by Angela White
When he had a handful, he popped a piece into his mouth to chew on as he climbed higher in the tree to get ready. Many barks were sweet, but the bitterness of this one made him grimace. He didn’t spit it out, however. If he’d had time to wait for the sap to run, he could have broken off branches and caught the sweet, watery substance that was also full of nutrients. As it was, the bark still served an important purpose as a painkiller.
Marc snapped off two small, dying branches as he climbed, also taking handfuls of the thick vines that were wound around all the trees here. The front of his shirt now bulging, Marc settled in the high fork and spent a minute getting his breath back. When he felt like he could, he would prepare the vines. When he finished those, he would carve for a little while and then maybe snooze. He didn’t expect much to happen until nightfall. Chad was still busy organizing the rest of the mercs and alerting the house and tower men to the situation. There were only two ways off this ranch–the main entrance or going over the fence. Marc had considered the latter, but pride wouldn’t let him keep running. At dusk, things would get interesting.
Busy, Marc forgot about the wolf below. The first whine was the only warning that Marc received and then the air rang with sad howls of loneliness and confusion.
“Damn.” Marc had to make the choice quickly. Any of the mercenaries would remember that he’d come in with a wolf and follow the noise. Marc stuffed his stash into the impression in the fork of the tall tree and began to climb down. As soon as the wolf saw him, it retreated and stopped howling.
Marc dropped to the earth unsteadily, off balance from the beatings and lack of water. The few cactus this far north would get him through for a day or so, but it wouldn’t keep him hydrated enough to survive for long. He needed to be able to end this quickly.
Marc knelt down near the patch of purple stems as heavy boots crunched through the spare foliage. The wolf stayed a few feet behind, fur bristling.
Marc had time to wonder what the animal might do, and then two of Chad’s thugs burst into the area and he no longer had to guess.
The wolf lunged forward to clamp down on the wrist of the man with the scars across his cheek. Screams and crunching followed, then a gunshot. Marc waited for more, but there was silence.
He slowly stood up to discover the wolf sitting near two bodies. Leon’s throat had been torn out. Jim had a bullet hole in his cheek. The wolf didn’t appear to have even a scratch from the battle.
“Nice, Dog!” he praised.
The wolf bared its teeth.
Marc laughed harder, not intimidated, but very impressed. He assumed it had been an accident, but it was still good. “You need a promotion.”
Marc listened for footsteps, but didn’t hear any. He hoped there wasn’t a patrol around yet. He would have to account for the wolf.
“You do your part and I’ll do mine, okay?”
In response, the wolf sat down and started licking his balls.
“That is not the answer I wanted,” Marc complained. “Not even close.”
2
“Do you see anything?”
“No. Stop asking!”
“Sorry.”
“Well, it’s distracting. You can’t listen if you’re talking.”
“Okay.”
“Try harder.”
“I will.”
Marc listened to the rookie mercs go by from his hiding place in the weeds, mentally snickering. Chad still didn’t know how to pick a team.
In the dusky distance, other groups of men were also searching. It was hard for Marc to estimate how many there were, but the numbers would have to be limited or the feds would already be onto this place. He assumed that he was dealing with a dozen threats.
In the patch of daisies next to Marc, the wolf was also waiting quietly. Golden eyes gleaming in the occasional beam of moonlight to flash their way, the wolf was a menacing figure. Marc still wasn’t certain if he might need to guard against it. Wild animals were unpredictable and this one was out of its element. However, he now had two guns, thanks to the wolf’s actions. He hadn’t bothered to take anything else. The men had not been dressed or outfitted for hunting in this wilderness. They had nothing he could use.
Marc let the small group of men and dogs get almost out of sight. Carefully and quietly, Marc used the evening shadows for cover as he trailed them. He didn’t check to see if the wolf followed.
