by Jeff Carson
Martin shook his head.
Wolf looked up at the dark clouds, seeing a thin strand of lightning over the hill they’d just come down. “I don’t get it. How do you know they sold it? Were you friends with the Silversmith? Did you talk to him about the sale?”
Martin tilted up his hat. “I was friends with him and his wife. They had a daughter, about ten years old. One day I came down here and they were gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. I remember the day. There had been a big storm the night before, and I wanted to see how they were, to talk about it with someone. It was a lot of rain and wind.” He shrugged. “I came here, and they were just gone.”
Wolf nodded. “And? How did you find out they had sold the place?”
“A week later I asked one of my sources in town about it. She said they had sold the place for a lot of money to a man. Over one million dollars.” He glanced at Wolf, and gave a nod of his head, as if that had cleared everything up.
“Keep going. You said they sold it to the mine. Like I said, I heard it was a guy named Bill Chester who bought it.”
Martin narrowed his eyes and held up a finger. “I watched this property for months. There was never a soul who set foot on this property. Not a single person who claimed their prize. I often hunt these woods, just like I did back then. I go all the way to the boundary of the mine. And back then I would make it a point to come here every time, to see if there was something new. One day, I walked from below, up to the house, and that was the first time I heard an angry rumble underneath the ground. And then I knew. They had sold the property to the mine.
“Over the years, they’ve hollowed out the ground underneath our feet. I’m sure of it. Look over there.” He pointed to the east. “See where there is a clearing in the forest? That’s a hole. The forest fell straight into the ground where they were digging underneath.”
Wolf saw the spot. The ground wasn’t visible, but there was an area of missing trees.
A warm spray of liquid hit Wolf on the right side of his face. He brought his hand up with a flinch, just as he saw Martin crumple forward in a twisting motion. An instant later he heard the rolling boom of a high-powered rifle.
Wolf lunged forward and caught Martin before he hit the ground and pulled him back. Just then the air sounded like it had been ripped, and the ground exploded into a spray of dust. A bullet ricocheted into the distance with a loud whine, and then there was another rifle report.
Wolf turned with Martin under his arm and stumbled to the front of the house and around the corner, to the opposite side of where the shots were coming from.
He set Martin down and looked at his wound. A ragged-looking exit wound bled profusely from underneath the collarbone, and there was a neat entry-wound at the top of his shoulder. Wolf took off his backpack, pulled out a shirt and began applying pressure to the bleeding hole.
“Martin. Can you hear me?”
Martin didn’t respond.
Wolf checked his pulse. It seemed weak.
The boards exploded above him as four consecutive shots rang out.
No doubt it was Young.
Martin was bleeding but Wolf had seen worse in the field, and seen those soldiers survive in the end. Judging from the amount of blood, it looked like the bullet had missed arteries, but being so close to the heart there was no telling what damage had been done.
He dug in Martin’s pocket and took out his cell phone. There was no reception.
Another three shots tore through the boards, and a blast of stinging splinters hit Wolf in the back of his head and neck. He winced and lay down flat.
Again, the image of Young, running on the trail at full speed with a calm face, flashed through Wolf’s mind.
Chapter 35
Young stood motionless, staring through the scope.
He was getting impatient, so he fired another three rounds into the house, trying to miss high.
His ears rang, and the smell of gunpowder filled his nose. He flexed his shoulder against the butt of the rifle and smiled. He felt alive.
He couldn’t help himself with the old man. It was just too perfect an opportunity to pass up—a perfect way to instill a little fear into Wolf, to get everyone’s juices pumping.
He estimated twelve to twenty minutes. That was when he’d be finished pulling the life out of David Wolf’s body, and the old guy would be before or after. He didn’t care. He couldn’t tell whether his first shot had hit high or just right. Either way, the old guy wasn’t going to be moving far.
He glanced at his watch and added twenty minutes to the big hand, setting the deadline. It may well have been a prophecy carved in stone and given to him by the hand of God.
His body vibrated with anticipation.
And it would have to be close. Hand to hand.
The side of the house bounced in the scope as he stifled a laugh.
He’d always been an overachiever, putting unrealistic demands on himself, but they were demands he always met.
A few seconds later Wolf flew into view, sprinting full speed away from the house.
He popped one round behind him and watched.
Wolf ran straight away from the old house, straight for a ridgeline in the distance, and then he did the unexpected. Instead of going over it and out of sight, he turned left and started slogging up the side. He kept himself behind cover, sheltered behind the ridge most of the time, save for a glimpse of the top of his head every few feet.
Young pulled the rifle away and strapped it across his back, keeping a sharp eye on Wolf’s pathetically slow movement up the side of the hill.
He looked at the hypotenuse leg he’d have to cover to beat Wolf to his destination, then back to Wolf, who was resolute in his dumb tactic.
Wolf was the first kill. The old guy would be second.
Young sucked a breath in and took off at full speed.
Chapter 36
Wolf’s lungs sucked hard for air as he trundled up the slope. His vision tunneled as his brain groped for oxygen that just wasn’t coming. His leg muscles were slow and unresponsive as he neared the top of the ridgeline, but he dug deep and somehow kept his pace steady.
