The Hunt, page 24
“Sure,” said Luke with a shrug, “pistols, snowballs, whatever!”
Luke
As he clawed his way up the slope, Luke was thinking this whole scenario was too farfetched even for a video game. Here he was in a snowy Colorado valley, armed with a .44, about to search two dead or dying terrorists for a phone, with the directive to throw snowballs at the less dead of the two them. In Call of Duty, he shot just about every weapon there was, but he never threw a snowball at anyone, let alone a guy who had already been shot.
The guy who died of the chest shot had barely crossed the ridge when he fell. Trying not to look at his wound but unable to avoid the stench, Luke searched in and around him. He found a knife, a pistol, and an AK and gathered them up, but there was no phone—not even a cell phone. He turned back to his brother. Matt was kneeling on his pad with his rifle resting on his pack. When he caught Matt’s attention, Luke shrugged with his hands open and empty. Matt nodded. He understood.
The second guy had fallen about twenty yards downhill from the first guy and about that same distance to the north. Luke half-walked and half-slid down the snowy slope until he was parallel with his body. He found a spot where the footing was secure, bent over and picked up some snow. Just enough sun had hit the slope to melt a little moisture into it. With the pistol tucked under his arm, Luke gathered some snow and found himself reflecting on how ideal this snow was for snowballs, a thought, he laughed to himself, that had to be in the running for the most trivial observation ever made during a firefight.
Luke missed short on his first throw. On the second, he hit the man in the back and got no response. He walked closer for the third throw, packed a snowball as tight as he could, and smacked the guy right in the head with it. Nothing. More confident now, he walked up to the man, noticed the large pool of blood, and shivered. He then knelt down next to the body and rolled it over. His father’s bullet had caught him in the thigh. He appeared to have bled out. A two-way radio was on his belt. This would do him no more good than the one he picked off the RPG guy. There was no satellite phone.
Luke then searched the man for a pulse. He did not find one, but then again he really didn’t know if he was doing it right. He grabbed this guy’s gun and ammo, too, and hiked back towards Matt and his father, scanning the valley below and the ridge beyond as he hiked. He still wasn’t sure letting the young Haji or whatever walk away was the right thing to do. Time would tell, he thought, and sooner rather than later.
Matt
Matt shifted slowly and painfully to a standing position. The pain reminded him of how he felt right after the accident with his mom. Then, it was a kind of throbbing stiffness that intensified for about twelve hours and then only slowly faded away. The emotional pain from the accident had never gone away, but in the mad rush of experience in the last few hours, Matt felt it easing, even if just a little.
As Luke walked back, Matt watched him with something very much like pride. He wasn’t sure he ever felt that way before about Luke, but the kid was really pretty cool. Together with their father they had done the unthinkable. They had taken out a whole gang of seriously bad people. He still wasn’t sure he believed it.
The only threat now was environmental, but that, he had to admit, was a mighty big “only.” He would worry about that when he had to.
“No phone?” Matt asked when Luke returned.
“No.”
“I think we’re officially screwed.”
“Now what?” asked Luke. “Smoke signals?”
Matt suspected his brother was joking, but even if he were, he nailed it.
“Actually, yeah,” said Matt. “If Thor’s out there we’ve got to let him know where we are. And if he doesn’t come by, maybe some other hunter will see it.”
“And if no one comes?”
“If no one comes by, say, mid-afternoon, we’ll have to make some plans about staying overnight.”
Luke
Luke had little confidence in his ability to build a fire, and Matt had even less, but he was the only one mobile enough to climb back over Alpha and do it.
Luke had just begun his hike up the slope when he heard the neighing of a distant horse, or at least he thought he did. He stopped in his tracks.
“Matt, listen.” Luke heard it again. So did Matt. Luke jumped back down and grabbed the weapon he was most comfortable with, his Remington. Matt grabbed his as well.
“Did Dad get all the horse guys?” Luke asked.
“I think he said he did.”
Luke began to position his rifle. With one round left he wasn’t going to miss. All kinds of thoughts flooded his brain, all of them negative. Were there more of the horse guys? Had the boy he let walk free called in reinforcements? He stared hard up at the ridgeline. The outline of a man on horseback, rifle drawn, forced its way into his view.
Matt
There was no mistaking that silhouette. It almost blotted out the sun. Matt shouted out a joyous, “Thor!” He had no idea how tense he had been until he watched his father’s epic friend walk his horse down the slope. They would be saved.
“Howdy, pardner,” said Thor when he reached Matt’s position and promptly wrapped Matt in a bear hug worthy of a real bear. Having taken care of Matt, he turned to Luke. “Come here, boy. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, smothering the boy in a monumental embrace.
“Dad’s hurt,” said Matt, gesturing towards his unconscious father.
“I could see that from above,” said Thor without a hint of anxiety. “I know you guys have stories to tell, but let’s take a look at the old man.”
Thor wasted no time with pleasantries. He knelt down next to his buddy, checked his wounds, and felt his pulse. Matt searched Thor’s face for any signs of worry.
