Through the Mountains

by Kelvin Teo

  The office was lit up brightly, but the No Vacancy sign was lit. Apparently the brothers didn’t want any unwelcome visitors during their time of mourning.

  There were five vehicles parked near the office. The Morgan’s rattle-trap truck, a couple more trucks and a couple of cars.

  There was another vehicle parked near the garage and looking at it made Clark’s blood boil. The van they had come up the mountain in was sitting there, facing the road with a For Sale sign in the windshield.

  He wondered if the radiator had been replaced. When he was finished tonight, he was going to need something to drive out of here and taking Danny’s sister’s van back seemed like the thing to do.

  While he sat and got a feel for the situation, another car came down the road and pulled into the parking lot, near the others. He watched as three more guys exited the vehicle and headed into the motel.

  Clark began to realize, he had no clue as to how many people were inside the motel office. All he could see were the cars outside, but there was no telling how many had come in each car. He started adding it up, figuring the two brothers and the sheriff’s son and the three that had just arrived made six.

  With four other vehicles down there, he allowed for an average of two per vehicle, meaning he was looking at a small army of at least fourteen or fifteen people.

  He knew he only had eight arrows left in his quiver. He also only had ten rounds in the sheriff’s gun sitting snugly in the back waistband of his pants.

  Eighteen shots was all he had. He couldn’t afford to miss with more than one or two shots. He had his knife, but he didn’t want to get close enough to have to use it.

  Checking the surroundings, he started making his way to the east, wanting to get himself a spot directly across from the office. As best he could figure, everyone was in there. He smiled to himself when he realized just how crowded it must be in that little place.

  He began to feel like the best thing to do would be to wait until some of the guys down there left and went home. A dozen and a half armed guys would be asking a lot from his skills with the bow and gun.

  Oh, what am I going to do?

  19

  The night stretched into the very late, very dark hour just before midnight. The woodland critters were singing their nightly chorus and casting an eerie calm over the scene.

  Scanning the area, Clark saw a couple of wooden crates sitting on the porch. One side of the crates peeked out from behind a tarp and he could see a couple of symbols on the wood and what looked like the letters TAN before getting covered. The symbols were orange and black and he recognized them as those put on boxes of explosives.

  Tannerite? These fools have cases of Tannerite sitting on their porch? Well, alright then.

  He knew that Tannerite was highly explosive and was used in making exploding targets for target shooting. He remembered seeing a video on the internet, where some fool shot a tank of the stuff, sitting on a lawnmower and ended up almost losing his life when the blade flew at him and took his leg clean off.

  What he saw on the porch looked like enough to take down the entire motel.

  He began to realize how tired he was when he dozed for a few minutes, hidden behind the bushes. He was beginning to think this was a fool’s game he had set himself to play and thought seriously of waiting for a couple more hours and then getting out of there.

  The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to slug himself in the face for thinking such a thing.

  Ali deserves much better than me punking out.

  Just after his watch vibrated the midnight hour, one lone guy came out of the office and stood on the porch. He lit a cigarette and took a puff. Then, stepping down off the porch, he started walking toward the road. He had an AR-15 draped over his shoulder.

  Clark began to feel a bit of fear creeping up in his chest, wondering just where this guy was going. It was quite apparent he was walking directly at him and if he came up the hill, there would be no way he could miss him.

  "Jerry, where are you going?"

  Clark looked across the road to see Zeke standing on the porch.

  "I’m just stretching my legs, man," called Jerry. "I’ll be back in a few minutes."

  "Alright. Just keep your eyes open."

  Zeke turned and headed back inside and Jerry walked across the road and then stopped. He looked up the hill and then down the road in both directions.

  Walking a few yards off the road, it became clear he was looking for a place to take a leak. As Clark watched him, he started to think that rifle he was carrying would make a great addition to his own arsenal. With that weapon, he could afford a few more misses. It would certainly be more likely to set off the Tannerite than the pistol he had in his back waistband.

  He set his bow down quietly and laid the quiver down next to it. He reached behind and pulled the pistol out of his pants and laid it down with the bow. The only weapon he wanted to use was the knife and keep things as quiet as possible.

  Creeping as quietly as he could, he moved to the edge of the bushes that were providing his cover and looked down the hill. Jerry had come up the hill about ten yards and was standing behind a tree, relieving himself.

  Clark knew he couldn’t move that quickly, getting to where Jerry stood and remain silent at the same time. He crept down the hill about thirty yards, but that still left him about ten yards behind Jerry when the guy did his little shake and zipped up his pants.

  Clark moved behind a tree and stayed quiet. He wasn’t being hidden behind a bush, so there was a good chance if Jerry really looked, he would see him.

  Jerry didn’t look. He walked a few yards away from the tree and sat down on a rock. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with his lips. Lighting it up, he took a long drag on it and let the smoke fill his lungs.

  "What the fuck are we even doing out here?" he said quietly to himself.

  He took another drag on the cigarette, not even registering the movement behind him.