Wolf knew that Young would have to cover at least double the distance Wolf had, with a steep incline of his own to negotiate. Wolf thought of Young on the trail again, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through his body.
As he reached the final ten feet of the slope, crawling on his hands and feet, muscles twitching involuntarily, he knew he probably wouldn’t have a second to rest when he got to the top.
With agonizing strain on every fiber in his body, he reached the top, pulled his Glock, turned left in a squat and scanned for Young.
The ridge below was heavily treed, sloping down into a saddle, then back up to where the shots had come from. He wheezed loud as he scanned the woods from left to right.
Just then, a hard blow hit him on the back of the head, toppling him forward. His face hit the ground first, ripping his lip down while pebbles scraped against his teeth. His Glock was wrenched from his hand, and then a huge hand gripped his shirt, lifted him up, yanked the rifle off his shoulder, and dropped him.
Then there was nothing.
Wolf huffed, coughing dirt, rocks, and needle fragments from his throat, then got on all fours and shook his head. His vision and thoughts cleared at the same time, and he jumped to his feet and turned around, ready to defend himself.
Young sat on a rock ten feet away with an amused grin. He looked at his watch, a sporty diver’s watch that looked like a dainty children’s model on his enormous wrist. “Take your time. Catch your breath.”
Wolf narrowed his eyes, still sucking air. He eyed Young and brushed debris from his face and arms.
Young breathed heavily also, but in a way that didn’t contort his face at all. He was staring at Wolf, studying his every move. Next to him were two rifles propped against a rock with Wolf’s pistol next to them.
Young had on a skintight black shirt
that revealed every nook and cranny of his heavily muscled frame. Wolf estimated him at three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and as he’d proven on two occasions now, it was muscle that was strong enough to move itself with the agility of a cat.
There was zero-percent chance that Wolf could best the man in a hand-to-hand fight. He wasn’t being pessimistic—it was just a fact that needed to be taken into account.
Wolf took off his backpack and threw it down on the ground, eyeing Young’s waist. A SEAL knife housed in a black Kydex sheath was strapped to his belt on his right, and it didn’t look like he had a pistol.
“Oh, you’re looking at this thing?” Young took out the knife, extended his arm, and dropped it ceremoniously next to Wolf’s pistol. Then he looked at his watch again.
“You late for an appointment?” Wolf moved his right leg a little, feeling the lump of steel in the right front pocket of his Carhartt pants.
Young smiled and shook his head. “Not yet. I still have a few minutes.”
Wolf’s entire body flinched backwards as Young stood up, revealing his full, disturbing height.
Young laughed. “You’re the big man around here, huh? Big army ranger.” He smiled, shook his head and widened his eyes. “I can’t wait to get me some ranger pussy.”
Wolf took a deep breath and whimpered.
A flash lit the darkened forest, followed immediately by deafening thunder, and Wolf cowered, squinting towards the rapidly approaching storm.
Chapter 37
Young stopped and tilted his head.
His face dropped, and his body sank with a disappointment that felt like the blood had been sucked through his feet. Then a rage welled up that he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain, and it made him even more livid. His teeth mashed together so hard that he almost cracked a molar.
This was the man Gary had said he needed to watch out for?
The sniveling wimp was acting like a little girl. This guy wasn’t a former ranger, or if he had been, it’d screwed him up bad.
This guy was facing a fight to the death, one that would ultimately determine the honor in which one man would die. And he was worried about lightning? There was no way this man had what it took to become a ranger. He was a fraud.
Young took a step forward, watching the coward raise his hands and lower his eyes in a defeated posture. It was one of the most revolting things he had ever seen. At that moment he decided to let his rage go on this one.
“Give a dying man a final request?” The little pussy talked fast.
Young stopped. Just barely. “What’s that?” he managed with a shaking voice.
“Let me have the knife?” He held out his hands and looked up with pleading eyes. “You know I don’t have a chance without it.”
Young stared at him for a few seconds. Then he smiled. Then he chuckled. Then his entire body flooded with endorphins as he shook with laughter until his eyes teared. Or maybe it was the cool rain that was steadily increasing. He opened his mouth to the sky and caught a few drops, then snapped his head down into a toothy grin, his eyes landing smack-dab on Wolf’s.
“You almost had me going there.” He pointed his finger. “I don’t care how old, fat, and slow you are, that would be a dumb move on my part.”
The cop’s pathetic look didn’t waver. In fact, it got worse, and his breathing increased, like he was having a panic attack or something.
Young turned around, picked up the knife, and flipped it to him on a low arc. The cop caught it with his left hand.
“Then again, I am that good.” Young blanked his face. “And I very much want this to be interesting.”
Young didn’t kid himself. He knew the danger he’d just put himself in, giving a knife to a former ranger. He reached up and stroked the scar underneath his eye with a wide smile. But he’d been in his share of knife fights without a blade himself, with far more competent opponents. He tempered his confidence, knowing he’d probably just been baited. It would make the victory all the more satisfying.
Yeah. It was definitely interesting now.
