“Danny,” Sam murmured nervously.
“What?” Danny whispered back.
“I think they’re gonna search us,” Sam replied urgently. Danny started to sit up. “Hold on.” Sam said sharply. Danny froze.
Our former passenger had turned his attention to the man with the dog. They talked for a minute, and then the guard with the dog became rather animated, gesturing at our trucks, all the while restraining his lunging animal. But the soldier who’d ridden with us was clearly not backing down from his own position on whatever they were discussing. He pointed back at us, then through the gate ahead of us, and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, waving them before each guard, and stepped into the guard shack, beckoning for the two guards to join him. That seemed to do the trick. The guard with the dog pulled the barking animal away from the trucks and behind the shack. He came back around the corner and stepped into the guard shack with our former passenger. The other guard opened the gate and waved both our trucks through. Sam waved back as we passed them. That was way too close.
As we began driving again, Danny uncovered himself in the back seat. Sam hadn’t said a word since the soldier had gotten out, and Danny hadn’t known what to say. “You did good, bud,” he finally said to Sam.
“How did you know they were going to search our trucks,” Sam asked.
“I didn’t,” Danny replied. “Honestly. And we would’ve killed them if we had to.”
“I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Sam continued, his voice still shaking. “I almost took the gun out of his hands and shot myself.”
“How far into the song?” Danny asked, laughing.
“It’s not funny, man. Why didn’t we kill him once we left the parking lot?” Sam asked in all seriousness, looking back at Danny’s face.
“I thought about it. I really did.” Danny responded. “Easily twenty or thirty times on the way down. I can’t explain it.”
That wasn’t good enough for Sam, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Danny reached forward and patted him on the shoulder. “You did real good, man,” he said. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been me up there instead of you.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” was all he could say.
“You good to drive until we need gas?” Danny asked.
“Sure,” was the soft reply.
“Okay,” Danny said, closing his eyes. “Try to get us to Copper Mountain. Should be about one hundred miles. Drop straight south to Interstate 70, and take it west to the Breckenridge exit. Should be gas there somewhere.”
From the second jeep Isaac and Blake had watched a man get out of Sam’s jeep in Grand Lake, walk up to the guard at the gate, and high five him. What the heck? Suddenly Isaac was glad he hadn’t continued to flash his lights at Sam, and he realized he might have put them in enough of a bad spot by doing it when he did. They had a soldier in their jeep the whole way down?
“Unbelievable,” Blake said. He ducked down in the back seat as Isaac drove through the gate, and the man waved at them. Isaac waved back and kept driving. “Wonder why they didn’t just kill him,” Blake muttered, and Isaac laughed. “That had to have been awkward.”
Awkward wasn’t a strong enough word.
SEVENTY-ONE: “Shortcut”
We pulled off Interstate 70 on Exit 195 and filled up with gas at a station next to the Copper Mountain Resort before 6 a.m. Danny checked with everyone in the back of the jeeps to make sure we all were okay. We still couldn’t risk moving up into the passenger seats, just in case. We were cold, but otherwise good enough. Several military jeeps had passed us a few miles back, heading the opposite way towards Denver, but they didn’t give us a second glance. We paused for a quick bathroom break at the west end of the Eisenhower Tunnel about fifty miles west of Denver but otherwise hadn’t stopped or been stopped since Grand Lake. It felt great—but strange—to move so freely, especially in the daylight.
The sun had risen over the mountains behind us a few minutes earlier. I knew we had a serious decision to make. We had originally planned to go straight south from here through Buena Vista, but we could cover amazing ground disguised in this jeep. We could get further faster, staying on Interstate 70 and racing west, perhaps even getting to Glenwood Springs before dropping south. That would save us a ton of travel time. Danny told us a little about the ride with “High Five.” It was funny to everyone but Sam. He added that the soldier had come from the base in Grand Junction a week ago. That told us we couldn’t chance going that far west. It seemed smartest to make the run for Glenwood Springs.
