The deputy continued rolling through the subdivision, evidently satisfied that the local wildlife that had drawn his attention wasn’t his fugitive.
A few minutes later, Zach’s situation degraded even further. One block from his position, he watched another cruiser pass under the streetlight, the words, “K-9 UNIT” boldly stenciled on the side of the passing vehicle. “Not good,” the Texan whispered, realizing the town wasn’t big enough to hide him from dogs, at least not for long.
For a bit, he considered retreating into the nearby woods, but that plan couldn’t stand up to the ranger’s scrutiny. He had no idea how deep, wide, or long the pat
ch of foliage grew. For all he knew, there could be a bayou or state police post just on the other side of the tree line.
After verifying there weren’t any cops nearby, Zach slipped to the rear of the closest garage, staying low between the buildings. He almost tripped over the old push mower, the abandoned unit completely hidden by the darkness and knee-high weeds. He knew he needed transportation to stay ahead of the authorities. Carjacking sounded like his best option.
After momentarily cursing the old relic under his breath, an idea popped into his head. Slinging his carbine, Zach felt around for the tool’s handle, soon verifying that all four wheels were still intact. The simple machine moved easily.
He reached into the trashcan, pulling out a white bag of garbage. The refuse rested securely on top of the antiquated mower’s engine. Zach secured the handle upright using the trash bag’s ties.