“Well?”
“I think he’ll be okay. He doesn’t break easy.”
“How did you find us?”
“Those RPGs kind of caught my attention. That’s not a sound you soon forget.”
Matt tried to tell Thor what they had been through, but as he told it, the whole story sounded more and more improbable. Luke filled in the details, all equally outlandish. For his part, Thor just listened wide-eyed until he noticed Tony stirring. He cupped his head in his massive paw, and whispered, “Tony, can you hear me?”
Tony
She soothed his head gently with her hands, kissed him on the forehead and said, “All’s well.” So saying, she turned and walked through the curtains billowing gently in the wind.
“Angel,” he said as she parted. “Angel.”
“If I’m an angel, hell’s looking more inviting all the time,” said Thor.
Tony blinked his eyes, struggling to make sense of the huge head hovering over his own.
“Thor?”
“At your service.”
Tony forced a smile, but then the images of the last two days came rushing forward, crowding out thoughts of his Angel and pushing him hard into the present.
“The boys?” he burst out, now trying to sit up and look around.
“We’re good,” said Matt as he leaned in to embrace his father.
“Totally,” added Luke, and he did the same.
“And the enemy?”
“Dead or gone,” said Matt, “all of them.”
Tony patted the back of Matt’s head and then Luke’s. He struggled through a flood of emotions, the intensity of which he had not felt since Angel’s death, but he didn’t break. When he regained full control, he said softly, “Your mother watched over you.”
“I’m sure she did,” said Matt.
Sitting up now, Tony got back to business, or tried to. He had plenty of wear in his voice. “Thor, remind me never to question your judgment.”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
“You nailed the Hajis, but we both misjudged Jake from State Farm.”
“How so?” said Thor.
“He was one of us. ATF.”
“Was?”
“Was. I’ll fill you in when I get a chance. How the hell do we get out of here?”
“Help’s on the way.”
“It is?”
“Yup. I called it in a little while ago,” said Thor, pulling an object off his belt. “I got this cool new satellite messenger.”
“How did you know we needed help?”
“In all my experience,” said Thor, “I’ve never known a horse to cut his own head off.”
“Cut off?” gasped Luke.
“Sorry, guys, pure evil, didn’t want to scare you,” said Tony.
“When I saw that,” said Thor, “I had a feeling you guys were in a pretty serious jam.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Matt.
“No, you don’t know the half of it,” Thor smirked. “And you won’t know until Zeke finds out what happened to his horses.”
Moom
It was after dark by the time Moom reached a two-lane highway. He had seen the helicopters and heard the emergency vehicles, but traffic seemed to be flowing normally. Despite the miles he had walked, he had nearly lost the feeling in his hands and feet. He had to take a chance. He held out his thumb and hoped for the best. He waited only ten minutes before some grizzled old guy in a ratty flatbed picked him up.
“Where to?”
“Denver airport?”
“Will downtown Denver do?”
“Do great.”
They hit a roadblock a mile or so down the road. There were several cars in front of them. Moom tried to see how closely the cops were checking ID without seeming too obvious. His driver’s license could be a problem. The name Mumia Abu Adams just might raise some eyebrows, but at this point he had no choice. He kept quiet as the truck edged forward.
When the truck reached the checkpoint, a cop motioned for the driver to lower the window. This one still had a hand crank.
“What you looking for?” asked the driver. The cop peered into the cab and then scanned the empty flatbed before waving the truck through.
“They’re saying Muslim terrorists. Keep your eyes open.”
“Wow,” said the driver, “will do.” He pulled away without incident, but about a hundred yards past the roadblock, he turned to Moom and held out his hand.
“Mark McCoy,” said the guy.
Moom grabbed his hand and shook it.
“Adams,” he said, “Sam Adams.”
“Like the beer?”
“Like the beer.”
DAY
22
Moom
After about eight hours on I-70, and a couple hours of sleep at a rest stop, Moom saw a sign ahead that read, “Welcome to Lawrence, Home of the University of Kansas.”
This must be it, thought Moom. This is destiny.
The autumn day was crisp, sunny, maybe seventy degrees, still warm enough in Kansas for the co-eds to wear what co-eds everywhere wear on warm days. Driving down Lawrence’s main drag, Massachusetts Avenue, his windows open, Moom couldn’t help smiling.
DAY
23
Tony
Tony labored his way to the pulpit of a small chapel near the Arizona State campus in Tempe. He had not yet mastered the aluminum crutches that supported him, but he was getting better. Reaching the pulpit, he set the crutches against it and hopped up the two steps to the microphone.
Before speaking, he surveyed the audience. There were no more than a hundred people in attendance. Most, he surmised, were from the Phoenix ATF office. Judging from the long hair and beards, he suspected a few were undercovers like the man he had come to honor, Peter Zapotec. When Peter’s wife Jennifer had asked him to speak at the memorial service, he did not hesitate. Even the restrictions put upon the content of his eulogy could not dissuade him.
