Careful Measurements

by Layne D. Hansen

  “Let’s go!” Bao said, pushing Lindsay towards the truck.

  She was annoyed with him but said nothing.

  Bao drove up to the electric bay doors. He searched the truck and finally found the opener. Minutes later they were back on the highway, making their way towards town. The adrenaline of the moment was starting to fade. They looked at each other in wonder and simultaneously burst into laughter. They drove slowly along the highway, again guided only by the daytime running lights. They were nearly halfway to their turnoff when Bao glimpsed something in the rearview mirror.

  “It’s headlights Bao!”

  “I know!” Bao said, looking back nervously.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Bao let off the gas pedal and concentrated on the road ahead. The road was coming at any moment. He didn’t want to make the turn too hard and fast.

  He looked at the rearview mirror again. The headlights weren’t visible but he could see their glow above a rise. They appeared again. Whoever it was appeared to be gaining speed.

  Lindsay’s hand shot out and clenched down on Bao’s arm. He shook it away.

  “Stop that! I’m trying to drive!”

  The road curved to the left and then straightened out. Bao could see the reflectors that marked the road. Whoever it was behind him was too far back to see their turn. He just couldn’t afford to use the brake to slow down. Doing so would give their location away.

  They reached the turn and Bao yanked the wheel to the right. The tires nearly gave out on the gravel. The back tires fishtailed slightly, but he was able straighten out. He pulled his foot off the accelerator and the truck slowed up the slight rise. Bao and Lindsay looked back to the highway and watched a nondescript sedan zoom by. They looked at one another and exhaled.

  Bao accelerated again and crested a rise. They descended again and Bao finally used the truck’s brakes and brought them to a stop.

  “Whoa,” Lindsay said, exhaling loudly.

  They were now less than three miles from the city limits. There were posts that marked the boundary, but no wire yet, in this particular part of the border. They should be able to get through without a problem. Bao began driving again, still creeping along very slowly and with minimal light.

  Just over ten minutes later, Bao could see the boundary posts reflecting the truck’s dim lights. He figured they were less than a hundred yards away from freedom. There were still probably some patrols between Blue Creek and the Interstate 84, but Bao felt the worst was behind them.

  “Thank God!’’ Lindsay exclaimed, relieved. “I can’t believe we—”

  They both lurched as one of the truck’s tires deflated. Bao then saw a flash and heard a pop. The other front tire went flat. Another flash and a neat hole appeared in the windshield.

  “Bao!”

  Another flash and pop and a spray of engine oil hit the windshield, obscuring Bao’s view. He had no choice but to bring the truck to a stop. He couldn’t see a thing. Once they were stopped, headlights from several vehicles filled the cab of the truck. Bao could see Lindsay’s frightened face. He felt himself trembling. There was a knock at Bao’s window and he rolled it down hesitantly. Although a bright flashlight was shining in his eyes, he could tell these were Blue Creek Security personnel.

  “Mr. Hahn? Please step out of the vehicle.”

  Bao looked at Lindsay, his hands raised.

  “Sorry Lindsay. I’m so sorry.”

  CHAPTER

  28

  Patton was cold. His muscles were so sore he felt like someone had injected his insides with concrete. The pack on his back was supposed to weigh eighty pounds, but with all the rain that had fallen in the last 24 hours, it probably weighed over a hundred pounds. Worst were his legs and feet. He’d sprained both ankles and was worried that he might have stress fractures in his legs. It was the most miserable he’d ever felt.

  He would allow himself to stop, but not sit. If he sat he would probably never get up again. Instead, Patton did what his old platoon sergeants in the Rangers had taught him—lean back against a tree. It wasn’t as good as sitting, but it took most the weight off your shoulders and legs. Patton spotted two trees whose trunks were about a foot apart and leaned in the same direction. He walked over to the trees and turned around. He leaned slowly until his pack was resting on the tree trunks. The relief was instantaneous. He moaned audibly.

