Saving John

by Gabe Sluis

  Chapter 24-The Jenner Redwoods

  Morning in the redwoods comes on slow. The terrain is usually mountainous, and the trees extend high into sky. The birds wake up well before the sun rises and begin to wake up the forest, heralds of the coming light. Their chatter is incessant, and sleeping through it can be impossible. The sky shifts to a pale blue and stays that way for an eternity. The tall trees block out the sun and delay the normal sunrise for nearly an hour. It is a very active time for the redwood forest.

  When you spend time in the woods, really spend time immersed; it is not the silent place it first seems. The sounds of traffic are replaced by the softer sounds of water finding its way down a creek bed. The chattering of squirrels and knocks of woodpeckers replace the sounds of playing children and shouting adults. The hum of insects begins to pick up just before full morning arrives…

  The golden rays of sun finally spilled over the three travelers as they reached the true beginning of the redwood forest. Smiles lit their face as they had finally reached the end to their third long night in this strange land. Though none of them felt tired or the need to sleep, the warm beams of light filtering through the trees invigorated them after a long, wet, dark night of walking.

  “Here we go! Look at this, you guys!” Jake said, breaking the long silence. “Southern boundary of the Jenner Redwood Wildlife Preserve,” he read the sign. The letters were carved into a redwood plank and painted yellow to stand out. The neglected asphalt trail that had brought them to this point ended, but a roofed map board stood twenty feet up the dirt trailhead. The three studied everything the map had to offer.

  “It looks like we are only about a mile from the redwood cathedral that you guys were talking about. What makes you think the Sheriff will be there?” Donny asked. He pulled off a wanted poster that had been taped to a post. It was the same one they had see two days earlier. The face of the madman was as strikingly creepy as it had been before.

  “We ran into his daughter. She said that’s where he was planning on setting up a patrol base,” Jake said.

  “I wish this damn wanted flier was more specific,” Chris said. “That means this guy could be anywhere. And, if he has already shot a bunch of guys, including the first two deputies they sent up after him… This guy knows the woods, and we don’t.”

  “Yep. A deranged survivalist, I can read the flier too. But, think about it,” Jake said to the other two. “They probably made this flier specifically to scare people away from this area. I’m sure they didn’t expect people to come from miles around to hunt this guy back. And when the Sheriff brings him in, he will be the hero that against great odds stopped the madman.”

  “But he has killed three guys already! That doesn’t sound like something you print on a flier if he wasn’t serious,” Donny said.

  “Well, as I remember, it did only say, ‘shot.’ Nothing specifically about killed…” Chris said, taking the flier from Donny and searching the small print..

  “Either way,” Jake said, “This guy can’t really be as smart as you guys think. He shot important people. He probably doesn’t have a very thought out game plan. We, on the other hand, outsmarted nearly a dozen deputies, who were hell bent on stopping us. We just have to do this the same way we did down there, think it through, play it smart, and leap headfirst into the fight.”

  “All right, Jake,” Donny conceded. “Even though Chris is hurt, I find myself agreeing with you. We have to get this done. And plus, so far we make a pretty unstoppable team.”

  “Not to mention we have these things,” Chris said, spinning his key between two fingers like a drumstick. Jake bobbed his head.

  “Word.”

  The three continued on, up the trail leading to the ring of redwoods they were told would contain the camp of the Sheriff of Saint Anne.

  Some people do not share much resemblance to pictures kept of them. For some, hairstyles change, for others, pictures just cannot fully capture the real person. This was not a problem for Bradley Zale.

  Sheriff Bradley Zale was a perfect fit for the picture he kept on his desk of himself and his granddaughter. A short and round man, now wearing OD green fatigues with his sheriff patch and nametapes, the Sherriff was stuffing the contents of his tent into its bag. His three-day pack rested against a tree and an assault rifle rested against that.

  In the past two days, he and his four and selected deputies had been out in the woods patrolling for the murderer Terrance Golden. It had been slow going, picking through tiny portions of the huge woods, constantly keeping a roving patrol guarding camp while they rested and ate… But they had gotten lucky a few times; if by lucky you could consider coming under fire by the madman. Yet every time they had returned fire and attempted to call out to the man to surrender, he had disappeared, which required slowly clearing the area and starting the search all over again.

  And then last night, he had attacked their camp. After firing into the dark tents and grazing a deputy, Golden shouted out a warning to his hunters. Mostly disjointed, grandiose, and lacking cohesive leaps in reasoning, Zale had realized Golden had really lost it. His ex-wife had told them as much. Golden had been acting erratically for the last couple months, abusing substances and acting paranoid. Finally he had disappeared and took up residence in the remote reaches of the wildlife preserve. After shooting a hiker, who happened to be one of Saint Anne’s selectmen, two deputies were sent to apprehend the man. It was that morning that the wheels stopped turning. When only one deputy, severely wounded returned, fliers were printed and the Sheriff set out to take control of the situation personally.

