The Long Search For Home

by Ray Wench

  The two men focused their attention on the woods around them. In the distance, what sounded like an animal cried out. A chill ran through Mark’s veins. The sound did not come again. Mark motioned for Lincoln to continue, but he couldn’t help but glance around him. He had heard that sound before. In the woods when the soldiers had been chasing him. And for some reason he didn’t believe it was an animal.

  The high-pitched cackle was the sound of someone laughing.

  Forty-Four

  Bobby looked at the guard. The guard glared back. He stood inside the door to make sure no one else escaped. Two more guards were stationed outside.

  When news of Becca’s escape had reached the lieutenant, he stormed inside and demanded answers from the other couple in the room. The woman cried, but the man stated calmly that Becca had forced the window open and climbed through. It was clear to Bobby that the officer did not entirely believe the story.

  He gave orders to his men and left.

  Bobby prayed Becca got away, and although he hoped she might be able to find a way to free him, if she didn’t come back, he would understand. Although happy for her, Bobby kept his emotion in check. He couldn’t stop the adrenaline from making his heart beat faster though. His face hurt, but he refused to touch the spot or show any signs of pain in front of the guard. He stood to stretch.

  Immediately the guard shouted, “Sit back down.”

  “Why don’t you make me?”

  The soldier advanced two steps then stopped, his glare ineffectual. Bobby flexed his torso and touched his toes. Pain danced through his body, but made him feel alive. His body protested, but he used the pain to fuel his building anger and his desire for payback.

  Bobby told them truthfully what he had been doing the past few weeks. The discussion ground to a halt when the sergeant, who paced menacingly around the chair Bobby had been cuffed to, got in his face and called him a liar.

  Bobby said, “I don’t care what you think. I didn’t kill your men. And I’ll be damned if I’ll serve in an Army run by fools.”

  The sergeant backhanded Bobby, rocking him back in the chair, almost toppling over. As the chair bounced back on all four legs, Bobby jumped up, chair still attached, and planted a kick into his assailant’s groin. That’s when the beating began.

  Bobby walked toward the back of the room and did more stretching. On his way he stopped in front of the couple. “What happened to the Hispanic man?”

  “Your sister convinced them he needed medical attention. They took him out, supposedly to get help.”

  Bobby squatted close to the man and whispered. “Did you help her?”

  The wild-haired man shot a nervous glance at the guard and nodded.

  “You need to move away from him, and yes, I will make you.”

  Bobby narrowed his eyes at the guard. “Thanks,” he whispered and stood up.

  With the guard giving him his best death stare, Bobby sat down across from the couple. Okay, Sis, I hope you’re safe. Everything’s up to you now.

  Forty-Five

  Mason Armstrong had tracked the two men into the forest. He stopped and hid a few times when he thought the white guy had heard him. The hunt excited him. He was there primarily to kill the uniforms, which he had done twice already, but there were so many of them, so he’d switched targets.

  When his prey stopped and separated, Mason thought he might finally get a chance to take the white man. Mason stalked him, but something had spooked the man, so Mason froze and waited. He ached for another kill, but the thought didn’t consume him so badly he lost all perspective. He had no intention of being caught.

  Now there was a uniform right in front of him, with his hands and feet bound. He was watched by a young man and woman. Mason’s mind whirled with the possibilities of making three kills at once. If he was going to take them, he needed to do it before the other two men came back.

  He smiled. Yes, that should work very nicely. He inched forward toward his goal.

  Mark and Lincoln descended the fence with slow deliberate strides and walked to the rear of the building. A log lay on the ground to Mark’s right. Perhaps what that kid used to help Rebecca escape.

  He motioned to Lincoln that he was moving. Lincoln nodded. They moved in opposite directions to the end of the building. Mark focused the binoculars on the control tower. Some sort of ambient light shone inside. A shadow moved from the front window.

