by Mark Romang
“Whoa, I didn’t see this statue by the kiosk until I got up here. It must’ve been hidden by the shadows,” C.J. said.
“It looks like Henrik Skymolt,” Tanner said quietly as he eyed the tall statue.
“This creeps me out. It’s just like Dad said it would be. Besides taking the mark, the Antichrist is going to require everyone to worship his image.”
“And if there is one in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere, there must be statues in every town and city. To do that there must be several dozen plants around the world manufacturing these ugly things around the clock,” Tanner said.
“I’d like to knock them all down. But I think I’ll just paint on this one, make Skymolt look like a stooge.” C.J. lifted his spray paint can up near the statue’s head. He pressed in on the actuator.
Tanner peered up and down the street. Behind him he heard a hissing sound, and then C.J. shaking the can repeatedly. “Make it quick, C.J, we need to get out of here. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Somewhere nearby a dog barked. And then dogs from other houses joined in. Porch lights blinked on one by one.
“The paint in this can is all used up.”
“Great, then let’s scram.”
“There’s only one thing left I can do,” C.J. sighed.
Tanner heard a zipper unzipping, and then what sounded like a small stream of water hitting the porch floor. He whirled around and saw his brother urinating on Skymolt’s statue. “Are you crazy, C.J.? Public exposure and urinating on government property is illegal pretty much everywhere.”
“Only if you get caught.”
“Well, hurry up. I think I see headlights. Yeah, I do and they’re coming this way.” Tanner hissed. He squinted his eyes at the pinpricks of light. The headlights rapidly moved their way. Tanner felt his spine freeze when he saw red and blue lights flash to life atop the car. “It’s cops or UWC officers! For the last time, C.J., hurry up!”
“I’m coming. I have to buckle my belt or my pants will fall down.” C.J. said. He finished cinching his belt and turned around to face Tanner. “Where do we go?”
“To the timber east of town. We’ll have to cut through yards. Come on,” Tanner urged and bolted off the porch.
They ran about thirty yards down the snow-packed street and then veered off onto a side street, cutting through a backyard. Car doors slammed shut back at the city hall. Men shouted at them to halt. A gunshot rang out and echoed in the cold darkness.
Tanner dug deep and ran hard, wringing out all the speed he could muster. C.J. ran beside him. Identical in every way, Tanner almost felt as though C.J. were his shadow. Although Tanner was arguably the better snowboarder and consistently finished higher at competitions, C.J.’s all-around athleticism dwarfed his. And yet in a footrace they nearly always tied.
Lord, show us the way out of here, Tanner prayed as he and his brother sprinted through yards. There were enough dogs barking at them now to fill a kennel. The yips and barks and howls drowned out the noise made by their pursuers.
In his periphery, Tanner could see the vehicle with the flashing light bar traveling down a side street parallel to them. They’re trying to cut us off, he thought.
A privacy fence loomed ahead, forming a barricade they couldn’t defeat. They detoured into another yard. Undisturbed snowdrifts retarded their speed as they ran for their lives. Fear sent waves of adrenaline surging through Tanner’s body. If they were caught it would be instant execution. A razor-sharp axe would lop off their heads.
Twins, especially identical ones, share a special connection. The same emotions are often felt by one another at the same time, even if hundreds of miles separate them. And although the scientific community would disagree, Tanner sometimes felt that he and C.J. could read each other’s minds. A weird kind of twin ESP existed between them.
Tanner could tell that C.J. wanted to find a hiding place. He did too. But they couldn’t take refuge anywhere because the snow gave them away. Everywhere they went they left tracks behind.
The snow also lightened the darkness. They couldn’t count on the nighttime hiding them. Between the snowpack, streetlights, porch lights and full moon exposing them, they ran with no protection. Tanner felt like he ran with a searchlight trained on him.
They reached the final residential street and skidded to a halt. They glanced both ways. No police car cruised in either direction. It must be circling around, Tanner thought. He spotted a sawmill standing at the end of the street and next to the timber. For some reason the dark sawmill beckoned him.
