Cascadia Fallen: The Complete Trilogy, page 76
He went quiet to concentrate on what he was doing. He opened the jaws on one of the wrenches and placed it through the lock’s shank so that it was sort of grabbing the brass body. He did the same thing with the other wrench on the far end of the shank, which placed the curved backs of the two wrenches against each other with the handles at about ninety degrees. He pushed the handles toward each other, which turned the wrenches heads and jaws into a couple of big cams. This applied pressure to the shank, and it popped out of the lock. Both pieces of the now broken lock clattered to the cold, concrete floor.
He slid the galvanized slider of the dog cage’s door and opened it.
“Holy cow!” Gene said. He started to crawl out of the cage, but as he stood up a searing pain shot through his groin. “Unngghhh!” he moaned, trying desperately to be quiet.
“Your nuts?” Tyler asked.
“Uh-huh!” Gene grunted his reply. “They’re bad, Ty…I mean real bad. I don’t know if I can walk!”
“Well, I’d check, but I know how that’d go over in your church,” Tyler quipped.
Gene laughed. “Don’t, man! It hurts to laugh. What’re we gonna do?” Tyler was under Gene’s left arm, holding him up.
“Well, they just fed us an hour ago, so we know they won’t be back until morning. I saw them loading some boats. The shop is dark—nobody in it. I say we sit tight in the shadows and try to get on one of the boats.”
“Why not slip out and off the pier and just disappear?” Gene grimaced.
Tyler was starting to lead him up the stairs. “You can hardly move. If we can stowaway, then we’re on the move, they don’t know where we went, and you’re able to sit still. And we’ll be on the west side of the water…maybe…”
Gene blew out a big breath at the top of the stairs. “Okay. You’re right. I couldn’t even breathe as we walked up here.” Tyler did another quick check of the shop and re-opened the door to lead Gene out to it. “And Tyler—I’m really, really glad you came back!”
16
The Mission Must Continue.
Tahoma’s Hammer Plus 31 Days.
“Larry, you know how to operate that AK?” Earl whispered. “Things could get dicey pretty fast.”
“I’ve shot a few of them,” Larry acknowledged from behind his tree. They had taken the rifle off of the man that had tried to tail them.
“Alright. Even with my suppressor, we can’t afford to lose the element of surprise,” Earl said, bringing him up on the game plan. “I’m going in alone. I just need you to cover me and call out ‘Fallujah’ on the radio if you see anyone comin’.”
Larry nodded. “Good luck, Earl. If trouble starts, I’ll take out as many as I can,” Larry promised. “Just remember I can’t see every approach from these woods.”
Earl slipped the night vision device down and started creeping through the forest to the back side of the cabin. The thought to pretend to be part of the gang and approach the front had occurred to him, but it seemed too risky. These guys have a routine, by now, he told himself. Been together long enough to know each other’s clothes…even the way each other walks. He knew his activities in the house would bring a certain level of noise—he had no choice but to take out the front guard—silently.
The smell of seasoned fir emanated from the fireplace as he slowly crept around the large fancy cabin behind the ski lodge. Earl stayed in the dark as much as possible. He had to travel halfway down the structure’s front to get to the covered porch that was partially recessed by the shape of the building. He paused on the corner and crouched a couple of feet, slowly peaking around the wall. Sleeping sure enough, he thought. Just like dead piece-of-crap said…
Earl watched the guard for a couple of minutes. He was wrapped up in a quilted blanket, and sitting on a front porch rocker, rifle leaning against the doorframe five feet away. Time to commit. He slipped around the corner and onto a shoveled sidewalk. He could feel and hear the sand crunching under his feet. Shoot! He opted to speed his walk up, pulling his rifle and sling up momentarily. He ducked his head out from under the sling as he stepped up onto the porch, careful not to catch it on his helmet and NODs. With his rifle free, he shot its butt directly into the sleeping man’s chin, hitting ‘the button’ and knocking him out. Earl pulled two zip ties he’d transferred from his pack to his cargo pockets out and secured the man’s hands to the rocker. He used his knife to cut up the blanket, stuffing a piece in the man’s mouth and using a long strip around the man’s head to hold it in place.