  Clark snuck up to within about ten feet behind the man and then realized why he wasn’t being discovered. Jerry had a set of earphones in his ears and was listening to some fairly loud music. Clark could even tell you what song was playing.

  You are one shitty soldier.

  Clark crept down until he was just a step behind Jerry, who still had no idea he was not alone. His first clue came when Clark’s hand snaked around in front of him and clamped down over his mouth.

  With a quick slice of the hunting knife, Clark cut Jerry’s throat, giving him no chance to sound any kind of alarm. He held his hand over the man’s mouth until he felt the life struggle come to an end.

  Then, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, he dragged the dead body off the rock and a few yards to a clump of bushes. After stuffing the body in behind the brush, he quickly went through his pockets and came up with two magazines for the rifle and a 9mm pistol. He moved back to the rock and picked up Jerry’s rifle and then crabbed his way back to the bushes where he’d left his other weapons.

  He started to get an inkling of an attack plan and began putting it into motion. Checking the newly acquired pistol, he saw he had twelve rounds available. He pushed the pistol into the bushes, making sure it was wedged in and wouldn’t fall out. He laid the AR-15 across a couple of smaller branches and set the magazines in the bush.

  He pulled a piece of the white cloth from his pocket. He looked at it and held up to his face. Ali had been wearing that piece of cloth just a day before. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, catching a very faint scent of her perfume.

  After he allowed himself to remember why he was doing this, he tore a strip of cloth and tied it to the bush, leaving himself a flag to know where the weapons were.

  Grabbing his bow, quiver and gun, he started moving back to the west and found another place, where he left the bow and arrows. He tied off another flag and then moved again.

  Finding one more place, that w
as across from the garage, he placed the sheriff’s pistol and flagged it. He marked the place in his mind, knowing his life would depend on knowing where each of the guns were hidden.

  He moved back across the hillside, staying as far away from the road as he could, until he found himself near the first bush, where he had stashed the rifle.

  He started checking his sight lines. He had a clear view of the porch to the office and had a highly angled view in one of the side windows. He could see some movement behind the curtains, but still couldn’t ascertain the exact number of guys inside.

  He knew it was one less than there were about ten minutes ago.

  As he continued checking the surroundings, he heard the door of the office open and a couple of guys stepped out. One was Zeke, but he didn’t recognize the other one.

  "Where the hell did that boy get off to?" said the new guy.

  "I don’t know," said Zeke. "Said he was gonna stretch his legs."

  They walked out to the road and looked both ways. Another guy came out of the office and Zeke looked at him.

  "Go check Bill’s car. See if his boy has curled up in the back seat and gone to sleep."

  The guy walked down off the porch and headed to the cars, checking inside of each one of them.

  "He ain’t in any of the cars and trucks," he called out.

  "That boy better get his ass back here or there’s gonna be hell to pay," said Bill.

  He and Zeke began moving back toward the office and the other guy began walking toward the garage. He was carrying his rifle, slung loosely over his shoulder and heading straight for the van.

  Clark watched at the other two went back inside and then he started moving quickly across the hillside, heading back to the spot near the garage.

  The guy got to the van and pulled the doors open and looked inside. Probably as good a place as any to take a nap. He closed the door and walked around the other side and pulled open the sliding door on the passenger side.

  He leaned in and looked around. Not seeing anyone, he pulled back out of the van and reached for the door handle to pull it close. He found it nearly impossible to do when an arrow sliced through his head, just above the ears. He fell forward, half in and half out of the van.

  Clark moved down off the hill as quickly as he could, keeping an eye on the office and ran up to the side of the van. He grabbed the guy’s legs and heaved him into the van.

  He pulled the guy’s rifle off his shoulder and checked for extra magazines. Not finding any, he quickly checked the magazines in the rifle and saw it was completely full.

  As he finished stuffing the guy’s legs into the van, he saw the blood building on the floor. He saw the arrow and knew there was no way he was going to be able to retrieve it, because it had gone completely through the guy’s head.

  I hope Danny’s sister doesn’t get too upset about the blood.

  He quietly pulled the door of the van closed and pushed until he heard the latch click. Turning around, he slipped around the corner of the garage and hoofed it around the back side of the building.

  When he got to the other side, he found himself near a four foot high wall at the end of the walkway in front of the motel rooms. Looking over the wall, he saw the blood stain where Danny had killed the sheriff’s son. Smiling to himself, he set the rifle against an old sawhorse next to the sidewall of the garage. He moved a couple of pieces of wood and covered the rifle.

  Then, he turned and ran as fast as he could back to the road, barely stopping to check and see if anyone was around. He was still a ghost to them and still planning on turning each one of them into ghosts.

  20

  "Jerry! Dammit, where are you, boy?"

  Clark looked through the brush and could see Bill standing outside the front door of the office, looking around.

  Zeke stepped out of the office and stood next to him.

  "Something ain’t right," said Bill. "He wouldn’t just run off like this."

  Zeke stood there, looking toward the parking lot.