  Patton woke with a start. Cold raindrops splashed on his cheeks, nose, and forehead. He pulled his baseball cap away from his eyes and saw that it was full dark now. He looked at his watch.

  “Dammit!”

  A surge of adrenaline hit Patton and he stood quickly. He pulled a clump of map pages from his cargo pocket and clicked on the flashlight that was clipped to his chest. Before he stopped to rest, Patton figured he was over four kilometers from his destination. With his wasted time, he would have to double his previous pace. When Patton started walking again, however, he felt strangely vigorous. There wasn’t as much pain in his legs and back. He set off at a fast clip and checked his watch again. In spite of him losing over four hours, he was more confident now that he was going to reach his destination on time.

  He saw a flash of lightning in his peripheral vision. Thunder cracked and rumbled across the sky. The light sprinkling turned into a downpour. A cold breeze whipped into Patton’s face. He pulled his cap down further over his eyes and moved forward up the dirt and gravel trail.

  Two hours later, Patton crested the rise that had loomed above him for hours and for many miles. A large valley, faintly lit by moonlight, stretched out before him. According to his maps and his constant calculations, Patton was right on pace to reach his final point. It would be tight, but figured he had ten to fifteen minutes to play with. He was either going to make it or he wasn’t, but he would succeed or fail on his feet. He pulled a package of M&Ms from his pocket and downed it in two mouthfuls.

  Nearly two hours later, Patton rounded a curve in the trail. To the right was a large clump of trees. He stopped and removed his maps again. He checked his compass and then surveyed his surroundings. This was it, but he didn’t see what he was supposed to see. He checked his map and compass again.

  “This is it, I swear,” he thought out loud.

  Patton stopped. He thought he’d heard something. He stood there motionless and waited. There it was again. Human voices. It seemed to be coming from inside the clump of trees. Patton left the trail for the first time in hours. He pushed limbs away from his face as he made his way through the trees. He broke through a small stand of trees and then he saw it. There was an Army Humvee surrounded by soldiers. This was it. He’d made it.

  Patton approached the Humvee. A soldier with a clipboard stood there, looking impatient.

  “Larsen,” Patton said to the soldier.

  The sergeant looked at him blankly and shifted a toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right.

  “About time Captain Larsen. What happened, Sir? You fall asleep?”

  Patton blushed and was glad that it was still dark so the seasoned sergeant couldn’t see his face.

  “Go sit over there,” the sergeant first class said blandly. “A truck will be here to pick you up at dawn, which is about two hours away. We have some soup over there for you. You’re done so take a load off.”

  Patton nodded, too exhausted to reply with words. He walked over to where a group of soldiers was laying around, eating soup from canteen cups. There wasn’t much talking going on. Patton figured they were all as tired as he was. He heard his name but was too tired to turn around.

  “Captain Larsen,” came a familiar voice. It was the Colonel he’d seen earlier that morning … or was it yesterday?

  “Yes Sir?”

  The Colonel came into his view and stood, proudly erect—the same stance that most seasoned soldiers had.

  “I was
a little worried you weren’t going to make it. You slept for over four hours.”

  Patton looked at the Colonel with wonder and then embarrassment.

  “You saw me?”

  “Son, you made it, but if you ever tried to pull that in the field you’d be dead.”

  Patton turned away in shame and nodded. He gathered himself again and turned to the Colonel again.

  “I know, Sir, but I did make it.”

  The Colonel smiled and clapped Patton on the shoulder.

  “I know son. And welcome to Delta Force.”

  Patton snapped awake. He looked around him and saw no one. No colonel, no Humvee, no sleeping soldiers. He sat up and took in his surroundings. At first he was confused but it finally sunk in. He was in the Rocky Mountains, not the Appalachians. He was no longer a Delta Force operator. His wife and children were dead. His second wife was being held prisoner by a sociopath. He’d just buried his best friend, whose brains had been blown out all over inside of Patton’s truck.