Marc listened to trucks in the distance, aware of his own weary body and the limits of his looted gear. He didn’t like the idea of shooting people in the back. Normally, he might have engaged them to make it more of a fair fight, but in this situation, he had little choice. In range now, Marc raised the M9 and began pulling the trigger.
As the first pale body fell, it occurred to Marc that he hadn’t found a single AK yet. The headgear had indeed been a cover in case they were caught. These hunters were former military, though not all of them were American. Chad had been busy.
As soon as shots began to echo, the wolf darted into the thicker trees. He wanted to keep going, but the need to stay with Marc was overwhelming. Dog paced a small circle, waiting for it to be over.
When silence came again, he rejoined the man, watching the thunder sticks slide into Marc’s fur for storage. Dog didn’t like any of these men, but if Marc died, the wolf knew he would never get home. He would have to stay through the fight.
Strongly feeling the effects from the constant fights and flights, Marc forced himself to chew on more of the bitter bark. Besides providing a few nutrients, Aspen bark contained populin and salicin, the two main compounds in synthetic aspirin.
The weary Marine slowly made the trip up to retrieve what he needed from the tree fork, wincing when the wolf immediately resumed whining. It only stopped when Marc reached the bottom branches, where he stayed for a minute.
Marc leaned against the trunk while he got to work, fighting the dizziness. The juices from the bark were easing his stomach cramps, but the thirst was annoying. He had roughly one full day left to get a good drink or he would become too disoriented to defend himself. Chad would be guarding the food and water sources, and would be watching for a campfire. He would also scare off any potential game tonight with the trucks and lights that were meant to flush Marc into the center of their net. Marc thought it would succeed on most people, even military men. Except, once again, Chad had underestimated his target. Marc had been on this ranch before and he preferred to work alone.
The wolf, also hungry and thirsty, whined again.
Marc frowned. Not exactly alone.
“Down,” Marc ordered firmly, not expecting it to be successful.
It wasn’t.
Marc labored faster. The whining would draw someone soon. He needed a little rope to go with the weapons he’d taken from the bodies of the men that the wolf had killed.
Marc snickered. The wolf had killed two men. “Maybe I’ll draft you.”
Sudden silence got Marc’s attention. Danger!
Marc ducked, following that voice in his head. The wolf sailed over top of him an instant later, growling viciously.
Marc dropped on top of the shouting man, trying to get his arm around a throat. He couldn’t risk a shot.
As if also feeling the need to end it, the wolf lunged forward and sank his teeth deep into the man’s jaw, crunching harshly.
With no time to be shocked, Marc rose up as the next footsteps came. He lunged, catching the mercenary by surprise. This time he was able to get an arm in the right place to break the man’s neck.
Marc let the body fall and grabbed at the fallen gun. Before he could reach it, another thug yanked him around by the arm. Marc had no choice but to use the gun as they struggled.
The shot echoed loudly.
Marc ran into the deeper shadows and the wolf followed.
In the distance, shouting men headed their way. Random gunshots echoed, shots that Marc would have beaten on a teammate for. Whoever was firing at his own men that way shouldn’t have
access to weapons.
Marc caught the glare of firelight and edged forward. Twice he had to duck behind the cover of a thickly shadowed tree to avoid those who were patrolling, but he and the wolf weren’t spotted. These enemies were unobservant, another reason that Marc hadn’t agreed to run drugs and guns with Chad when he’d been invited. None of the hired hands were reliable. Any operation with them would always end badly.
Finally feeling a chill through his ripped pants, Marc slipped into the firelight of the empty camp, listening to the whines of the wolf that stayed in the shadows. The previous fight had drawn these men into the darkness, Marc assumed.
He quickly dropped a handful of crushed leaves and stems into the boiling coffee tin resting over the fire, hoping the men didn’t notice the taste. He wasn’t sure of the difference, since he’d never drank hemlock tea.
