The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  Bo recently moved to one of the Cyclades Islands off the Greek mainland. Andros was one of the quieter, less populated islands in the Aegean Sea. It maintained a steady flow of tourists every year, but nothing compared to some of the more popular destinations, such as Naxos, Santorini, and Mykonos.

  The move from Thailand to the rocky island of Andros was a drastic one, and one that few would have caught. Bo had taken every possible precaution, but he couldn't avoid Nate forever.

  Nate had no plans to go after Bo, not yet. He believed that Bo would leave him alone, afraid of what might happen if he made a play for the tall, dark-minded member of their team.

  Keeping tabs on Bo would be enough for the time being.

  Nate twitched his head and focused on the present. Dak was here, and Nate knew why. He was going to exact revenge for how things went down in Iraq. It was fair. Nate knew as much. If their roles had been reversed, Nate would have scorched every inch of earth to burn out his enemies and repay them for what they'd done.

  But roles weren't reversed. Nate was here, on the land he'd purchased, and Dak had intruded, both onto the property and into the hunt that was several months in the making.

  Nate started to jog along the trail, following the prints until they disappeared in the tall grass. From there, he continued on, tracking the flattened grass the kids had trampled, and probably Dak as well.

  It was then that Nate realized there was another possible piece to Dak's intrusion. Was he going to try to save the boys? How could he have known they were here? Based on the footprints at the water's edge and the distinct pattern of the flattened grass, it was easy to know three people had gone through this area.

  Nate pushed himself harder, his long legs chewing up yards at a time with every step.

  He ran up a slight rise and down the other side, careful to observe the pattern in the tall grass. It remained unchanged as he reached the next valley and continued straight ahead toward the next hill.

  Nate breathed steadily, but now at a faster rate. He knew he was catching up and refused to stop until he had the boys and Dak in his sights.

  When he reached the top of the next knoll, he slowed down and then came to a halt. Peering up into the forest, he could see the McDowell boys' shirts against the backdrop of dying leaves and brown tree trunks.

  The two kids moved slowly, the older one pausing to help the younger boy now and then. The boys were more than a thousand yards away, but at their speed and in their condition, Nate could be within shooting distance in mere minutes.

  His heart pumped harder with the thrill of the chase as he ran down the next slope and charged ahead toward the forest. Halfway there, he skidded to a stop and immediately dropped to the ground amid the tall strands of grass.

  The boys were alone. He cursed himself for getting caught up in the hunt. Where was Harper?

  Ten feet away, the indentations in the grass narrowed, as if the boys and Harper had fallen into a single file line before reaching the forest two hundred yards away. Except Harper was nowhere to be seen.

  Nate twisted his body around, leaning on his left shoulder to look into the rows of corn. He found it difficult to see anything through the grass, so he belly crawled over to the edge of the field and poked his rifle through, then his head. Free of the blinding grass, he surveyed left to right, but found no signs of Harper.

  Dread nipped at him, but he didn't give in. Nate never let fear get the best of him. He was the predator in every scenario, and he reminded himself of that fact.

  Slowly, he inched his way into the cornfield like a jaguar on the prowl. His first prey would be Dak. Then he would finish the boys.

  Eighteen

  Brown’s Ferry

  Dak's legs felt like the smoldering fire in the valley below. With every step up the steep slope, the muscles grew heavier, more gelatinous.

  He saw the boys up the hill and to his left. He purposely veered to the right once he reached the forest so he could catch the two kids from the side rather than from behind.

  His reasoning for the approach was simple. Nate was chasing them and would come directly down the same path they'd forged through the grass. That meant Nate would focus on the mountain directly ahead instead of bothering to look to the right or left. The fact that the boys weren't doing a very good job of hiding reiterated that, but Dak knew Nate wouldn't be so foolish. He'd sense the danger and probably detour, perhaps into the corn rows—thinking that's where his ex-teammate had ventured.