  The cold air surged through him and he shivered violently. October was no time to be in the Rocky Mountains, especially when it was raining, and especially when you don’t have proper gear. Patton stood and rubbed his shoulders. He was glad to find that he’d found a concealed area before falling asleep. The trees had done nothing to protect him from the rain, however. He was freezing.

  He glanced down to a spot a hundred feet or so below him and to the south. It was rocky there, but one particular mound stood out from the rest. It was the spot where he’d buried Frank. It shamed him to leave him there—in the cold, hard, rocky ground. He didn’t see what other choice he had, though. No doubt David Asher would have people on his tail, if he didn’t already. He allowed him one last glance and then forced himself to move on. He would return someday and he would give his friend a proper burial, next to his wife. Now, though, he had things to do.

  Patton had some important decisions to make. Most important was rescuing his wife, of course. He figured that he wasn’t far from the prison, but his journey would be over rough, rocky terrain. He wouldn’t have access to a vehicle. It was moot because driving a vehicle would get him caught for sure. He would have people hunting him today, and knowing David Asher, they had probably been given orders to kill on sight.

  The former soldier took a quick inventory of his possessions. He had his rifle and his handgun with plenty of ammunition. He also had some very specialized weapons he’d built in his shop. Patton pulled out one of his pistols made from composite and grimaced. He thought this would be a new beginning. Now he’d been thrust into his past and former profession.

  Patton built a small fire. He would need a warm breakfast and coffee if he was going to do anything that day. Once the fire was going, he poured water into a canteen cup and placed it in the coals. He rummaged through his pack and found an MRE—Meal Ready to Eat. He removed the coffee and dumped the grounds into the hot water. MRE coffee was notoriously high in caffeine. He nursed the drink, feeling its effects, and started to warm the entree in the plastic MRE oven. When the meal was warm Patton ate it slowly and thought about his next move.

  He had access to his gear, but he could only carry so much. He had a two-man tent, some cold weather gear, and a Gore-Tex-lined sleeping bag. Most important, he had his Camelback, his survival straw, and three canteens.

  A sudden sense of loneliness poured over him and he almost began to weep. It took every bit of his self-control to remain calm. Eventually his focus returned and he was able to overcome the emotions. Only one thing mattered—that was finding and rescuing his wife. If he was able to free others as he went along, that would be fine, but his mind was focused on that one task.

  It was late morning and the sky was more overcast. It looked like it might rain for a while, and autumn rain is usually accompanied by wind and cool air. This would be to his advantage because he was accustomed to operating in adverse weather, whereas Asher’s poorly trained people would be reluctant to get out into the elements. If Asher wanted to win this war, he was going to have to get better people.

  In the early afternoon, Patton geared up and climbed higher up into the mountains. This would provide him a better view of what was happening down below him. He had a powerful pair of binoculars and he was sure that he would be able to spot a convoy of vehicles headed his way. The afternoon dragged on and still there was no sign of a search party. Perhaps they were looking somewhere else, Patton thought, or maybe they thought he’d run away.

  Patton decided that he would be safe for one more night, so he decided to put his tent up and build a fire. For what he was about to do, he needed to be well rested and well fed. There was a good possibility that he would be on the run from Asher’s people for many days. As a precaution he set an alarm for daybreak, sure that no one would be searching for him earlier than that.

  The next morning broke clear and cold. Patton woke feeling rested and ready to strike out on his mission to find his wife. He steeled himself for a rough hike. Although he’d been in rougher terrain in much worse weather, he hadn’t done so for years. The thought that he’d let his training slip depressed him.

  Patton climbed up higher and surveyed the activity going on down below him. There was light traffic on the highway that headed south along the rim of the valley, but he couldn’t see any police vehicles. Patton packed up his gear and set out towards the prison.

  The weather turned warm around noon and he decided to stop for lunch. He’d probably only made a half-mile of progress in that time, but caution was more important than distance at that point. He couldn’t afford to twist an ankle or get caught out in the open. Speed definitely was not his friend.