  Mark counted off what he hoped was four minutes, looked over his shoulder at Lincoln, and then went around the corner. Would Lincoln be able to do his part? If not, Mark would be caught in the open with no weapon ready. He reached the front corner. One glance told Mark the information the prisoner had offered was accurate, so far.

  He shoved the gun behind his back. With head down, but eyes up, Mark stepped around the corner and moved toward the door. He was five steps forward when the closest guard noticed him. Two more steps until that guard informed his partner, and three more steps before they spun toward him.

  Their guns were ready, but not aimed, yet. Any time now, Lincoln. The guards brought their weapons on target.

  Lincoln stepped from around the building and placed his gun against the back of the rear guard’s head. The lead guard turned to see what was happening behind him. Pulling his gun, Mark ran the last few steps, got past the barrel of the rifle, and jammed his gun into the man’s belly.

  These men could not be real Army. He ripped the rifle from the guard’s hands. “Open the door.”

  The man’s eyes widened and his jaw sagged open. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys and with a shaking hand tried to line up a key with the doorknob.

  “Relax,” Mark said. “If you do what I say, no one will get hurt.”

  The guard nodded and the key slid home.

  When Bobby heard the key enter the lock, he tensed, ready to spring. If the guard turned his head for even an instant Bobby was going to pounce. He’d been thinking about his best chance for escape ever since his return to the cell. Now might be his only opportunity.

  He pictured his actions. Hit the guard from behind, blow past whoever was coming in, turn to the right, go around the building, hop the fence, and disappear into the woods. Simple. He just had to outrun the bullets.

  When the door opened, Bobby readied to move. As soon as the guard turned his head, Bobby exploded off the floor. His focus was on the inside guard and not whoever entered.

  The guard crouched and spun, but Bobby hit him before the rifle could come on target. But the man grabbed Bobby and took him down too.

  As the two men landed and rolled, each trying to gain a dominant position, men flooded the room and the door was closed. Bobby’s hopes sank. There would be no escape now, but he was determined to at least get in a few licks before they beat him down.

  In a desperate effort to rise to the top, Bobby gambled on a move that backfired. His opponent ended up on top, cocked his arm to drive it into Bobby’s face. Then Bobby saw a gun touch the side of the guard’s head.

  Bobby switched his gaze to the right. He opened his eyes wide, his heart skipped a beat, and the smile stretched so far it hurt. A whimper escaped his lips and his vision distorted looking through the watery build up. “Dad!” The word almost stuck in his throat.

  “I don’t understand why my kids are always on the bottom. Didn’t I teach you better than that?” His father nudged the man with the gun. “Would you mind getting off my son?”

  Forty-Six

  The man complied. Mark motioned him to join the other two guards at the far end of the room where Lincoln watched them.

  Bobby stood next to Mark. The boy wiped a sleeve across his eyes. Mark fought down any emotion. A reunion would have to wait.

  “It’s really good to see you, Dad. Did you find Becca?”

  Mark nodded. “She’s waiting for us. We have to move fast. You two take off your shirts. Now!” he shouted. “You too, tough guy.”

  The guard who had been wrestling with Bobby did not move
. He glared with unconcealed hatred.

  The couple on the floor moved away from the action. The woman was in a panic. The man tried to comfort her. Mark told Lincoln and Bobby to put on the uniform tops. Then he instructed them to tie up the soldiers using their laces.

  When the hard-nosed soldier refused to take off his shoes, Mark advanced on him and placed the gun to his forehead. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, even though you’ve hurt my children. But I promise, I’m not afraid to pull the trigger. Do as I say and no one gets hurt.”

  “Empty promises.”

  “If I wanted you hurt, you’d be dead already. It would easier for us, and I wouldn’t have to worry about you coming after us. Now do it.”

  The soldier stared at Mark, and then sat down and took off his shoes. Lincoln took out the laces and tied the man’s hands and feet. “This fool’s making it difficult for me. He’s tied, but I don’t think it’s gonna hold for long.”