  Now, the camp was compromised, food and ammunition was running low. Sheriff Zale had come to the conclusion they had one more day, at the most, left in them before they had to go back to rest and resupply. The next time he came into these woods after the madman, he would be sure to bring more men. If only the chopper was working so he could direct the search with thermals…

  A commotion to the south of camp prompted the white mustachioed Sheriff to snatch up his rifle and move to a defensive position nearest the shouting. Seconds later, the patrolling deputy walked into the clearing inside the ring of large redwood trees leading three much more colorful dressed individuals. The Sheriff lowered his rifle and slung it on his back, standing his ground to meet the youngsters that were being lead into their camp.

  “We are not going to try the same trick we used at the fruit stand, are we? I doubt it will work on this guy…” Chris whispered to Jake before they got in the older man’s earshot.

  “Doubtful.”

  “What can I do for you boys?” the Sheriff began. “Can I offer you a map and point you in the opposite direction, because I am pretty damn sure you could not have gotten this deep into the park without seeing at least a half dozen of the posters explaining the situation.”

  The remaining three sheriff’s deputies joined the group. They all wore similar green fatigues as well as pistol belts and black ball caps. Two carried carbines and side arms, while the other carried a large caliber long-gun. The man with the scoped rifle had a bandage on his right upper arm with a blossom of crimson in the center. They all looked like serious men.

  “We were sent to stop the shooter,” Donny said, before Jake or Chris had a chance to spin a tale. Donny stood tall and defiant, wile the other two deflated, feeling they were already sunk.

  “Sent by who? You realize that there is no reward, correct?” Sheriff Zale looked astounded. When Donny stood his ground, he shook his head and felt it was necessary for some education. “This is no joke, son. Look at my deputy here! Golden is not playing games with us. He has killed one man and shot two others! This is a highly skilled woodsman that is out to hunt us, and we are hunting him. I doubt his foggy brain would even consider showing the three of you any mercy should he find your ripe heads in his crosshairs! No, I’m taking you kids out of here now.”

  Jake saw a glint of something unnatural out of the corner of his eye while the
white haired man finished his speech. He slipped on his gloves as he and Chris stood behind their friend, who once again took on the older mans authority.

  “You don’t understand, this is why we have come. We three alone are the only ones capable of taking care of this problem. Nothing you say will turn us back. We have come too far and overcome…”

  Jake lunged, cutting off the conversation. He threw his hands up to the face of the shocked lawman just as a thunderbolt split the air in the daylight. Jakes gloved hand bounced back and smacked into the back quarter of the sheriff’s head. Everyone hit the ground as they realized what had happened.

  The deputies reacted faster than their stunned leader did. They began to return fire in the direction the single, well-placed shot had come from. Jake, shoulder in the pine needle ridden dirt, looked down at his left hand, finding flecks of lead powder scattered on the palm of his glove, save for a single clean circle. The Sheriff snatched Jakes hand from him and looked at it in disbelief. He pulled off the glove and gave the same look to the face of his savior.

  Meanwhile, the sudden storm of deafening reports from various firearms had the other two civilians hiding behind cover with their hands over their ears. The two had never experienced the insanity of a bunch of pissed off cops firing in the general direction of their target. Gleaming brass bullet casings streamed from rifles, littering the ground. Donny lay flat, shocked at the sudden violence until a piece of hot brass found his shirt. At first he thought nothing of the spent round casing, until the stinging heat made him jump as if a hornet had stung him. Donny found temporary safety sitting against a trunk of a nearby tree while he looked at the burn mark on his stomach.

  Unable to tell if anyone was actually shooting his direction, Chris rolled over to his belly and crawled to the trunk of one of the redwoods that made up the ring. He snapped his head in Donny’s direction as he saw his friend buck and brush a piece of brass from his shirt. Realizing his friend was not shot; he began to look up and down the firing line that had formed, to get an idea of what was going on. The fire began to die down and Chris was able to peak his head around the trunk, looking for signs of their attacker. Drawn by a distant spurt of movement, Chris trained his eyes on a dark figure, bounding away from the violent response he had provoked. This was his first glimpse of the man they had come for.

  The Sheriff called a cease-fire, and the deputies took the time to reload. Two went off to patrol while the other two continued to pack the rest of the gear, this time with a nagging purpose. Donny joined Jake and Sheriff Zale who were sitting at the base of a tree. The older man was still stunned, having come that close to an unfortunate end, and baffled at how he had been shielded.

  “I told you. I told you that we were the only ones who could stop this guy. Did that convince you? And that was only one of us. You should see what he can do,” Donny said, jerking a thumb at Chris. With skeptical eyes the Sheriff looked a tree over at Chris with his one leg in a splint.