Hurrying, Marc slid back into the cover of the trees and knelt down. He wasn’t surprised when the wolf settled nearby, observing intently. Marc pushed away the guilt. He wasn’t feeling strong, and he couldn’t fight them hand-to-hand. He’d chosen poison instead. As the favorite weapon of a woman, Marc expected it to be very successful. The mercenaries had been told that he would try to kill them with his hands or a gun. His brain wouldn’t have been mentioned.
Marc felt saliva pool in his mouth as the annoyed gunmen reentered their camp amid grumbles about a forsaken wilderness that was worse than the last one. All three of the men were carrying canteens. He had relied on at least one of them still having water. Otherwise, he had just poisoned what he could have stolen and drank once it cooled. He’d taken a risk.
“Never seen a place so unfriendly,” one of the men complained, leaning down to poke the fire with a long stick.
You have no idea how unfriendly it can be, Marc thought. But you’re about to learn.
“Colder, too,” another agreed. “Coffee?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Yeah.”
The three men retrieved their cups, happy to discover that the water had come to a boil while they were gone. One of them used his shirt edge to pick up the pot that had clearly been through many nights like this. He limped tiredly over to the others, pouring.
The three men stirred or swished the murky liquid around with their fingers. One of them flicked something from his finger, muttering about leaves falling into the coffee.
Marc waited in patient stillness. He didn’t know how long hemlock would take to work. It might be hours.
More noisy sips came, and then groans, interrupting the peaceful crackle of the fire.
“Hey, I don’t feel…”
“My chest hurts.”
“Me too,” the second merc complained in a choked wheeze.
“You okay?”
Marc heard one body drop to the hard ground, then another. The third man was calling the names of his partners in a panic, but Marc was sure the surviving mercenary would grab his radio at any moment.
Not completely joking, Marc motioned toward the loudmouth and whispered, “Attack!”
To his astonishment, the wolf immediately ran into the firelight and lunged.
He understood me! Marc gaped. By the time he recovered, the third man had stopped screaming or trying to reach his gun. He was slowly suffocating from the harsh teeth squeezing through his Adam’s apple when Marc stood up.
The wolf retreated, muzzle dripping.
“Good boy,” Marc praised. “Good boy, Dog.”
The wolf’s snout relaxed as he stared at Marc, tail slowly returning to normal size. He sat down.
Marc’s mind spun faster than his stomach while he looted the bodies. Any minute now, reinforcements would arrive. His plans had included this, but he hadn’t thought he would feel so weak. He had hoped to go through all of Chad’s camps overnight, leaving a ranch of dead mercs for his traitorous friend to discover come dawn, but that was beyond his limit. He would have to make a stand, and what better place than right here? It would save him time and energy, but first, he had to handle the small wave of men who had been close enough to hear the loudmouth’s panic over his fallen friends. He could hear their boot steps over the radio.
“Location point four, check in!”
Marc guzzled down the first canteen, sighing in relief at the drink. His throat was like sandpaper from the smoke and then throwing up. He slid the other two water carriers around his neck as the radio sounded again.
“Come in, checkpoint four!”
Marc flipped the radio off as steps came from two directions. He would be able to listen to them now, if he didn’t die here. The swelling and pain, not to mention the concussion, were taking a toll on his ability to fight. Soon, he would have to rest.
Marc stepped into the deeper shadows as he took out the remaining gun that still held ammunition. Maybe he would call Chad, taunt him into showing his ugly face. It was still hard to believe that Chad had faked his death to join Eibar’s payroll. He’d know that his best friend was a little shady, but he’d never suspected the extent.
The wolf followed, going close to where Marc pointed. The animal didn’t lie down, but he did sit, encouraging Marc to include him in this next phase of survival. When he attacked, he would order the wolf to do the same and hopefully have the element of surprise to aid him in victory. The wolf was yet another dangerous tool that he would wield against his enemies.
