by Ty Patterson
Talbot stares at Zeb and wordlessly puts out a hand.
Zeb slaps his shopping list in his palm. Talbot looks at it for a moment and goes to the back of his shop. He returns with a clanking duffel bag and drops it in front of Zeb.
Zeb is looking out of the window at the men on the street. ‘Clones,’ he mutters.
‘That they are. They wouldn’t last a day in ’Stan or Iraq.’
‘Any of them tried holding you up?’
‘Tried. I’m still here. They aren’t,’ replies Talbot impassively.
Zeb opens the duffel and inspects the weapons. An AWM sniper rifle, a couple of sniper scopes, a few Predator knives, and three Sig Sauer handguns. Ammunition neatly boxed up. Talbot may be servicing the wrong people, but he has the right goods. Something makes Zeb look up.
There is a fourth Sig. Talbot is pointing it squarely at Zeb.
Zeb can sense two people entering the store and blocking the exit.
‘Last time you asked me to tell Holt that you’re hunting him. You came to me just because I trained with him. I sell guns. Weapons. I don’t care who I sell to. However, I do not knowingly sell to people who wage war on women and children. And I didn’t sell to Holt. Never did. And I didn’t tell him about your visit. Never brokered information,’ Talbot spits, letting Zeb know that he knows about Broker.
He puts down the gun and slides it butt-first to Zeb. The tension escapes the room like air from a pricked balloon.
Zeb removes his hands from inside the duffel bag. His right holding a fully loaded Sig aimed at Talbot through the bag. He places it alongside Talbot’s gun, looking straight at him.
Talbot cracks the slightest smile, realizing that he would have been dead if he had pulled the trigger. He sees now why his Seal buddies told him not to rub Zeb the wrong way.
Zeb leaves with the duffel bag. Every once in a while someone surprises him.
There’s another surprise waiting for him when Connor calls him later.
‘Are you sure? Are you aware of what you might get into?’
‘Moneybags put it eloquently, the charms of taking a dump in the mountains fade after some time, so if you invite trouble, then it’ll liven things up and I’ll have stories to tell at the water cooler.’
‘This is not some macho game. You all could end up dead,’ Zeb tells him bluntly.
‘You leave that to us, Zeb, just be there.’ There is a smile in Connor’s voice as he hangs up.
Broker is uncharacteristically supportive of Connor’s decision. Zeb expects him to launch a fusillade at weekend warriors, but he delivers a limp, ‘Their life, their death,’ instead. Maybe Broker is mellowing with age. Maybe hell has frozen over.
Zeb goes to the shooting range run by Bear and Chloe to center the AWM and get used to it. He then packs his armory, ready for an early start the next day. He leaves a message for Broker to let him know if there is any media coverage on him.
Zeb is going separately and a day later than the others deliberately. As he drives out of the city early the next day, the urban frenzy of the city gives way to I-87, and time slows down.
‘Well, hurry up; there are bears to be shot and fish to be caught,’ Connor says impatiently when he calls and finds that Zeb has left just an hour back.
‘Bear shooting? I don’t think so.’ Zeb hears Rory protesting in the background.
It’s well past noon when Zeb reaches their camp. It’s in one of the remotest parts of the Catskill Mountains, in the West Kill Mountain Wilderness Area. He parks his Jeep alongside theirs in a parking lot off Route 28 and then hikes a couple of miles to the coordinates given to him by Connor.
Their camp is in the open, tents put up by Connor and the women, about three hundred yards from thick woods. Zeb drifts through the woods, effortlessly becoming one with the foliage, and watches the camp for a long time, getting used to the sounds of the woods and the mountains.
He can see Rory playing with a Frisbee with Connor, and can see shadows moving in the tents. Something feels wrong, and he stays where he is, trying to figure it out. Finally he gives up. His radar isn’t pinging, so he doesn’t think there’s any danger.
He steps into the open and walks to the tents, his hands close to his sides.
Rory spots him, gives a whoop, and rushes toward him.
Zeb catches Rory and gives him a quick hug with his left hand, then stops suddenly, looking beyond Rory.
Chapter 13
From behind the tents emerge Connor puffing away contentedly on his foul-smelling pipe, Lauren, Anne, Cassandra, and Anne’s boyfriend.
