Rebuilt: A Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Novel (Jake Dani / Mike Shapeck)

by Victory Crayne

  The bushes were thick as we made our way toward the base. Several times we had to detour around a tangled mess of bushes. Rocks were everywhere. To me, every inch that was not covered with a rock grew weeds. Or bushes. Guess that was from Mother Nature.

  When we got to within a half-mile of the base, we settled in behind a bush. We both got binocs from our backpacks and studied the terrain of the base.

  I took several photos of the base. It seemed crowded down there. One area of interest looked like it was under construction with lots of wooden structures.

  Surrounding the base was a fence with guard towers every tenth of a mile. In my scan of the guard towers, I saw arms pointing our way.

  “We’ve been spotted. Tower from dead ahead.”

  Damn.

  Sure enough, a green troop truck, loaded with soldiers carrying rifles, soon drove down one road and out a gate.

  Right toward us.

  We retreated from our position and walked south. There was no way I was going to lead them back to my car. Besides, we were better off walking overland. Trucks couldn’t follow us there. This far out in the boonies I couldn’t get a signal on my comm. Neither could Gancha. I really missed having a comm connection with our van but it couldn’t be helped. We were on our own.

  The sky was dark with rain clouds. The weather report said there was a fifty percent chance of rain in Fairport. That was good if the truck carried any dogs. Rain would wash away our scents. The dry part of the fifty percent was not so good.

  Making headway over the rocks and up and down hills slowed us.

  As the dark clouds passed overhead, I sniffed the air.

  “We need to find a place to get out of the rain.”

  Gancha replied, “This far up we won’t find many trees.”

  She was right. As I looked around, the best places seemed to be behind bushes. So I went to the nearest. I removed my backpack and saw her do the same. I pulled out a thin plastic tarp colored in camouflage and spread it out. We nestled together beneath the tarp. There she pulled out a sleeping bag and spread it out under the cover.

  Being under a tent like this and close to the focus of my sexual desires led to touching. As in lots of.

  Soon, drops of water tapped on the surface of our tarp but we didn’t mind. Couldn’t, as a matter of fact. We were busy with each other.

  The next morning, we lay in our combined sleeping bag when I woke to the smell of an animal.

  Instantly awake, I unzipped the top of the sleeping bag and sat up. A greeper stood maybe two dozen feet away.

  #

  Where the hell did I put my gun?

  Then I realized the sound of a gunshot would alert any pursuers to our position.

  Gancha sat up beside me and stared at the greeper.

  The animal sniffed the air with its snout. The wind blew in our direction.

  I felt movement by my side and soon saw Gancha, in her underwear, stand outside the sleeping bag. In her hand was her Snap, pointed right at the light brown furry greeper.

  Steam from our breaths rushed from our mouths.

  “Any gunshot,” I said, “would be heard by those soldiers.”

  She looked my way.

  I pulled out my long knife from my backpack.

  “Knives.”

  The cool air was chilly and I shivered.

  Gancha leaned over the sleeping bag and pulled out her knife in her left hand. She still had the Snap in her right.

  “In case that bastard wants a piece of us, I can shoot him,” she said. “We’ll deal with the soldiers later. After we survive that animal.”

  She had a point. Our first problem was the greeper in front of us.

  The animal stared at us. I could sense the neurons in its small brain evaluating the risk of getting hurt versus the hunger in its stomach.

  Then luck appeared. The greeper turned away and hobbled off on its six legs.

  Gancha looked at me and sighed.

  I had to admit she looked nice in her bra and panties. But the cool air won out. We both grabbed our other clothes and shivered while putting them on.

  We broke camp and I looked up at the sky. Gordon peeked from behind clouds. Wasn’t hard to spot since it was the brightest thing in the sky. South was to my right and we headed in that direction. North was the base.

  Four hours of walking later, we stopped. Mountains rose to my right. I studied the ridges of the ground.

  “We’d be better off going over those mountains.”

  The love of my life stopped two feet behind me. Her breath showed as an intermittent fog.

  “I’m game if you are,” she said.

  I almost replied when I heard a sound. The chop-chop-chop of a helo. Fearing it might be from the base, I scanned for cover and raced to hide behind a bush. Gancha followed my lead and soon crouched behind another one to my left.

  The helo appeared a half mile away and turned toward us.

  I ducked and drew my handgun. It was not very accurate at this distance, but it might help. I glanced to my left side and saw Gancha with her Snap also drawn.

  The helo passed to my right. Inside I could see the dark barrel of a machine gun in front of a man. Our Snaps would be no match. Behind the gunner, silhouetted against the light from Gordon, I spotted several heads in helmets.

  In seconds, the helo passed out of sight behind the mountain.

  I stood and raced in the opposite direction to a ravine, a narrow valley of grassland and bushes. Once I arrived there, I got behind a bush and Gancha soon followed me.

  Chapter 57

  But the helo did not return. In the quiet mountain air, I listened as its chop-chop-chop got fainter.

  I pulled my backpack off and unzipped the top. Soon I saw a trail bar. I tore open the plastic wrapper and took a bite. A tap on my shoulder alerted me to the bottle of water held in Gancha’s hand.

