The Road to Round Mountain II - The Alliance: By C.G Roberts

by C. G. Roberts

  Vargas finally caught up to us as The Sheriff and I finished our hug a thon. Vargas took one look at the sizable Sheriff an d stopped dead in his tracks. The Captain was to Vargas’s left and said, “Glad you boys are all right we”….. That startled Vargas as he started to raise his arms to the Captain. “Easy Vargas”, I said in a hopefully calming manner.

  “Sorry Sh eriff, we’re a bit jumpy after last night”, I said. “I could imagine and I’ll need you two to tell us everything that happened and how you ended up here. This jittery fellow to my left is Captain Ackers of Lincoln City; he’s here to help plus whatever you can remember about what happened at the Burger King”, as he pulled out the photo of the group of them standing in the parking lot with the one guy who was executed.

  The Sheriff handed the photo to Billy who took a quick look at it before

  handing it to Vargas. “This is the guy that had to of placed the tracking device on

  our car, before he got wasted”, Vargas offered matter of fact. “Bottom line here guys, is that there is a bounty on Billy’s head to the tune of five million which is why activity to find him is ramping up and why we are here to help”, The Sheriff

  added.

  Five Million good God that explains why there were so many others watching the other guys who went after us at the cabin. I took a quick look around our surroundings hoping that there was no one else ready to attack. “I do say you boys look like death warmed over. How about we get to the Patrol car and I’ll get

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  some water and first aid out of the trunk, then we’ll see about getting a bite to

  eat and see about a hotel for the n ight”, the Sheriff said with that big smile of his.

  “You don’t need to worry about a hotel, we’ve got another safe house in Klamath Falls”, Vargas offered. Bill edged a little closer to Vargas and added, “Is this one any safer than the other”? Va rgas started to give the captain a dirty look, but instead wrinkled his nose, “What’s that smell”. The Sheriff let out a laugh and said, “Mother Nature”.

  We had taken only a few paces making our way back to the Sheriff’s car when

  I heard what sounded like a Helicopter. The Captain and the Sheriff heard it also and it was getting closer. Walt looked over at Bill, “Don’t look at me Walt; it’s not

  one of mine”. We made a dash for the car.

  Being tracked on your every movement is quickly becoming tiresome, annoying and can make one a tad vengeful. Vargas had been on the run for a lot longer than I have, yet I would give almost anything for it to be over. The peace and serenity of waking up, without having to dodge bullets, darts, or whatever else they toss at me would feel great. A long uninterrupted night’s sleep is on the docket; unfortunately there currently is no date associated with that. Frustration in overdrive, exhaustion that I never knew existed and the realization that a

  ca reer in government work was now out of the question. That was fine by me since from what I’ve seen so far, you can only trust the government as far as you could throw them; especially the ones who used to work for the government and

  now have fatal extracurricular activities. Bottom line is that I’m feeling whooped.

  The Helicopter was circling as we loaded into the Sheriff’s vehicle. The Sheriff wasted no time as he hit the gas as a plume of gravel and dust erupted behind us. The Captain reminded the Sheriff that no matter how fast he could go; the helicopter could go much faster. Our only hope was that the helicopter didn’t notice our rocket like return to the highway. I was wrong as I watched from the

  rear passenger window that the Helicopter was no longer circling and maintaining

  a pace to keep an eye on us.

  I was feeling not only uncomfortable about the prospect of being blindsided by another vehicle, but angry as well, as I am tired of being hunted only to end up being prodded and probed until they finish whatever they do and sell me to the highest bidder. Tired and angry is not a good combination for me, but I didn’t start this and for the sake of me being able to see Jenny again, I have to remember to control my anger and not to let it control me.

  Between Vargas and myself, I figure that we wouldn’t have any trouble with

  the Helicopter, but no plan came to mind.

  I turned to Vargas and said, “I’m going to give it a shot but not sure what’s going to happen”, in reference to seeing if I can bring down the Helicopter. “Go for it chief”, then he leaned forward to ask the Sheriff, “Slow down some, Billy’s going to try something”. “Try what”, the captain chimed in from the passenger seat? “I think he wants a clear shot at the helicopter Bill, duh”! The Captain replied,

  “Can’t I see if I can s hoot it from here”? “You’re not sticking than gun in front of my face while I’m driving Bill, and you need to change your pants, it’s starting to

  smell like a litter box in here”.

  The sarcasm subsided as I started to focus on the helicopter. I was bringing both my arms down as if I’m throwing something straight down on the ground. I looked up and saw the helicopter wobble for a few seconds. Nothing, it was too far away; I turned to Vargas, “You think you can bring it closer to us and then I

  thi nk I can bring it down”? Vargas was ready for the task, “I believe that I can, but whatever we’re going to do, it better be quick, before they call in for more backup”.

  Vargas got closer to me to get a clear look at the Helicopter. The focus on his face was extreme, almost as if he was in another world. I could see his eyes but they didn’t waver nor did he blink. I turned to see his work in progress and at first it didn’t appear that anything was happening, but then I could see it getting

  closer, slow at first, and then faster. The Helicopter wobbled some as it came

  closer.

