Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  The rain was relentless. So intense was the downpour we appeared to have a shield of cascading barriers before us forever requiring penetration. Progress was slow but steady and at times we were almost blind. Lightning continued to bombard the forest with its endless display of illumination. Despite wearing raincoats we were both now soaked to the core.

  ‘Do you have a handkerchief?’ I asked Brigit.

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘Take it out and place it over the torch beam. That’ll reduce the light considerably. We can get by with a dull glow if all this lightning keeps up.’

  The ever-present pine trees remained thickly grouped, towering and swaying some thirty metres straight up into the night sky. The torch suddenly caught the reflecting eyes of a passing fox, which made us both jump from the unexpected sighting. We can do without these little surprises, I thought, watching the animal retreat to the shelter of a hollow log.

  We descended into a small gully and with the sudden presence of an immense spread of fern growth, our pace slowed considerably. To make matters worse an expansive area of moss on the forest floor was proving to be both a slippery and dangerous handicap, but the covered torch still put out sufficient light for us to see our way through the maze of vegetation. I heard the sound of running water above the drenching storm directly in front of us. A creek, I thought. Probably a good place to find some shelter to hide.

  Looking back, I saw two approaching light beams flickering amongst the pine trees. We had to hurry and find a suitable site to lay low. The torches continued to shine from horizontal ground, but I knew that once they reached the point of descent our light had to be extinguished. It was a race against time. We arrived at the creek bed and walked beside the fast-flowing water in search of a suitable refuge. I quickly gathered and placed some loose stones in my pocket in case we needed them to create a diversion.

  Then Brigit tugged on my raincoat sleeve and pointed toward a suitable retreat. She had stumbled across an exceptionally thick clump of ferns that would provide us with a place to hide. It was important to have this type of camouflage - with our pursuers’ night lens they would quickly find us in any dark corner that had no screen.

  The sound of running water and sheer noise generated by the storm had counteracted the deadly silence of the night. In our attempt to remain quiet and undetected, these natural disturbances would indeed become our ally. We crouched beneath the drenched hanging foliage, and with our torch now switched off we lay in wait.

  The two approaching beams of light continued to grow brighter and with this intensity came the sound of two men muttering together as they converged on our hiding place.

  ‘Sounds like water ahead,’ I heard one of the men say.

  ‘Yeah, some friggin’ creek or river at the bottom of the hill. These damn ferns, I should’ve brought a bloody machete,’ replied the other.

  ‘Over here! This is where I saw the light about five minutes ago.’

  ‘If you’re right, Mick, then they’ve gotta be around here. Don’t think they’d cross the creek, the water’s too fuckin’ cold. We’ll spread out and meet back here in ten,’ ordered the man who seemed to be in charge.

  We were only ten metres away from them and I could just make out the man heading our way. The one in charge held a night lens to his eye and was retreating in a different direction. Footsteps continued to approach as his torch shone amongst the dense foliage along the creek bed.

  Brigit whispered to me that she had recognised Charlie’s voice. She could hardly contain herself through fear of his reputation. I checked the shotgun. It was loaded and ready should the man called Mick disclose our whereabouts.

  Mick stopped momentarily, shining his torch directly upon the ferns above us. Had he chosen to part our cover he would have discovered us, but instead he continued looking further downstream. It was a close call and not one to be repeated, I hoped. He walked a further thirty metres, with the light bouncing off the heavy undergrowth, and then regrouped with Charlie.

  In the opposite direction Charlie was starting to sound agitated. Even with the aid of the night lens we had continued to elude him. Seeing Mick arrive empty-handed, he took out his frustration with a loud verbal threat.

  ‘We know you bastards are here! We’re gonna get you and when we find you you’re fuckin’ history!’ he raged.

  ‘I’ll check further out,’ volunteered Mick.

  ‘I’m fuckin’ pissed off with this rain!’ Charlie fumed. ‘When the hell’s it gonna stop?’

  We watched through the ferns as Charlie retraced Mick’s path with the aid of the night lens. Brigit started shaking in fear of being found, sensing Charlie would be more thorough than Mick with his inspection. We continued to lie under these fans of plants, both motionless and silent. I hoped that neither of us would sneeze or develop a tickle in the throat. It had become increasingly traumatic with Charlie now lurking nearby. His presence was difficult to detect for he relied upon the night lens and only used his torch periodically. We could hear the sound of ferns being brushed aside above the running water and pounding storm. He was going to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit.

  In my attempt to dislodge a stone that was pushing up hard against my chest, I accidentally snapped some undergrowth lying beneath me. The noise was instantly conveyed to Charlie, who stopped and looked in our direction. He was only ten steps away and closing in. Brigit looked terrified. With his torch now switched on permanently, he commenced the repetitive task of looking under every fern in his path. Drawing nearer until he was only a body’s length away from our refuge, we heard the sound of his heavy breathing as he searched vigorously amongst the dense foliage. By a stroke of good luck and impeccable timing, a rabbit suddenly leapt from the ferns and ran past his feet.

