“Well, you might want to. Before nature calls and effects permanent stains on a vehicle that doesn’t belong to us.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Christian said, then snapped his fingers. “You know, when we moved the docs in at the Ackermann place, I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a few boxes of adult diapers. Maybe that’s the ticket.”
“Eww, enough.” Grace shuddered. “No more talking about this. Let’s just go already. I’ve been a nervous wreck all morning—I hate doctor visits…absolutely detest them. And now, I have to endure them for the foreseeable future, and that prospect brings me no joy.” She reached for him. “I crave validation and affection—and pickles, all of a sudden. Find pickles for me.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Christian said, holding her just as Michelle made an entrance.
She closed the door and pointed astern with bulging eyes. “Okay, you two. Under most circumstances, I’m capable of handling just about anything. But who’s responsible for that…act of barbarism I just witnessed in our driveway?”
Grace pulled away from Christian. “Take a wild guess.”
Chapter 16
Hardy County, West Virginia
Tuesday, January 4th. Present day
At the break of dawn, Lazarus led the truck duo out of mountainous terrain and into a spacious valley. They forded a shallow portion of Mill Creek and climbed onto a snowy thoroughfare flanked by corroded steel fencing and wooden poles bearing a triad of forlorn power lines. Plowing their path through wafting snowdrifts, they moved north at a paltry stride, and before long, a familiar sign came into view.
Lauren took notice of it, even under a veil of frozen precipitation obscuring most of its purview. They were now traveling north on US Highway 220. “Wonderful,” she quipped.
Woo Tang peered over. “What is?”
“Nothing…in particular. It’s this road, again.”
“Care to illustrate?”
“Not every encounter I’ve had with it has been pleasant,” Lauren began. “My first memory of that sign”—she pointed ahead—“was when Dad took me for an extended drive to have one of his father-daughter talks with me. And tour some prisons.”
Woo Tang peered curiously over, but said nothing.
“We didn’t tour them from the inside or anything. Just parked across the road for a little while and took in the view, which was unnerving. Before that, I never paid much attention to highway signs, or anything else, really. I think I was living life with blinders on in those days.”
Woo Tang deliberated a moment. “And penitentiaries, or rather, the mere prospect of them, had been selected to bring you about. Very innovative.”
“Dad never did anything the conventional way,” Lauren replied, her head beside the window. “He laid emphasis on the importance of freedom that day and went on to explain how freedom as we knew it then really wasn’t.” She paused. “And that was a pleasant encounter. The last time I saw one of those signs was right before the ambush at the overpass…barely a day before Austin and I were captured. Ironic.”
As the lead truck made a sudden right ahead, Woo Tang said, “It would appear Lazarus endeavors to relieve your reservations.”
Lauren sighed. “With another shortcut, no less. What would we do without him?”
Woo Tang moved their truck in to follow, and the pair wandered along another narrow, thickly forested path as it rounded hairpins and snaked up and over a ridgeline by way of a variety of zigzags on either side.
After a time, the path leveled off and they exited the forest into a field, only to enter another densely wooded area where the road became notably treacherous. It dipped into a gulley and wound through patches of evergreens and laurel, and as it began a gentle climb, ridges rose on either side, nestling the backwoods pathway in a trench.
Lazarus slowed to a crawl to compete with the terrain, and Woo Tang matched his pace. A number of minutes in, steam suddenly began erupting from the lead truck’s radiator, creating a dense cloud that melded with the frigid ambient air, degrading visibility to almost zero.
Lauren shuddered when shards of rubber pelted the windshield. “What was that?”
Brake lights went luminous as the lead truck swerved and skidded erratically, forcing Woo Tang to take evasive maneuvers to prevent a collision. With well-timed hard cuts on the wheel and diligent use of the brake, he brought the diesel to a stop, lodging the plow and rear bumper into walls of snow on either side.
With seemingly no traction, the oversized truck carrying Lazarus, Francis, and Jean skated forward and collided with the road’s edge, crushing the snowplow and scattering tree debris atop both vehicles.