He tried the handle, and the door opened. Earl slipped in and closed the door. He saw the flickering of the fireplace dancing on the walls of the entryway and dining room. The cozy cabin had been set in a mountain décor, with no expense spared. The handrails on the stairs were a highly varnished oak, and there was a chandelier made out of antlers over the dining table. Earl cautiously walked, placing heels down first to keep his rifle’s muzzle from bouncing.
As he made his way past the dining and kitchen area, he walked under a six-foot wide archway into the main living area. He raised his NODS—the fireplace was emitting plenty of light. He could see the back of a man sleeping in a large, high-back reading chair, two mostly empty rum bottles on the floor next to him. Earl kept his rifle on the man as he slowly approached from behind and to the man’s right.
The large throw rug on the lavish wood floor helped silence his boots for the last dozen feet of travel. Passed out in the chair was a man, easily 6’ 4” and about four-hundred pounds. Tank...
Earl looked around to ensure they were alone. A bear skin rug complete with head between the reading chair and the fireplace was the nearest company. I think this room and my suppressor would be soundproof enough. He pulled a pair of older backup tourniquets out of his left cargo pocket and threw them on the man’s lap.
“Wake up!” he yelled, jamming his suppressor into the man’s sternum forcefully.
“Uggh! Hey!” the big man yelled, not fully awake, and definitely not sober. He shoved at whatever was touching him, but Earl yanked the muzzle up as he took a pace back. The man started to open his eyes. “What the—”
“Wake up, dick-lips,” Earl said calmly.
Tank started to get up despite clearly recognizing the receiving end of a bullet dispenser. “You’re gonna—”
WHAM! Earl center-punched him with his barrel, right in the solar plexus. The man’s inebriation had made it all too easy, though he was quickly gaining his wits.
“You’re a dead man!” he yelled. “Dead!”
“So, I’ve heard,” said Earl. “Put those on,” he ordered, casting a quick glance at the tourniquets Tank hadn’t even seen yet.
Tank glanced down at his lap and shot his look back up. “What?! No—”
POP! His resistance was futile, as Earl provided the proper reason for Tank to put on a tourniquet by shooting him in his left knee.
“Arrrrgggghhhh!” Tank screamed in agony. His eyes widened, and the face behind the dirty blonde and graying beard started to lose color. He started to hyperventilate.
“I ain’t doing it for you,” Earl explained.
Tank began to scramble to get the thing over his foot, but his large size made it difficult…almost comical. He finally figured out to take the strap completely out of its buckle and shove it under the wounded limb.
“Yep,” Earl instructed. “Now cinch it. That’s right. There. Now start turning that windlass until that strap hurts worse than your knee.”
Tank was still grunting loudly as he was finishing the process. “Just who the fu—”
“Other one!” Earl yelled over him.
This time Tank didn’t hesitate. He started putting the tourniquet on his uninjured right leg. “I don’t know you, mister, but you’re a fool! You don’t save the life of a man who will kill you for shooting him!”
“Ha!” Earl laughed. “I’m not saving your life, you idiot! I’m just making the pain last longer!”
POP! Tank’s right knee exploded in fury, and the screaming and writhing in agony process started all over. Once he’d secured the second tourniquet, Earl could see the man’s will to resist had been badly damaged. He was sweating profusely and looked like a ghost. His fat legs made it hard for him to get good constriction with the tourniquets. “Wh…what d’ya want, mister?” he asked between pants of breath.
“Blonde girl. Sold to you by some scum up from Wolf Mountain almost two weeks ago. She’d be four. Her name’s Katherine. Say it!”
“K-Katherine…” Tank was becoming submissive in a hurry. “L-look, man…”
“Spit it out, Tank! This can go on all night!”
“Th-that’s what I’m tryin’ to say! She’s not here!”
“Bull!” Earl yelled as he bashed one of the wounded knees with the business end of the rifle, causing another yell in pain.