  Halfway up the ridge, Dak peered out over the valley. The fire had died down, which was fortunate. While it still burned, the sporadic and mild breeze aided its containment to no farther than fifty yards beyond the farmhouse yard. The smoke, however, hung in a haze that covered the property. While it hadn't thoroughly permeated the woods, the scent of burning grass and cornstalks still seeped into Dak's nostrils.

  Dak slowed to a stop behind a thick oak tree to catch his breath, then turned to locate the boys gain. They were moving at a snail's pace up the ridge, halting frequently to allow the younger of the two to take a break.

  Averting his gaze to the field below, Dak pressed his shoulder into the rough bark and peered through the misty smoke. He saw the truck down by the bridge, but there was no sign of Nate in the narrow strip of grass by the stream. He turned his attention to the cornfield, figuring his old teammate would have taken cover there to move faster. He could have stayed in the grass, but that would have left him far more exposed on his feet. And on his belly, it would have taken him too long to advance.

  Then Dak spotted him.

  The tall, lumbering figure of Nate Collier glided through the rows of dried corn like a snake, weaving back and forth. To his credit, Nate tried to keep a low profile, but from his vantage point, Dak had a clear advantage and his target was almost within range.

  He raised his rifle and pushed the side of it against the tree to stabilize it. Looking through the sights, Dak lined up his target with the red dot in the center of the glass. His finger tensed on the trigger and he was about to fire when he heard a yelp from behind.

  Dak twisted his head and saw the younger boy had fallen and was grabbing his ankle. The kid yelled in pain as his brother scurried around through the leaves and knelt down to check the injured appendage.

  Dak clenched his jaw in frustration. The boy could wait another minute. One shot would drop Nate, then he could tend to the kid.

  He turned and resumed his stance, peering down into the cornfield through the mini-scope. The target, however, was gone.

  Nate had vanished.

  Dak moved the rifle down toward the beginning of the tree line, then back again, but there was no sign of Nate anywhere.

  Dak felt his pulse quicken. Panic wasn't in his vocabulary, but a sensation very close to it coursed through his veins.

  He looked back to the boys. They were still on the ground, the older tending to the younger's wounded ankle.

  Dak cursed their luck and took another glance down the slope to the edge of the forest. Still no sign of Nate.

  He had two choices. The first was to traverse the ridge, reach the boys, and try to help them get to the top where Dak would regroup and defend their position. He didn't like that plan. It exposed him on his left flank. If he were lucky enough to make it to the boys, reaching the top of the hill would be slow and leave them vulnerable. They would be fortunate to get twenty yards before being shot in the back by Collier.

  Dak decided to go with the second option.

  It was a gamble, and his wager was the lives of the two boys on the hillside.

  He would have to move fast, and while that could make him a more visible target, it was the play with the best chance for an optimal outcome.

  He skidded down the slope, veering away from the line he'd taken before to circle around, creating a little more distance between himself and Nate—he hoped. He watched for roots and patches of dirt to land on, doing everything he could to remain silent as he skirted along the big
gest of trees to keep out of sight.

  Halfway down the slope, Dak caught something out of the corner of his eye. He stuck out his right hand and grabbed a tree trunk to halt his momentum.

  Sixty yards away, he saw the hunter.

  The forest camouflage jacket and matching pants made his body nearly impossible to spot, but the pale flesh of Nate's cheek stood out against the brown backdrop on the ground. The black rifle also gave away the enemy's position where he lay prostrate on the ground.

  He was aiming at something up the hill.

  Horror filled Dak's mind as he instantly realized Nate was about to shoot one of the boys.

  He raised his rifle and shouted, fearful he might not get the shot off fast enough to keep Nate from firing.

  "Looking for me, Nate?" The words blasted out of Dak's mouth loud enough to echo down into the valley.

  Nate abruptly twisted with a full-body twitch, snapping his rifle away from one target to seek another.

  Dak's weapon was already nestled in his shoulder, the sight climbing as he braced himself against the tree trunk. Through the sight, Nate looked almost panicked as he searched for the source of the voice.