But that’s not what makes Zeb stop.
Standing farther behind them, spread out, are Broker, Bear and Chloe.
‘You really didn’t think we would let you have all the fun yourself, did you?’ rumbles Broker.
Bear holds his hands up. ‘Not my idea. Connor and this dude, their danged idea. Blame them.’
Zeb walks silently to the tents and finds one empty, erected for him by Bear and Broker, and places his stuff within and walks out.
‘Are you mad at us, Zeb? Dad thought this was the best way to get all of us together,’ Rory asks.
Zeb’s hard face softens the slightest bit. ‘Nope. I’m okay. I was just surprised to see these guys here. To Bear, roughing it is staying at a Motel 6 instead of a Hyatt.’
‘I like him. He plays ball with me and is helping me with my pitching.’
‘Yes,’ agrees Zeb, ‘he’s a nice guy. But just make sure you sleep far away from him. He snores like a jet engine.’
It’s dusk when they finish playing. Broker has gone hunting since Connor’s plan was to let Rory experience living close to nature. Bear goes foraging for firewood, with Rory skipping excitedly beside him, while Zeb clears a large patch of grass for the fire. He arranges the firewood while Bear digs out loose soil to put the fire out later in the evening.
When Broker returns with two freshly skinned rabbits, everybody is lounging around a roaring fire.
‘As I thought. I do all the heavy lifting, and you guys watch the grass grow.’ He unslings the rabbits and puts them over the fire on a spit he makes expertly.
‘You guys have made all of us redundant.’ Connor laughs. ‘We might as well just sit back and have you take care of us.’
‘Did you guys serve together?’ asks Mark. Zeb has met Moneybags a few times, but it’s only here and now that he learns his actual name.
‘Nope. Broker and Zeb were in Somalia at the same time and then were together in various other places. Zeb and I were in Afghanistan. Broker and I hooked up once I left the service.’ Bear ladles food into their plates as he replies to Mark.
‘And is your name really Bear?’
‘Well, I prefer Bear to my real name.’ He grins.
‘Someone who has faced death more than once shouldn’t be afraid of revealing his real name,’ teases Mark.
Bear is busy eating when he realizes everyone is looking at him. Broker and Chloe are grinning.
‘It’s Bozo.’ He smiles sheepishly and buries his face in his hands as they all laugh.
Connor knocks his pipe out and refills it. ‘Before you came here, I was telling Bear, Broker and Chloe about my exposé on mining and the stories I’m writing,’ he says to Zeb. ‘I’ve received more anonymous threats, and I reported them all to the NYPD. Not that they’re going to do jack shit about it.’ He snorts. ‘I don’t know if you read the first of my stories that appeared last week. This week’s story will be in tomorrow’s newspaper. Once we return, I expect to get proof of Hardinger’s involvement, and then the fur will fly.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Zeb says, ‘but you should get some protection for yourself, Lauren, and Rory if you think these threats have a bite.’
‘What we told him,’ chimes in Broker.
‘I’ll think about it,’ replies Connor. ‘I’ve been in hairier situations before and didn’t feel like I needed protection.’
Zeb adds some wood to the fire. ‘If H
ardinger is as involved as you claim, then he has everything to lose, and if he’s involved in child labor in Africa, then going after you will be like swatting a fly – no offense.’
‘I’ll consider it when I see what proof I get from my sources.’
In the distance an owl hoots, followed by a replying hoot closer to them.
Zeb’s head snaps up, listening.
The owls hoot again.
He rises smoothly, fluidly, and scrutinizes the forest. Everyone falls silent and looks at him askance.
Finally, he turns to Broker. ‘Who’ve you told about this trip?’
‘I might have let it slip to a couple of folks.’ Broker is unabashed.
‘Who?’
‘Bwana and Roger.’
Zeb gazes at him for a long while and then walks into the darkness.
Rory is confused. ‘Is Zeb leaving?’
‘Nope.’ Broker laughs. ‘He’s going to meet some friends of ours.’
Lauren is astonished. ‘You mean those owl hoots were some guys Zeb knows? He recognized them? Out here? In the middle of nowhere?’