“No! Serious, man! There’s a huge market for kids, but not here in Snoqualmie Pass!” He said it as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain it.
Earl thought for a moment because the low, tourist-related population probably wouldn’t actually have a high demand for trafficked children. His expression revealed his rage, as he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Where? Who?”
“It was Cartel, man! I-I’m sure of it!” Tank pleaded. He knew he was in over his head with Earl.
“Seattle?” Earl demanded.
“Wha—? No, man! They were Russian or Ukrainian or somethin’! They went east!”
“East! You’d better not be lying to me, Tank!” Earl said as he shoved the barrel within six inches of the man’s face. He knew better, but he could also tell Tank was bleeding out and in no shape to fight.
“I swear! H-his name was…” Tank was trying to jar through the pain. “Max something!”
“Liar!” Earl yelled, resisting the urge to end it. He had the man talking. “What was a Russian trafficker doing here?!”
“Travelling east, man! Stuck in Seattle after the quake, just like everyone else! He had guns, we had girls. It was an even trade! Dude’s name was Volkov, or somethin’…Goes by Pozhar! He’s missing his right ear!”
It was all sounding true to Earl. Tortured amateurs didn’t make up stories about Russian mafia and think of names on the fly. “How many kids? Where was he taking them?”
“Three men…taking six kids…please mister…”
“Where?” Earl yelled as he pressed the muzzle closer.
“New York…”
Earl screamed in his head, afraid to believe what he was being told, yet somehow it all made sense. He pressed the suppressor into Tank’s mouth and squeezed the trigger. He pulled his rifle out of the corpse’s face and marched to the front door, not realizing just how much time had gone by. He opened the door, stepped onto the porch and saw an empty rocking chair.
“Fallujah!” he heard Larry scream into his earbud.
“So, what’re you thinking?” Josh asked Nick as he stretched.
Nick was stretching and yawning, too. Probably let my guard down a bit too much, but that sleep felt goooooood, he thought. And it is nice having someone to watch my back for a spell. “For the next few moments, some instant coffee,” he said as he got up and knocked on the glass door to call Jeff in from his small watch station in the woods next to the house. He started looking for his boots. Nature was calling. “Let’s round up the Doc. Everyone grab a bite and a sip, then we’ll figure it out.”
While the small team took a few minutes to get the sleep out of their system, Nick took care of coffee and making room for it, then pulled out one of his Sequim maps. About fifteen minutes later, all four of them were sitting in the commandeered living room, staring at it.
“It beats nothing, but I do wish we had a topo right now,” Nick said, referring to a topographic map. “It’s safe to assume elevation increases with southerly travel, right?” They all nodded, acknowledging the fact that they were travelling east-to-west, situated northeast of the Olympic Mountains. Nick knew he was mostly explaining this to Stu and Jeff. “So, to a sniper high ground is gold. Stu, why don’t you start with telling me about where your folks live.”
Stuart looked over the map and got his bearing on where the only highway came into town. He mumbled a few things to himself, as he used his finger to take the exit and head south of the highway. A few lefts and rights, he finally said, “Right about here, I think. Address is 14355.”
Nick reached up with a sharpie and dotted it, allowing Stu to pull his finger back. He spent the next half-hour peppering Stu with anything he could remember. What did the house look like? What were the distinguishing features? Cars? Flowerbeds? Deck? Which side is uphill? Where are the closest neighbors? How many? Who are they? What about the next street over? Up? Below? Stu was apologetic and frustrated because he knew so little.
Nick pulled back and looked at the map as a whole. He noticed a forestry service road that headed south about a mile east of Stu’s parents’ neighborhood. There…
“Alright, fellas,” he announced. “Here’s what I propose. Stu, you and Jeff stay here and keep a low-profile. Josh and I will take my boat a little closer to town and then hike this forestry road. We’ll find a trail somewhere to cut west and try to get some eyes on this neighborhood.”
“What will that do?” Jeff asked.