Hopefully everyone up at the Alpine Visitor Center was still unaware of what had taken place. In all likelihood we’d have a couple more hours before any alert was sent out regarding the missing men, and beyond that who knew how long it would be before the dots were connected and the message was spread to the other bases. If that even happened. We figured we were in the clear for a little while longer, and we needed to make the most of that advantage.
With a full tank of gas in each jeep we cruised towards Glenwood Springs. Arriving a little after 7:30 a.m., we took Exit 116 and headed south across the Colorado River and alongside the Roaring Fork River on Highway 82. We passed a small camp that was active but not attentive and moved through as quickly as we could. We traveled 120 miles down to Montrose and had just filled up with gas again when we saw the first drone pass overhead. Crap. Forgot all about those.
We’d been careful all the way down here and stopped at every convenient form of cover every thirty miles or so—for fifteen to twenty minutes each time—to see if anyone was following us. We hadn’t seen anything yet, but then there was no radar on these jeeps, and the radios hadn’t made a single sound.
It was almost 11 a.m. now. We’d been stopped at a checkpoint, a half-hour back in Delta, but the soldiers had easily accepted Sam and Isaac’s one word responses of “Durango” to their “Where you go?” And we’d moved on. At least we knew they weren’t suspicious here yet. But when the drone passed over us a second time, ten minutes after we left Montrose, we began to wonder if our wonderful run of luck was about to run out. Perhaps word had started to spread back at the Alpine Visitor Center. Or maybe the guys in Delta had figured us out.
We made it to the Ridgeway Reservoir north of the fork in the road heading to either Durango or Cortez, and Danny thought it would be a good time to stop and let everyone out. There was a bridge over shallow water south of the reservoir on the Uncompahagre River, and we pulled our jeeps into the water under that bridge.
A few hours later, after several more drones had flown directly overhead, we heard what sounded like a thousand trucks drive by, heading south on the road a couple hundred yards east of us. Protected by the coolness and structure of the bridge, we managed to avoid detection. Neither of our jeeps had a THIRST system, which was both a blessing and a curse for us. No one could track our system, but then we couldn’t track anyone else’s either.
A half hour or so before dark we heard another vehicle race by, also heading south. There was definitely a lot going on around us, but we couldn’t just sit here. We stayed under the bridge until nightfall—the jeeps and bridge having provided the best possible cover from every direction for us—but now it was time to move again.
SEVENTY-TWO: (Eddie) “Sit. Stay.”
It’d been a rough few weeks for Eddie and Lazzo in Buena Vista since the new general had taken over. General Roja and his four officers had made their lives a living hell. Anyone who associated themselves with either of the brothers was put through similar bullying and ridicule, so fewer and fewer people were willing to even be seen with them.
The only other African in the camp was himself a recent transfer—Amadi Ndiaye—and even he put in a special request to the general to be kept far away from those two. But the general had a different plan for him. He wanted the soldier to get information for him. “Stay close to brothers. Gain their trust. They will talk,” he’d told the man. Amad
i was worried about abuse from the other soldiers, but the general made him a promise. “You’ll be abused. Yes. But maybe I make you captain soon? Yes? Captain Ndiaye.”
For a soldier with no rank, that was too good to pass up.
One night, when Amadi was washing the hallway floors outside the general’s office, he heard the general laughing, so he stopped to listen. “That fool is giving us everything we need. Soon we have enough to kill the gorilla.”
“But I make you captain,” he heard another man say.
“Yes, master. Okay, master,” came another voice, mimicking slave speak. Then a great deal of laughter.
Amadi almost dropped the mop he was holding. They were talking about him. They were mocking him. He was never going to be captain. The general would use him to get information on Eddie and Lazzo, and then he’d have them all killed.
