Serve & Protect

by L. J. Breedlove

  Scott was white-faced and in obvious pain. But he nodded.

  Mac pulled the rope away from the tree, wound it back around his waist. He squatted down, positioned himself, thought, it’s just a dead carry lift, so lift with the legs, not the back. Scott came up with him as he stood.

  “Shit,” Scott said. He swallowed a couple of times, and then he nodded.

  “Good man,” Mac said. “We’re in no hurry, now. So easy does it.”

  It seemed like it took forever, but Mac figured it was less than 10 minutes, before Craig was there, shouldering some of Scott’s weight. And then there were the six of them. Angie handed Mac a water bottle, and he drank thirstily. Damn, fear dried out a man, he thought.

  He handed the last of the bottle to Scott and helped him drink it. Craig was studying the situation. It wasn’t a pretty one, Mac acknowledged. Two injured men, one of whom would have to be packed out. One woman, too small to help with the carrying. It was going to be him and Craig, he thought. He hoped he did have a sling.

  “Ron, Angie, I need two poles about two inches in diameter, six feet long. Look around, and I mean literally look with your eyes, and see if you spot anything,” Craig said. He pulled out a sling, the cloth part of a stretcher. Mac agreed; two poles would make life easier.

  “Over there,” Angie said and pointed. “Those two small Aspen.” Mac looked where she pointed, and nodded. He surveyed the ground to make sure there weren’t any other traps left behind.

  “You got anything better than my knife to cut them down?” Mac asked.

  “Hatchet in the backpack,” Craig said. He was focusing on Scott’s leg. “Leave me your knife. I’m going to shorten up this pike a bit.”

  Mac handed it to him, got the hatchet, and took down the two Aspen. Angie pulled out a knife and started stripping the smaller limbs. “You doing OK?” he asked quietly.

  “Me? I should be asking you that,” she said. “God, Mac. You scared me.”

  He grinned at her. “That’s why I asked. Harder to watch than to do sometimes. Ask Craig.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t like not being the one who went after him,” she conceded.

  They dragged the two poles back and threaded them through the sling. “Good,” Craig said. “Mac?”

  “You lead,” Mac said. “When we get to the main trail, we can trade off, give you a break.”

  Craig nodded. “Ron? You’ve got the compass, and the instructions. You need to reverse it, and lead us out of here. Angie? Stay with Ben, keep him moving. You two are bringing up the rear.”

  Ben was hurting. Craig had gotten his arm into a sling, but it had to hurt like a mother, Mac thought. He’d prefer someone more skilled bringing up the rear, but then he reconsidered. Angie was as savvy as anyone in this group.

  He looked at her. “You need to listen,” he said quietly. “Extend your awareness outward. If they come for us, it will likely be from behind. You’re the warning system, OK?”

  She nodded. Her face serious. She’d put the camera in her backpack and had pulled out her gun and put it in the pouch of her sweatshirt.

  “Ben?” Mac said. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help or a break. We’re not after speed. We’re after success.” He smiled, remembering the sergeant who taught him that line. A good man.

  He nodded.

  Mac got between the poles in back, Craig picked up the front ones, and on a count of three they lifted. Scott inhaled sharply.

  One foot in front of the other, Mac thought grimly. One step at a time.

  Chapter 21

  Mac figured they’d hiked out for an hour to the first target. It took them two hours to get back to camp. He and Craig had changed places when they reached the main trail. The weight pulled on the front man’s shoulders harder. And Craig wasn’t a young man. A fit one, thank God, Mac thought. But he was probably 45 if he’d been in Desert Storm. Mac hoped he was as fit in another 15 years.

  And they were lucky. The height difference wasn’t too great. Craig was a few inches taller, something Mac wasn’t used to.

  The camp was silent.

  Mac called a halt raising up one hand. And he turned to quiet them, but they’d already fallen silent. Or they were just too tired to talk, he thought.

  “Wait,” he mouthed silently to Craig, who nodded. He bent over Scott to check his leg. And Mac slid into camp.

