“Who is it that’s trying to kill us?” Giovanni said with frustration. “And why? It’s crazy.”
“Maybe Sheila’s right and it’s more than one,” Eddie said.
More silence as they scanned the surroundings outside the trailer. Sheila said, “It’s like they’re invisible.”
“Camouflage,” Eddie said. “That’s what bowhunters do. They wear camo and cover their scent because they’re so up close to their prey.”
“This kind of crazy shit would never happen in Italy,” Giovanni said. “It’s like … Fort Apache or something.”
“Never saw that movie,” Eddie confided.
“I saw Fort Apache, the Bronx,” said Tom.
“Not the same thing,” Giovanni replied.
“Okay, look,” Sheila said, “when the van comes back we make a break for it. We all run at once.”
“What if the van never comes back?” Eddie uttered.
“Firefighters. They’re bound to show up, right?” Tom said. “The deputy called it in, and that airplane dropped water.”
“It makes sense they’d come,” Eddie said, “but who knows. They could be stretched thin with that fire everywhere, protecting homes and businesses. You’ve seen the local news covering forest fires. That’s what they do first.”
Luther offered a whimper before he squeaked out, “I don’t want to die.”
Giovanni said, “We’ve got to get him to the hospital now. I’ll go for the truck.” He knelt down close to Luther and softly said, “We’re going to get you out of here. Hang in there, okay?”
“I’ll go too,” Sheila offered.
“Me too,” Eddie said and added, “We split up and go for both the sheriff’s car and the pickup at the same time.” He gave Sheila a nod. She felt it was a good plan but hoped they wouldn’t be lambs heading to the slaughter.
“Okay,” she said, but then heard a low rumble. “Wait … listen …”
“The Superscooper,” Tom said with a tinge of hatred. “It’s back.”
Although Sheila couldn’t see the aircraft, the familiar propeller noise grew louder and louder. All trained their ears until it was upon them. The sudden downpour rocked the trailer. The corrugated tin roof only amplified the sound of the thundering deluge. As the sound of the aircraft faded away Sheila peered out the window, water streaming down from the roof, to see a blanket of steamy white mist hanging in the air.
“They know we’re here so firefighters will come,” Tom said.
Sheila could see a plume of smoke billowing from the doused trees. It appeared as if the wind had changed direction and a white smoke drifted toward them now. It was an eerie cloud, like a demonic fog. It engulfed both the deputy and the jerky guy. Seconds later Sheila could not see more than twenty feet beyond the trailer. “That water created a smokescreen,” she said. “If we go now, the killer can’t see us.”
Eddie gazed out the window and said, “That’s right. They can’t shoot what they can’t see.”
“You guys are nuts,” Tom said.
“Watch the trees,” Sheila said to Tom, “If you see something take a shot, but whatever you do don’t shoot us.”
Peering out the window, Tom said, “I can’t see for shit.”
Sheila unlocked the door. Motioning to the pistol in Tom’s hand she asked, “Are you sure you can you handle that?”
“I guess so.”
“Guess?”
“I’ve got your back,” Tom said, unconvincing.
“Maybe one of us should take it,” Sheila suggested.
“You’re going to need your hands,” Tom said, protective of the gun, not willing to give it up.
“Just don’t shoot us,” she insisted.
“I won’t.”
“Whoever gets their vehicle started first,” Eddie said, “pull it up over here by the door.” He pointed to the area just outside the steps of the trailer. “We’ll load Luther and get the hell out of there. But don’t leave without all of us together. There’s strength in numbers. We drive down together. Agreed?”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Giovanni said.
Eddie dug into his pocket. He came up with two mini vodka bottles.
Where’d he get those? Sheila thought. Was he on a flight?
Eddie held the bottles up and said, “For luck, and a wee bit of courage.” He twisted off the cap and offered one to her. Sheila shook her head no, so he offered it to Giovanni who waved it off.
“You sure?” Eddie asked.
“No, thank you, my friend,” Giovanni said.
“I’ll take one,” Tom said.
“But you’re not going out there.”
Tom waved his fingers with a “gimme” gesture.
Eddie handed him the mini vodka bottle, “It’s what kamikaze pilots do. Kanpai,” he said before downing his.
Tom took a cautious sip, said, “But this is not saki.”
“Next best thing,” Eddie managed to say as he tapped at his chest, the vodka seemingly burning its way down his windpipe.
“You guys are crazy,” Sheila said.
“Sure as hell,” Eddie said with a wry smile. He carefully set the empty bottle on the counter.
Tom finished his and tossed the mini bottle before checking the gun.
Meanwhile, Giovanni tenderly stroked Luther’s blond hair. “I’ll be back for you,” he whispered, and kissed him on the forehead. Then Giovanni was back on his feet.
“Ready?” Sheila asked.
Eddie and Giovanni nodded.
“You go for the sheriff’s car,” Sheila said to Eddie, “and we’ll go for the pickup.”
“Got it.”
“You good?” Giovanni asked Eddie.
He nodded, yes.
Sheila inhaled deeply, her palms sweaty. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest as she turned to Tom to remind him, “Please, don’t shoot us.”
“I won’t.”