  It was now close enough that I could see the pilot struggling with the controls

  as the wobble continued. The Sheriff slowed down to barely ten miles an hour,

  which was keeping perfect pace with our enemy. Vargas’s face was getting red, so I put all my focus on the hovering beast. I could feel the energy building in my

  head. When it felt like I couldn’t hold it any longer, I performed the same motion

  with my arms as I did earlier.

  The Helicopter jetted back and forth like a marionette. It started to spin and suddenly rocketed to the ground as if shot out of a cannon. The Sheriff caught a glimpse of this and as soon as he saw it going down, he stepped on the gas. The explosion sent a heat wave searing through the car. The car cooled just as quickly as it heated up. We could see a plume of fire and smoke, and were pretty sure that finding any survivors would be remote at best as it slammed into the ground with authority.

  A bit of residual smoke finally dissipated from the Sheriff’s patrol car as we got far enough away from the wreckage. A second explosion followed which was even louder and more powerful than the first. The Sheriff’s car actual ly bounced on the highway a bit as the ground trembled with the after math of the more potent explosion. Everyone seemed to be okay with the exception of Vargas. He had his head cupped in his hands for a few moments before looking up with a dazed look and a trickle of blood coming from his nose.

  I was tired as well not to mention a little lightheaded. The smell of the

  Captain’s pee drenched pants along with the rush of heat from the explosion

  seemed to act as kind of smelling salts in a way. The smell was horrid but kept us

  alert.

  We had been hitting about eighty miles an hour for a while now when the Sheriff exclaimed as he slowed down to a crawl again, “Damn, Damn, Damn”, he repeated as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his phone. “That NSA guy downloaded an App on my phone that will detect any tracking devices and I’ll be damned I f I forgot all about it”. The Sheriff pul
led the car over to the narrow shoulder and stopped the car. Vargas and I got out immediately getting some

  fresh air.

  The Sheriff was punching in buttons on his phone as I pulled out a smoke and lit

  up. The smell was great, well at least compared to Bill the walking litter box, it was heaven. Vargas took a few deep breaths and seemed to regain most of his

  faculties, but still looked a bit drained. I was starting to get my energy back as

  well. I did learn one thing from watching Vargas; the total concentration he put into bringing that helicopter closer helped me as I tried to do the same thing. I

  could feel it in my head, like when you drive up a mountain and feel you ears plug up, that’s what my head felt like until it felt like it was full, then let it go. It seemed to expand the power when you let it build up like that. It was kind of a

  rush.

  That cigarette didn’t stand a chance as I quick puffed that thing in just under

  two minutes. The Sheriff and the Captain got out of the car and were walking

  around to the back of the vehicle. “Crap”, the Sheriff shouted. He got down on

  one knee, then on his stomach as he reached under the car. We heard a quick

  grunt as he slowly made his way back to his feet holding a small black box with a

  blinking red light on it.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m tired to death of these folks”, The

  Sheriff added. The day’s activities were starting to take their toll on the Sheriff and the Captain. Considering they had driven most of the night and finding us earlier, they both looked like they were ready to rack out. The Sheriff had set the tracking device off the side of the road behind some rocks. Bill took out his weapon and started to take aim. The Sheriff grabbed Bill’s arm, “Don’t Bill, if it stops blinking, they send more after us. If we leave it alone, it will just look like

  we haven’t moved for a while, and can buy us some time; speaking of which put

  that damn thing away and let’s get out of here”.

  My cigarette was already snuffed out and Vargas and I piled into the back seat

  once more.

  Southbound on Highway 97 once again as we traveled well above the speed limit. The Sheriff was trying to get as much distance between us and the inferno caused by the helicopter crash. I was starting to relax when I looked over at Vargas who was busy gazing out the window when I noticed that the sizable bump on the back of his head looked larger than before. “You okay”, I asked? Vargas looked over at me and I pointed to the back of his head. He put his hand back there rubbing around the tennis ball size bump. “I’ve had worse, but not for a while”, he winced in pain as he replied.

  We came upon the town of La P ine and The Sheriff turned left into the Shell station for a fill up and so that The Captain can pull out a spare pair of pants from his go bag and change in the restroom; we all agreed that this was a good idea.

  Vargas noticed the Subway shop across the parking lot and started to get out. “Whoa son, where you headed off to”, the Sheriff protested. “To grab a sandwich, I’m starving”, he replied. “No, you guys stay by the car, or go around

  the corner of the building if you want, but you two look like you just survived the

  Holocaust, so you just tell me what you want and I’ll bring it back”.

  Vargas and I shrugged in agreement as I pulled out a couple of twenties and handed it over to the Sheriff, “My treat”. The Sheriff smiled and responded, “I’ll be damned, and I just now noticed your hair Billy. How did you get it back to its normal color”? I just smiled and replied, “Some great detective work there

  Sheriff”. The Sheriff and I had a quick laugh as Vargas and I placed our order with him and hung out behind the shell station as the captain was topping off the tank.