Lauren unsnapped her seatbelt and looked herself over, then froze when something rigid smacked the windshield, fracturing it into a spiderweb.
Woo Tang took action, directing her to duck low into the footwell. “Stay down.” He shut off the ignition, and with the rattling of diesel engines no longer invading the ambience, several more rifle shots could be heard impacting the chassis.
Lauren shrieked, “Who the hell is shooting at us in the middle of nowhere?”
“Irrelevant. But we must exit the kill box. An intermission approaches; be ready for it. We will break during the lull and reposition behind cover.” Woo Tang’s eyes narrowed. “Then…we will sort this out.”
“Okay.”
“On my signal, open your door and go to ground. Utilize the truck for cover and stay low. I will follow after.”
A long moment passed by. Then, as he’d predicted, the rate of fire declined and finally subsided.
Woo Tang tapped her shoulder. “Go.”
Lauren pulled the lever and pushed open the door with her foot. She shoved her AK and sling pack of spare mags into the snow and crept out after them.
Woo Tang then slinked his way out like a serpent. “Origin of fire is due east…we must retreat west. Standard protocol, Lauren Russell, center peel. I will move first. You suppress them until I set a base of fire, then you retreat under my cover. Do you understand?”
“I know the drill, Jae,” she said, and moved her weapon into position.
His head low, Woo Tang rose to a knee and waited.
Lauren snapped off the safety and fired once—“Go!”—then sent a volley of rounds downrange.
“Moving!” The SEAL scaled the embankment, then hotfooted backward through the varying snow with his M4 pulled to his shoulder to thicker forest. He found cover behind a fallen petrified tree, crouched and aligned himself for Lauren’s retreat. “Set!” he shouted, and commenced fire.
But Lauren didn’t move. She remained in position, watching, listening, gauging from where the shots were originating.
“Orchid! Peel! Break contact!”
Lauren didn’t respond. She crawled underneath the truck and repositioned between the grille and the crooked snowplow, a location appearing to offer adequate ballistic protection. Then, under muted daylight, made so by a canopy of ancient conifers, she waited for the first sign of a muzzle blast.
A moment passed by in silence, and Lauren thought she’d overheard chattering at one point. Then her eyes tracked left, spotting a flash the instant a rifle’s report cracked off. She squinted through her optic, made a slight adjustment, and brought a middle-aged man’s scruffy beard, half-hidden behind a tree, into focus. A magazine-fed rifle of some variety rested in his hands and, though it wasn’t aimed directly at her, was pointed in her vicinity.
The shooter was preparing another shot, but Lauren already had him dead to rights. She aligned the optic’s red dot on the bridge of his nose and squeezed the trigger. The M70 burped, and the slug struck the man with force enough to knock him from his perch as his weapon fell and tumbled into the snowy road.
Right after Lauren dropped him, a surplus of panicked shouts was heard.
“Woody! Woody! Oh shit!”
“What is it? What happened?”
“Woody’s hit! Oh, man…he’s hit bad! He’s…oh no, man, no!
He’s not moving! I think they killed him!”
The men’s chattering did nothing to help their cause, only gave their positions away to the tenacious young woman huddled below them in her improvised sniper’s roost.
Lauren waited tolerantly, and when one of them broke cover to check on Woody the corpse, she fired twice at center mass, sending him to meet his maker. “And that leaves one of you.”
“Zero,” a voice beside her whispered.
Startled, Lauren whipped around to see Woo Tang had rejoined her. His rifle was secured to his shoulder, and its suppressed muzzle was braced on the diesel’s hood. The final shot from his weapon seconds after sealed the deal, putting an end to the skirmish.
Lauren brushed the caked snow from her pants and slowly stood while remaining in place to watch for additional threats. When she chanced a stare at her companion, she found a vacant, humorless one being sent her way; and for the moment, she felt like Daniel LaRusso being visually scolded by Mr. Miyagi himself.
