Revenge Story

by Julia Broussard

  “Easy.” He pointed to the Forest Service truck. “In that. One of us can put on that ranger’s uniform, and the other two can stay out of sight. They’ll just wave us on through the roadblocks.”

  “They’ll be everywhere, Ben. Up here in the woods, down on the highways. We’ll never make it.”

  Ben smiled. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

  “It’s Saturday. So fucking what?”

  “No, buddy. It’s Saturday morning, the start of the Labor Day weekend. Those cops are in for a big traffic mess trying to run those roadblocks. I already looked at the map. Our best shot is that little airstrip south of the 299. It’s fifteen miles to the nearest town from there. No services, but there might even be a few planes parked. I say we do a little skyjacking.”

  “South? Back down to the highway and across to the south side? You’re crazy, Ben. That’s back the way we came. They’ll be looking for us everywhere there.”

  “They’ll be looking for a blue Chevy pickup with a white camper on the back.” Ben thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll be in that green Forest Service truck. We only have to cross back over Highway 299 once. If we get past that, we can follow dirt roads all the way to the airstrip.”

  “Fine. Let’s say we actually reach this airstrip without getting caught. If there aren’t any ground services, how do you know any of the planes you want to steal will have enough fuel?”

  “Sure they will,” said Ben. “Anyone flying into that airstrip is going to have plenty of fuel on board, because they know there isn’t any available on the ground there. And with Labor Day here, it’s a sure bet at least a few pilots will use that strip over the weekend. All we need to do is get close to one of them. Next thing you know, we’ll be on our way to the Evergreen state. We might even be able to dodge the radar by flying low. Now let’s get some sleep.”

  As dawn approached, hundreds of police and FBI agents fanned out across Northern California, determined to find Ben Cummings and the Morris couple. FBI agents in black SUV’s joined forces with Forest Service rangers for an extensive scouring of the dirt roads leading off Highway 299. More police cruised up and down the main highways, while Army Reserve units set up roadblocks at every key intersection or off-ramp. Hurried workers fueled helicopters and small aircraft, in preparation for an early morning air search over several adjacent counties.

  However, the search on the main highways was causing major headaches for everyone. Thousands of vacationers had started out early trying to reach their favorite camping spots, motels, or resorts for the Labor Day weekend. Traffic jams had reached huge proportions during the night, sometimes extending for miles behind every roadblock.

  Special Agent Ryan McKenzie sat in his parked car at a small country store just off the 299 highway, the last place the fugitives had been spotted. He reviewed the list of items that the fugitives had purchased. It included rifle and pistol ammunition, food, water, a couple of first-aid kits, and a map of the surrounding area. They had also filled the propane tank on the camper. Just like I figured. They’ve gone off-road, he thought. He pulled open a Forest Service map and marked the location of the store on it with his pen.

  Tracing his finger around the map from the marked spot, he hunted for a possible route. We know they’re probably heading north, he thought, but where? After a bit, he discovered a rather complicated set of dirt roads that went parallel to the main highway – and finally emerged near Interstate 5, just north of the roadblock they had set up between the interstate and Highway 299. It was a perfect way around the roadblocks. That’s it, he thought. I was right. They’re trying to get around us and make it to the freeway by using the Forest Service roads! He realized that if they reached the interstate and switched cars, it would almost impossible to locate them, especially over a holiday weekend.

  McKenzie picked up his two-way radio. “Sierra 710 to Sierra 714. Do you read?”

  Special Agent Jeff Carlson, the rookie who had joined the hunt the previous day, answered. “Sierra 714. Go ahead.”

  “What’s your twenty?”

  “North of highway 299. Out on a gravel road somewhere. I don’t know exactly where, sir. We’re following two Forest Service rangers and it’s still pretty dark.”

  “Any sign of the subjects? Over.”

