Higgins

by C. G. Cooper

  “Get to the tower! Get to the tower!”

  “Sonofabitch.” Johnson hefted his gun and sprinted toward the tower, leaving Higgins in the dust.

  Higgins ran as fast as he could, making sure to keep his gun at the ready, though little good that would probably do. He took the time to peer over his shoulder. It was a mistake. Three agents had materialized from the foliage, including a beefy operative who was all-out sprinting after him.

  Abrams made it to the tower first and hauled himself up the rickety staircase. Even from a distance, Higgins could see rust falling from the underside of the steps. He hoped it would hold all their weight.

  When Johnson made it to the steps, he crouched beside them and leveled his gun at the agents who had been chasing Abrams. “Higgins! Up!” he shouted.

  But with three more closing in from behind, there was no way Johnson would be able to get six shots off in time.

  Higgins whirled around and pointed his gun at the three behind him while Johnson took care of the three in front of them. He remembered everything Abrams had told him about following his targets, but none of it seemed to apply when your enemies were barreling right toward you. Before they could get their own shots off, Higgins closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger a dozen times, hoping at least one of them would land.

  When he opened his eyes, the ground was painted yellow, but so were the agents. They weren’t good shots, by any means, but they had gotten the job done. He let out a breath he’d been holding for an hour and let loose with a satisfied chuckle.

  He heard Johnson’s voice from behind. “You know that was pure dumb luck, right?”

  He looked up at the man’s scowling face. “I know.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Never seen a person so goddamned lucky in my life,” he mumbled.

  The staircase wobbled as Higgins began his ascent. Rust snowed down as he made his way up. He marveled at how the three of them managed to reach to the top without the entire tower falling apart. Abrams had been first, and was standing there waiting when the other two arrived.

  He wasn’t alone. The hiker from earlier had her own gun trained on him.

  Johnson raised his weapon and aimed it at her chest.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Think you can get a shot off before I can?”

  Johnson pulled the trigger, putting a single bullet into the woman’s chest. She grunted at the impact and stumbled to the side, cursing a blue streak. She pulled the trigger on her own weapon, but her aim was already off. It made impact against the window behind Abrams, taking out the only remaining pane of glass.

  “Fuck, that hurts without padding.” She slumped to the floor and let her gun slip out of her hand.

  “You could’ve gotten me shot!” Abrams shouted with uncharacteristic rage.

  “Worth the risk. I’m getting tired of this game. What’s next?” Johnson walked back over to the doorway and kept an eye on the field in case there were any more enemy inbound. He shifted from foot to foot, never quite stepping back out onto the staircase.

  Higgins decided to test a theory. “Johnson, pull out the binoculars. Let’s see if you can see anything.”

  Johnson grabbed them from his pack. “You look. Abrams, check for a clue. I’ll keep watch.”

  Higgins kept his voice as even as he could. “You’re afraid of heights.”

  Johnson froze. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s completely normal, and for a lot of people, they can’t help it. No amount of training in the world will get rid of it completely.”

  Abrams sighed. “Remember what I said about targets, Al?”

  Higgins blinked back at him. “Yes.”

  Abrams just shook his head. “Never mind, man.” He pulled an envelope from the woman’s vest. “Alright, let’s see what it says.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Before Abrams could open the envelope, another bullhorn sounded from the woods. The agent on the floor popped up to her feet with a groan and lifted her shirt, checking the blossoming bruise that was already forming on her stomach. Higgins turned away, a blush erupting on his face.

  “I’m gonna need your pack,” she said.

  Higgins turned back and noticed she was talking to him. “What?”

  “Your pack was hit. Contents are compromised. You’ll have to proceed without the pack and everything in it.”

  “You got hit?” Johnson was vibrating with fury as he took note of the splotch of yellow on the pack.

  “He’s not out,” the agent said. “Just his pack.”

  Higgins slipped the bag from his shoulders and reluctantly handed it over. The woman winked at him before jogging down the stairs and across the field.

  Johnson turned to him slowly. “How did that happen?”

  “Does it matter?” Abrams opened the flap on the envelope. “He’s not disqualified.”

  “We’re down a third of our supplies. We’ll both must to pull extra weight now. That really doesn’t bother you?”

  “Of course, it bothers me, but accidents happen. There’s no point in arguing about it and wasting time. We need to keep moving.”

  Abrams tore open the envelope and shook out the contents into his palm. A bit of twisted wire lay there, and nothing else.

  “They’ve got a bomb,” Johnson said.

  Higgins plucked the wire out of Abrams’s hand to look at it more closely. “Not a real one, surely.”

  “Of course not,” Johnson said. “But if it goes off, all three of us will be going home.”

  “Anyone got any explosives experience?” Abrams asked. The other two shook their heads. “Me neither.”

  “All that playing with matches and no experience with explosives?” said Higgins.

  “Listen, I was a pyro, but I wasn’t crazy.”

  Higgins scratched his head. “I could maybe take a crack at it.”

  “A bomb isn’t something you ‘take a crack at’, Al.”

  “You guys have any better ideas?”