Broker nods. ‘Once Connor told me about this camping trip and Zeb’s warning to all of you, I called a few friends of ours. Two of them were going to be camping in the Catskills too and said they’d hang close to us. We all have call signs for one another. It’s not difficult to make out who’s who based on the call sign.’
Connor smiles with quiet satisfaction and puffs away at his pipe. ‘I bet those camping plans of theirs got made on the fly. Do they know Bear and Chloe too?’
Broker nods. ‘We work in a small circle. We all know one another.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Anne interjects. ‘Why would those two men drop whatever they’re doing and come charging out here just because you told them about Zeb and his problems?’
Broker doesn’t answer, and Chloe fills the silence. ‘There are people who owe a lot to Zeb. Two of them are by this campfire. Two more are out there.’
‘Zeb is a big part of our lives. Big. When he’s in trouble, we come running,’ adds Bear.
‘But don’t mention that to him. He’d go purple batshit.’ Broker chuckles.
In the woods, Zeb walks towards the sounds of the first owl hoot and waits.
Presently a figure appears from the dark, an ebony shadow amongst other shadows. They hug silently.
‘Long time. You look like crap.’ Bwana’s smile gleams in the dark. Zeb feels Roger’s presence behind him and turns around to face both. He bumps fists with Roger.
‘Why?’ he asks.
‘Why not?’ drawls Roger. ‘We were going fishing anyway. Fishing here is just as good.’
‘Better,’ counters Bwana, ‘especially if Rog does the hard work.’
‘Better,’ agrees Roger, ‘but we draw straws on the work.’
‘So what shit is stuck to your shoes now?’
Zeb starts from Luvungi.
‘Hell, I’ve never understood this pussyfooting from you. Seen it many times. If I was you, I would just get Broker to dig out his address, storm it, and stick a knife in him. Come to think of it, I might just do it myself,’ Bwana says.
Roger chews a stem of grass. ‘Do you think this dude will really come over here with an army?’
‘Nope. As long as he’s feeding the FBI, he’s secure. I don’t think he’ll do anything to jeopardize his witness protection. But I have to be prepared for anything.’
Zeb works out attack and defense plans with them in case Holt arrives. On his return to the camp, he halts near the edge of the woods and notes the layout of the tents. The central tents are those of the Balthazars, Anne and Mark, and Cassandra, while the outer ones circling them are those of Broker, Bear and Chloe, and Zeb.
As he steps soundlessly into the camp, a shape detaches itself from the ground and goes into a tent. Bear settles to sleep as Zeb takes over the watch. Arrangements made in different lifetimes in far dusty lands, still continuing wordlessly today.
The next day they go hiking on Devil’s Path, with Broker leading, Bear and Chloe in the middle, and Rory and Zeb in the rear. Rory’s inquisitiveness fills the vast stillness of the mountains. They fall back from the main group as he darts away from the trail to look at whatever interests him.
They resume their hike when he joins Zeb, his pockets full of stones of different colors for his collection.
‘Zeb, did you get in fights in school?’
‘Some.’
‘Did you win them all?’
‘Nope. I lost most of them.’
Rory’s mouth turns into an O. ‘I can’t believe that. I was thinking you would have whupped everyone’s asses.’
‘Nope. Mine got whupped most of the time.’
‘Is that why you got in the army? To learn how to fight?’
Zeb’s face twitches. ‘No. I joined the army because I wanted to. I fit in there. I used to lose fights in school because I didn’t learn to walk away from them. Not every fight should be fought.’
‘My friends tell me I’m a wimp if I don’t fight.’
‘Maybe they’re not such good friends of yours if they tell you that. If anyone picks on you, you should report them to your teacher, not get into fights.’
Rory rolls his eyes. ‘Zeb, you sound just like Mom. I bet you had loads of friends in school. I like Broker and Bear. They treat me like a grown-up.’
Zeb walks in silence for a long while. ‘I didn’t have any friends in school. It didn’t bother me. I was my own friend.’
‘I don’t have any in school either,’ Rory says very softly. ‘I have just three now. Broker, Bear and you.’
Zeb looks down at him. ‘Three is enough. It’s not how many friends you have but how important you are to them.’