She awaited an earful over this, but Woo Tang merely strolled off to inspect the damage inflicted. He wasn’t content with her performance, but something or perhaps someone else was displeasing him even more.
Lauren drew her attention to the lead vehicle’s empty cab, and reality collided with her. “Where did they go?”
“Did you not see them withdraw?”
“I haven’t seen much of anything since that shot hit the windshield.” She expected to see the trio shot dead, having been pinned down inside the cab at the onset, but there were no signs of them inside or out. Foot tracks were nearly impossible to make out, and there were no indications of blood trails. Lauren edged closer and shot a look into the bed, finding all their tools, equipment, gear and personal items still in place. “Wherever they went, they left all their stuff here.”
Woo Tang nodded slightly. “Curious.”
Concern mounting for her own personal effects, Lauren went to verify them. She jumped into the bed, and several minutes in, she heard chattering again. She turned to track it and found Lazarus and Francis standing behind the tree where the first man had gone down after she’d put a bullet in his face.
Francis was holding a rifle, which he hadn’t been in possession of prior to the surprise attack. Though they spoke softly, their conversation looked heated, like the two men had fallen into conflict over something, and they were pointing at the fallen man and using animated gestures to convey their opinions.
Lauren then detected Jean pulling herself from under the front axle, where a cavern of snow had been formed when the truck had run aground. She sped over to help the woman to her feet.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Jean said. “Sorry I couldn’t do much to help. Did we get them all?”
“I think so.” Lauren motioned to Lazarus and Jean’s husband. “How did you end up here and not with them?”
Jean brushed snow and gravel from her jacket and pants. “I don’t know, it all happened so fast. I was sitting in the middle, so I was the last one to get out. They ran off and I would’ve ran with them, but all I could think about was not dying. So I found a hiding spot.”
Her look displayed a certain genuineness. Lauren believed what Jean was saying, but the combined behaviors of the other two coupled with Lazarus’s unruly conduct from the get-go was raising red flags.
Lazarus jerked his head awkwardly and waved to Woo Tang upon seeing him approach from below. “Oh hey, bud. Sorry…we’ll be done in a second.”
Woo Tang’s expression went colder and darker than Lauren had ever seen it. His voice seared as he spoke. “Lazarus, admittedly, I am exasperated at the moment. This route should never have been considered, as it is one of distinct disadvantage.”
Lazarus stared strangely at him. “Do what?”
“Look around you. Study the landscape. The environment in which we are situated is textbook for ambush. You took it upon yourself to lead four individuals into a three-dimensional target area. Up until now, your use of ad hoc, circuitous routes has been benign, but this one could have very easily killed every one of us.”
“Okay, I get that. But it didn’t, right? So take it easy. I understand your being upset, but—”
“There will be no more of this,” Woo Tang roared, cutting him off. Then he stomped away to cool off.
Lazarus shrugged and resumed a disposition of complete indifference and went back to whispering with Francis. The men slowly made their way back to the scene only to have Lauren approach them.
Lazarus rolled his eyes. “Here we go. I guess now it’s your turn to yell at me, right?”
Lauren ogled him. “Where were you?”
“What? What do you mean? You saw us. We were right up there.”
“And why were you up there?” Lauren sent impugning looks at both men. “And you left Jean behind…you both dumped her in the middle of a firefight. Why?”
Francis looked away, guilty as charged. He sidestepped away and went to join his wife, now visibly troubled.
“You know…I’m getting really tired of this shit from you,” Lazarus began. “You’re always badgering me. You’ve been doing it since before the trip started, and you really need to stop it. Just…get off my ass already. This is close to being harassment.”
Lauren didn’t waver. “Did you know those men?”
“Who?”
“The ones we just killed.”
“What? Hell no! I’ve never seen them before in my life,” he pled, failing to look her in the eyes.
Lauren watched him fidget anxiously. “Every indicator you’re sending tells me you’re full of shit.”