  They were both silent as Higgins paced around the perimeter of the small room. “Bombs are just circuitry. If you can figure out what kind it is, if you can see the trigger wire and disarm it, then no harm done.”

  “And how do you know anything about bombs?” Johnson took his eyes off the field to toss a glare at Higgins.

  “I’ve read about them.”

  “You’ve read about them?” Johnson turned to Abrams in disbelief. Abrams just shrugged.

  “There’s a lot of downtime at my job. When I’m done with my analyses, I dig into the rest of the case. Sometimes there are explosives.”

  Abrams ran a hand through his hair. “As much faith as I have in you, Al, this isn’t something we want to mess with. Even if it’s a fake.”

  “It’s not like we have another choice. Unless either one of you feel comfortable enough to, um, take a crack at it?”

  Johnson stepped outside, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before walking back onto the staircase. “We’re wasting time. We need to move.”

  Abrams snatched up the binoculars from Higgins and turned to the window, scanning the terrain. “Hang on there, Johnson. We don’t even know where we’re going yet.”

  Higgins continued to pace. “We’ve got to be close.”

  Abrams lowered the binoculars. “How do you figure?”

  “Logical. If they’re telling us about an explosive device, then we’ve got to be close to our destination, right? What good is it presenting us with the prospect of a bomb if it’ll just go off before we even get there. The next step must be finding the cabin.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Higgins took note of the sweat running down Johnson’s forehead. It was hot, to be sure, but Johnson wasn’t hiding his fear very well.

  Abrams raised the glasses to his face again. After a moment, he called out, “Got it.”

  Johnson came away from the edge of the stairs. “What? Where?”

  Abrams handed him the binoculars. “Two o’clock. There’s
a notch in the tree line. Do you see it?”

  “Doesn’t look like much.”

  “Doesn’t have to. But it’s the only break in the trees from this vantage point.”

  “Can you see a cabin?” Higgins asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. But that part of the forest is pretty dense. The trees look bigger, possibly older. The only reason why there’d be a noticeable break is if there were something up there.” Johnson swept his gaze across the ridge. “Worst case scenario is we get there and have to keep looking. But that looks higher than here. We could use it as our next vantage point. And we’d still be heading north, so we’d likely be getting closer to our target anyway.”

  “We have another problem,” Higgins called out.

  Johnson and Abrams turned and saw he had picked up the red envelope. He flipped it around to show them what had been written on the inside flap.

  “We are close after all. We only have twenty-four hours to dismantle the device before it goes off.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Abrams, Johnson, and Higgins made their way down the staircase and back out into the field. Johnson felt much better now that he had two feet on solid ground.

  A couple of hikers were having a lunch break in the field. Higgins figured they were the real deal, considering the agents were probably already moving onto the next target. But just in case, the team headed into the woods immediately, turning their backs on the hikers to conceal their weapons. The sight of three strange men crashing your picnic with firearms might tend put a damper on things.

  The trek down the mountain was much easier on their bodies, but a lot more dangerous. Abrams and Johnson agreed they should stay off the trails. Higgins was too busy trying to stay on his feet to counter that argument. Loose gravel, hidden logs, and thick roots meant he almost lost his footing a dozen times before they even hit the halfway point. After the ninth or tenth stumble, he offered up his gun to the weaponless Abrams. The last thing he needed was a self-inflicted shot to the foot.

  All three men kept an eye on the sun, keeping in mind their plan to make camp only if they were within a couple of hours of their destination.

  “May I introduce a small point at this juncture?” Higgins said, his foot narrowly avoiding a root the size of a baby’s arm.

  “Nope” said Johnson, his patience at an all-time low.

  “What is it, Higgins?” Even Abrams sounded predisposed to shut down the conversation.

  “Well, we don’t even know if our destination is the one with the supposed cabin and alleged bomb.”

  “We’ll jump that hurdle when we get to it,” Abrams said.

  All throughout the trek were permutations of this conversation, all with the same conclusion.

  Higgins looked around, taking in the smell of tree sap and warm leaves, the sound of birds chirping and animals foraging. He had a momentary flashback to the encounter with the bear, and a chill went down his spine. He wasn’t built for this kind of work. It had been a huge mistake telling Decker that he wanted to be part of the program.

  A small thought crept into his mind. He was used to isolation at his other job. Really, how different was one type of isolation from another? He worked better alone, with his own thoughts, in a room with no windows or distractions. Here he was surrounded by walls of wildlife.

  Johnson motioned for them to cross a small stream using stones separated by several feet. Higgins took a small leap for one and missed, slipping into the stream with a cursing streak that would have stunned a sailor. They had been in the woods for days, and neither Johnson nor Abrams looked back. The scientist’s stumbling was just another obstacle that they had to surmount. They kept moving as they had been, expecting the hapless Higgins to catch up.

  For a moment, he sat there, water seeping into his pants and coat. He contemplated staying there in that small streambed. He wished it had been larger so he could float downstream and away from this nightmare.