  Someone had been through there, he saw. Slashed the tires of all the rigs, including his own, the fuckers. He could smell gas, so they’d probably cut the lines as well. He walked through camp. He was pretty sure Rand had stayed behind, but he didn’t see a body. The camp was silent, deserted.

  “Rand,” he said softly, just loud enough to carry. “It’s Mac.”

  The man stepped out from behind the porta-potty. He looked haggard, and he carried a pistol hanging at his side.

  “You made it back. I figured you would,” Rand said, emphasizing the word you. “The rest of your team?”

  “Two injured. But we’re all here,” Mac said. “What happened?”

  Rand had been cleaning up after breakfast when he heard a couple of SUVs pull into camp. Puzzled, he started toward the sounds, then he heard a gunshot, and decided that hiding would be better. So, he’d gone into the woods. “They were deputy reserves,” he said. “I didn’t see Norton, but I recognized a couple of them. And they had their badges on for God’s sake! Personal SUVs, though. They tore up the camp, flattened the tires. I can smell gas, so they may have cut the lines. Or they may have done something to the generators. I’ve been lurking around since they left, trying to assess damage and stay out of sight.”

  Craig had joined them for most of the conversation. He was frowning, worried, Mac thought. Hell of a situation to be responsible for a bunch of gun-toting wannabes.

  “We’ve still got two groups out there,” Rand said. “I’m not all that worried about Ken’s group. Ken will take care of them and get them back here if it’s at all possible. But the other group? It’s led by two younger crew members. And they don’t have the experience for this kind of thing. I mean what the hell? We’re under attack by sheriff deputy reserves?”

  “Craig?” Mac asked, his voice dangerously soft. “What do you know about all this?”

  “I’m not in on it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said sourly. “But just a guess? Sensei decided to try his hand at war games.”

  “That was my guess too,” Rand agreed. “It’s bugged me that Norton didn’t come along on this trip. I don’t think he’s missed before. And with Mac here? But war games? That I can see.”

  “With live ammo?” Mac asked. “That goes beyond war games. And we don’t dare shoot back.”

  “Why the hell not?” Craig demanded. Rand didn’t say anything, but Mac could see understanding grow in his expression.

  “Because then we’ve fired on a law officer, and they would have the right to respond,” Mac said. “Justifiable homicide, no questions asked. Well maybe some questions. But we’d be dead. And they would walk.”

  Rand was nodding. Craig looked at the two of them. “Well, shit,” he said.

  “Someone needs to go after the one group,” Rand said. “I don’t think it should be me. Ken’s going to come rolling in here pissed as hell and demanding answers. Best there be someone he knows to give answers.”

  Mac nodded. He looked at Craig. “Craig, you need to be here too,” he said slowly. “I don’t trust your customers worth a shit. And they won’t listen to me without your backup. So, I need to go. Problem is I can navigate using a compass, no problem, but this is not the country I know well to navigate through.”

  “So, I need to go with you,” Angie said. Mac hadn’t even heard her come up. “I know the terrain. I know how to navigate with the compass. And to be honest? I would feel safer being with you.”

  Mac considered her for a moment. His first instinct was hell no. He wanted her safe. And what he was going to do wasn’t safe. But her last sentence made him reconsider. He could keep
her safe — at least safer than she’d be back here without him.

  He sighed. “OK,” he said. “The two of us go. Give me that backpack, Craig. I may need the med kit, and all those nice emergency supplies you’re carrying. And you might have Rand here take a look at Scott and Ben. Rand, do you have the coordinates list those two guys went out with?”

  Rand nodded. “I have copies of all the lists,” he said. “And I’ll fix you two some sandwiches.”

  Mac sat down at a table, and closed his eyes. He was tired. It had been a hard day already. It was approaching 4 p.m. and neither of the other teams had made it back. That wasn’t good. He thought Rand’s analysis was good. Ken could handle things. The younger leaders might need some help.

  “Here,” Angie said, and handed him a sandwich. He took it, smiled his thanks, and ate methodically. It didn’t matter what it was, he would need the fuel. When he was done with it, he drank a bottle of water. He rolled his shoulders. They hurt from carrying that stretcher out. Scott wasn’t a large man, but even 180 pounds started feeling pretty heavy after two hours.