  “That’s all right,” Mark said. “I expect once they work together they won’t be tied for long anyways.”

  “And you better pray I don’t find you,” the soldier said.

  “Don’t take my letting you live for weakness,” Mark said. “I’m not a killer. But if you follow us and try to hurt us, I will kill you.”

  He backed away from the captives. “Let’s go.”

  Mark opened the door a crack and peered out. Lincoln and Bobby stood behind them.

  Bobby looked at the couple meeting the man’s eyes. “Dad, what about them?”

  Mark studied them. “It might be better if they stayed here.”

  The man started to protest, but Bobby interrupted. “He helped Becca escape.”

  Mark sighed. “Come if you want, but you have to keep up – and you have to keep her quiet.” He moved his attention back to the door. Across the camp the buildings were lit, and a group of soldiers had gathered. All were armed. “We have to hurry,” he said. “I think they’re organizing pursuit.” Mark knew he should check the tower spotter again, but didn’t want to stay there any longer. With a little luck by the time word was passed down of their escape, they would have a good enough lead to avoid capture.

  “Okay, we’re going to the right and straight to the fence,” Mark said.

  The woman cried and told her man, “I can’t.”

  Mark stepped aggressively toward her and said, “You damn well will, or you will be the only one still here. He’s coming with us, with or without you. Now get it together and follow us.”

  Mark motioned Lincoln to lead the way. He opened the door and was gone, Bobby on his heels. Mark let the man pull his girlfriend next and followed close behind to keep her from dragging.

  He closed the door, locked it, and tossed the keys.

  At the fence, he helped push the woman up and guided her over. She whimpered the entire way, but at least kept moving.

  At the top of the fence Mark looked back over the base. His heart sank. A group of armed soldiers were running toward them. They weren’t going to have the lead he had hoped for.

  Forty-Seven

  Mark jumped to the ground and ran past the group. “Move,” he said without pausing. He didn’t bother looking back.

  As he neared where he’d left his daughter, a scream followed by two gunshots sent a shockwave of fear though him. Without concern for the amount of noise he made, Mark ran. In the distance, the insane laughter he’d heard before penetrated the woods.

  Breaking into the tiny clearing he saw the body, but not Becca or her friend. Mark swung his gun, tracking for targets. Branches parted on the other side of the body and Mark increased the pressure on the trigger. Becca came into view, followed closely by the boy.

  Mark stepped forward with his gun still pointed. Becca aimed her gun. Mark ducked.

  “Oh God, Daddy, some crazy guy killed that poor man.”

  Mark quickly sized up the situation as the rest of the group came into the open. He knelt next to the soldier and confirmed his death. “Where were you?” His tone was harsh.

  “Ah, Myron lost his pack when he got knocked down. I helped him find it.”

  As if to confirm this the boy, Myron, held the pack up.

  Mark swallowed his next comment. Chain links rattled in the distance. The pursuit had reached the fence. “We have to go. This way.” At a run, Mark tore through the branches. They had a long way to go and needed distance first and then stealth. When the soldiers discovered their dead comrade, they would be out for blood and would shoot on sight.

  He slowed his pace, motioning everyone to pass him. He fell in next to Lincoln. Mark didn’t doubt Lincoln could easily outrun them all, but he was serving as the rear guard.

  “Lincoln, they’re gonna catch us before we get to the truck. Lead them about another hundred yards, and then stop and hide. Make them stay quiet.”

  “Wait, what are you gonna do?”

  “Lead them away.”

  “Aw, man, that’s crazy.”

  “There’s no time to discuss it and no other way to save them. Just do what I say. I’ll be all right.”

  Lincoln looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead sprinted to the front of the group. Mark slowed and watched as they disappeared into the darkness. His heart felt heavy. He had just found his children alive, and now might never see them again. But now that he knew they were alive his sacrifice would be worth keeping them that way.