  We snacked on trail bars and water. Tasted good in the cool mountain air.

  Going uphill was hard. I used my binocs to scan the terrain ahead and spotted a tupor.

  The low-to-the-ground six-legged animals habited only the mountainous regions and were most like mountain goats on Earth. Knowing they most often traveled in groups, I scanned to the right of the tupor and spotted three others. Two of them were small and I decided they might be youngins.

  The tupors were no threat to us since they ate vegetation. As I watched the lead tupor and figured it was a male, he stopped at a bush and dined on the leaves. A few seconds later, he was joined by the mother and children, who finished off the rest of the bush.

  I had read somewhere that the tupors were a dying breed wherever mountain goats from Earth were imported. The longer legs of the four-legged variety were more agile and got to the limited vegetation faster.

  Survival of the fittest again.

  I wondered what it felt like to go hungry when the food supply ran out. Maybe that was part of the reason why tupors went north, away from the mountain goats.

  Once I slipped on the gravel and rolled down. When I came to a rest, there rested two small gofers not ten feet away. They both looked at me with their mouths and eyes wide open.

  Crap.

  The closest animal on Earth was the mountain cat, but this pair sported six legs and wore white fur. They raised their noses and let out a high-pitched scream. I figured they were less than a year old.

  I used all hands and feet to back away as fast as I could. Not easy on the loose gravel. Knowing I could make better time, I turned and struggled up the hill on foot. Then a chill went through me as I heard the loud roar of a larger gofer. Momma must have heard the cries of its litter.

  From my right, I spotted the large gofer running toward me.

  Shit!

  It didn’t get far when I heard another sound, a gunshot. The gofer coming at me put its large front paws in the gravel and skidded to a stop.

  I grabbed my Snap from its side pocket and raised it in front of me. I fired twice but my shots drew no blood
and did no harm to the animal. There I stood not forty feet from it. I should have been able to hit it. Maybe I was too scared.

  Another shot rang out to my right and I saw the ground puff up in front of the gofer.

  The huge six-legged cat-like animal looked to its left.

  Discretion won out as the gofer turned and lumbered off toward to its babies.

  Now separated by a distance of fifty feet from the three animals, I had time to look to my right. There stood Gancha with her rifle.

  At this distance, I figured my Snap were close to useless. I looked at my partner and motioned with my head that we were to continue on our way.

  But she didn’t budge and yelled, “I’ll cover you. Just in case.”

  I returned to walking up the side of the mountain. Twasn’t easy on the dirt and stones. When I got to a safer distance from the gofers, I pointed my Snap at them. Momma licked both cubs as if to say, “Momma’s here. You’re safe now.”

  I yelled to my partner, “You can come up now.”

  She lowered her rifle and climbed in my direction, with frequent glances in the direction of the big cats.

  When she joined me, we walked up the mountain and down the other side. At least the temperature got nicer as we descended. The major problem was food. We had run out of snack bars and water. We kept walking, of course. It’s either that or curl up and die.

  Whenever I paused and looked at Gancha, I could see her cracked lips. She was as dry as I felt. We both walked slower.

  On the third day of walking from my car, I used my binocs and spotted Satchell Prison four miles to the west.

  I tried to use my comm but didn't get a signal.

  My feet ached and I wondered if Gancha felt the pains and fatigue of walking so long.

  I headed directly for the prison.

  We didn’t get even close to its tall fence when we met a truck coming toward us. On top were with four guys with rifles. When they got to a spot between us and the fence, three of them kept their guns aimed at us while the fourth guy spoke into a loudspeaker.

  “You are approaching a federal prison and are on federal grounds. If you have any weapons, toss them to the ground while you approach with your hands behind your head.”

  I turned to my partner. She hung her mouth open and from the droop of her eyelids, I figured she was as tired as I was.

  Time to give up. Maybe they had food and water.

  Chapter 58

  I acted delirious when one fed came up to us.

  He stopped eight feet away and said, “I see guns.”

  I dropped my jaw and uttered, “Unh?”

  I tried to look tired and hungry. Wasn’t hard because I was.

  Gancha followed my cue and stared at the guards.

  The man raised his rifle and aimed at my head.

  “Toss your guns to your right and put your hands behind your heads.”

  I moved my head to my left to see Gancha and nodded. I put my hands on the back of my head.

  The armed man walked to my right side and came closer.

  “Don’t try anything funny or my partners will shoot you on the spot.”

  He patted us both down and removed our Snaps and knives but forgot to check our ankles.

  Must not be used to visitors out here. Especially armed ones.

  We sat in the back of the truck on its floorboards while three men with rifles watched us.

  I bowed my head.

  “Got any water?”

  One of the men covering us handed me a 32-ounce bottle of water. I drank all of it and when it was empty, tossed it on the floor.

  I noticed Gancha had a water bottle too and drank from it.

  The ride was bumpy as we passed through a gate in the fence and saw a sign of “Satchell Prison”. Our truck stopped at the admin building. Once inside, we were interviewed in separate rooms.

  At one time, a guard came into my room, went up to me, and removed my ankle Snap. Someone must have seen Gancha’s.