  Dak positioned the red dot on the mini-scope attached to Nate's rifle and squeezed the trigger just as Nate settled his weapon and prepared to shoot.

  The rifle recoiled against the inside of Dak's shoulder. The loud boom thundered up over the ridge and throughout the valley, piercing the dying smoke around the farmhouse to reach all the way to the surrounding hillsides.

  Nate's head slumped instantly to the ground, the rifle falling in limp hands.

  Dak kept his sights on Nate for another second, his heart still pounding in his chest. He didn't breathe for ten seconds. Then he exhaled and sucked in a huge gulp of air.

  He stepped out from behind the tree and moved toward the dead man, keeping the rifle aimed at Nate's head—or what was left of it. As he drew near, Dak saw that the bullet had gone through his eye and out the back of his skull.

  Once he reached Nate's body, he kicked the rifle away out of habit. Not that there was any threat of the man suddenly rousing to life and using it.

  Dak exhaled again as he looked down at his kill. He wondered what had driven Nate to such a place of evil, of absolute and total disaffectedness toward good or innocence.

  Whatever the reason, whatever terrible things had happened to him in his early life to cause Nate to become this monster, at least now it was all over. And more importantly, the eight boys would be safe.

  Dak turned away from the body and looked up the mountainside at the two brothers who stared with terror in their eyes at the new gunman who'd appeared—seemingly out of nowhere.

  "It's okay," he said, raising a hand. "You the McDowell boys?"

  Dak trudged the hill, careful to move slowly with each step so he didn't spook them.

  The boys stared at the stranger with a mix of fear and confusion in their eyes. They stole a glance at each other, as if questioning the other as to whether or not they should trust the man. Even from up the slope, Jamie McDowell could see the green in the stranger's eyes. It was a disarming color that matched the grin on the man's face, an expression that told them everything was going to be okay.

  The older brother nodded, still supporting his brother with one arm wrapped around him.

  Dak stopped when he reached the two boys and exhaled with a nod of his own. "You're safe now," he said. "Let's get you two back to your parents."

  Nineteen

  Brown’s Ferry

  Dak pulled up to the motel and stopped the SUV outside the last room on the end as the sun dipped toward the horizon in the west, surrendering its warmth to the cool evening air.

  For a moment, Dak simply sat with his hands on the wheel, staring at the door to the McDowell's room. He imagined the gambit of emotions pummeling their souls with every waking second. This week had been their own personal hell. As a guy with no children, he couldn't truly reach the point of utter anguish they'd been living in for the last several days. He felt even worse for the other kids' parents, though he'd never met them.

  After neutralizing Nate, Dak helped the McDowell boys back to his SUV. It took him nearly an hour to reach the vehicle due to the distance and the younger McDowell boy's sprained ankle. Dak had given Oliver a quick check and suggested that it wasn't broken, though the kid would need an X-ray to confirm it. He took it as a good sign that Oliver's ankle wasn't turning black and blue, though that wasn't always an indication of a fracture.

  When they arrived back at the SUV, Dak was pleasantly surprised to see the other six boys waiting for him. The oldest one held up a stick when Dak and the McDowell brothers approached. The kid was brave. Dak had to give him that.

  The second the boy saw it was Dak, he lowered his "weapon" and let out a sigh of relief.

  Dak dropped the other kids off first, just outside the police department, with a request they not tell the cops who brought them there. At the moment, only two officers occupied the building, the rest of the department had been dispatched with a group of firefighters to investigate a potential wildfire at a farm near the Daniel Boone Forest.

  The boys agreed, though Dak wondered how long they could keep his secret. He'd be leaving town that evening, after he dropped the McDowells with their parents and picked up his meager belongings.

  He turned and looked over his shoulder into the back seat. The two kids wore sheepish looks of trepidation. Dak didn't know why. They should have been relieved, overjoyed, happy, any number of positive emotions. Instead, they appeared afraid.

  "You boys okay?" Dak asked.

