by Bobby Akart
“Go ahead, Alpha.”
“On my go, you’ll enter first. I need three seconds of cover.”
“Roger. On your go.”
Alpha made eye contact with Hayden, who nodded her understanding. He turned his rifle around and prepared to smash the glass panes with the buttstock. Then he keyed his mic.
“Go, Bravo!”
The sound of breaking glass could be heard on the other end of the lodge, and Alpha responded by crashing through the entry door side windows. He reached a gloved hand through the shards of glass that stuck out of the frame, and flicked the lock open.
Hayden moved swiftly to open the door and then kicked it with a hard crash against the interior wall. She dropped to a knee and immediately began to scan the left side of the open living area with her rifle.
Seconds later, smoke began to billow into the rafters of the vaulted ceiling near the fireplace as Bravo team ignited their smoke grenades.
Alpha followed suit, and the big man deftly got into position to scan the right side of the room. Then he bellowed, the words coming out of his chest like an angry gorilla warning the world of his might, “Give it up! Briscoe, Schwartz, you don’t have to die tonight!”
Just as he shouted the words, the sound of the four-wheeler racing out of the garage caught all of their attention.
“Dammit!” shouted Alpha. He debated whether to back out of the room and give chase. He sent Bravo and Charlie instead.
“Bravo, run them down!”
“Roger!” The sound of shuffling feet could be heard through the smoke as Bravo team exited the lodge and ran onto the deck. Then Alpha spoke into the comms. “A single four-wheeler headed east away from the building. Comin’ at ya, Delta.”
Delta calmly responded, “Roger. I see headlights.”
“Bravo team, assist Delta team and chase down that four-wheeler. Foxy and I will clear the building.”
“Roger.”
Alpha whispered to Hayden, “It’s you and me.”
“Isn’t it always?” she said with a determined look.
Chapter 40
Schwartz Lodge
Kutztown, Pennsylvania
Briscoe was panicked and drove the Kawasaki four-wheeler as fast as it would go. He silently cursed himself for not studying Jonathan’s operation of the side-by-side vehicle in the past. It was somewhat top heavy due to the roof over the cab, but its longer wheelbase seemed more stable than what he imagined. Nonetheless, in his haste and somewhat inebriated state, he was unsuccessful in avoiding potholes or uneven parts of the driveway, which was nothing more than two ruts divided by a weed-covered hill of gravel.
Several times as he raced down the driveway, a route he’d taken a half dozen times since his arrival at the Schwartz lodge, Briscoe had to retrieve his rifle lying on the seat next to him, which threatened to bounce out. Each time he took his eyes off the road to grab the weapon, he lost control of the steering, causing him to careen from one side of the driveway to the other.
He finally corrected and got comfortable with his speed. He focused on the roadway that was only a few hundred yards away. That was when he saw the lights. At first, he couldn’t make out if they were headlights or flashlights. Either way, he jammed on the brakes and slid to a stop in the loose gravel.
He turned around, considering a retreat to the main driveway that led to the west. He was unfamiliar with where that led, but it might provide him an opportunity to get away. He searched the cab of the Mule to find the gearshift. In his panicked state, with the complications of darkness, he couldn’t find the lever, which was next to his right leg.
Briscoe’s eyes grew wide as he saw two flashlights approaching from the house, the light bouncing from ground to sky as his pursuers ran toward him. He turned and slammed the palm of his hand around the dashboard until the headlights of the Mule were turned off. The dark surroundings relieved him, and he decided to race forward, using the lights on the country road as his guide.
He pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The Mule bolted forward after spinning its tires slightly. Briscoe held the steering wheel with a death grip in his left hand as he raised the hunting rifle with his right. He was prepared to shoot his way out.
He got close to the road and opened fire, shooting wildly and out of control toward the headlights of the vehicle in front of him. His shots missed the mark, but the vehicle suddenly spun its tires on the asphalt and raced away from him.