“Head for the mill,” Tanner said as he broke into a sprint. C.J. ran beside him, elbow to elbow.
The heavy backpacks strapped to their backs slowed them down. Tanner briefly entertained chucking his. But he quickly reconsidered. Without their gear they wouldn’t last long in the wild.
Not a single light shone at the mill, not even a security light. As they ran toward the mill, Tanner wondered if the business was still in operation. But then he saw huge piles of logs in various sizes and knew the answer. He just hoped there wasn’t a dog chained up somewhere and taxed with sentinel duty.
Panting hard, their legs burning, he and C.J. ran into the mill’s front yard. They headed for the back of the property, which butted up against the timber. Tanner knew if they could just make the forest and lose themselves in a thick patch of alder they might live long enough to see the next sunrise.
But their hopes were dashed when they came up to a high, chain-link fence topped with barbwire. At least ten-feet tall, the fence encircled the mill’s back and both sides. C.J. looked up at the tall fence. “Now what?”
Tanner looked wildly in all directions. He didn’t see their pursuers on foot. But he could see red and blue lights reflecting off the property’s open-sided sheds. These sheds—containing the huge saws used to cut the logs into lumber—sat in the front and middle of the mill.
“We can’t go inside the sheds. We’ll get trapped for sure.” Their brains reeling for answers, they hunkered behind a mammoth pile of logs. The unpeeled logs had been stacked by a crane. The crane slept a dozen or so yards away. Tanner looked at C.J. and pointed toward the top log some twenty feet up.
C.J. shot him a questioning look. He whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Not really,” Tanner whispered back. “But at least up there we’ll be able to see them.” He reached up both hands, grasped a log and started climbing. Halfway up the pile, the logs shifted slightly under his weight, and he noticed an absence of bindings.
Tanner latched his fingers tightly onto the bark. He tried to climb silently, but occasionally his shoes scraped against the bark. He prayed their pursuers didn’t possess good hearing. But the prayer didn’t carry much faith behind it. Out here in this quiet, little town the tiniest noise becomes amplified.
Behind him he could sense C.J. climbing, could feel his hands and feet making slight vibrations on the logs. Tanner eased his way up to the top. His heart hammered in his chest. He waited for his brother to join him.
Many times during snowboarding competitions he’d battled his nerves. The more prestigious the competition, the more talented the competitors, the more anxiety and tension he felt. Usually his nerves settled down once he started his run. And midway through the run his talent took over and he relaxed. But right now at this moment, he’d never felt so uneasy.
C.J. joined him at the top, positioning himself a few feet away. They both peeked over the top log at the same time and watched a vehicle with flashing red and blue lights creep through the mill, its tires crunching the snow.
As the vehicle drove closer they could see it was an SUV, the kind driven by the UWCPD—Unified World Council Police Department—a worldwide military police force used by Henrik Skymolt to bully the world into submission.
The SUV pulled to a stop. Doors opened and two men wearing UWC uniforms stepped out. The biggest man went around to the back of the SUV and opened the hatch. A few seconds later the
hatch slammed shut and the man returned holding a giant, double-bladed axe.
The officer without the axe flipped on a flashlight and shined it onto the snowy ground. Both officers studied the illuminated ground closely. Slowly but surely they made their way toward the log pile.
Tanner kept his eyes glued to the man holding the axe. This man was taxed with only one purpose, and a bloody purpose it was. He executed those who defied Henrik Skymolt’s mandate and refused to accept the marking chip.
Tanner struggled to suppress a scream. Looking at the executioner was like staring into the eyes of a coldblooded killer. To Tanner, anyone who made a living as an axe-wielding executioner must be classified a monster. The ability to take a human life in such a barbaric and uncaring manner proved something was amiss in their psyche.
Tanner lowered his head slowly so as not to draw attention. C.J. followed his lead. It was a surreal moment to be sure. If they were caught and arrested there would be no judge or jury or courtroom proceeding. Only two executions carried out in a businesslike fashion, without remorse or mercy.