  “You should listen to him,” Jake said. He was impressed by Donny’s sudden air of authority. It made him want to grin like a proud new father, but instead he kept a serious face and went with it. Donny’s words seemed to be working. “Anyway, it looks like you guys are being run ragged here. I heard one of your guys say they were really low on ammo now. You should probably head in, come back after a day or two. It will be long over by then.” Jake thought for a moment, and added.

  “Donna and Lanie are worried about you. They miss you very much.”

  At the mention of his family, Bradley Zale buckled. He pursed his lips and nodded, acknowledging the fact that his time in the woods was done. For now.

  “Alright, you guys win. I don’t know who you are, or who sent you, but the woods are yours. My men and I are pulling out to refit and restock. I pray you fools know what you are doing…”

  “You are making the right choice,” Donny said. “Leave this to us, we know what we are doing.”

  Bradley Zale got to his feet, dusted off his pants and went back for the tent he was packing. Jake suddenly got hit with a minor panic attack and had to jump back into the conversation. He loved Donny’s enthusiasm and canned patts-on-the-back, but they were going to need a lot of information before they were left to this task all alone. “I do have a few question for you though, Sir. Since we did just get up here and all…”

  The Sherriff turned and Jake flew forward with the first question he could call to mind, being put on the spot. “You have been up here two days; any idea where Golden is holed up?”

  “I don’t suppose you boys have a quality map of the area, do you?”

  “No, Sir. We are not super familiar with these redwoods.”

  The Sheriff pulled a folded map from his pack and knelt to the ground with a huff. He pulled out a black waterproof grease pencil and started making marks. “We are here, cathedral redwoods. First time we came across him, we set off some homemade large animal trap that didn’t work so well. I think he was trying to take down a dear. Anyway, that was here. He started shooting as soon as we identified ourselves.

  “Next contact was almost a mile east of that. He just started taking shots at us out of nowhere. Had a couple land inches from me, that bastard. Then he was just gone. We chased him northwest, coz that was the direction we thought he was moving in, but then found nothing of him. Then he attacked our camp from this side last night, and just now from here. Right here and here,” Sheriff Zale said, making two more X’s on the map, “was where Whittaker, our county selectman, was shot, and where my first two responding deputies were attacked.

  “All of this, as you can see, has led me to believe he is holed up here,” Bradley Zale said, thumping a thick middle finger down on a spot on the map marked Owl’s Nest. “Now the reason this is such a great spot, and there is no doubt that even a person gone as crazy as Golden would recognize it, is that it was a old lime mine. Miners dug deep into this hillside, making a gradual climb out of a crescent shaped draw. There is only one way in, up a hill and steep high ground on either side of the entrance. Golden has got to be camped out back up in there, only coming out for water and food. It’s a very defendable spot.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “We got a map, his movements the last few days…” Jake muttered to himself. “Guys, you got any other questions?”

  Donny shook his head. Chris, who had been studying the map, raised his head. “This map is good, but what is up here?” he said pointing to the area north of where the map left off. “More woods?”

  “No. North of the redwoods, about a mile north of where the map ends, you hit the ocean. It’s a climb to where the edge of the map is, and then it’s a gradual downhill to cliffs at the edge of the water. The forest ends about half a mile from the cliffs.”

  Chris shook his head in acknowledgement. The boys seemed to have all they needed. But the Sheriff had one more thing. “Sit down young man, lets have a look at that leg.”

  Chris undid the field job Donny had done splinting his ankle. The Sheriff called over his deputy, the one carrying a deer rifle, and handed him a small medical bag. The deputy was about as tall as Jake and slightly thinner. He had black hair and light skin. Without a word, he fished out a compression dressing and expertly wrapped Chris’s foot. After that he added a semi-ridged foam board, which wrapped around the bottom of his foot and up the sides of the ankle, acting as further stabilization. The Sheriff then handed him a single large boot and it fit Chris as if it were sized for him at a store. The medic/deputy got up to leave, and quickly glanced at the boys. Each noticed something off about his eyes, but he had turned away and the Sheriff started talking before they had a chance to take in what they had seen.

  “How does that feel? Just as stable as those sticks you used? At least with that boot giving the leg support, you can probably make some attempt at walking normally. It’s not much, but it is the best we can do.”

  The other deputies had finished packing their backpacking packs,
and were holding their rifles slung high, scanning the woods. The sheriff shook each of the three boys hands, and wished them luck. Without the normal complement of four wheelers they would normally take on a task like this, the men carried their weight on foot and tromped down the path heading south out of the forest. Donny, Jake, and Chris were left alone in the middle of a ring of giant redwoods, a psycho with a gun somewhere close by.