Now Briscoe was truly confused. He assumed the vehicle was part of a team sent to capture him. He wondered if he was wrong about being pursued by people with flashlights behind him. He slowed the Mule, turned to look back, and saw that he was still being chased.
He turned his headlights back on and headed toward the road once again. He was almost there when two men appeared in the road in front of him. Briscoe didn’t hesitate. Using his knees to hold the steering wheel steady, he raised the rifle and took aim. Just as he squeezed the trigger, the Mule jerked to the right, knocking his rifle against the roof support and sending the bullet flying into the sky, well over the head of his target.
Two weapons opened fire upon the Mule, raking the front end of the vehicle with bullets. Briscoe dropped the rifle and regained control of the four-wheeler. He reached into his jacket pocket and fumbled for his pistol.
The four-wheeler hit a pothole, and the left side suddenly dropped down before careening upward. This last jolt caused Briscoe to lose control of the gun, and his ride.
The Mule sped forward, but then took a hard left turn down an embankment, where it crashed into a fallen tree. Briscoe was thrown forward, over the steering wheel and headfirst into a pine tree. The softer wood did nothing to suppress the impact the pine had on Briscoe’s scalp, which was now laid open, exposing the raw nerves and blood vessels surrounding his skull.
Briscoe lay on a bed of pine needles, staring skyward, his twitching body numb from the contact with the tree. Warm blood oozed down his face, blocking his vision. He wanted to slip into unconsciousness. He wanted to die. He wanted this to be over.
It was not his time, yet.
*****
“Is he still alive?”
Two fingers pressed against Briscoe’s neck. Then the person wiped them off on her shirt.
“Amazingly, yes.” A female voice. Maybe she’d have mercy.
Briscoe tried to discern if he was dreaming, semiconscious, or having an out-of-body experience. Somehow, his brain was functioning at a very high level of awareness, but he was unable to see or move his body on his own.
Maybe it was for the best, he thought. If he played dead, like an opossum, they’d leave him be. Those little critters get stressed and go into shock. They look comatose for hours. You leave them lying there and suddenly, voila, they wake up and mosey off to look for something to eat. No harm. No foul.
That sounded like a plan, Briscoe’s borderline delusional brain told itself. His ability to reason and comprehend had been replaced with irrational thoughts brought on by the intense pain he was feeling.
That’s the ticket. Play opossum. Take a little break. They’ll go away, and then I can just gather my strength later and go home. Back to Monocacy Farm. A place where I have always been comfortable.
Except for the ghosts of the caretaker and his wife, who surely would be waiting for him.
Briscoe waited and listened as the voices became muffled. They faded in and out as his consciousness came and went.
Come on, people! Go away!
He was screaming internally, trying not to move as he played the opossum game.
His pleas were not heard and, therefore, were ignored.
“Let’s drag him up to the house and see what Alpha wants to do.” A male voice gave the orders. “Everybody grab an arm or a leg.”
What? No! I’m dead, see?
“On three. One. Two. Three!”
With a jerk, Briscoe was hoisted into the air, and it wasn’t to be taken by the angels to meet God. He was, however, destined
for Judgment Day.
Chapter 41
Schwartz Lodge
Kutztown, Pennsylvania
Alpha worked with his recollection of the lodge’s floor plan obtained by X-Ray during his search of building department records connected to the FBI’s massive data-collection program. In today’s world there was very little information stored electronically that hadn’t been backed up by federal law enforcement. If it was stored at the state or local level of government, then the federal government had a mirror image of the data at their disposal as well.
He and Hayden meticulously moved through the house, not taking any risks in their search for Jonathan Schwartz. Alpha was relieved that the two men appeared to be alone. The human factor was the single biggest cause of a raid going bad, Delta had cautioned.
After clearing the lower level, they moved up the sweeping wooden staircase that led to a landing overlooking the living area below. The smoke from the grenades had begun to dissipate, mostly being sucked up through the chimney as the fire began to burn out due to lack of attention.