They are still some distance away from the main group, and when Lauren turns to look back at them, she stumbles and bumps into Connor. He, too, looks back and sees Rory holding hands with Zeb.
His look of utter amazement makes the others look back too. ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Mark exclaims. ‘I never thought I would see Zeb holding anyone’s hand, much less a little boy’s!’
Broker looks at Bear and shrugs. They long ago stopped being amazed by whatever Zeb does.
As they approach the Buck’s Ridge lookout, a couple of rabbits dart across the trail. Two rifles greet them, just a fraction of a second apart.
‘Lunch.’ Broker sighs. He and Bear pick up their kills, stuff them in sacks, and sling them over their shoulders.
‘Holy shit,’ whispers Mark to Anne. ‘That was some shooting. Rifle across back, to hand, and firing before I even noticed the rabbits. I’m glad these guys are on our side.’ He looks back and whispers, ‘Zeb didn’t even unlimber. I’m surprised.’
‘He doesn’t need to when these guys are around,’ Anne replies dryly.
A bird call rings out in the distance. Only Zeb and Bear notice Broker tensing slightly and then relaxing when another call answers.
Bwana and Roger are on either side of them, keeping them in sight but out of sight themselves.
They resume their hike after their lunch. The sheer scale of the wilderness has brought their small talk to a minimum. Anne’s abrasiveness with Zeb has disappeared. Or maybe it’s just a lull before she starts again. Mark has coped very well in the wilderness despite his city-boy ways. Maybe the wilderness is not all that different to the stock market.
It’s late evening by the time they return to camp. A hot dinner revives them, and Connor – after lighting his pipe, which, according to him, keeps the wild animals at bay – recounts stories from his career as a reporter.
Broker, no mean raconteur himself, joins in telling stories of past campaigns.
Lauren, Anne, Rory and Mark have led urban lives and haven’t had any contact with the likes of Zeb and his friends. Their lives are fascinating to them.
‘No, most campaign days are one of endless routine and monotony. The danger, the action, is all over in a few minutes usual
ly,’ replies Broker in response to a question from Anne.
‘Have you guys lost any friends?’ Rory asks.
‘Yup,’ comes the terse response.
Silence descends.
‘What was your most dangerous moment?’ Rory again.
‘Well…’
Bear starts grinning and then guffawing.
Rory is puzzled, and he’s not the only one. ‘What?’
Broker looks sheepish. ‘There was this time we parachuted into bad country. I won’t name the country because the operation is still classified.
‘So we had done a HALO jump very late at night and landed in enemy territory. We were then supposed to march about ten clicks to a specific village, which housed a lot of badasses, photograph those badasses as they were doing their bad stuff, and then apprehend them.’
‘Sounds like a stupid assignment. Why not just finish them?’ mutters Mark.
‘Hey, who said the top brass running the army were the brightest sparks? But ours was not to question why, so like good little soldiers, we marched the ten clicks to the village.
‘We reached it early in the morning, but it was still dark, so we couldn’t make out anything, just lots of foliage and rocks. However, our compasses told us we had arrived, so we stopped.
‘We decided to hunker down for the rest of the night and begin our surveillance in broad daylight. There were five of us in that team.’ He gestures toward Zeb. ‘He was there too.
‘I settled in a small ditch, which was recently dug – I could smell the fresh earth. I cut some brush and pulled it over me and settled down to sleep with one of the others keeping watch.
‘When I woke up, it was raining. It was daylight, and I could feel movement around me. I was still groggy from the previous night…remember I was an intelligence guy and not as battle hardened as these other guys. I opened my eyes a little to have a look at who or what was moving around.’
He pauses to poke a few sticks in the fire, and everyone leans forward in anticipation.
‘I was shocked to find that it was a goat pissing on me!’
He is rewarded with roars of laughter. He waits for it to die down and then lifts his hand to silence them.
‘I heard voices around me, and after listening carefully, I made out that somehow we had stumbled into the middle of a grazing area of the hostiles we were after. I tried to look around for where the rest of my team was but couldn’t see anyone. Occasionally I saw a couple of hostiles walk past my hideout, fully armed. If they had bothered to look down, they would have seen me, and I would have had more holes than a sieve.