Amadi was boiling mad and immediately sought out Lazzo. Privately the two of them had almost become friends the past week or so. Amadi wouldn’t say the same for himself and Eddie—he stayed as far away from the giant as possible—but the brothers roomed together, so going to one, took him to both. Eddie and Lazzo had their own room in the lodge. Amadi’s room was right next to theirs, but being linked to the brothers by the color of his skin, no one wanted to room with him either. So he had a room to himself. He tapped on the wall after he was sure the brothers were in bed. When they tapped back, Amadi opened the door to his room and slipped quietly to their door. He tapped twice again, and the door opened enough to let him slip in. Because Eddie suspected his room was bugged, they went into the bathroom and turned on the fan. Then Amadi told Eddie and Lazzo about everything the general was doing.
Amadi was clearly afraid Eddie wouldn’t understand, but Eddie understood perfectly. He wasn’t sure he could trust Amadi, but he figured he would give the man a chance. Eddie gave him a dangerous assignment and told him if he wanted to prove his loyalty, he’d have to complete it. Lazzo objected to putting their one ally at risk, but Eddie insisted, and Eddie typically got his way. Amadi needed to get Eddie a radio tuned into the same frequency as the general’s. There was only one that wouldn’t be in the general’s possession, and that was the one the former base commander had left where he always kept it, behind a false wall in the liquor cabinet…in the general’s sleeping quarters.
Two nights later Amadi brought the radio to him. He’d gone in to clean the general’s toilet, and the general had needed to use the bathroom. It only took Amadi a minute to find the radio and tuck it away while the general’s dogs barked at him and the general yelled from the bathroom at them to shut up. Amadi finished the job and returned to his room.
He had been searched entering the general’s quarters, but not leaving them. He still had his gloves on when he came out of the bathroom into the main room, and they were dripping wet. He wiped them on his shirt and raised his arms for the two guards at the door, but they wanted nothing to do with him. Perfect. When the hallway quieted down for the night, he tapped on the wall again, but instead of entering Eddie’s room this time, he just handed him the radio. In case the radio ended up being discovered in Eddie’s possession, Amadi was to stay far away. Eddie claimed he didn’t want Amadi to risk his life for them, manipulating the man’s loyalty even more. He then gave Amadi instructions on how to cover his tracks.
Amadi planted a bottle of whiskey in Eddie’s room in a corner of the closet. Amadi then went to the general and told him he’d snuck into Eddie and Lazzo’s room while they were out and looked for anything they might have hidden. He found a few pieces of paper with notes on them—which Eddie had provided Amadi to give the general—some cigarettes, and a bottle of whiskey.
Since the general forbid alcohol consumption except by his own officers, he had their room searched the next morning. Two of his men went through Eddie’s closet, without bothering to search the rest of their room, and found the alcohol and cigarettes. Eddie and Lazzo were taken outside and whipped a dozen times each in front of the entire camp. The other soldiers were allowed to “buy” lashes and took their turns whipping the brothers. Amadi even whipped both of them once at Eddie’s prior insistence. Eddie watched as Amadi celebrated with the other men and didn’t miss the apologetic glance he offered at the first opportunity. Amadi did what he had to do.
The general then threatened Eddie and Lazzo with more beatings if they were ever discovered hiding anything else. He told them he would be checking regularly. Eddie and Lazzo dragged themselves back to their room, where they listened to the general radio Denver and report the morning’s events to the Mexican commander. Their plan had worked to perfection.
Over the course of the last week, Eddie had listened with a great deal of interest to the military strategy being discussed on the radio. The general was privy to everything the Mexican commander knew. There didn’t appear to be any secrets between them. He kept waiting for any word of the Americans in Estes Park, but none came. Amadi kept playing his spy role to perfection. He asked for permission to plant a bug in the bathroom, and the general granted his request. While picking up the bug for the bathroom, Amadi also grabbed a blocking chip for the one in the bedroom, essentially reversing the places it was safe for them to talk and listen to the radio. From time to time Eddie and Lazzo would enter the bathroom and talk to each other about fake private matters and then return to their main room to listen to the radio. Eddie and Lazzo were each whipped a few more times for various things that came up in those conversations. Amadi was praised. The general was happy. And he kept right on talking on the radio.