  ‘What the ...’ he bellowed out, becoming unbalanced in surprise.

  Mick heard the yell and rushed back. ‘Have you found them?’

  ‘No, it was a bloody rabbit, scared the shit out of me! Thought it was them but it was that fuckin’ animal! Did you find anything?’

  ‘Nothing, Charlie.’

  ‘Keep lookin’, they’ve gotta be around here somewhere.’

  The two men were soaked to the core and their boots were caked in mud from the creek edge. Again they exchanged routes, with Charlie retreating some thirty to forty metres upstream. Mick surveyed our immediate area yet again, shining his torch and brushing aside the same ferns he had already checked. Why would this idiot repeat his actions and not search in new territory? It defied logic. Carefully I rose to a kneeling position with shotgun ready in anticipation of being sprung. Once again he was almost upon us and this time I could see he was being more thorough in his pursuit. Three more steps and he now stood directly over us with his torch pointed toward our camouflage.

  As he parted the ferns I leapt from behind the foliage. I fired a shot and missed everything. Due to my inability to handle the shotgun, the powerful discharge caused the gun barrel to elevate and hit Mick in the chest. The impact caused the weapon to explode a second time, the resultant shot discharging its speedy passage into the night sky.

  As Mick fell to the ground I quickly grabbed Brigit’s functional arm and we made our escape further downstream.

  Mick screamed, ‘They’re over here!’

  ‘Coming!’ roared Charlie, having heard the discharge.

  We had gained a valuable thirty metres or so as a result of Mick waiting for Charlie to arrive. Our escape would have been quicker if not for the mud and slosh we carried on our shoes. Rain continued in relentless fashion. Forever rushing to increase our advantage, I began to hear the sound of a waterfall on the opposite bank. I was surprised to see how steep the terrain had become, which explained the noise level from these ever-present cascading waterways discharging their contents into the creek below.

  I noticed that further downstream the creek was not as wide in one particular spot. Knowing this to be our one possible chance for escape, I continued to support
Brigit as we trod nearly waist deep through the water across to the other bank. The current was fast as we ploughed our way through this murky creek, and I was mindful of keeping Brigit’s arm above water level. The storm had swelled the creek and transformed this normally tranquil stretch of water into a torrid and dangerous crossing.

  The current was one thing to contend with, but we also had to deal with the sheer amount of debris and snags that were floating downstream. Soil erosion on the banks would have been swift as the rapids transported all before it on a path of destruction. Increasing in height, the creek now resembled the size of a small river as the free-flowing water continued its punishing route downstream. Despite the freezing water and our saturated clothing, I was adamant this was the only avenue left for a possible escape. Although it was awkward to keep the gun above water level, it was particularly tough going for Brigit, who was forced to continually elevate her plastered arm. She gripped my waist with her other arm, not once loosening her grip in fear of being swept away by the unrelenting torrent.

  A tree branch floated perilously close. I called out to Brigit to avoid a second snag, but in my attempt to pull her away I was suddenly on a collision course with this forked menace. The second branch hit me, causing me to lose my balance and tumble into the water. Fortunately I had the good sense to release Brigit’s grip and she was able to remain upright. The shotgun had become submerged and was now lost, swept away by the undercurrent.

  I re-emerged, much to the relief of Brigit. I was slightly winded from the impact and could feel blood seeping from my shoulder. More important than my wound was our need to find refuge and quickly. Still no sign of our assailants and the rain was beginning to ease. Again Brigit clung to my waist, determined the two of us would stay above water.

  Upon reaching the other side we immediately took shelter behind some dense foliage growing beside one of the many waterfalls and waited. Now without our shotgun we hoped and prayed the two men wouldn’t cross the creek.

  A short time later two torches appeared. The beams of light crisscrossed the thick undergrowth. I cursed as the two men approached from the opposite bank. We lay shivering in our wet clothes and I couldn’t help but think we were becoming prime candidates for hypothermia if we didn’t dry off and find some warmth very soon.

  ~ * ~

  ‘Where are these bastards!’ yelled Charlie.

  ‘Gotta be amongst these ferns,’ claimed Mick. ‘There’s not enough cover behind them pine trees.’

  Charlie was now in an uncontrollable state. In frustration he lashed out at the undergrowth in a frenzied attack and even Mick was a little nervous. Charlie continued to scream his obscenities and detailed threats as if possessed by the devil himself. He was letting his emotions overrule a carefully thought-out search. His torch beam swept across the creek and the cascading waters along the high bank, passing Tom and Brigit’s refuge on numerous occasions, not once stopping for further inspection.

  Finally Charlie spoke some sense to his accomplice.

  ‘I’m not going in that water, I’d fucking drown!’ he shouted. ‘I reckon they crossed the creek and could be anywhere now. Anyway, we need to get back to the car before those friggin’ Dobermans wake up. We’ve been gone about forty minutes so we’d better head back now.’

