by David Nees
“We’re still stuck with walking. It would take a massive effort to clear these roads.”
“Maybe helps keep others from moving around and bothering us.”
“Yeah. It probably slows the feds down, but I sense we’re on borrowed time. They’re going to come around someday.”
“That’s why you put out sentries,” Clayton replied.
That night they slept along the highway. Jason chose an abandoned car, while Clayton bedded down on the side of the highway. The next morning after breakfasting on some dried fruit and water, they again headed west, the sun at their backs.
The air was cool but Jason could feel the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. Nothing much was said as they plodded along. Both men carried backpacks loaded with fifty pounds of gear. They wore tactical vests. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders. Jason had dismounted his scope from the M110 and had carefully packed it in a cushioned case and put it in his pack. He would rely on the iron sights until he had to do some sniping. He was feeling the soreness from the first day. Muscles being called into action in a way they hadn’t been for a long time.
“You feeling a bit sore this morning?” he asked turning to Clayton as they tramped along.
Clayton grinned. “Yeah. But only admit it to you. I s’pect it’ll pass.”
“I give it another day. If not, I’m going to be feeling old.”
An hour later, Jason blinked. A flash of light had hit his eyes. Without breaking stride he scanned ahead to find the source. Something had reflected the sun into his eyes. There it was again. A third of a mile ahead was an overpass. The flash came from there, just above the concrete retaining wall. A quick look along the overpass revealed nothing. There were ramps on either side of the interstate to connect to the crossing road. They ran uphill. Jason could not see if any vehicles were on the far, downhill side of the ramps. There could be a vehicle parked on either side of the interstate, on the downhill slope, nicely out of sight. But one thing was sure; someone was on the overpass observing them with binoculars, or a rifle scope.
Jason stopped at the next vehicle. It was a truck with a large front bumper. He un-shouldered his rifle and backpack and sat down on the bumper, facing the distant overpass.
“What’s up?” Clayton asked.
“Something in my boot,” Jason replied. He began to take off his boot.
Clayton leaned his rifle against the front of the truck and took his pack off as well. “Glad to set that down for a bit.”
“Clayton, don’t turn around and keep looking at me. Stay relaxed but don’t turn around.”
Clayton gave him a quizzical look.
“Don’t react to what I’m about to say.
“I hear you,” Clayton said. “But what you got to say?”
“Someone is observing us. With binoculars or through a rifle scope. Don’t turn around!”
Clayton caught himself just in time. “Where are they?” he asked.
“On the overpass ahead.”
“How you know?”
“The sun reflected off their binoculars or scope. It flashed in my eyes.”
“So what you think we should do?”
“I’m trying to figure that out. They’re probably armed but it’s a pretty long shot to take right now. I suspect they’re just waiting for us to get closer.”
“Bandits!” Clayton said that with a note of disgust in his voice.
“They can see we got packs and rifles. We may not look easy, but I’ll bet we look inviting. So the easiest thing would be to shoot us from ambush and then just come down and take everything.” Jason stretched and then bent down to rub his foot. “Let’s try to keep them off guard as long as we can.”
He looked around casually. To his right the ground sloped gently upward to a line of trees. They were near a channel dug into the slope and filled with rocks. It spread out in a V shape at the top of the rise, gathering water to run off the hillside in the rocky channel, thereby limiting the erosion.
“We should try to make it to the tree line to our right. If we use the channel, we’ll have cover from the shooter, but it will be tough going in those rocks.” Jason reached over and took out a map from his backpack. “Let’s pretend we’re discussing an alternate route. The interstate starts going north soon, so we could be discussing cutting to the right, over the hill as a short cut. Come on over and look at the map with me.”
He pantomimed a discussion between him and Clayton about cutting across country, pointing to the slope and woods.
“We make it to the woods, what then? We go after them?” Clayton asked.
“The crossroad ahead cuts through that hillside, so we’ll intersect it part of the way up. I’m betting they’ll hop in a vehicle if they have one and try to hit us as we come up out of the woods.”
“If they got something to drive. If not, we can just go on, bypass them.”
“That would be best, but we’d better be ready for the worst.”
“They know we’ll hear them if they start an engine.”
“Yeah. We’ll see what they do. If we don’t hear anything, we should still assume they’ve found a way to get up the road quietly.”
“So we just amble up the slope? Seems like inviting them to shoot.”
“Getting into those rocks would give us some cover but it would be tough going, climbing and keeping below the rim.”
“Plus they’ll know we seen them.”
Jason nodded and with another stretch, he put the map away and pulled on his boot and laced it up. He stood up and pointed up hill like he was finalizing their route.
“Let’s just walk it casually, but stay apart. I don’t think they can make that long a shot. They’ll think they got a better chance to catch us at the road further up the slope.”
“Hope you right. Makes my back itch to leave myself open like this.”
Jason looked at Clayton. “I don’t like it either. Don’t like betting on someone else’s shooting ability, but I don’t see any other choice.”