  "Did Marty ever come back in? He went to check and see if Jerry was in your car."

  "No, I don’t believe he did."

  Zeke and Jerry walked down off the porch and headed toward the parked cars. They checked each car, looking in back seats and truck beds and found nothing. They met in the middle and couldn’t figure out where those two had gotten off to.

  "I swear, if I find out those boys turned yella and headed home, I’m gonna light into them something fierce," said Bill.

  "I don’t think that’s it," said Zeke.

  He started heading back toward the office, looking around as he went. Bill followed him, turning around every few steps and looking west, down the road.

  When they reached the porch, Zeke stuck his head in the door and yelled, "Hey, ya’ll come out here!"

  Clark started counting and by the time it appeared everyone was out of the office, there were eleven men standing in front. Everyone of them had a rifle or pistol, some of them had both.

  Clark figured now was as good a time as any to get the party started. He lifted the AR-15 to his shoulder and sighted in on the wooden crates sitting under the tarp.

  Just like daddy showed me.

  A light squeeze of the trigger and the crates exploded with the fire of Hell. The closest guys to the explosion were torn to pieces by shrapnel, taking down four of them immediately. The blast knocked everyone down and it was clear none of them knew what had hit them.

  Clark stayed behind the bushes, but began shooting at each man that tried to stand up. In less than twenty seconds, he had cut their numbers by more than half, leaving just five.

  He tried to get off a shot at Zeke or Ricky, but they moved faster than any person he’d ever seen run. They dove in behind a couple of the vehicles, along with Bill and a couple of other guys he didn’t recognize.

  He used the confusion below to move along the hillside. He worried the fire would give off enough light for them to see him as he moved, but they were too busy cowering behind the cars and trucks.

  When he slid in behind the next bush, where he had hidden his bow and arrows, he was able to see the front of the motel off to his right. The entire front of the motel was in flames and being as it was an old building, it was not going to stop burning until the whole place fell into a pile of ash.

  He started kicking himself mentally when he realized, he could have shot the Tannerite when they were all inside the building and just picked them off one by one as they tried to escape the flames.

  "Did anyone see where the shots came from?" yelled Zeke.

  He didn’t hear any answers and yelled again, "Come on you assholes, someone had to have seen where they are."

  "I don’t think we were to interested in looking around at the time, Zeke," called out Ricky.

  Clark stayed motionless behind the bushes and just watched. He wanted to see if the five of them would come out if they thought he was gone. Then he smiled to himself realizing they didn’t know how many attackers there were. Hearing what Zeke had said made that plain.

  They probably think it’s all four of us raining down judgment on them. No assholes, it’s just me.

  He checked his stash of arrows and knew he only had seven left, but that was going to be more than enough to finish the job. He pushed the AR-15 into the bushes and picked up the bow. He knew where the other guns were if he needed them, but he wanted to get back to the bow. It was his weapon of choice. There’s just something visceral about seeing your buddy falling face down into the dirt with an arrow stuck through his head.

  The fire in the motel office was raging now and there was going to be no saving the building now. The problem was, it was really lighting up the side of the hill now. He knew if he even moved an inch away from the bushes, they’d be able to see him easily.

  The fire was beginning to be such a problem, that he began to worry the fire department might show up, but hoped they were far enough away from any other people no one would n
otice and call it in.

  He kept watching the vehicles below and didn’t see any movement. He knew they were all still hiding between them and if he stayed quiet long enough, maybe they would start to feel it was safe to come out and gather their forces. He needed to give them that chance to feel safe.

  Then he would show them just how wrong they had been to target him and his friends. He knew in the back of his mind that they weren’t the first to be attacked and killed by these men. They were just the first to actually get away.

  He saw a small bit of movement near the front of the Morgan’s truck. Ricky was peeking around the front bumper and looking up the hill. He was looking toward where Clark had been initially.

  Not there anymore, jerk off.

  "I don’t see them, Zeke."

  "Well, they had to be up there," Zeke called out. "That’s the only place they could have got a shot at the porch."

  Ricky lifted his rifle and sprayed the side of the hill with a complete magazine. Then he pulled another out of his pocket and reloaded.

  "Don’t shoot up all your ammo," yelled Zeke.

  Ricky looked up the hill and then slowly stood up from behind the truck.

  "I don’t think they’re up there anymore."

  "Okay, genius," yelled Bill, "just exactly where are they, if they aren’t up there?"

  Ricky looked all along the hillside, trying to see if he could spot anything that looked out of place. With all the light from the fire, he was sure he could spot the ones shooting at them.

  After about thirty seconds, he called out, "I’m telling you, I don’t think they’re up there anymore."

  Slowly, the other four began moving out from the vehicles and gathering near the front of them.

  If I had a grenade, I could take out all five of you idiots, standing together in a group like that.

  Clark looked down at the rifle and considered using it on full Auto. If he got lucky, he’d hit all five before they had a chance to react. He put that thought out of his head though. One or two misses and they would be able to pinpoint his exact location.