  He'd never been the best at understanding emotions. That played no small part in the destruction of his relationship with Nicole. He knew that now. He wished he knew it back then.

  "Yeah," Jamie said after a second of thought. "I just never realized how much I took our parents for granted. Our lives, too." He looked over at his brother then back to Dak. "We're definitely going to be better from now on."

  Dak snorted and smiled at the boys, resting his elbow on the top of his seat so he could see them both better. "I have a feeling you two were already pretty good kids. Everyone makes mistakes. The great thing about moms and dads, as far as I understand them, is that they will always forgive you."

  "They didn't want us to leave the campsite," Oliver muttered. "We told them we'd be okay."

  "And you are," Dak said. "No one can hurt you now."

  "We should have listened to them," Oliver whimpered. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "We shouldn't have wandered off."

  "Hey, it's okay, kid." Dak tried to use a comforting tone, but that wasn't really his style. With every syllable, he felt like he was doing it wrong—another flaw that probably sabotaged his relationship. "Everyone makes mistakes. Your parents are going to be so happy to see you. That's all they are going to feel. Okay? No guilt. No punishment. Just love."

  Oliver accepted his words with a nod.

  "Go on," Dak encouraged. "Go give your parents the biggest hug you've ever given them."

  Oliver opened the door first, then stopped when he realized his brother still hadn't moved.

  "Thank you," Jamie said, looking at Dak's face as if studying it, searching for answers. "I don't know who you are and I know you said we can't know your real name. But you saved our lives. And those other kids, too. I will always appreciate that."

  Jamie's comments overflowed with the purest sincerity. Dak felt something strange. The sensation accompanied a thought that was equally bizarre. Kids like these two still held onto something pure, a fragment of innocence the world had yet to rip from their soft hands. In the distant hopes of his mind, Dak wondered what it would be like to work for a kid, to be some kind of bodyguard or… he didn't know what.

  He'd considered the private security industry a few times in the past. It was a pretty standard fallback for a guy with his kind of resume, but he'd let those thoughts go.

  He didn't want t
o be a babysitter for some rich pop star whose one smash hit skyrocketed them to overnight stardom. Dak would be miserable working for someone like that. He didn't see himself serving any adults in that capacity, either.

  A young person, though, he could see that. They needed protecting and guidance. It would have to be the right circumstances, though, and he had a feeling those stars would never align.

  "Take care, kid," Dak said to Jamie. He turned to Oliver. "And keep watching out for your big brother. He needs all the help he can get." He winked at Oliver. The gesture produced a meek smile from the kids. Then Jamie rushed around to help his brother hobble to the motel room door.

  Dak shifted the vehicle into reverse and slowly backed away. He turned the SUV around, pointing it toward the road to the left, and then watched as the door to the motel room opened.

  The reaction on Mrs. McDowell's face was one Dak would never forget. Utter confusion, then pure ecstatic joy washed over the woman's face. Timothy McDowell joined her in the doorway mere seconds later, and the two scooped up their sons in their arms.

  Dak didn't dare linger another breath. He stepped on the gas and eased the SUV out onto the road, disappearing around the corner where a thick outcropping of trees and bushes blocked his view to the reunion.

  He was sure the McDowells would want to thank him, to shower him with praise or adoration or something that would make him feel beyond awkward. Dak couldn't risk that. The longer he stuck around, the better chance the cops had of catching up to him.

  The fact was, he'd shot a man on the man's property. The kids would corroborate the story, make sure that everyone knew the truth, but there would be an investigation, questioning for days, maybe weeks.

  That could not happen. The less time Dak spent in this town, the better.

  He steered the SUV out of town and into the countryside, leaving the smoldering memories of Brown's Ferry in the rearview mirror.

  Dak tried to shift his thoughts away from the families back in the little town, parents who were reuniting with their lost children, some getting phone calls from the local sheriff about the mysterious arrival of their kids. Letting his mind linger on those things wasn't helpful. He had one more person to find before he could clear his name.