  And let’s face it, it had been eight years — maybe 10 — since he’d had to do something like this. Not even last fall’s assault on Jehovah’s Valley had been as grueling as this. He could do it, he thought. He had no choice. But damn.

  He looked at Angie. She was showing the strain too, he thought. Her eyes had dark circles under them. There were strain lines around her mouth. “How are you doing?” he asked. “Really. How are you?”

  She considered that. “Tired,” she admitted. “The hike this morning, and I walked it almost twice getting photos. Then the shooting. I didn’t do much, but I’m not used to holding an eight-pound rifle and my shoulder hurts. More photography. And then the last three hours of hiking. So yeah, I’m tired. But I’m going with you, Mac. I can help. And the idea of being left behind makes me sick to my stomach.”

  Mac nodded. “Rand would protect you,” he said quietly. “And Craig too, I think. Ken as well. But yeah, I’ll feel better if you’re with me. And you’re right. You’re more comfortable with the terrain than I am.”

  “So, I navigate. You scout and protect,” she summarized.

  Craig handed Mac his backpack. “I feel like I should go,” he muttered. “But I can’t argue with your logic.”

  Mac grinned at him. “If Ken isn’t back by the time I get back, someone has to go out,” he said. “You can be the hero for that one. And in the dark, too.”

  “Gee thanks,” Craig said with a laugh. He sobered. “Truly, Mac, I had nothing to do with this.”

  Mac nodded. He believed him, he thought. “Do you know who Sensei is?”

  Craig shook his head. “I only know the online version.”

  “What about MLK4whites?”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s Norton,” he admitted. “But to be honest? It could be Malloy. If so, he’s in closer contact with Norton than he admits.”

  “One last question,” Mac said slowly, watching the man carefully. “Rangers found a dead hiker two weeks ago — after your last weekend trip. It looked to me like he’d been hunted. Head ranger said he wasn’t the first. Have you been re-enacting the Most Dangerous Game out here? One of the men who went berserk told his wife he was ‘blooded now’ and he was ready for the call when SHTF. You know anything about that?”

  Craig hesitated. “Not me, not my gig,” he said finally. “But, I usually take the first group out on Sundays, those who need to get back. Malloy stays back with a few who want a bit more target practice. Ken packs up the camp and brings his crew out, and Malloy follows.”

  “And you’re wondering what kind of target Malloy might be using?” Mac asked.

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t seem likely, Mac. Not really. Malloy’s in this for money, and he makes that down at his range. Not up here shooting hikers.”

  “Some of the dead looked like they were homeless men,” Mac said.

  Craig shook his head. “That takes more planning than Malloy would have time for,” he objected. “And how would he get a homeless man out here? He drives one of the vans up, usually. There’s another player.”

  “Norton?” Angie asked.

  Craig considered that. “It seems farfetched until you realize he’s out here with a bunch of trigger-happy reserves hunting us,” he said wearily. “So yeah, I can see him and a couple of reserves — maybe even meeting up with Malloy and his last few clients — to hunt a human being. Fuck.”

  Mac studied him, thought he was probably telling the truth. Probably.

  He chugged a can of Mountain Dew. Added another to Craig’s backpack, and shouldered it. He picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Fuck man,” he muttered. “What do you have in this sucker?”

  “Getting old there, Marine?” Craig said. “Can’t handle a 40-pound backpack?”

  Mac grunted. He could. Didn’t mean he wanted to. “Let’s go,” Mac said to Angie. She studied the map Rand had given her, along with the coordinates, and the compass. And she led the way out of the camp.

  Mac focused on following her. He would have to trust she knew where she was going, he thought. Hard to do. He was used to being squad leader, not packhorse.

  “This group had tougher terrain to cross,” Angie said. “We had a pretty flat walk to the first target. They didn’t. If they turned too soon, they ended up having to go down a ravine and up again. If they went a bit farther they could avoid that, but they probably wouldn’t know that. Since our goal is to find them, not necessarily the target, we’re going to have to figure out which route they took.”