  “No, sir. Occasionally we run into someone camping out in an RV or a tent, but nothing unusual. We’ve been yelled at a few times. People don’t like being woken up in the middle of the night, especially out in the woods. One guy came out of his RV with a shotgun. Took us five minutes to convince him to put it down.”

  “Roger that. Next time tell them what might happen if they run into our perps instead of us. I want you to tell anyone you talk to up there to go home now, or we can’t guarantee their safety. I also want you to make that ranger pull over for a minute. I need to speak to him. Put him on the radio. And tell him if he has a map to bring it along.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shortly afterward, another voice came over McKenzie’s radio. “This is Ranger Franks. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Hello, Franks. I’m Special Agent Ryan McKenzie. I’m coordinating the Federal end of this manhunt.”

  “Yes, I know. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I assume you have a map of the area up there?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re combing the main service roads and checking all the spurs. Nothing yet on the people you’re looking for though.”

  “Roger. Okay. I think I know where they’re going and I’m sending in additional agents to assist you. Also, I’m going to concentrate the air search in that same area.”

  “What area, sir? This area?”

  “It’s close by. Got your map out?”

  “Yes.”

  “You see the area around the old Dolly Varden Road?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We think they went into the woods south of there. It’s not far from a mom and pop store where they picked up supplies yesterday. You know the one, right? It’s off the exit about an hour’s drive east of Arcata.”

  “I know it. Nice folks. There’s a main Forest Service access that goes north only a couple of miles east of the store.”

  “Good,” said McKenzie. “I think they took that access to try and get onto 96, maybe Highway 3. They’re trying to dodge our roadblocks down here by using those roads to work their way northeast up to Interstate 5. If they make it to the interstate, we’ll lose them. Especially if they switch vehicles along the way.”

  “We’re not far from that access, sir. We’ll go back out to 299 and head up there.”

  “Roger that,” said McKenzie. “I’m going to start moving people in from the north as well. Maybe we can pinch these guys in and spot them from the air as soon as it gets light.”

  “Okay, sir. Do you want us to meet you at the store? We have to drive right past it.”

  “No. I have to head back to Arcata. Two SWAT teams are going up in helicopters and will rendezvous with you for the air search. Just get up there before daylight. When we call you on the radio, just establish a rendezvous point and stay in a group. Nobody goes out in single vehicles. Too dangerous.”

  “Understood. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Watch your ass. Our perps have automatic weapons stolen from an armory. Also some LAWS rockets, a couple of satchel charges, and a fucking Stinger missile. If you get a clean shot at them, take it. But watch out. These people have already killed five police officers. They won’t hesitate to kill anyone else who gets in their way.”

  “Yes, sir. I know that already. They briefed us at the Willow Creek station last night.”

  “Roger that. Be safe.” McKenzie hung up the microphone. He picked up his cell phone to call the mobile command post in Arcata. It was time to throw every resource he had left into the forests north of Highway 299.

  Chapter 10

  Even though the sun was still below the horizon, false dawn began to spread a bit of light into the sky, making the
stars slowly fade away until only Venus and the brightest ones remained. Ben crawled from his sleeping bag and glanced over at the Forest Service truck. He saw that their captive was sleeping with his head against the driver’s side window, with his hands still handcuffed to the steering wheel. Ben had removed the battery to the truck and placed it in the back, to prevent the ranger from getting any ideas about hot-wiring the truck during the night.

  Ben pulled the magazine from the MP-5 and reached into his pocket for some loose rounds. He snapped them one by one into the magazine until it was full, and then inserted the magazine back into the weapon. He over to the camper, knocking loudly on the back door. “All right, guys. Time to get the hell out of here,” he said.

  “What?” came a muffled response.

  He pounded harder. “Time to go!”

