by Gregg Stutts
Four beams of light were closing on him now. And then the sputtering motor suddenly roared to life. He hit the throttle and turned into the cove toward the open water of the lake. If there was a headlight, it wasn’t working and he had no time to figure it out. He could hear the cops yelling for him to stop as he passed by them about a hundred feet offshore. Fortunately, it was too dark and too foggy for them to identify him.
At least that’s what he hoped.
Chapter 33
Willy watched from the park as four men with flashlights suddenly changed direction. A moment later, they were sprinting down the dock in the direction from which they’d come. Then he saw a jet ski accelerate hard and head toward the open lake. The cops had their lights trained on it and its driver. He rolled the window down and heard them yelling for whoever it was to stop. It had to be Max.
While the cops were distracted by the jet ski, he started his truck and made his way to the exit. If Max was escaping, the last thing Willy needed was for him to get caught at the scene. Surely, the cop who’d pulled him over had to be one of the four with their flashlights trained on Max. He doubted he’d be able to talk his way out of being found at the park in the middle of the night. At the exit, he turned his headlights on and headed for home.
Help him, Lord, help my friend, Max.
Chapter 34
Max had no doubt they were already on their radios calling for back up. The Lakeside Police had several boats, but those guys wouldn’t be on-duty at this hour. They had a helicopter too, one they’d purchased from the Army after its usefulness in Iraq was up, but it would take some time for the pilot to get the chopper airborne.
At the end of the cove, he turned left to head east toward the fishing spot near Willy’s house. Now that he was away from the marina, he slowed his speed slightly. He located the switch for the headlight, but couldn’t get it to work. Without it, visibility was about three feet. And there were just enough partially submerged trees in the lake to make this a very dangerous journey. His only chance was to take it slow and hope he didn’t hit one.
He’d gotten away. That was a positive. On the negative side of the ledger, he was on a stolen jet ski, running from the police in the middle of the night, because if he’d stuck around to answer questions, he’d be a suspect in multiple murders. This wasn’t the sort of thing for high school football coaches and eighty-three-year-old men to get involved in, but here he was again, with Willy, right in the middle of things.
The fog was clearing slightly, just enough to allow him to make out the shoreline. He tried to remember if there were any landmarks that might help him know where he was, but none came to mind. The good news was that he wasn’t being chased.
A moment later, a flicker of moonlight bounced off the water to his right. He looked up to find the moon, but couldn’t, it was still completely obscured by clouds. The light flickered again, this time to his left.
And then he heard it. A boat motor. Getting louder. He looked behind him and saw a bright spotlight aimed right on him.
Chapter 35
Caution was no longer an option. The pursuing boat was closing fast and had the benefit of a spotlight. He hit the throttle and almost fell off the back. He’d forgotten just how much kick a jet ski could have. Flying across the surface of the lake in the dark instantly brought back the memory of a recurring nightmare he experienced as a child. He was in a very large dark space. He’d never been able to describe it any other way. And in the dream, objects and lights would streak past him at high speeds. It always made him feel terrifyingly out of control. Like he was now.
At his current speed, they’d be on him in less than a minute. He had no idea how fast he was going, but in the dark, it sure felt a lot faster. Finding the right spot along the shore would be impossible now. His new priority was simply getting away and staying out of jail.
He glanced behind him again. He was at least maintaining the gap between them at his current speed. But how long could he keep it up? There was no way to navigate. There was no way to avoid anything in his path. He could be closing in on the fishing spot or might have already passed it.
He looked again. The boat was gaining on him now. Trying to outrun it wasn’t going to work. And just one hidden object would send him hurtling across the surface of the water. It wouldn’t be an accident he’d easily recover from. The boat was less than a hundred yards from him and closing.
He steered closer to shore and when he guessed he was thirty yards from the shore, he said a quick prayer, turned the jet ski back toward the open lake and jumped into the black water.
Chapter 36
When he was four years old, Max climbed on top of a shed and then reached over the edge to grab something his little sister was handing to him. That’s when he fell head first onto a concrete sidewalk from a height of about six feet. At least that’s how he remembered it. Or maybe that was the story his mother was able to piece together from his little sister. Either way, he couldn’t imagine hitting the water like he just had was any less of a blow.
He thought he’d slowed his speed enough to jump safely, but he was regretting his decision. It felt like he tumbled at least thirty or forty feet, skipping over the water like a rag doll. Without a life jacket on, he was grateful he hadn’t lost consciousness.
The last somersault landed him upside down with his head underwater. He righted himself, but inhaled a mouthful of water as he struggled to reach the surface. He coughed and sputtered worse than the jet ski had. When he tried to touch the bottom, he couldn’t. He turned 360 degrees trying to figure out which direction was which. He couldn’t afford to start swimming toward land only to discover he was actually headed further out into the lake.