  I lit up another smoke and Vargas asked, “I could use one of those, if you’ve got

  enough”. I obliged his request and noticed he still looked somewhat dazed, not

  the normal hateful look in his eyes that we all came to know.

  The sky was clear and it was heating up quickly as the digital temperature display at the bank across the street read eighty four and it was only eleven thirty in the morning. It rarely got that hot in Astoria as the ocean breeze kept a handle

  on the heat. We were back on the road again. We had a full tank of gas, full stomachs and for desert, the Captain ditched his pee pants at the gas station in favor of a dry pair; we were pleased at his choice. Heading south on highway 97 started quietly enough, but quickly escalated into a full blown argument as to where we were heading.

  “Why the hell don’t we stay at my other escape house”, Vargas argued? “Well, for one, they found the first one, and what makes you think that there aren’t more snipers, kidnappers, or whatever you want to call them already waiting at your other one”, The Sheriff snapped back? “We need to find some dump of a hotel in the middle of nowhere so we can sleep in shifts so we always have at least two of us on sniper watch”, The Captain chimed in.

  This back and forth banter lasted almost forty minutes before I had to put in my two cents worth, “So, why is it so important that you get to the other escapehouse”, I inquired? Vergas looked at the Sheriff, then the Captain, and finally at me, “I need my heart medication. I have to take it daily and since last night’s events, my medicine is currently unattainable, but I have more there. So is there a chance that we can at least stop by there so I can pick up my meds”?

  The Sheriff suddenly feeling like a heartless bastard (no pun intended) replied,

  “Why didn’t you just mention that in the first place”? Vargas slowly looked up

  towards the rearview mirror and seeing the sheriff’s eyes and countered, “It’s embarrassing, that’s why. I’m twenty eight and have to take that stuff just so that I can live to see another day”. With that comment, Vargas peered out the window trying to ignore the existence of al l others in the car.

  “We can do that, just give us a heads up when we’re close”, The Captain

  offered. Vargas sat in silence.

  We had a good hour and a half before we showed up in Klamath Falls. A rest

  stop in Deschutes National Forest seemed unlikely in such a rural area but the

  Sheriff found one and just in time as the effects of killing off three Dr. Peppers from a twelve pack courtesy of the Sheriff from our previous stop. The Sheriff and The Captain had purchased some type of Arnold P almer Tea, and were in need of a stop as bad as I was. Vargas seemed in another world as he continually gazed out the window. I could see from this angle that the lump on the back of his head had gotten even larger, if that was possible. Perhaps the kno ck on his noggin took some of the piss and vinegar out of him, as my Dad would say.

  I was leaning against the patrol car enjoying one of Marlboro’s finest when I noticed a boy and his dad coming out of the restroom and heading for an older Winnebago parked down a few spots from us. I could see his mom waving to them from the passenger window. The scene reminded me of when my parents and I went on vacation one year in my Dad’s pickup truck with the camper in the

  bed. I suddenly realized how much I missed them and that I hoped that the young

  boy would be able to enjoy his time with his parents. I did love and enjoy my parents, but as most teenagers do, I took them for granted. I took their guidance and rearing as annoying as the day is long, but I realize that, what they were trying to get into my thick skull was for my own good. I wish now that I would have been more appreciative.

  Waiting for the Sheriff and Captain to get done in the restroom seemed to take forever. Vargas finally got out of the car and joined me in a smoke. “Think we should send out a search party for them”, Vargas giggled? Wandering what was taking so long was not making for a happy bladder as Vargas continued, “My Grandpa used to take a good ten minutes to take a leak, come back into the room, and then back into the bathroom twenty minutes late
r. I guess the pipes get plugged up when you get to be their age”.

  That was a visual I could have done without. We agreed to take turns on any stops that we made to make sure that we’re not being followed. The Sheriff and the Captain emerged from the restroom, apparently unscathed, as Vargas and I

  made a mad dash for the restroom. I heard what sounded like a gunshot and turned to look, but it was just the Winnebago blasting back to life, as the family was leaving the rest area.

  The smell inside was less than pleasant to say the least and I’m sure the Sheriff

  and the Captain weren’t the main culprits but I’m also sure they did contribute in

  some manner. The smell subsided quickly as my concentration laid solely of getting rid of those Dr. Peppers. I was washing up when I felt a small rumble under my feet, then another rumble, followed by a third and massive rumble that

  shook the walls of the restroom. Vargas threw the stall door open and hopped

  out as he tried to pull his pants back up.

  Cinder block dust was falling everywhere and two of the three sin ks pipes busted with water gushing on the floor. The shaking ground continued to gain strength as Vargas and I tried to run back to the car before the restroom had a chance to collapse on us. I’ve heard of earthquakes, I’ve seen results of them on

  the news, but this felt like a big one and I wished that I could be anywhere else but here. The Sheriff and the Captain were bracing themselves on the patrol car which was doing its own bit of a jig, slightly bouncing in place as the trembling

  continued.

  Vargas was having issues getting his pants back up as the rumbles continued to

  get stronger. I wasn’t fairing much better but at least my pants were up. We