  He waited a few more seconds to get separation and then broke to the west, deliberately crashing through underbrush and snapping branches. Soon they were the only sounds he could hear. Then to the left, something snapped. Mark spun and ducked. His gun was up, his ears straining for a direction to aim.

  The sound came again, more to the south, level with his position. Mark waited, tracking the unseen person by the sounds. The tracker was almost past him when he heard a whispered, “Dad?”

  His heart sank. Crouched, Mark moved with as much caution as he could, closing the distance on his son. Someone was moving behind him now. The posse of soldiers was getting closer.

  Like a ghost, Mark came up behind his son, snaked a hand around his face, and slapped his palm over his mouth. Bobby tried to fight until Mark shushed in his ear. He pulled him to the ground shook his shoulders and whispered, “What are you doing here?”

  “Two can sound more like a group than one.”

  Mark’s anger and fear for his son’s safety faded. He would have angry words for him later – if there were a later.

  More sound behind made his options limited. “Run. Keep me in sight. Do as I do.” He jumped up and ran hard. Without looking, the noise told him Bobby was following.

  Someone shouted, “Over here,” and the hunt began for real.

  Forty-Eight

  Mark veered south. The airport was to the right. If they went that way, they would get trapped in the open. If the chasers flanked him south, they could herd Mark and Bobby toward open ground.

  They would have to hide somewhere soon. The cover of the woods would not last much longer. If they came to an open area they would be in trouble. They might be able to keep a lead on the pursuers, but they couldn’t outrun a bullet.

  From the right, a scream startled them. At first, Mark thought it might be one of Lincoln’s group, but they should’ve been to the left. Seconds later, the eerie laugh pierced the night. Mark froze. That was the real killer the Army was looking for. If he were alone, Mark would hunt the lunatic down and make a present of him to the Army Brass. For now he had to think of his son’s safety.

  He motioned Bobby forward, but slowed his pace. If the hunters caught them now, there would be no chance to deny their guilt or explain the truth about the real killer. They would be shot.

  With the pursuit’s attention drawn to the scream, Mark continued south at a slower, more cautious pace, and made for the road. He adjusted their path as needed. To keep the pursuit behind them.

  Twenty minutes later they reached the road. As feared, the opposite side was an open
field. The left offered nothing to use as cover. A quarter mile to the right stood two houses. They wouldn’t offer cover for long, but there weren’t any other options.

  “Keep low. Cross the road and make for that house.”

  Bobby nodded and ran across the street while Mark covered him. Bobby dropped below the road bed out of sight. Mark watched the road and then broke for the other side.

  Mark bear-walked for a while to keep hidden from the woods. Stones and twigs dug into his palms, but he kept on. A few grunts came from Bobby; however, Mark continued on without checking on his son. Halfway to the house, he stopped.

  His hands were wet. He wiped the blood on his pants and crawled to where he could see the road and the woods. Nothing moved. If someone watched from the woods, he couldn’t tell.

  He ran in a crouch along the shallow drainage ditch. The house grew bigger. When he reached the front yard he left the small ditch and raced for the rear of the house. There he scanned the road behind them. His body sagged. Two figures ran along the road, heading right for them.

  “We got company.” He scanned the yard. Behind them was a large four-bay garage. Well behind that and to the right was a barn. Everywhere beyond the barn was open land. If they ran for the garage, they could be seen from the road. The house would cover them if they went to the barn. However, the garage had a better chance of holding a vehicle they might be able to use to escape.

  “Bobby, go to the garage and see if you can get in. Look for a vehicle.”

  He nodded and left. Mark moved to the far side of the house and waited. Bobby was inside. He would be safe as long as Mark could take the pursuers by surprise and stop them from shooting.

  Running footsteps announced that the two men had arrived. Mark readied. They came into view. One man made hand signals to the other and they separated, moving toward the garage. One went for the door Bobby had gone through. The other moved toward the opposite side where there was a second door. That man passed within fifteen feet of Mark.