Then off to his right, the spotlight from the boat lit up his jet ski. Without the throttle engaged, it had come to a stop, but he hoped it might throw off his pursuers just long enough for him to escape. He turned to his left and hoped he wasn’t far from land.
It only took a moment to realize he’d underestimated the weight of his clothes and the difficulty of swimming with his shoes on. It felt like carrying a second person who was trying to pull him under. It was also the moment he became aware of a splitting headache. It wasn’t unfamiliar. He’d experienced a headache like this many times during his football career. The jump and tumble across the water had given him a concussion. From the level of pain, he guessed it was more than a mild one. It was more important than ever to get out of the water and make it to Willy’s as fast as he could.
The boat passed him by, but as he turned to watch, its wake hit him in the face just as he was taking a breath. He inhaled another mouthful of water. He coughed and gagged and then threw up. Less than a hundred feet from him, the boat had cut its engine and was floating next to the jet ski. He tried to contain his cough, but his lungs were still trying to expel the lake water.
The two men on the boat were using the spotlight to sweep the lake in all directions around the jet ski. He did a modified backstroke toward shore, with most of his body submerged, so he could keep an eye on them while making progress toward shore. If he could make it to land and into the woods before they hit him with the light, he might just get away. He then he heard the boat wake rolling on to the shore and a second later his foot touched the bottom.
He stopped swimming and got to his feet in a low crouching position. The tree line was just twenty feet from the water. He took a step and then another, but lost his footing on a slippery rock. He tried to right himself, but the added weight from his waterlogged clothes threw his balance off. He landed flat on his back with a loud splash.
He lay still for a moment, hoping his fall went unnoticed. What didn’t go unnoticed was the jolt to his skull and the pulsating waves of pain. He squeezed his eyes tight trying to fight it off without success. Then a beam of light flashed past him lighting up the trees along the shore. If they lowered the light just a few inches, they’d spot him lying in the shallow water.
When the li
ght moved off, he got to his feet and ran for the trees. Every step made his head throb. His wet clothes made it feel like he was running in slow motion. He was an easy target, but just a few more steps and he’d be out of sight. Just as he made it to the woods though, the spot light hit him and cast his shadow onto the trees.
The loud speaker blared at him. “This is the Benton County Sheriff! Stop where you are!”
And then, even though Fourth of July was over a month ago, someone set off firecrackers nearby. It made no sense though. And then his brain caught up and he realized they were shooting at him.
Chapter 37
“How long was I asleep?” Rose rubbed her eyes. “Oh dear, did I fall asleep while we were talking?”
“If you did, then I did, too,” Michelle said, looking at her phone. “It’s 2:15. No word.”
“Nothing?” Rose said.
Michelle wanted Rose to say there was nothing to worry about or something about Willy and Max just losing track of time. But she didn’t say any of that. Michelle tried calling Max, but it went right to voice mail again.
“Maybe I should try calling Willy,” Rose said.
“I think that would be a good idea. Maybe Max’s battery died.” She said it to make her feel better, but she didn’t really believe it and it didn’t work.
Rose turned the lamp on, found her phone and called Willy. A moment later, she said, “William, it’s 2:15. Where are you?” Michelle tried to read her face. “Okay, dear, please keep us informed.” Rose set her phone down.
“What is it?” Michelle said, not sure she wanted to know.
“They got separated at the marina,” Rose said.
“Separated? How? Why? I don’t understand. How could they get separated?”
“He said he couldn’t go into all the details, but he thinks Max may have escaped.”
“Escaped?” Michelle said. “From who?”
“I’m not sure, dear. He said he’s waiting at our house for Max to meet him there.”
“So, Max is okay?”
“He thinks Max left the marina on a jet ski and was headed up the lake toward our house,” Rose said.
“A jet ski? Why is Max on a jet ski? Are they escaping from Dan?” Michelle said. “Should we call the police?”
Rose hugged her tight. Michelle had hoped the past was behind them and they were making a new start, but one phone call was all it took to confirm the temporary calm she’d felt was only the eye of the storm.
Chapter 38
Max owned a shotgun and a rifle, but it had been a few years since he’d fired either one. And he’d also shot off lots of fireworks in his life. But nothing in all his years had prepared him for the sound of a gun being fired at him or the equally terrifying buzzing sound a bullet makes as it whizzes past your ear and hits the tree next to you with a “thwap!”
They’re actually shooting at me.
He jerked his head around, saw the boat was almost to shore and hoped he had enough of a head start. Then he heard another shot and another and another. Were they warning shots or were they trying to kill him? For now, it was enough to know he hadn’t been hit. He scrambled up the steep hill as fast as he could, which when being pursued by men with guns, never feels fast enough.
“This is the Benton County Sheriff! Stop where you are!” he heard over the loudspeaker again.