The two officers stopped in their tracks about six feet from the log pile. They stood side by side with their backs to the log pile. One officer talked into a two-way radio. Tanner assumed he was calling for help.
Tanner turned his head and looked at his brother. C.J. smiled back at him confidently. He patted the top log and then pointed downward toward the officers. He then made a fist and brought it down onto his head.
Again the twin ESP phenomenon displayed its weirdness. Tanner knew exactly what C.J. had in mind. The logs were not bound together and had shifted as they climbed up. They could be moved.
C.J. stood up gingerly. His heart still hammering, Tanner followed suit. He looked down at the officers, still with their backs facing them. C.J. counted to three using his fingers. At three, he bent down and grasped the log. Tanner did the same.
He guessed the top log had a thirty inch circumference and reached a length of twenty feet. Its weight was significant, but white-knuckle fear and adrenaline made it seem as light as a feather. Their combined strength moved the log from its perch. Gravity took over and the log dropped straight down onto the unsuspecting officers.
Tanner heard a sickening sound of log striking bone and flesh. Both officers collapsed into the snow and didn’t move. “Let’s get out of here before any more show up,” Tanner said. C.J. nodded and they climbed down as quickly and as safely as they could.
On the ground, they rounded the log pile and warily approached the downed UWC officers. But the danger had passed for the moment. Neither officer moved. Both had died instantly, and the executioner had fallen forward onto his axe. The axe blade protruded out his back. Blood oozed from the wound and pooled around his body, turning the snow a crimson shade.
Chapter 16
C.J. placed a shaky hand onto Tanner’s shoulder. “That’s an appropriate death for him,” C.J. mumbled, looking at the executioner.
Tanner nodded. He felt nauseous. “We need to go before more show up.”
C.J. snapped out of his trance. He pointed at the idling SUV. “We can make a fast getaway in the truck.”
The thought of stealing a police vehicle sickened Tanner even more. But what did it matter? They just murdered two officers—a far worse crime. They would now have a new label placed on them to go along with rebel and fugitive. And that label was cop killers. “You want to drive or ride shotgun?”
“Shotgun works for me.”
They jogged up to the SUV, threw their backpacks into the back seat and hopped in. “While I drive, see if you can figure out how to turn off the flashing light bar,” Tanner said as he put the SUV into gear and performed a U-turn, pointing the vehicle back toward the mill’s entrance.
C.J. peered at the dash as Tanner drove. He found a likely looking switch and depressed it. The red and blue lights stopped flashing.
To aid their cause Tanner drove without headlights, and luckily they met no oncoming traffic as they left town. As soon as the town lights disappeared in their mirrors, Tanner turned on the headlights and gunned the SUV. The all-wheel drive suspension kept the tires from spinning on the snowpack and they surged forward.
No one said anything for a few minutes. They drove swiftly on a narrow secondary road cutting through dense stands of pine trees. Finally C.J. broke the awkward silence. “That was all my fault, Tanner. It was my idea to go into town and vandalize the chipping kiosk. None of this would’ve happened if not for me. I apologize.”
“What’s done is done, C.J., we can’t go back and change things.”
“But I think we did the right thing in the end. I know it was ugly and I feel guilty about it, but they were going to kill us. We had to kill them. Neither one of us would’ve submitted and taken the chip. That axe would’ve lopped off our heads.”
“Maybe we should’ve just given up. We’d be in Heaven right now. Instead we’re outlaws, cop killers on the run.”
“Our instincts told us to fight, Tanner. So that tells me it wasn’t the right time for us to become martyrs. Maybe in the future we’ll react differently.”
Tanner gripped the wheel tightly. “All I know is we can’t drive this SUV for very long. Henrik Skymolt is fond of GPS tracking chips. This vehicle probably has one mounted on it somewhere.”
“If you can find a logging road I would take it. We can ditch it somewhere in the bush,” C.J. said as he rummaged around near his seat. He held up a small box and smiled. “Well I’ll be. Even the Tribulation and the Antichrist can’t stop Little Debbie from churning out snack cakes.”