Young smiled at the audacity of the man in front of him, then checked his watch one last time. One minute left until his personal deadline. Plenty of time.
He crept forward in a low stance.
Wolf crouched as well, keeping the knife in his left hand.
A lefty? But his gun had been on his right hip. He’d have to be wary of a hand switch. Wolf held the blade forward, not even using a reverse grip. But that could change in the blink of an eye.
Wolf was baiting him again and again, keeping Young guessing.
Young stepped in fast, quickly getting slashed on the back of his wrist, missing a counter-attack as Wolf shuffled away, and then behind a tree.
He hopped back and sucked the blood mixed with rain, then bared his teeth. The adrenaline surged through his veins. Every muscle in his body screamed for the kill.
“Get some!”
Wolf came out on the offensive from behind the tree, faking high with a flurry of motion, then came in low with a sweeping upward strike. But Young was ready, bashing both his fists on the forearm with all the strength he could muster in such a short reaction, which was more than most bones on any man could handle.
Young connected, and as Wolf’s forearm rebounded backwards, the knife tumbled out of his hand, flipped through the rain and bounced down the slope a good twenty feet; it slid out of sight, pushed by the deluge of rain.
“Ahh!” Wolf screamed like a woman and turned away, then fell to his stomach and writhed on the ground in pain.
“Get up!” A surge of disgust swept through Young again. The pussy hadn’t lasted three seconds before giving up. Young stood over Wolf, who was on his knees with his ass in the air, turning his head, looking for Young over both shoulders.
Young gritted his teeth and thumped his hands on Wolf’s back with unmerciful force. He dug his fingers into the skin as he wrenched Wolf sideways, then rolled him to face the most horrific death that no man could imagine in their worst nightmares.
Wolf turned onto his back and straightened his legs, keeping his arms tucked into his sides.
Young collapsed his weight onto Wolf’s upper body the second his back touched the rain-soaked earth, then straddled his chest, crunching Wolf’s arms to his sides with his massive legs.
Rain dripped off Young’s nose as he bent down close and howled like a savage demon in Wolf’s face. Young popped his eyes wide, bared his teeth and stuck out his tongue. Slobber strung out, and he exhaled hard from his nostrils, letting mucus fly, just to add to the effect.
Wolf stared back with a defiant expression.
Young grabbed hold of his neck with his gigantic hand and watched the expression change to determination.
In the end, it was always an expression of alarm—a realization that death was imminent, and that they were not ready. Like they had just remembered they’d forgotten the most important homework assignment of their life, forgotten to put their pants on before the big presentation.
Young slowly strengthened his grip, savoring the moment.
Then something went very wrong.
Wolf jolted, his knees bucking hard into Young’s ass. Then he jolted again. Then Wolf was thrashing in a flurry of movement underneath him.
Deep apprehension suddenly filled Young. There was no pain, none at all, but there was a numb, pulling sensation that sent a wave of nausea from his intestines upwards. His instincts were screaming for him to get up. Now.
He rolled off Wolf and stood fast, and then the agony attacked his brain like a swarm of angry bees.
He had no control over the high-pitched squeal that came out of his throat as he opened his twitching legs and felt underneath. He raised a hand and watched in horror as the rain washed warm crimson globs up his forearm.
The cop had stabbed him in the ass, and now warm blood was gushing down each leg inside his pants. Pain multiplied with each second. His stomach twisted in agony and seemed to drop insi
de of him. It was beyond a foreign feeling. It was ridiculous. It was not happening.
Then a blow pounded him underneath the jaw with a violence he’d never felt before, and all went black.
Chapter 38
Wolf twisted the blade deep under Young’s jaw, watching the big man’s eyes un-focus as he collapsed straight forward into a lifeless heap. Keeping a close eye on Young’s back for signs of movement, Wolf rolled the Leatherman multi-tool in his fingers, allowing the cool rain to wash off the blood and excrement.
He scrubbed his hands in mud, then wiped them on his pants, which were now soaked to the skin from the deluge of rain.
Folding the knife blade back into its housing, Wolf stopped short of kissing the Leatherman, deciding it would need a good boiling before he showed his trusty multi-tool the love it deserved, and shoved it back into his front pocket.
He quickly patted down Young, finding a cell phone in his pants pocket. He took the phone and continued his search.
Lightning struck nearby, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, and then the rain intensified even more. Wolf stood still, staring at Young’s cargo pocket he’d just squeezed.
He reached inside and pulled out his father’s ring.
Another lightning bolt jolted him out of his daze. He put the ring on, gathered his backpack and Glock, then got underneath an overhang in the rocks. He wiped his face and looked at the ring again, then he dug into the pack and pulled out Martin’s cell phone. There were two bars of reception.
He dialed the station. Tammy Granger answered the call after one ring, and Wolf gave a detailed description of Martin’s wounds and whereabouts, shouting over the sound of the rain.
“Wolf? Is that you?” the tinny voice screamed into the phone.
Wolf hung up.
Rain came in sheets, spraying him with a fine mist, and his wet tee shirt was sucking the heat from his body fast. He took it off and put on his jacket, which had remained relatively dry in the pack.