Finally, the day Eddie had been hoping for came. It was before 10 a.m. on Wednesday, May 26. Eddie had returned from cleaning out the camp trash, and Lazzo had left to go work in the kitchen. (They tried to make sure one of them was always by the radio so they wouldn’t miss anything.) Eddie was lying on the lower bunk with his ear to the radio, almost falling asleep, when he heard the words Estes Park. He sat up with a jolt, slamming his head on the steel frame of the upper bunk. He winced, but strained to make sure he didn’t miss a word…particularly since the Mexican Commander sounded so furious.
Apparently, two jeeps had been stolen from the cabin on Old Fall River Road. Nothing had been suspected at first, but when one of the two men remaining at the cabin went out for a smoke, he found a great deal of blood behind the cabin and even more partially buried off the front porch. Further inspection of the cabin area revealed no footprints, apparently washed out by a torrential downpour, but they did find three trucks over the side of the road about half a mile closer to Estes Park. They clearly hadn’t been there long, and one of the trucks contained the bodies of the three missing soldiers—without their uniforms. Clever.
The intelligence consensus was that there had been at least eight people in those three trucks, and they’d dumped those trucks to take the jeeps. Several soldiers at the alpine base had seen two jeeps pull up from the Old Fall River Road early that morning in the middle of the crazy thunderstorm, and one of the soldiers had even hitched a ride down to Grand Lake in one of the jeeps. They hadn’t yet been able to track down that soldier. He could even be dead.
The Mexican commander told the general he’d update him when he had more information, and a little less than two hours later Eddie heard him call in again. Two jeeps had been stopped at a patrol station in Delta. The drivers of the jeeps were wearing Qi Jia uniforms, and the African soldiers who stopped them said the drivers were black. But they didn’t seem to be African. Unfortunately, they hadn’t searched the vehicles and had let them go on. At least they had called it in, and given that Denver had sent out a nationwide report of two missing jeeps, they were connected directly to the Intelligence Division.
Intelligence figured they had to be Americans and could even be the same ones who had taken the jeeps up in the mountains. If so, they had killed three—and maybe even four—Qi Jia men and were making a run for it. They told the soldiers in Delta to sit tight. More soldiers would soon be on their way to Dur
ango to capture the Americans.
The Mexican commander requested the general take this hunt on personally. The general was to take his four officers and his forty best men and go directly to Durango. He was to call back in as soon as he arrived there.
Eddie was convinced these were his Americans. His lions. He scrambled to find Lazzo and filled him in on what was going on. They dressed in uniform and headed down to the main lobby, where the entire company had been called together. When the general entered the room, everyone stood at attention. As soon as the general saw Eddie and Lazzo there he smiled. “Not you two,” he said. He commanded them to go clean the trash out of the rooms. Eddie pleaded to stay and hear what was going on, but—as anticipated—the general would hear nothing of it.
He and Lazzo were escorted to the other lodge building. A week earlier Amadi had inserted a tracking device—with a twenty-mile range—into each of the four officers’ combat packs—knowing they would never be scanned. Amadi had brought Eddie the tracker for those four coded chips a few nights ago, in case they were ever needed, and Eddie had packed it away back in their room. As the soldiers came in, grabbed their gear, and left, Eddie and Lazzo headed back to their room. That tracker would come in most useful now.
General Roja was so insistent on rubbing his power in Eddie’s face that he took eighty soldiers with him instead of the forty the Mexican commander had requested. He made a point of walking smugly by Eddie’s room before he left to make sure he was there.
“Make sure you clean all toilets before we get back,” he ordered Eddie. “All 160.” He smiled with contempt.
2020: Emergency Exit Page 33