Tanner looked at the box. “Nutty Bars are my favorite. Are there any left in the box?”
“Yep, the box is nearly full.”
“Cool. I haven’t had dessert in over three years,” Tanner said in a wistful voice, appalled at how easily a sugary treat could assuage his guilt at taking two lives.
C.J. leaned forward and inspected the terrain out the windshield. “I think I see an opening in the trees on my side. It might be a road.”
Tanner tapped the brakes. “Yeah, I see it now.” He tapped the brakes again and the SUV slowed down enough for him to turn onto the logging road. Almost at once the SUV jerked over mounds of snow and deep ruts. Tanner fought to control the bucking vehicle. “I don’t know about this, C.J. This road is scary.”
“Yeah, it’s getting narrower. It would be easy to crash into a tree.”
“I’d slow down but then I might not make the hill. So I have to keep my foot heavy on the gas.” The elevation increased rapidly as the road twisted around switchbacks. The SUV fishtailed and spun for traction but stubbornly climbed like a mechanized mountain goat. A few minutes later the switchbacks petered out and they topped a knoll marked by tree stumps on either side of the road. A bridge made of logs spanned a semi-frozen stream just ahead.
“Watch out for the bridge, Tanner! I think it’s washed out!”
Tanner stood on the brakes. But the SUV skidded toward the hazard roughly twenty yards ahead. “This might not end well,” he mumbled aloud. The SUV continued its unchecked slide toward the log bridge. Just when Tanner thought they would slide onto the bridge and nosedive into the stream, the SUV skidded to a stop just to the left of the bridge.
“This is as far as we go,” Tanner said, letting out his breath. He put the SUV in park to make sure it didn’t roll.
“Whew, that was sketchy. I thought we were about to get wet,” C.J. said.
Tanner nodded. “We need to figure out something quick. We can’t stay here. You have any ideas?”
C.J. thought for a moment. “Yeah, I do. Let’s get out with our backpacks, put this baby in drive and send it down into the stream. And then we snowboard down the logging road the way we came and enter the timber down there. We leave no footprints behind. And hopefully the truck washes far downstream.”
Tanner shook his head. “You’re getting a little too good at being a criminal. It’s scaring me.”
&
nbsp; C.J. opened his door. He set his snowboard on the ground, pulled his snowboard boots out of his backpack, slid his feet into them and put his backpack on. He then stepped into his bindings. “I’m just doing what I have to do to survive. And so are you, brother.”
Tanner reached behind him and grabbed his backpack from the back seat. He tossed it outside. He then placed the SUV into drive, holding it in place with the brake. Taking a deep breath, he jumped out and landed on his left side, barely making it out of the way before the SUV careened down the hillside and splashed into the stream below. The SUV rolled over onto its roof and floated a ways before wedging fast on some rocks.
Sitting in the snow, Tanner unzipped his backpack and got out his boots. He took off his regular shoes, stuffed them into his pack and put on his snowboarding boots. The boots on, he affixed his boots into the bindings on his snowboard while still sitting down in the snow. Slipping into his backpack, he stood up on his board. “You ready, C.J.?”
“I sure am. This crazy logging road will be just like a snowboard cross course. But we can handle it. Just let me go first and stay in my track. We’ll leave only one track then. Maybe the UWC goons won’t know what a snowboard track looks like.”
“We can only hope. But how are we going to see to slide down the road? I can barely see you. It’s so dark out here.”
C.J. turned on a LED flashlight. The immediate darkness fled from 300 lumens.
“Where did you get that?”
“I found it in the SUV.”
“Okay, then. We’re all set. You got everything? Are you ready to go?”
“I’m always ready to snowboard. See you at the bottom, Tanner,” he said and took off.
Chapter 17
Seattle—that same moment
The sporting goods store set to close in twenty minutes, Special Agent Nick Loomis had his pick of choice parking spots. He pulled his Enterprise rental car into a spot close to the door and hopped out, locking the car behind him.