  Ben went to the Forest Service truck. The young ranger was awake now and staring at him with fear in his eyes. Ben opened the door. “Take it easy, kid. If we were going to kill you, you’d already be dead.” He tapped the barrel of the MP-5 lightly against the man’s temple. “Just do as you’re told and you’ll be fine. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “You’re staying here. But I need that uniform.” Ben took the handcuff key from his pocket, reached across, and unlocked the cuffs. He put the cuffs and the key into his pocket. “Get out. Strip down to your shorts and socks and throw your uniform onto the hood. I’ll get you some other clothes.”

  The ranger did as he was told and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Ben reached the back door of the camper just as Ray and Karen emerged, only half-awake. “Good morning,” he said. “We’re pulling out right away. I’m going to give that ranger some clothes and you’re going to switch into his uniform.”

  “Sure, okay. I’m getting some coffee from the thermos,” said Ray as he opened the front door of the Chevy.

  “You’re not going to kill that ranger, are you Ben?” said Karen.

  “Nah. We’ll leave him in the back of the camper tied up. He should be able to work himself loose in a few hours. Either that or they’ll find him in the search. By noon, this whole forest will be crawling with cops on the ground and up in the air. But by the time anyone finds him, we’ll be long gone.” He took the MP-5 from his shoulder and handed it to Karen. “I reloaded the magazine for you. From now on, always keep it within reach.”

  She took the weapon and slung it over her shoulder. “Whatever you say, Ben.”

  He looked at her hard. “You think you could shoot a cop if you had to?” he asked.

  Karen met his eyes with an equally hard expression. “I don’t know.”

  “You know what’s going to happen if they catch us, right? Don’t have any illusions about that. Ray and I will get the needle for sure. Doesn’t matter who started it, whose fault it is,” said Ben. “We are definitely in the shit now, and our chances of getting away are poor to none.”

  “I know. Ray and I spent half the night talking about it.”

  “And?”

  “We’re with you.”

  “Even if it means more killing?”

  “Yes. Even if it means more killing.”

  “Well,” said Ben. “Let’s just hope we won’t have to. If we can hijack a plane out of that little airstrip and get up to Seattle, we might have a chance. I have a connection up there that can help us.”

  Ray walked up holding three small cups of coffee. “Here,” he said, handing them out. “It’s cold, but better than nothing. What are you two talking about?”

  “Killing,” said Ben. “What else?”

  “The ranger?”

  “No. Just killing in general,” said Ben. He smiled. “Forget it. Let’s move the money and the weapons into that Forest Service truck and get the fuck out of here.”

  “What about the rest of our shit?”

  “Whatever you think,” said Ben. “We won’t be able to take much load if we grab a plane. Take anything you think we can use and leave the rest.”

  “Got it.”

  A few minutes later, the ranger was tied up securely in the back of the camper. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. The remaining food, weapons, and ammunition they tossed into the bed of the Forest Service truck. While Ray and Karen waited in the truck, Ben looked into the back door of the camper at the ranger, who was now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. “We’re leaving you here. There are some knives in that drawer there,” he said. “A smart kid like you could probably cut yourself loose in a couple of hours. Don’t cut your throat doing it. When you get loose, just walk out to the main road, and flag somebody down.”

  The ranger wriggled against the ropes a bit. “I don’t know,” he said. “You sure went around my arms a lot of times with this rope. I may never get out of here.”

  “Well,” said Ben, “I didn’t want to make it too easy. Just remember that when you get down to the road, put up your hands right away if anyone comes along.”

  “Why?”

  “Because every cop in the state and half the damn F.B.I. are looking for us. And yeah, we’ve already killed a few of them. So be careful they don’t get trigger-happy on you. In other words, approach with caution. They’re all pretty pissed off. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir. Thanks for the advice.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a nice day, kid.” Ben shut the camper door. He walked to the Forest Service truck and went to the drivers’ side.

  Ray rolled down the window. “Is he secured?”

  “No problem. Hey, you look snappy in that Forest Service uniform,” said Ben. “Don’t worry. It’ll take him hours to get out of there. Did you do that weapons check?”