Every once in a while, Alpha would call out for the men, not knowing whether they’d both escaped via the four-wheeler, or possibly left one behind in the house. Thus far, their search had been fruitless; then they reached a game room upstairs that featured a full-size snooker table and several gaming tables, including blackjack and poker.
Hayden motioned toward two sets of patio doors leading to a large balcony on the north side of the residence. One of the doors was left slightly open, just enough to allow fresh air to enter the space.
Alpha and Hayden approached the doors simultaneously, once again moving slowly in a crouched position. They scanned the glass doors in search of movement, prepared to unleash a barrage of gunfire if either Briscoe or Schwartz showed themselves.
They reached the door and Alpha took the lead, moving out on the deck and dropping to a knee in a defensive position. Just as they had cleared the rooms inside the lodge, Hayden took the left side of the deck while Alpha moved right. The massive deck structure spanned the entire width of the lodge and included a spiral staircase made of wrought iron at the end.
Once they realized they were alone and that one of the men might have escaped using the staircase, Alpha relaxed and then slammed his fist on the deck railing.
“Are you kidding me?” he complained, clearly aggravated that they hadn’t taken into account the rear exit.
Hayden picked up on his aggravation and offered an excuse. “Listen, this deck wasn’t supposed to be here. Heck, the plans didn’t even show those patio doors.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.
Alpha strutted along the railing, looking over the side as if one of his targets might suddenly appear to wave hello. He shook his head out of frustration and aggravation.
Hayden joined his side. “Whadya wanna do? We can track—”
Hayden’s sentence was cut off by the sound of gunfire coming from the east end of the property. Radio chatter erupted between Bravo and Delta as more shots rang out.
The two rushed to the end of the deck closest to the action and held their breath, focusing their senses on the gun battle. A few more shots rang out and then they suddenly stopped.
Alpha hesitated, and then after sixty seconds, he reached out to the two teams on the radio. “Sitrep.”
Bravo quickly responded, “One tango down. Stand by.”
Alpha looked to Hayden and smiled. They exchanged fist bumps.
“Bravo to Alpha. Over.”
“Go ahead, Bravo.”
“We’ve got Briscoe. ID confirmed. He’s alive but banged up.”
“Copy that,” Alpha replied. “Bring him back to the lodge. We’ve got one on the run. Foxy and I’ll hunt him down. Over.”
Alpha adjusted his gear and motioned toward the spiral staircase. “Let’s track this SOB down.”
“Lead the way,” Hayden said, patting the much larger Alpha on his shoulder. The two had grown closer as they’d worked together at the Haven, in the rescue of Hannah, and now. They knew how to anticipate each other’s movements and had confidence in one another’s abilities to have their back.
Alpha jogged to the stairwell and sailed to the bottom. A trail was clearly visible, and he followed it, racing through the woods in order to make up for lost time. He assumed that under the intense pressure, Schwartz would’ve relied upon familiar trails to get away from the house as quickly as possible.
They continued along the path for another fifteen minutes, following what they hoped was Schwartz’s trail. Neither spoke, which served them well, as they didn’t want to give away their position. Despite his large build, Alpha had learned to track an adversary by moving lightly on his feet. Hayden, who’d hunted all her life, possessed the skill of movement that only a seasoned hunter had—a deerlike gait.
They reached a fallen pine tree and paused to examine it. The top bark had been kicked off, revealing the white underside of the bare wood. On the other side, in the wet bed of pine needles and loose dirt, were the indentations of knees and hands.
“He tripped here,” said Hayden, who then pointed a few feet beyond the tree that blocked the trail. “He landed there, and look at how he dug his feet into the wet ground to gain traction.”
“Panicked,” muttered Alpha.
“Yes.”
Alpha led the way. In the darkness, the woods became a two-dimensional world. A canvas that he’d been trained to divide into thirds. His eyes constantly scanned left to right, right to left, and then forward as he pressed the pursuit. If he detected any movement, he raised his fist and the duo quickly stopped, adopted a defensive position, and used their senses to identify a possible target.