  They retreated from the immediate vicinity. Although still angry at their futile search, Charlie muttered something about it only being a temporary setback. Victory would be theirs in the end, he told Mick. Charlie’s concerns were now focused upon the Piedpiper, for he had let his boss down a second time and quickly had to think of a way to rectify an otherwise disastrous situation. He could not afford to return empty-handed.

  ‘We’ll wait in the car when we get back,’ he told Mick. ‘No good goin’ to the cabin with the cops and dogs there. We got no darts anyway. These two have gotta come back sooner or later, so we’ll follow them when they leave the farm.’

  Charlie’s mobile vibrated. He fumbled nervously in his attempt to press the activating key. He looked towards Mick with a concerned expression, knowing full well it would be the Piedpiper seeking an update on the situation. Charlie answered the call.

  ‘Have you got the girl, Charlie?’ asked the Piedpiper.

  ‘Not yet. We lost them in a forest and they could be anywhere.’

  ‘What! They’ve eluded you again?’

  ‘If you’d let us kill the dogs we’d probably have her by now.’

  ‘Don’t question my decisions, Charlie. I gave my reason earlier.’

  ‘Don’t worry, boss, she’ll be ours soon, I promise.’

  ‘So what do you plan to do now?’

  ‘We’ll return to the car and wait for them to leave, even if it means hangin’ around ‘til tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, but keep me posted at all times. Charlie, I’ll be sending another person to assist in capturing the O’Neill girl once and for all. He’s one of the Keeper’s men down here on business and is reputed to have exceptional skills in these circumstances. His name is Brad Morgan. You met him on a previous visit. He’ll phone you tonight regarding a rendezvous point. Between the three of you I expect to see the girl in our custody by tomorrow night.’

  Before Charlie could respond the line went dead.

  Mick was agitated. He was worried about Charlie’s commitment to wait overnight for the O’Neill girl to leave the farm.

  ‘I’m worried, Charlie. What if there are more cops on the way?’

  ‘We destroyed their two-way and mobiles, remember?’

  ‘Yeah but -’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, Mick! The car’s well hidden and how in the hell could more cops arrive in this weather? The roads are probably flooded. Anyway, Morgan’s gonna phone tonight and help us get the bitch. We’ve gotta talk about a rendezvous point.’

  ~ * ~

  We finally stirred from our camouflaged surrounding, knowing the two hit men were well and truly gone. Standing and brushing herself down, Brigit didn’t look exactly like a candidate for belle of the ball.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Tom. I’m wringing wet, very cold and I’ve just about had a gutful of this lot. They’ve shortened my lifespan by about ten years after that close encounter.’ She saw me flinch in my attempt to stand erect.

  ‘Let me take a look at that shoulder, Tom.’

  Prodding away, she moved my arm in numerous directions and declared, ‘I think it’s only a surface wound with some loss of blood. Nothing appears broken, but expect a massive bruise in the morning.’

  Brushing aside this new injury and Brigit’s fuss over me, I spoke of our need to return quickly to the farm. ‘We need to head back to the cabin to check on Hamish and the two other men and also to get out of these wet clothes. Chances are the dogs will be back on their feet very soon. I have doubts about our two assailants risking Cain and Abel’s appetite for a second time. These cowards have probably fled the scene already.’

  We made our return trip through treacherous water, successfully avoiding the barrage of debris still en route downstream. Walking up the incline that led from the creek bed, I instructed Brigit to keep the torch turned off as a cautionary measure, even if we couldn’t see any sign of the men. After what we’d both been through I didn’t want us caught over such a simple oversight.

  The rain had finally eased to a drizzle, with the lightning now visible in the distant heavens. The forest had been transformed to its former state. Stepping upon level ground, it was difficult at times to avoid the smaller obstacles in our path. With the passing of the electrical storm the night had grown darker, making our passageway more challenging, but I knew that the deplorable weather conditions had been our savior tonight.

  We had travelled half a kilometre when we saw the lights from Hamish’s cabin in the distance. This would now become our critical part of the return journey. We had to avoid being detected on the stretch of land that separated the cabin from the pine plantation. We decided not to run the last two hundred met
res for fear that sudden movements could be spotted in the night air. The rain had stopped in this area, which gave us all the more reason to progress steadily.

  Still no sign of the aggressors and only fifty metres from what we hoped would be our safety. Suddenly a large, dark object appeared from nowhere and headed directly toward us. We both got one hell of a fright as this obscure shape started to grow bigger by the second in its advancing charge. How could this be? I thought. So close and yet so far. From ten metres away the object began to materialise into a familiar farmyard figure. One of the Friesian cows had broken loose from the main herd down by the dam and lost its way in the storm. We both heaved a sigh of relief as we stepped aside to allow the black-and-white animal to pass by.

  Finally the welcome sight of the cabin steps beckoned our entry. A gun was pointed at us through the living room open window, causing Brigit to nearly collapse. After the harrowing ordeal of near misses in the pine plantation, this finale was almost too much for her to endure.