  Thank heavens I had not mentioned it.

  Our story of being lost after hiking must have held up because we were both fed and watered.

  I saw one man use his comm and figured there must be a signal here. So I tagged Vincent.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “At Satchell Prison.”

  “What? That’s miles south of where you’re supposed to be.”

  “I knew we walked quite a distance,” I replied. “We ran out of food and water and our feet hurt.”

  “Did you get it?” Vincent asked.

  “Yep.”

  He added, “I asked Curling and he sent a helo to look for you.”

  “I saw one but we figured it might be from the base and hid. Sorry ‘bout that.”

  “At least you’re safe,” he said. “Any wounds?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you free to leave the prison?”

  “Oh yeah.” I added “ABC” as our code word for not being under duress.

  “How soon can you get back home?” Vincent said. “We need those camera shots.”

  “Dunno. Tomorrow maybe.”

  With full bellies and plenty of water, we were escorted to cells with open doors.

  The next morning over breakfast and surrounded by men in uniforms, I asked a guard with a name badge that said ‘Emerson’, “How are we going to get to my car?”

  “A guy, who called himself Vincent, said he was sending a van to pick you up. Apparently you were missed at the office. I have no idea how he plans to pick up your car.”

  We were escorted back to our cells. Gancha’s was next to mine and she came over.

  I whispered in her ear, “Gun?”

  She shook her head.

  I tried to tag Vincent from within my cell but didn’t get a signal. I stepped into the hallway and had better luck.

  “Did you say you were sending a van to pick us up?”

  “That’s right,” he replied. “I figured you’d want to be in Zor soon.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  After closing the tag, I returned to my cell for a nap. Walking in the fresh air had taken more out of me than I had suspected.

  We ate lunch with the guards.

  The BIS van with Vin in it arrived that afternoon. He tagged me while I was in the hallway in the administration building.

  “I’m outside the main gate. Don’t want to enter because they’ll want to search the van.”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  I disconnected and told Emerson, who seemed to be in charge of us, “Our ride has arrived at the main gate. Can you bring our guns?”

  He smiled. “You both wore holsters for your guns. Care to explain why you were carrying?”

  Uh oh.

  “We both work for the same government. I can’t tell you anymore.” I showed him my fake YFP badge.

  He added, “Ah, I see.”

  He left the room and I leaned over to say in Gancha’s ear, “Vince parked the van outside the main gate. Can you be ready to leave soon?”

  She nodded. “Let’s get our backpacks.”

  We returned to our cells to get our gear and then headed toward the mess hall of the admin building.

  Emerson appeared in the hallway and said, “I sent your guns to the guards at the gate. We can’t have you armed here.”

  He extended his hand.

  “This is as far as I can go. Good luck.”

  Gancha and I shook hands with him and the guys who picked us up.

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Gancha and I got into a sedan outside the building. I noticed it was gray and had the words “Satchell Prison” on its side front door. A guy in a prison guard uniform sat behind the wheel.

  We sat in the back and Emerson took the front passenger seat. It took less than a minute to get to the main gate, and we got out with our backpacks. After picking up our guns, we walked through the gate as it slid aside.

  Vincent Stone leaned against the passenger door of our BIS
van.

  “A sight for sore eyes,” I said as I approached.

  “Hey, I thought that was reserved for me,” added Gancha.

  With smiles all around, I added, “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 59

  Vin and I took turns driving while Gancha and I filled him in on what had happened since we saw him last. Dark clouds covered most of the sky as if they would drop their load of rain as soon as they met the western slopes of the Orca Mountains. I hoped Andy and Zee brought umbrellas.

  On the long trip west, whenever Vin drove I had time to study the landscape. At one point, I spotted movement. A large dark animal moved in the other direction, followed by three smaller dark animals. A family of greepers. This far out in the open country, far from the security of the fences, I felt exposed.

  Our road crossed a bridge over the Seintz River and the road kept the Seintz to our right when it merged with and became the Oreo River. We arrived in Zor on University Avenue before it became the paved two-lane road to Fairport.

  When we arrived at the ops center, Vincent said, “Welcome home! Andy and Zetto took Andy’s car to east of Fairport. Zetto will drive your car.”

  It was good to have team members who think for themselves.

  I asked, “Anything happen yet?”

  He shook his head.

  “Everything’s quiet. Too damned quiet.”

  “The calm before the storm,” I added.

  #

  I woke and ate breakfast in the ops center.

  One of the first things I did was turn on the telly to catch the news. The big story of the day was the attack on Telmot City Hall.

  Lieutenant Moore of the Telmot city police said he led the attack that rescued the hostages.

  “I expect to see his name as mayor of Telmot in a couple years.”

  That reminded me of the need to contact Stat and find the real story. I raised my comm.

  “Stater Gong.”

  A sleepy Stat replied, “Yeah, what it is?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I needed to get up anyways.”

  From Stat I learned the details of the rescue and how Sam and Randy came to be BIS agents. I also learned that Stat was recognized as the station chief in Telmot and how Beach Omar was recovering from her ordeal in the hospital.

  I was pleased to learn that Beach accepted Stat’s leadership and that the training center was started.