After ten more minutes of searching, Alpha became concerned. “This is taking too long. Under the tree cover, we have no ambient light, and he has the advantage of knowing the trail. Let’s go to flashlights.”
“Won’t that give us away?” asked Hayden.
“Sure, but it might also force him into making a mistake. This guy’s scared out of his mind. His hasty retreat caused him to trip over that log back there. If he sees us coming, he might fall again and hurt himself this time.”
Hayden powered on the SureFire tactical flashlight attached to the rails on her AR-10. Alpha did the same and they took off again, the beams from their flashlights illuminating a narrow path through the thick underbrush that became more prevalent the farther away they got from the lodge.
The woods became denser as the duo trudged up the path, needle-covered branches reaching out to grab them along the way. Up ahead, the chatter of raccoons followed the screech of an owl. The woods came alive as the wildlife detected the hunters’ approach.
Alpha ignored the cacophony of sounds, remaining completely in tune with his surroundings. Periodically, he’d stop to examine a broken branch. Hayden would point out a possible trail that veered off the main path. They’d take a moment to examine the ground for tracks and then continue on their west-southwest course away from the lodge.
Alpha recalled the plat map of the property and its proximity to the adjacent state game lands preserve. It was likely they were no longer on the Schwartz property, as they’d traveled at least a mile from the house.
They ran up a hill, and when they reached the top, they had a fairly clear view of their surroundings. Alpha stopped their progress and retrieved his binoculars from a pouch attached to his tactical vest. He scanned his surroundings, making a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. He’d almost completely circled the landscape when he abruptly stopped.
“Foxy, I need another set of eyes,” he barked to his partner.
Hayden pulled out her field glasses and joined his side. Alpha pointed ahead toward a one-lane road that could barely be seen. A beam of light danced across an open field, periodically shooting into the sky.
“That’s gotta be him,” said Hayden. “I’ve got a bead on his location. If I remember correctly from studying the maps, there’s a place
just west of here called Crystal Cave. It’s a local attraction full of underground rock formations and caverns. He’s headed that way.”
Alpha didn’t hesitate as he tucked his binoculars away and began to run down the hill. He wasn’t in the shape he was years ago, but a soldier never rested.
Hayden, on the other hand, was a runner and could easily outpace Alpha. She rushed past him and took the lead. She had her bearings, and running through the woods reminded her of her childhood years when she spent so much time at her family farm in Upper East Tennessee.
She also recalled the days she’d spent spelunking, exploring the many limestone rock formations and caves that were prevalent in the Smoky Mountains. That was, of course, before she went into a cave one day and got stuck. She’d learned to deal with the claustrophobia that plagued her into adulthood, until it reared its ugly head on New Year’s Eve when she was momentarily stuck on the elevator in her office building.
She tried to put the thought of searching for Schwartz in a darkened cave out of her mind as she enjoyed the cool air entering her lungs. Invigorated and enjoying the thrill of the hunt, she began to leave Alpha behind, who was struggling to keep her pace. To his credit, he didn’t slow her down, allowing her to catch Schwartz on her own if necessary.
Hayden resembled a thoroughbred horse as she skillfully raced along the trail toward the open field beyond. She kept her eyes trained on where the dancing light had appeared earlier. When the woods opened up into the field, she smiled as the appearance of the broken stems of the tall grasses provided evidence that Schwartz had recently been there.
“We’re coming for ya,” she whispered through her deep breaths, not bothering to notice that Alpha had fallen well behind her.
Chapter 42
Crystal Cave
Near Kutztown, Pennsylvania
Jonathan Schwartz stumbled ahead, occasionally glancing over his shoulder in search of the people chasing him. His hands were bleeding, not from the fall that had occurred early on during his escape, but from pushing tree branches and sticker bushes out of the way as he rumbled through the woods in a state of panic.