She turned back. “Let’s do it.”
Eddie led the way as they burst out the door.
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Eddie couldn’t see the patrol car; the smoke was too thick. Instead, he relied on his sense of direction, where he thought it might be. His eyes burned from the acrid smoke and he could hear the others coughing off to his left.
First, he came across the deputy, multiple arrows piercing her body. Then he could see the vehicle. Hunched low, Eddie dashed for the driver’s-side door. The keys were not in the ignition. Shit.
He scrambled back to the deputy, pushed aside the shaft of an arrow sticking out of her lower back and reached into her khakis. Her body was still warm and he was close enough to smell her sweat. He half-expected her to awaken and sit up, but she didn’t move. Realizing this was a dead body, he coughed up a mouthful of bile in disgust but swallowed it back. It tasted like the vodka he’d downed only moments ago.
Eddie found a set of keys in her pocket and pulled them out. On the keychain there was a photo of a young boy.
That’s when he felt the breeze.
The wind had changed direction.
It became painfully obvious when the smoke cleared that suddenly his security blanket, the smokescreen, was gone. By then Eddie could see Giovanni and Sheila climb into the pickup truck.
There was a barking dog. Sheila and Giovanni jumped out. Rosie the pit bull sprung out of the cab and gave chase.
The animal nipped at Giovanni’s heels and he tumbled forward. The dog attacked, teeth snapping ferocious. Giovanni kicked at her. The pit bull was determined not to give up. It had Giovanni’s calf in its jaws and was yanking its head violently from side to side. He screamed.
Pulling on the dog’s hind leg, Sheila tried to pull the animal away but had little effect. The dog then turned on her. This gave Giovanni the chance to struggle to
his feet. The dog spun and snarled between them.
A shot rang out.
Eddie could see Tom’s arm sticking out the window of the trailer, gun trained. A second shot followed and the dog yelped, tumbled backward. The third and fourth shot missed, kicking up dirt, and the dog retreated.
Don’t waste bullets, Eddie thought.
The vengeful pit bull found shelter under her master’s pickup.
Giovanni was cursing when an arrow struck him in the middle of the chest. The impact sent him back on his heels and there was a surprised expression on his face.
Sheila screamed. She went for him just as a second arrow struck Giovanni under the chin. That one snapped his head back. His arms flailed skyward and he dropped. Sheila screamed again and ran for the trailer.
Eddie tried to follow the trajectory. The arrows, where did they come from? He scanned the trees but could see nothing.
Get the car.
He jumped in and fumbled with the keys. A loud pop sounded. He knew an arrow had penetrated the siding of the vehicle but couldn’t see where. The cruiser started with a roar and he threw it into gear. Eddie maneuvered the squad car around to the trailer. He pulled up alongside and threw it into park.
There was a shotgun in a center rack but it was locked.
Eddie pulled the keys from the ignition and searched for one that might fit the lock. He found a small brass key that looked promising, popped open the lock, and retrieved the Remington pump-action shotgun.
He jumped out of the car and aimed the shotgun into the trees but could still see nothing. When he went for the trailer, he was surprised to discover the door locked. “Let me in!” he shouted.
An arrow slammed into the trailer’s corrugated siding beside him just before Sheila unlocked and opened the door. Eddie burst inside.
“Holy shit!” Tom said as Eddie stumbled in.
Sheila slammed the door and locked it. “Giovanni’s been hit!” she said, eyes full of tears.
“Where’d that fucking dog come from?!” asked Tom.
“It’s the jerky guy’s,” Eddie said. “We saw it before, at his roadside stand.”
“I capped that fucking mongrel,” Tom said with pride.
Eddie instructed, “Let’s get Luther in the car. I’ll give you guys cover,” he said, holding up the shotgun. “Load Luther and we’ll pull around for Giovanni.”
Tom pointed to Luther lying on the carpet, “I think he’s dead.”
Eddie set the shotgun down and kneeled to check on Luther.
Tom continued, “I say we leave him and get the hell out of here.”
Eddie could see no signs of life. Maybe Luther was gone. He couldn’t tell.
Sheila said, “We can’t just leave him here.”
“Of course we can,” Tom said.
“What about Giovanni?”
“Same deal. We get the hell out of here and call for help.”
“We’re not leaving without Giovanni,” she snapped. She went to the window to see how he was doing.
“He’s probably dead too,” Tom said. “Or will be soon.”
“You don’t know that,” she said.
“What I do know is that killer is one hell of a shot. I’m not going to be the next.”
Looking out the window at his fallen friend, Eddie said, “We’re bringing both of them. We’ll get down to the Gold Strike and—”
“Fuck that!” Tom said, “I’m not risking my life just to get a pair of two-hundred-pound dead guys down the hill.”
“They’re not dead,” Sheila barked back.
“They’re both dead.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“Missy,” Tom said, losing his patience, “Face it. Our cameraman is dead. He’s like a beetle stuck to cardboard and we can’t help him.” He pointed to Luther, “And surfer boy here stopped breathing. We’ll let the cops come back for them, but we need to get out of here.”