  Mac grunted. Bunch of newbies with inexperienced leaders? Oh, they’d end up in the ravine, he thought sourly. And then they’d be in the low position, with high positions all around. Joy.

  “Ten to one, they got themselves trapped in the ravine,” Mac said.

  “I’m watching for evidence of when they left the trail to go cross-country,” Angie said. “But, if they’re trapped in the ravine, do we go in after them? Or do we circle around the rim to take out whoever has them trapped?”

  “Good question,” he agreed. “Really good question. Listen for shots. Then we decide.”

  It took them 40 minutes to reach the place the other group left the trail. They hadn’t tried to hide it, why would they? Mac set the pack and rifle down, stretched his shoulders. He peered at the map over Angie’s shoulder.

  “We’re here,” she said, tracing the route with her finger. “They’re not at the bottom of the ravine, but they’re not at the top either. I haven’t heard any shots either. Have you?”

  “No,” he said. He didn’t know what that meant. He considered firing a shot off and seeing if he got a response. And then he thought about how many deputy reserves Norton could have out here. Probably not all of them, he thought. Surely not all of them could be trigger-happy fanatics willing to play war games at the Sensei’s command? Or were they playing under Norton’s command? What was it Janet had said? At some point Norton would challenge Sensei for top dog. Something to consider, but not right now.

  So enemy assessment? Twenty? Even 10 would outnumber them. Especially because he was afraid to shoot back.

  “Let’s follow them,” Mac said with a sigh. “Our goal is to rescue them, not engage with the reserves. Not if we can help it.”

  Angie nodded, and waited until he picked up his pack and rifle. He pulled his Glock from his pocket and held it in his hand. He didn’t like the feel of this at all. He followed her as she headed into the thicket.

  She was quiet on a trail, he thought. No wonder Bryson wanted to hire her. He hadn’t been kidding. The biggest problem was he was nearly a foot taller than she was. Things that she went through or under hit him in the face. And carrying a gun in his hand made it hard to dodge.

  Angie stopped. Mac halted behind her. She looked around, finally went to her left. And gasped.

  Mac stepped around her and looked at a dead man who h
ad been pulled off the track. “Ah fuck,” he said. It was one of the trek guides, too; he mourned his death. He didn’t deserve to pay this high a price for a bunch of fucked-up men who thought they were going to be kings when the end times came.

  It also just turned this into a different battle. Sending injured men back to Seattle was one thing. Covering up the murder of a local young guide was completely different. And the only way to do that really was to kill them all. They weren’t looking at war games any more. They were looking at a massacre scenario. Clean up.

  Angie was biting her lip as she looked at him. “Cleve Dawson,” she said. “Nice kid.”

  Mac smiled. She was only a few years older. He sighed. “Where are the rest of them?”

  Angie looked around, found a small trail. “Do we just leave him?” she said in a low voice.

  “For now,” he said gently. “Bryson will have to bring in a jeep to take him home. But he will.”

  She nodded and followed the trail.

  Another 20 minutes, she stopped again, looked around. Her eyes narrowed. “Mark?” she called softly.

  “Here,” a voice called back. She moved in that direction. Mac put his finger on the trigger. The hairs on the back of his neck were telling him this would be a great trap. No different than that target had been. He looked around carefully. He didn’t see anything. Sometimes it really was paranoia, he thought.

  Mark and his team of four were huddled behind some downfallen logs. Two of them were injured. One in the leg. Mac grimaced. “Get down,” Mark warned. “We’ve been trapped here. They’ve got a shooter up on the ridge.”

  Angie dropped to a crouch, and Mac did too, dropping the pack and pulling it after him. Someone fired a shot, and it whipped past him. Not close, but he didn’t want the next one coming closer either.

  “Sit rep?” Mac asked, and from the blank look on Mark’s face, he deduced that this was one of the few employees of Bryson’s who wasn’t a veteran. “Can you give me a report on the situation?” he expanded.