“Oh, come on. What are you? A cop?” Lazarus reacted. “I’m not lying, give me a lie detector test if you want. Truth is, I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m telling you, I don’t know those guys. They sneaked up on us in the middle of nowhere, probably because they wanted the trucks, our gear, guns or something. That’s it. It’s a simple explanation. And now they’re dead. It’s over. And we can giddyup.”
But it wasn’t as simple as he was making it out to be, Lauren was certain of it. She vacated his presence and went back to arranging her gear, knowing now that the remainder of the trip home was destined to occur on foot.
Both vehicles rendered undrivable, the group soon converged on them amidst the cavernous tracks spawned by the subsequent mishap.
Lazarus looked the most hopeless of the bunch. “Well, dare I say this creates a slight disadvantage for us.”
“Slight?” added Jean.
“Not a whole heck of a lot we can do about them,” Francis said. “The radiator’s busted on ours, and both front tires are shredded. It ain’t going nowhere.” He pointed to the other truck. “That one looks drivable, but it’s wedged in pretty good. The plow is wasted, though. So even if we somehow got it out, we wouldn’t get far with it.”
“So what are we going to do, then?” Jean asked, looking around at the trees.
Francis regarded his cousin. “Whereabouts are we, Laz?”
Lazarus shrugged. “Somewhere between Brake and Bass, west of Elkhorn Mountain. Near the falls, I expect.”
Lauren folded a map she’d been perusing and slid it into her pack, then jumped down from the truck bed and pointed up the path. “It stands to reason had we not been ambushed, our journey would’ve continued on this route. The only difference is we’re on foot now.”
“On foot?” Jean retorted.
“How far are we talking?” Francis asked.
Lauren deliberated. “Twenty miles or so, maybe a few more. We’re not far from Lost River State Park. We can hike into it and follow trails from there.”
Francis ridiculed, “We’re all gonna get frostbite on our toes. We might want to try hunting down whatever them fellas drove in.”
Jean scowled. “And how long would doing that take?”
“Too long,” Lazarus said. “On foot’s the only way we’re getting out of here, there’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Let’s go see what gear we
have to take with us.”
When the group reconvened, Lazarus was lugging an ancient external-frame backpack nearly as tall as he was, and Francis had a small day pack hanging from a shoulder, leaving Jean with little to nothing.
Lauren analyzed Lazarus’s choice of gear. “Nice pack.”
“Thanks. I think so too. You like it?”
Lauren slowly shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Why not? ’Cause it ain’t camo? It’s still a heck of a pack. Better than most of them newfangled things they used to sell in outdoor stores.”
“More like residue from the nineteen-eighties Boy Scout era. In what thrift store did you find that thing?”
“It belonged to my pop,” Lazarus said. “He was a scoutmaster back in the eighties, so you know.”
Lauren grinned snarkily. “And I take it you were his proud little Eagle Scout?”
Lazarus smirked. “Actually, I was.”
Jean sulked, gathering up what little she’d brought with her. “I didn’t bring a damn thing for this, not no winter walk in the mountains. I don’t even have a knife.”
“You can use mine,” Lauren called. “We can share what I have.”
“I appreciate that,” Jean said. “It’s very generous, though it would’ve been nice to hear the same from my husband.”
Francis stuttered. “Honey, you can use anything I got, you know that. I just figured I didn’t have to say it for you to know it.”
“No, that’s okay. Seeing as how Lauren was kind enough to volunteer hers already, I won’t be needing yours.”
Lauren smiled at her. “For starters, we need to get you dressed for the occasion,” she began, dipping into her pack for a fleece beanie and matching fleece neck gaiter. “We lose a ton of body heat from our heads, and the gaiter will keep your neck warm. It’s long enough to cover your face, too. And keep you from getting wind burn.”
As the two women went through gear options for Jean for the trip, the whispering between Lazarus and Francis began again and before long escalated into bickering.
Indivisible Page 18