He kept going as fast as his waterlogged clothes would allow. A minute later, he came to a running trail where the hill leveled off part way up. He bent over, hands on his knees gasping for breath and trying not to pass out. His head was spinning. And then without warning, he threw up. He hoped it was from running so hard after swallowing too much lake water. The more serious possibility was the concussion was even worse than he thought and the worst thing now would be to lose consciousness.
He was on the running trail, but had no idea where he actually was. Would turning right or left would take him to Willy’s? There was no time to stand around guessing. He went to the right, which would take him further east up the lake. If he hadn’t traveled as far on the jet ski as it seemed, then he’d still come to Willy’s house. If he was wrong, then Willy’s house was to his left and he’d be heading in the wrong direction. He couldn’t afford to guess wrong.
He ran as fast as he was able, but could barely see the trail. He looked back just as a beam of light cut through the darkness sweeping along the trail. He pushed himself harder, but the more he ran, the more he realized how much his troubles were mounting. The fact that he was innocent wasn’t going to matter to the sheriff’s deputies who believed he’d killed several of their buddies. If he stopped now, it might not be too late to explain things. But then he heard another shot and knew giving himself up wasn’t an option. They were convinced he killed the officers at the marina. Running from them only confirmed it for them. If they found him, he’d never make it out of the woods alive.
Chapter 39
Telling Rose he’d lost Max somewhere was bad. It was even worse knowing she’d have to tell Michelle. At the moment though, there was nothing he could do to make things better. A part of him was sorry he’d gotten Max involved even though he knew they were fighting for a cause that was bigger than both of them. Free speech and gun rights were only a piece to a much larger puzzle.
And when the time was right, he’d fill in some of the missing pieces for Max. Pieces he was aware of, but Max wasn’t. Willy stepped outside onto the deck. The sun would be up in a few hours. Other than the crickets, it was eerily quiet.
And then he heard the sound of a gunshot pierce the silence. Instinctively, he ducked for cover. More shots followed. From a crouching position behind the railing, he looked toward the dark woods and listened.
And then he saw it. A flash of light in the vicinity of the running trail a hundred feet down the hill from his house toward the lake. It wasn’t just one light though. There were two, and they were moving quickly through the woods.
Chapter 40
Max sprinted as fast as his legs would move and the darkness would allow him to see. The wet jeans and soggy shoes were wearing him out much faster than normal. It was only the adrenaline rush that was making up for the concussion and the heavier clothes.
He glanced back again and saw the lights getting closer and realized his problem was bigger than just running in wet clothes. He was leaving a trail. His wet clothes were dripping along the path. He tried to remember the names of the fairy tale characters who left the trail of breadcrumbs. His aching head could only come up with “Hanson and Greta”, but he knew that didn’t sound quite right.
He rounded a turn and hurried off the trail into the woods. Twenty feet off the trail, he stopped and peeled his clothes off as fast as he could, which was harder and taking longer than he’d anticipated.
Once he was stripped down to his underwear, he hurried back to the trail. He could hear them coming. He quickly crossed to the other side of the trail and made it ten feet into the woods when the two cops sprinted around the corner at full speed. He was right; they’d been following the path laid down by his dripping clothes. When they saw his tracks ended, they came to a sudden stop. Now he had to hope they’d follow his wet footprints and head back down the hill toward the lake.
They were so close he could almost touch them. If they turned their heads and shined their flashlights, they’d be looking right at him. He’d be helpless. He thought about tossing a stick down the hill as a diversion, but it was probably a trick that only worked in the movies. It was just as likely the stick would hit a branch and drop at his feet and give him away.
“He’s headed back to the lake,” one of the cops said. The other spoke into his microphone, “Bring the boat east two hundred yards and watch for him trying to get back to the water.”
Max was as motionless as a statue and watched as they hurried into the woods and down the hill. Still he waited. Now was not the time to panic. One wrong step on a dry branch would sound like another gunshot.
When he coul
d no longer hear their footsteps, he waited another minute, then slipped his shoes on. With his wet clothes bundled up under his arm, he made his way up the steep hill. The brush was thick though and was tearing up his bare skin. After a five-minute climb, he reached a road that looked familiar. He was exhausted, but grateful to have escaped.
And that’s when he heard a rumbling noise from somewhere down the hill. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was growing louder and louder. Then he saw it, a helicopter coming up the hill with a spotlight illuminating a wide path beneath it. His pounding heart pounded even harder, which made his headache exponentially worse. In a matter of seconds, he would be right in its path.
Chapter 41
Max ducked back into the woods as the helicopter flew overhead just barely above the tops of the trees. He didn’t have much time. The cops who’d chased him up the hill would soon realize he hadn’t gone back down to the lake. And surely others were on their way to help in the search. If the helicopter was equipped with whatever technology allowed them to see people in the dark, then he was in trouble. Big trouble. He had to get moving.