The two men shouldered their packs and rifles and casually set out towards the slope, climbing over the guard rail. As they walked uphill Jason had to force himself to not keep looking over to his left, towards the overpass. Be casual, be methodical, you’re just climbing a hill.
After five minutes that seemed like an hour, they reached the trees and pushed through the dense brush at the edge of the forest. Both men sighed. Clayton’s eyes were alight. The forest was his element. Jason also felt comfort amongst the trees.
“Let’s move quickly up the hill. We’ll stop about fifty yards from the road. I think we’ll be able to see it by the gap of light where it cuts through the trees.”
“We fan out and wait?”
“Yeah. We’ll assume they’re coming. We stay in sight of each other. They’ll get antsy and probably come into the woods to investigate.”
“That’s when we take them down,” Clayton said.
The two men moved up the hill silently. They continued until they could see the cut of the road above.
“Let’s wait here.”
Clayton nodded. Jason lay down behind two tree trunks that had fallen some years ago. They presented an uneven line that would hide his head and rifle. Clayton moved to his left behind a granite boulder that was next to a large oak tree. The notch between them gave him a good shooting position.
They heard the growl of an engine but it soon stopped. Jason couldn’t tell if the sound had been coming closer before it ended. Did they drive part of the way and are now walking? He didn’t know. The answer was to wait. He knew Clayton understood this. Patience…and stealth rewarded the hunter. Whether you hunted men or game animals. It would take some time for the bandits to become tired of waiting. Their impatience would be their demise. It was worth the wait. If the ambushers didn’t show, Jason figured they would creep to the road and confirm the fact they weren’t there, and keep moving up through the woods, cutting off part of the interstate.
Ab
out fifteen minutes later Jason heard it; the scuffling of feet up the hill, on the road. He looked over at Clayton who was looking intently up the slope. He’d heard it as well.
Now we know. Now we let them come to us.
Chapter 7
___________________________________
I t was another ten minutes before the bandits on the road got impatient as Jason expected. They wanted to find their quarry. He figured the promise of what might be in the packs was too attractive to ignore. Two of the three men started down into the woods from the road. They separated from each other by about thirty yards. At least they are smart enough to do that.
Jason caught Clayton’s eye and pantomimed to him to wait one minute. He indicated he would take out the man on the right and Clayton should target the man to the left. The key was to take them down quickly and then get to any other bandits on the road before they could disappear. Who knew how many others were in reserve? Neither he nor Clayton wanted a full out gunfight with six or more armed men.
Jason’s target was about thirty yards away. He had settled his rifle on him and was just about to shoot when Clayton fired. The man in Jason’s sights turned as Jason stroked the trigger. His shot slammed into his left shoulder, throwing the man to the ground.
Jason stood up and ran to him. He was writhing in pain, his upper arm was torn open, probably broken. It looked like the bullet had penetrated his side after going through his arm. Jason threw the man’s rifle away from him, he was not going to be moving very far, and ran towards the road. He slipped once and fell to his knees, catching himself with his left hand. Cursing, he got up and charged to the road.
On reaching the road, he saw the third bandit running back down the road towards the interchange and their pickup truck parked about two hundred yards away. The man was about seventy yards and getting more distant every second. Jason flopped to the pavement, sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. Part of the way through exhaling, he paused, settled the iron sights on the man’s back and fired. The M110 gave a satisfying kick and the man was flung forward, landing face down on the pavement. He squirmed around for a moment and then lay still.
“That’s some shot,” Clayton said. He had arrived at the road just as Jason had dropped to the prone position.
“Big target, moving straight ahead, no need to lead him, not too hard. The man I shot in the woods is still alive, let’s go talk to him, find out who else is out there.”
“Man I shot is dead,” Clayton replied.
They went back down into the woods. The young man was lying on the ground groaning in pain. Jason squatted down so the man could see him.
“How many more of you are there?” he asked.
The wounded bandit looked young. Jason guessed he couldn’t be more than twenty. He was breathing raggedly, seeming to struggle for breath.
“It hurts bad,” he said at last.
“I understand that. I have some pain medication in my pack. I can give you something for the pain, but I need you to answer some questions first.”
“I’ll get our packs,” Clayton said.
“You want something for the pain?” Jason asked.
The young man nodded.
“Tell me how many more of you are out there?”
“Just one more besides us three. They’re all brothers. I joined them couple months ago. It hurts bad, hard to talk.”
Clayton came back lugging the packs. Jason took his pack and dug through it to find the morphine autoinjectors he had packed. He pulled one out and stuck it into the man’s thigh. “This should help.”
Within a minute the man relaxed and calmed down.
“Now tell me about this gang, especially this fourth person.”
“I joined them couple of months ago. I was on my own. My family all died after the power went out. Our whole town was wiped out, first by people dying, then by some gang raids. Me and a high school buddy, we survived by hiding in the woods. Later we took to robbing people. We set up at a bridge and charged tolls to cross. Didn’t take everything, just some things to get along. Then a group came along and fought back. Bobby was killed and I was alone. That’s when I came across the brothers.”