“Maybe not much. But if we can get a clear look, I’ll be able to see where I would set up an ambush. And more importantly…a counter ambush…”
It was growing dark with evening as Natalie tightened the improvised sling and swath holding Conner’s arm to his chest. “I told you to stop fidgeting,” she scolded. “All you’re doing is making your fever worse.”
“I gotta admit,” Con-Man said, laying down on a set of garbage bags stuffed with maple leaves next to the fire, “I feel like freshly microwaved dog-turd…”
Me too, Natalie thought as she worked on her patient. She had been forced to bury her trauma, focused on getting to her sons. She knew that when she did, the full impact of everything would finally hit her. “At least we made it below the main snowfall today.” She was soaked and shivering.
Conner said, “Get under this mylar with me.” Natalie looked horrified. “Seriously. If you trust your brother, then you can trust me. Even though these blankets are soaked, the mylar is keeping the heat in.” Conner was laying on his good, right shoulder, facing the fire. Natalie picked up the mylar and scooted next to him, pulling the foil blanket and wet layers above it back over herself.
That morning, back at the big cedar, she had announced she was going to bury Jack, but Conner talked her out of it. “Earl’ll find him when they come by,” he advised. “Neither of us is in the condition to put our remaining energy into that. The shovel is on the quad they took. Ground is frozen. The best we can do is cover him with enough branches that keeps animals from reaching him too easily.”
“That seems…so…disrespectful.” Natalie started to weep slowly, thinking about how the man had lost his life saving her. None of them would be here if we’d just stayed home. Roy would be alive. My babies! She started to cry heavily, sobbing.
“I’m sorry, Natalie. It’s the reality of things. We can build a cairn of rocks on this tree. Earl will find it. He’ll find Jack. He’ll have a look around when he finds the vehicles. I promise.”
They covered Jack and broke their camp, and Conner committed to walking. Natalie fashioned a good walking stick for him from a branch. His legs weren’t injured, but the stick would still help with balance when trudging downhill along the snow-covered powerline run.
Conner could no longer wear a backpack, so they used cordage to attach his gurney to his hips with a makeshift belt outside his coat. He dragged as much gear behind him as he could manage. Over the course of the day, Conner tried to keep a pace count, though his fever was making him ill and he wasn’t very lucid at some moments. He estimated they’d only travelled four or five miles, but they’d decreased elevation by at least a thousand feet, probably more.
They found a pair of fallen trees in which one had crossed another at angle. The little space was roomier, and the branches had made for a decent roof. After they’d gotten a fire going, Natalie collected some water from a nearby stream and helped Conner settle into his spot.
Thinking back to the morning’s sorrow about Jack, Natalie said, “You awake?” She was the front spoon facing the fire, trying to not lean too far back into his wounded limb.
“Who could sleep?” Conner joked through the pain.
“I realize I forgot to tell you thanks. I’m sorry…”
Conner could tell she was going to start weeping again. “Did I ever tell you about how I met your brother?”
Is he delirious? He knows we’ve never met! “Uh—obviously not,” Natalie said with just a small hint of sass. “Let me guess,” she said as she wiped at the eyes that had started to moisten a moment earlier. “In the Army.”
Ignoring her joke, “We went through Ranger school together. I’d only been in for like thirteen months, hadn’t even deployed yet. Earl was already an infantry sergeant with combat experience. There’s this first phase for like three weeks where they wash out the ones that won’t hack the rest of it. I know this may be surprising to you, but I was the class clown…”
“Shocking,” she said sarcastically.
“No, it’s true,” Conner said, missing the tone as he was half-asleep with fever. “That’s where he started calling me Con-Man…” Conner was trying his best to finish the story to cheer her up before he passed out from exhaustion. He shook his face. “Anyway, the physical part of it was easy for me. The discipline…not so much…” He paused, thinking.
After a long silence, Natalie said, “And…?”
“Earl took me under his wing. Made me realize that being Han Solo in a team environment doesn’t work. Earning my tab was the best thing I ever did. Aside from my kids, I mean.” He paused for a moment. “Next to them, there’s nobody on this planet I love more than my best friend.”