  “Everything’s in the back. I’ve got the .45 and that Beretta on me.”

  Ben noticed Karen was still carrying the MP-5. “Let me grab something then before we go,” he said. “Just in case we run into any trouble.” He pulled out the BAR from the bed of the truck and checked the magazine. It was empty, as well as the other box magazines he had for it. Tossing it back into the truck, he picked up an M-16 and shoved a magazine into it. Finding two more magazines, he slipped them into the front pocket of his jacket. Rummaging through a nylon bag, he found the three remaining frag grenades he had stolen from the Eureka armory and slipped them into another pocket. He climbed into the truck on the passenger side and settled into the seat, with Karen in the middle. “Think you can get us to that airstrip?” he said.

  “I checked our route on the map,” said Ray, “I got it.”

  “Okay,” said Ben. “Let’s go then.” He looked at Karen. “Remember to duck down if anyone comes along,” he told her.

  Special Agent Ryan McKenzie leaned away from the spinning blades above his head and climbed aboard the specially modified Bell 407 helicopter. He shook hands with each of the other five agents who were already aboard. “Glad you guys are here,” said McKenzie. “We have three very bad people running around who need to be taken down.”

  The other five agents, including the pilot, were from the F.B.I.’s Hostage Rescue Team, the branch of the bureau specializing in not only hostage rescues, but air-based manhunts and counter-terrorism as well. All of them except the pilot were dressed in body armor and carried assault weapons.

  “No problem, sir,” said the agent in the front seat next to the pilot. “I’m Bill Wakefield, team leader.” The roaring of the engine as the helicopter rose from the pad forced him to raise his voice to be heard. “I understand you think they’re somewhere in the woods north of the 299 highway?”

  “That’s right,” said McKenzie. “Did you get that GPS data I sent?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s where we’re going now. ETA twenty minutes, and then we do a grid search for that Chevy truck with the camper. A second team is approaching the same area from the north.”

  “Sounds good,” said McKenzie, settling back into his seat. “I’ve got one ground team up th
ere now driving an SUV. They’re following a couple of Forest Service rangers who are leading the way in their own truck.” He looked out the window and watched the ground fall away. “We’ll get those bastards, all right.”

  Ray Morris heard the approaching vehicles before he actually saw them. He slammed on the brakes of the Forest Service truck and stopped. “Someone’s coming. Up ahead. Hear it?”

  The dirt road ahead stretched out straight for twenty or thirty yards and then went into a left-hand curve. Morris shut off the engine. Everyone heard the sound of several vehicles getting closer.

  “They’re a mile or so in front of us,” said Ben.

  “What do we do?” said Karen.

  “We take ‘em right here,” said Ben. “Ray...you get out and put up the hood like you’re broken down. Karen, you get down on the floorboards here. I’m going off into the woods next to the road. When I start shooting, you make your move and don’t stop until they’re all dead. Got it?”

  “Got it. Hurry up, then.”

  Ben ran around to the back of the truck and found another LAWS rocket tube. Grabbing it, he sprinted across the dirt road and into the woods. He worked his way quickly along the edge of the woods until he was near the curve of the road and waited.

  Peering through the trees from his vantage point, he saw two vehicles approaching from about a half-mile down the road. One was a Forest Service truck. The one behind it was a black SUV with big white letters painted on its side. Even at that distance, he could make out the lettering. FBI.

  He ran back onto the road and waved to Ray. “Two vehicles!” he shouted. “Forest Service and F.B.I.!” Then he took cover again. He laid the LAWS rocket on the ground at his feet, and then set the selector switch on the M-16 to auto – and waited.

  Meanwhile, Ray got out and grabbed one of the remaining M-16’s from the bed of the truck and loaded a magazine into it. Popping open the hood of the Forest Service truck, he laid the weapon on top of the engine. “Forget what he said about staying in the cab,” he told Karen. “Get in the bed of the truck and stay down back there. Hurry.”