  After finishing his MRE, Patton stowed his wrappers and re-donned his pack. It seemed heavier now that he’d stopped, but once he got moving again, the hike over the loose, rocky ground became easier. Just as he was about to move out, Patton heard something mechanical. He stopped and craned his neck towards the sound. The sound went away but returned a few seconds later. He stopped and listened again. It was the deep rumbling sound of a large engine, definitely a large pickup truck or SUV.

  Patton instinctively crouched down while simultaneously pulling the large pack off of his back. He brought his rifle to the ready—something that was more a reflex action than a necessity. He didn’t want to kill anybody. In fact, much of his ammunition was non-lethal, made out of the composite material he’d invented while he was in the Army. While the bullets didn’t kill, they definitely didn’t tickle.

  While lying on the hard, rocky ground, Patton steadied his breathing, trying to concentrate on the sounds around him. There was a strong gust of wind from his left, but through it, he could still hear the truck’s engine. He guessed that it was down below him to his left, although sound in this terrain often did strange things.

  It was mid-afternoon now and the sun was creeping towards the west. There were still a few hours of daylight left, so Patton had to decide what he was going to do. With the possibility of a search party closing in, he couldn’t just trek across these hills as if he were alone—he had to wait these people out. If they decided to build some sort of camp, Patton would have to confront them at some point.

  The daylight hours passed without incident. Luckily for Patton, he was able to find a large outcropping of rock to hide in. He wouldn’t call it a cave, but it did give him good cover and concealment and protection from the sun. He made a temporary camp under the rock and ate and drank a canteen full of water. He decided that he would set out at dusk and reconnoiter the area down below him. He needed to be sure that the Blue Creek security people, or police, or whoever they were, were gone so he could move on towards the prison.

  When the sun dipped down below the horizon, Patton covered his face with camouflage paint, grabbed his rifle, a canteen, and headed out. The rocky ground was loose with weeds and dry prairie grass. The terrain made it difficult to stay
quiet, so Patton moved slowly, often crawling on his hands and knees when the ground was too steep. He made it to the edge of the hill, to the point where he could look down below him. Just as he’d expected, the small search party was setting up a camp about two hundred yards below him and to his right. They’d probably picked the spot because it was as far as their truck could go.

  ‘Lazy,’ he thought, ‘and stupid.’ Patton had been in this situation many times, both as the hunter and as the prey. ‘The best prey is the creature that thought it was the hunter,’ Patton thought. He was outmanned, yes, but he had the training and the will to fight that these people probably did not. They were Asher’s dupes, Patton realized, and that was why he didn’t want to harm these people. One man – just one evil man – was responsible for all of the misery. If Patton could neutralize him, he knew that this little war could end.

  It was fully dark now and Patton finally had a plan. He watched the men set up camp, including tents, a generator, and cots and then made his way back up to his temporary camp. He counted nine people, possibly ten, with two large pickups. Many in the party were carrying rifles, he saw, no doubt loaded with lethal ammunition. Patton would carry some regular ammo with him just in case, but both his M4 and his pistol were loaded with his non-lethal bullets. Also with him were his non-lethal concussion grenades and a special toy he’d built when things started going haywire in Blue Creek.

  Things had quieted down at the camp and Patton quietly made his way towards it. The idiots had built a fire, he could see. He shook his head and grinned. It was going to be too easy. David Asher was going to regret sending these amateurs into the fray. Moving like a panther now, Patton was only fifty yards from the camp. He crouched and pulled a smaller pack off of his back and set it down at his knees. He removed two round devices, about the size of baseballs, and shoved them into his cargo pocket. He was ready.

  Armed now with his rifle and two homemade grenades, Patton circled to the left, making sure to stay the same distance away from the camp. There were two tents, likely with five people asleep in each tent. Two men were on guard now, but neither of them seemed to be excited about their duty. One looked to be half asleep, the other was smoking and looked to be reading. Patton shook his head again, in disgust this time. Both in his time as a Ranger and a member of Delta, Patton and his comrades always took guard duty very seriously. In fact, it was one of the most basic, vital aspects of being a soldier.