  As his teammates got further away, his anxiety rose. Isolation was only good for him when it was self-imposed. He didn’t want to be left alone and he didn’t want to be the reason his team didn’t finish the mission. He hated being the weakest link. Even more than that, he didn’t want to give up a chance to be part of the program. This was, far and away, the hardest thing he had ever done for himself. He’d be leaving a job that not only fulfilled him, but needed him. He was risking a reasonably comfortable life for the chance to be a part of something that wasn’t guaranteed to work.

  It wasn’t a mistake after all. He’d never felt more alive.

  He assessed the situation. At least he didn’t still have his pack, or else Johnson would spend the rest of the day complaining about ruined supplies. There was that one tiny victory on his part. With that, he scrambled up out of the water and sloshed his way to the bank using an exposed root to help him up the slight incline. Once he hit land, he took off at a steady pace, keeping an eye on the back of Johnson’s head in order to stay on track.

  Johnson and Abrams kept their brutal pace for the rest of the evening. By the time the sun had fallen below the horizon, neither one of them showed any indication of slowing down. When Higgins offered it up as a suggestion, Abrams simply said they didn’t have the time. They’d keep pushing until they were close enough to the summit to take a break.

  That didn’t come until just before daybreak, when Abrams finally called it. Johnson was hesitant, but when he saw Higgins collapse in relief, even he couldn’t find the energy to rouse him. They ate and took a brief respite. Higgins didn’t worry about who was on watch. He was out in a matter of seconds, feeling the march continuing on into the realm of dreams.

  It wasn’t long before he was being shaken awake, however, and the group continued on like the ceaseless march he was having in his short-lived sleep. He wasn’t sure if the other two had gotten any rest, but they didn’t complain. The team was in the shadow of the summit now, but who knew how long it would take them to reach the peak? And then once they did, what would they find up there?

  He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, choosing little checkpoints ahead of them in order to keep his spirits high. Once he passed a certain tree, he could take a sip of water. Once he crossed a fallen log, he could rest for five seconds. It was the only thing keeping him going. Thousands of these tiny goals reached every fifteen minutes.

  He wondered what the others had to do to stay motivated. He could read people, but he couldn’t read minds. As much as he’d picked up about Johnson and Abrams, he still didn’t know their stories. It would help fill in quite a few gaps, but he doubted either man would be willing to bare their souls to this twittery little stranger. He knew that much about them. They were teammates, but they weren’t friends.

  Once the final ascent began, the pace slowed considerably. This mountain wasn’t unlike the other, but there was also no clear trail. It seemed more likely they were approaching the summit from the back. The terrain was steep and overgrown. Higgins felt his breath come in sharp hacks. The muscles in his thighs screamed with every step.

  When they took their next break, the sun was past its peak. More than twelve hours had gone by, and they were well on their way to the top of the mountain. Higgins wasn’t bogged down by the weight of a pack, but he still felt like he was lagging behind. He tried his best to keep to himself. He could see the strain of the hike on both his partners. Despite the myriad of questions swarming inside his head, he wasn’t about to push his luck by uttering a single one aloud.

  But when the pace slowed, he could no longer hold it back. In a whisper to Abrams, he said, “Are we close?”

  Abrams nodded and pointed off to the right. “The clearing is over there. You can’t see it from this angle, but it’s there.”

  “And we’re coming at it from this side to avoid detection.”

  Johnson was too focused on their target to be visibly annoyed by the obvious statement by this piece of dead weight. Instead, he asked. “How much time we got left?
”

  Abrams looked up at the sky. “Sun’s starting to dip. Three hours, give or take.”

  “That’s not much,” said Johnson, though his voice was devoid of hope.

  “All we need to do is diffuse the bomb,” Higgins said. “Once that’s done, we don’t have to rush the interrogation.”

  “The sooner we’re out of here, the better,” Johnson said. Then, snapping out of his thoughts, he turned to Higgins. “And by the way, since you’re our resident expert, how ‘bout you tell us how you’re going to tackle this bomb.”

  Abrams shook his head in annoyance and started off again, heading straight up the side of the mountain, then curving around toward the right.

  “I told you I’m not an expert.” Higgins was keeping pace with them now, and part of him wished he wasn’t. “But if I can see what kind of device it is, I may be able to figure it out.”

  “I don’t like maybes,” Johnson said.

  “None of us do,” Abrams responded, “but it’s all we’ve got right now. Let’s just focus on finding the stupid thing first.”

  Higgins was expecting the cabin to be the first sign that they were close to their target. Instead, they had nearly trampled a pair of guards keeping watch on the perimeter. Higgins could make out a corner of the cabin off in the distance behind them. They were close.

  As soon as Abrams spotted them, he and Johnson ducked down behind a large boulder. Higgins tried to follow suit, tripped over a leaf-concealed rock, and ended up on his stomach with a quiet oomph. They paid him no mind.

  “How many did you see?” Abrams asked.

  “Just the two. You?”

  “Same, but we can’t be too sure. Lots of places to hide out here.”

  Higgins tried to peer above the rock to catch a glimpse of the guards when he felt Johnson’s heavy hand land on his shoulder and shove him back down. There was no reprimand, but Johnson’s glare was more than enough to get the message across.