He coughed. Jason could see blood in what came out. The bullet had probably lodged in his chest, coming through his side after shattering his arm.
“I’m all stove up,” the young man complained. “This ain’t good.” He looked up at Jason. “Am I gonna make it?”
“Maybe. Can’t say for sure. The bullet shattered your left arm and entered your side.” The man’s arm was bleeding profusely. Jason realized that if he wanted information, he’d better stop the bleeding. “I’ll get something to bind that arm, stop the blood flow.”
“I’ll do it,” Clayton said. “You keep talking to him.”
Jason nodded. “Go on,” he said to the man.
“Well the brothers, Aaron, Clem and Hank, don’t know their last names. They ain’t that nice. They’d take everything when they robbed people. Killed them sometimes. Sometimes they took girls or women and tied them up in the house. Raped them.”
“The house. Where is it?”
“It’s about a mile from the overpass, on the south side. We been working this area, but it’s slim pickings. I think they was planning to move somewhere else, maybe some small towns nearby.”
“They got any captives now?”
“Only one now. The rest died or they killed them when they got tired or angry. ‘There’s always more’ they said.”
Just then Clayton came back with a shirt he’d taken off the man he had shot. Jason cut it up with his knife and tied it tight around the man’s arms. “What’s your name?”
“Ronnie,” the young man replied.
“The house is on this road?”
Ronnie nodded.
“And the third brother is at the house?” Clayton asked.
Ronnie nodded again. “He’s the meanest one. Big. He hears about his brothers no telling what he’ll do. Probably kill the woman he’s got.”
“She’s a prisoner?”
Ronnie nodded again. “Tied to a bed. They let her up to eat and take a dump or piss, then she’s tied back on the bed. They take her anytime they want.”
“You do that?”
Ronnie shook his head vigorously which caused another bout of coughing up blood. “No,” he gasped when he could get his breath back. “She’s about forty, not bad looking, but she’s too much like a mom. Seemed creepy to me.”
“How’d they capture her?”
“She was traveling with her husband, heading east when we stopped them. We took all the food they had, the husband tried to resist, so Clem shot him. Then Hank, the big one, grabbed her and dragged her to the house. She’s been there about two weeks.”
He moaned and rolled over, his face to the ground. “This ain’t good. You got any more of that drug? It’s starting to hurt bad again.”
Now Clayton spoke up. “What’s your last name?”
“Clancy.”
“I knew some Clancys, didn’t know they was outlaws.”
“We ain’t. It’s just I didn’t know what else to do. And I never hurt nobody. Mister, can you give me some more stuff for the pain?”
Clayton continued, “You’re hurt bad, you know that.”
Ronnie nodded. “Broke up for sure. Don’t think I’ll make it.”
“Probably not,” Clayton replied.
Ronnie reached out to Jason. “Maybe you can do one thing. Maybe you can free that woman. Then I won’t die feeling so bad. I’ll feel like maybe I helped do one thing right. Seems like I didn’t do anything right after the power went out. Didn’t mean to be bad.”
“You ran with a bad group,” Clayton said. “Got on the wrong side of things, but it’s a choice you make.”
“Didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t matter now.”
“Can you help her?” Ronnie asked looking up at Jason.
Jason looked over at Clayton
who gave him a perceptible nod.
“Yeah, we’ll free her, and kill Hank.”
“That’s a good thing I done then. The house is the first one on the left after the overpass.” He sagged back. “I’m done in. You bury me when I’m gone? Not leave me to the animals?”
“We’ll check on you after getting this woman free.” Jason stood up. “Got to go now.” He grabbed his pack and Clayton and he walked back up to the road.
“What we gonna do?” Clayton asked.
“We should free the woman and kill this guy Hank.”
“Don’t have a problem ‘bout that, but we can’t take her with us.”
“I know. But she’s better off free and with Hank dead than if we just head off to Knoxville.”
“Just so we understand.”
Jason nodded. “Let’s go do this,” he said and they started down the road.
They passed the body of the third bandit and stopped at the pickup. “We should drive this part of the way,” Jason said. “The engine will be a familiar sound to Hank. He won’t suspect anything when he hears it.”
“Can’t just drive up though.”
“No. We’ll have to stop before we’re seen from the house and go on foot. The key is to take the guy out quickly before he creates a hostage situation.”
They got into the truck and started down the road.
They caught a glimpse of the house before reaching the driveway and stopped the truck on the road. They got out and moved up through the woods until they came to edge of the trees where the yard started. The house had wood siding that needed painting. It was one story with a small porch covered by a low-hanging extension of the roof. One corner post supporting the overhang was broken and the roof was starting to sag, giving in to the inexorable pull of gravity. A few ragged curtains hung in the windows.
There was a separate garage leaning to one side that looked in danger of collapsing. Judging from the tire tracks and mud, it looked like cars and trucks were just driven up on the front yard and parked wherever was convenient.