Sheila was not convinced. As they continued to argue, Eddie went back to Luther, the carpet surrounding him soaked in blood. Maybe Tom was right. Luther didn’t appear to be breathing. There might be nothing they could do. He checked for a pulse, felt nothing, then went to the window to consider Giovanni. The smoke had drifted away but something else caught Eddie’s eye—the corpse of Deputy Martinez. It seemed different than before. She was now face down, not like he’d left her. Arrows were no longer protruding from her body. “Wait a minute,” he said, “the arrows are gone.”
“What arrows?” said Tom.
“The sheriff … I was just there, getting the keys, and …”
“And what?”
“The arrows have been pulled out and her body has been moved.”
“You sure about that?” Tom peered out the window.
“Yes.”
“The killer has only so many arrows,” Sheila reasoned.
Eddie nodded. “He’s retrieving them.”
“Then why didn’t we see—?” Tom started in before he was cut off by the sound of a loud pop outside the trailer, a much different sound than that of the arrows penetrating the trailer’s siding. It startled everyone and was followed by the sound of a hiss. “What’s that?”
“The deputy’s car,” Eddie said, “the tires.”
Chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tom was enraged they’d wasted so much time. He said, “We can still get out of here with flat tires. We’ll ride the rims like they do on TV car chases.”
Another pop sounded. Tom went to the window, aimed the Glock but saw nothing. With raised shotgun, Eddie took position at the window next to him. “See anything?”
“No,” Tom said.
“Okay,” Sheila said, “we leave the guys behind for now and make a break for it. But we’re coming back.”
“We will,” Eddie promised.
“You guys can come back, not me,” said Tom.
“We go for the car all at the same time. Stay low,” Eddie said.
Tom reached for the cowboy hat—the same hat he was not allowed to wear in the movie. Tom checked himself out in the mirror and adjusted the brim. He was glad he’d left it behind in Tami’s trailer.
“You ready, Tex?” Eddie asked.
“Don’t patronize me,” Tom said.
Eddie gave Tom the thumbs-up.
Tom hated him.
“What’s that smell?” Sheila said.
Tom could see black smoke coming from the bathroom and caught the scent of burning rubber. When it became apparent what was happening, he said, “They’re burning us out.”
Eddie went to a window and peered out. “Why can’t I see anybody?”
“It’s time, let’s do it,” Sheila said and turned to Eddie, “Can you cover us?” nodding to the shotgun.
“Sam Peckinpah style,” Eddie said.
“Who?”
“Not important. I got your back.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said.
“Define stupid.”
Tom coughed and said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here before we die from smoke inhalation.”
Eddie kicked open the door and fired the shotgun. It was loud and Tom could feel the percussion in his chest. Sheila followed him out. Tom clenched his teeth and was the last out the door.
Tom hunched low and trained his pistol under the trailer looking for the killer but nobody was there. He waved the Glock at nothing in particular before he went for the patrol car.
Eddie jumped in the driver’s side.
Sheila hopped in the passenger seat.
Tom went for the back seat. He yanked the door handle but it was locked. Shit! Totally exposed, he could hear that crazy dog barking again. Sheila, inside the vehicle, turned back and was trying to unlock the back door but the prisoner partition between the front and b
ack seats made it impossible.
Tom gave up and went for the front door. He jumped in. It was a tight fit but he managed to close the door seconds before the ferocious animal was there and snarling beside them.
The car whirred, gained traction, and was in motion. Eddie maneuvered it around the trailer and veered it up the embankment. The vehicle lurched and bounced. Tom’s head smacked against the side window.
They were making progress, but suddenly there was a crunching sound, clearly rocks scraping the floorboards. The car trembled and came to a stop. Tom could hear the back wheels whir.
“The flat tires, we have no clearance,” Eddie said. He yanked the shifter into reverse and gunned it. This strategy only rocked the car back and forth but did nothing to free the vehicle.
Tom could see they were stuck. Fuck!
An arrow slammed into the passenger-side door window. Safety glass shattered and instantly covered Tom’s lap. He wasn’t going to die like this, a sitting duck.
Tom climbed out of the car and ran for the trees.
The dog came at him.
Tom gritted his teeth, aimed the pistol, and fired. The impact from the 9 millimeter snapped the dog’s head back before it fell in a heap, silenced forever.
He fired again, for good measure, but was then out of bullets.
Fuck me!
Tom ran.
Before he reached the trees, Tom could hear the car doors slam behind him. He turned back to see Eddie and Sheila running the other direction. That’s right, split up.
He ran into the woods.
Tom zig-zagged his way through the thick foliage, then came across a cable ladder hanging under a pine. Following it up, Tom saw the platform rigged on a branch above. It appeared to be some sort of makeshift support contraption and Tom wondered what it could be. The deck was made out of speed rail and pieces of scaffolding he’d seen the grips use for camera support. There was a foldable chair from the lunch tent, ropes, and mountain-climbing equipment tied off, even a plastic bottle of drinking water.
Upon closer inspection, he could see a sheath full of arrows.
It dawned on him—this is a makeshift hunter’s perch. The entire time he’d been searching for the killer at ground level, but no, the arrows had come from the trees above. That’s why he never saw anyone.
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