“I was with Peter when he died,” said Tony. “He died saving my life and the life of my sons, and he helped stop a much greater evil. I am prevented from telling you anything more specific than that he died in the line of duty. I can say, though, that in all my days on the front lines of Afghanistan and Iraq, I have not seen anyone acquit himself more nobly or selflessly. The man died a hero’s death.”
Tony had written his remarks in advance, in small part to ferret out emotional landmines, in large part because the ATF brass wanted to review what he intended to say. They cited the preservation of “ongoing operations” as the reason for their scrutiny. He wondered, however, if they needed to edit out anything un-PC to keep their jobs. Not willing to risk the lives of other agents in the field, Tony stuck to the script.
“I will keep this short. My contact with Peter did not last more than five minutes. In those minutes, I got to see the heart of a soldier. In speaking to Jennifer, I learned that what I saw was who Peter was. I am honored to have known him, however briefly. As long as America can produce men like Peter Zapotec, this nation will endure. May God bless your soul, Peter. Thank you for your service.”
DAY
26
Tony
“Quoting the great Jeff Foxworthy, if you name your son Dale Jr., and your name’s not Dale, you just might be a redneck.”
The boys laughed. “What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Matt.
“Well,” said Tony. “I didn’t name you Dale Jr., which means I don’t expect you to drive like him, but you kind of are.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Matt. “It’s just that I’ve never gotten to drive the ZAM to school before.”
Tony may have been the only father in North America happy to see his son drive like a teenager. The change came not after Matt’s heroics in the valley but days later, when his son opened up about his mother’s death and his own role in it. He wished Matt had come to him earlier, but he was proud Matt came to him at all. When he told Matt this, and he watched his son sob shamelessly in relief, he realized mercy was as much a two-way exchange as war.
“Excited?” asked Tony.
“Sort of,” said Matt. “First day back and all.”
“How about you, Luke?” asked Tony, turning to face his son in the back seat.
“A little, I guess. I supposed I’d be more excited if people knew what we’d done since we’ve been gone.”
“Or if we could talk about it,” said Matt.
“Well,” said Tony. “I got some news for you guys.”
“What?” said Luke.
“Don’t tease us,” said Matt.
Tony picked up his smart phone. “New item on Drudge. Red light with a siren. Brace yourselves.”
“Okay,” said Matt, “we’re braced.”
“Good. Here’s the headline: ‘Kansas Family Thwarts Colorado Terror Plot.’”
“Let me see that,” said Matt, nearly swerving into a parked car.
“No,” said Tony. “Pay attention to the road.”
“What else does it say?” asked Luke excitedly.
“Subhead: ‘ATF Agent Dies, Six Terrorists Killed, Mexican Cartels Working with American and Chechen Radicals.’”
“Holy Mother of God,” said Matt. “How did the news get out?”
For his sons’ sake, Tony regretted the publication of the story. He knew what could happen down the road with the family identified, but it was too late to worry about that. He might as well let them enjoy the glory.
“Well,” said Tony. “You got two kinds of people working in the government, the kind who suppress the truth, and the kind who reveal it. Someone in the truth camp apparently leaked the story to Drudge.”
“What’s that mean for us?” asked Matt.
“If nothing else,” said Tony, “the news should improve Hawkeye’s chances with the ladies.”
“Can’t get any worse,” said Luke.
“As promised,” Tony added, “let’s not say a word to the media, at least for now. That may change. In fact, our whole lives may change.”
“Change majorly?” asked Luke.
“I don’t know,” joked Tony. “Maybe once the movie comes out.”
“Yeah, who plays you?” Matt asked.
“Brad Pitt’s too old. Maybe Bradley Cooper?”
The boys laughed, but just a little nervously. As Matt parked the ZAM, Tony could see they were more on edge than they had been since he dispatched them down Badger Creek.
“First things first. We have to check in with Dr. Heller.”
“Does anyone at school know yet?” Matt asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
At Heller’s request, the meeting was set for a half hour after school started on Monday morning. She knew that he and Matt had been injured and that they had to spend an extra week out west, but that may have been all she knew. He could imagine her greeting him with a litany of “I told-you-sos.”
To reach Heller’s office, the three had to pass down an empty corridor with classrooms on either side, all of them with classes in session. Still on crutches, Tony made more noise than he would have liked. The boys flanked him. When they passed the first classroom door, he made brief eye contact with Matt’s math teacher. Tony heard what happened next before he saw it.
“They’re here!” the teacher shouted.
“Guess they do know,” said Tony to his sons. “Brace yourselves.”
In seconds, the hall flooded with students and teachers, all of them, it seemed, wanting a piece of Tony and his sons. This was the kind of greeting reserved for returning astronauts and small-market Super Bowl champs—an unceasing flurry of back pats, handshakes, and high fives. As Tony and the boys struggled to get through, a chant sprang spontaneously from every throat.
“A-Cer-O, A-Cer-O, A-Cer-O.”
Heller was waiting for them at her office door.
“What was that all about?”
Tony smiled, a bit breathless after the hero’s gauntlet they had just run. “Did you see this morning’s Drudge Report?”