Use whatever you have, Marc reminded himself, feeling a bit sarcastic. His first team leader had given him that advice and it had held true, time after time. The thing was, once he’d started viewing his surroundings for survival, he’d been unable to stop. Any area he regularly spent time in was researched beforehand when he could manage it. Always being able to live off the land had become very important, but he’d never thought to use the wildlife for anything other than food or clothes.
Marc lifted the second gun, the one he’d taken from Dog’s kill. After using the M9’s ammo in the previous fights, he only had the five shots left in the Berretta. The fresh loot he’d just claimed would help, but he had to survive the coming attack to count those bullets.
Marc tensed as the noise stopped, ready to order the wolf to attack as he did the same…
Two shadows plunged into the firelight.
One was soft and curved.
The other was hard and angry, but Marc couldn’t fire at Chad.
Julia was in the way.
Chapter Eight
1
“Come on out, Brady. It’s over.”
There was no response.
Chad put his gun against Julia’s head. “Eibar wants her, but I’ll blow these pretty brains all over the night if you don’t come out right now!”
Marc hadn’t seen this coming. He studied the stiff forms intently, but didn’t find any signs that Julia was a willing hostage. Her tears were currently rolling over Chad’s big arm.
Marc reluctantly lowered the gun, but didn’t holster it. Give me a shot, he begged. Just one. He already knew that there was only one way to be sure of getting the shot, but the Marine wasn’t certain he could do it.
Fighting with himself, Marc grunted, “Hello, buddy. Years dead and I see you’re still a boot.”
Ignoring the insult, Chad scanned the bodies on the ground. “And I see you’ve been your usual self. What a boondoggle. Eibar is gonna charge me double for the dead.”
“That’s what you get for hiring the cheapest labor possible,” Marc reminded, not making eye contact with Julia as he moved into the light.
Thickly muscled and wearing the long, tacky leather jacket that the team had teased him for copying, Chad was an imposing figure in the firelight. Imposing and crazy, Marc thought. He had no doubt that Chad would shoot his wife. That certainty provided insight to Chad’s fatal flaw. He thought people who followed the rules were incapable of breaking them or changing their behavior. He expected a full surrender.
“Put the gun down,” Chad advised, circling Julia to keep her body between them as Marc approached.
Curious on several levels, Marc asked, “Was it because she wanted me when she thought you were gone or because I inherited the team? What brought you out from under Eibar’s slimy rock?”
Chad flushed at the direct hit. “That’s my team! They’d have come with me if not for you. They’d be with me right now!”
“Doing security for a cartel?” Marc confirmed incredulously. “You want our team in jobs with drug runners and disgraced gunners?”
“My team!” Chad screamed, causing Julia to wince and curl against him in an effort to avoid his rage.
Marc didn’t respond to either of them. He was just dragging things out, hoping for that clear shot.
Chad made a visible effort to calm himself. “My team, Brady. Long before you, I was there. After you’re gone, they’ll be mine again.”
“As gunners and runners.”
Chad scowled. “That’s a POG view and you know it! Besides, Eibar understands that a man isn’t made to serve a clock. He pays everyone well.” Chad glanced at the mess again. “The hired help aren’t nearly as good as a squad of Marines, though. I need my team back, Brady. You have to go away.”
“Got a cover planned for that?” Marc distracted, subtly inching closer for a better position. He noted Julia’s hands clenching into fists and knew he wouldn’t like the answer.
“We’re going to tell the authorities that you attacked her when she refused your advances. Caught in the act, you killed everyone on the ranch. The bodies created with your gun about an hour ago will match that timeline. A lone survivor will have no trouble convincing the police that he saw you dump Julia’s body into the river.”
Furious, Marc lowered the stolen weapon to have the advantage of surprise. “Vet goes nuts from PTSD, huh?”
“Yep.” Chad grinned, flashing the old confidence that had gotten them into trouble many times. “Someone might even name a violence law after you.”
Marc still didn’t look at Julia. A choice had been made, but if he saw her terror, he might not be able to follow through.
