Judgment Day -03 (8 page)

Tanner could no longer hear the motorcycles, nor could he see anyone coming through the trees.

“I think we’re clear.”

“Good.” She stretched out her legs and laid the rifle across them.

Tanner waited several more minutes before allowing himself to relax. When he was finally certain that they had made a clean getaway, he moved over and flopped down next to her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For what you did back there. You saved my life.”

She looked down at the rifle.

“Do you think I killed them?”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

“I don’t think my mom would want me shooting people.”

He shrugged. “Most mothers want their kids to do whatever it takes to stay alive. Is yours different?”

She shook her head.

“I want to tell you something,” he said.

She let her eyes slowly drift his direction.

“What?”

“I’m not one to blow sunshine up your skirt. You know that, right?”

She squinted at him. “I have no idea what you just said.”

He smiled. “I’m saying I don’t give out meaningless praise.”

“So?”

“So, you should believe me when I say that you’re something special.”

“What do you mean?”

“Scared as you were, you fired four shots at moving targets probably a hundred yards away. And from what I saw, you didn’t miss a single one. That’s grade-A sniper material in the making.”

She managed a little smile, but tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

“I don’t want to shoot anyone else.”

He put his arm around her.

“I don’t want for you to either. But what we want to do, and what we have to do, are often two different things. Understand?”

She nodded.

“The next time I’m being pulled asunder, I expect to hear your rifle.”

“Asunder?” She grinned, wiping at the tears. “New word?”

He smiled and pulled her close.

“I try.”

They held one another for a long time. When Samantha finally sat up, she seemed better.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we assess and survive. Just like every other day.”

“Okay,” she said, looking around at the forest. “Where do we start?”

“We start with what we have.”

“All I’ve got is this.” She held up her rifle. “And it only has one bullet left.”

“I don’t suppose you have any spare rounds in your pocket?”

“Nope,” she said, patting her pants. “Too bad you lost your shotgun.”

“I’ve got something better,” he said, pulling out a folding knife, equipped with a three-inch blade and titanium frame.

She looked at it with skepticism.

“That’s better than a shotgun?”

“When you’re stuck in the wilderness, it is.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Tell me something. What can you do with a gun?”

“Kill things, of course.”

“Anything else?”

She thought for a moment.

“No, I don’t guess so.”

“Exactly.” He flipped open the blade, and it made a metallic
click
. “A knife, on the other hand, can save your life in all kinds of ways.”

“Like how?”

“You’ll see. I bet I’ll use it half a dozen times before the sun comes up.”

She took a moment to study the knife, trying to decide whether it was indeed the miracle tool he professed it to be.

“Even so, we don’t have any food or water. Or even blankets to stay warm.”

“Nope,” he said with a big smile. “It’s all gone.”

“And you’re happy about that?”

“Of course not. But half an hour ago, vicious road warriors were trying to make me look like Stretch Armstrong. Sitting in the woods with a knife in my hand is a step in the right direction, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “You know, you’re right. It’s not so bad.” She glanced back the way they had come. “I don’t suppose we can just go back and get our stuff?”

He shook his head. “Too risky. Besides, they probably took everything we had of value.”

She turned her attention back to the forest. It seemed to go on forever.

“Which way should we go?”

“The interstate is back to our west,” he said, pointing. “If we travel north and parallel it, I’m sure we’ll find a small town before long. Once we do, we can get a car and some supplies. Then we’re back in business and on our way to Salamanca.”

“And how will we know we’re walking north?”

He pointed up at the sun, which was already past its midpoint.

“Leave it to the sun and the stars to get you moving in the right general direction.”

“Do you think we’ll find a town or at least a house before dark?”

“Sure,” he said with a confident voice. “How far can it be?”

Tanner and Samantha wandered north for nearly three hours, trudging up and down hills covered with trees, briars, and kudzu. To their dismay, they found no signs of civilization. As the sun slowly started its descent behind the tree line, they finally came across a small campsite. It consisted of a fire pit, ringed in heavy stones, and a flat grassy area where tents had once been pitched. The campsite didn’t appear to have been used in many months, and the only traces of man’s footprint were a handful of empty beer cans and a ring of large stumps positioned around the fire pit.

“Looks like we’re camping here for the night,” he said, picking up the beer cans and examining them.

She turned slowly in a full circle.

“Here?”

“Why not? The ground is flat, and it even has a fire pit.”

She looked at him with furrowed brows.

“What good is a fire pit without a fire?”

“Ah,” he said, giving her a knowing look. “Do you still have that chocolate bar?”

The question surprised her. She pulled the candy from her pocket. It felt warm and soft.

“It’s melted,” she said, being careful not to squeeze it.

He took it and carefully set it on one of the stumps.

“Gather us some wood. I’m going to see if I can build us a fire.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you one of those survival experts who can start a fire with two sticks?”

“Believe me, that’s harder than most people think.”

“Then why should I bother with the firewood?”

“Because I’m going to show you a magic trick.”

She looked doubtful.

“Get going,” he said, waving her off. “We need wood. Lots of it.”

She reluctantly turned and began gathering sticks and twigs from the campsite’s perimeter. Tanner continued talking while she worked.

“Shelter, heat, food, and water. If we can get those, we’re golden.”

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you,” she said over her shoulder, “but we don’t have any of those.”

Tanner stacked several small twigs, dry grass, and pine needles into a small teepee structure. Then he spit on the bottom of one of the beer cans and wiped it clean with his t-shirt. When he was satisfied, he unwrapped the candy bar, pinched off a piece of melted chocolate, and smeared it on the bottom of the can.

Samantha watched him as she continued picking up firewood.

“What in the world are you doing?” she asked.

“I told you. Magic,” he said, as he began to rub the chocolate around with the tips of his fingers, like he was polishing a pair of jump boots.

She snorted and wandered off to pick up more sticks. When she returned with an armful of wood, Tanner was examining the bottom of the can.

“Come see,” he said.

She hurried up next to him.

“What is it?”

He tipped the can so she could see the convex bottom. It was as reflective as any mirror she had ever seen.

“Wow, it’s really shiny.”

He nodded. “Now watch.”

He held the can near his teepee structure and tilted the bottom up to reflect the sunlight. A bright spot appeared on the pile of dried tinder.

“I get it,” she said. “It’s like a magnifying glass.”

“Exactly. The shape of the can reflects and focuses the light. Make the surface shiny enough, and the spot gets real hot, real fast.”

They both watched the bright spot illuminating the tinder. In less than a minute, a thin trail of white smoke started streaming up from the grass. Seconds later, a flame flashed to life.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Tanner quickly knelt down and blew softly, nursing the fire to life.

“Don’t blow it out,” she warned.

“My breath gives it a little more oxygen to burn.”

Samantha looked down at the flame and smiled.

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He glanced over at the small pile of firewood that she had gathered. “Get some more wood. Bigger branches, if you can find any on the ground.”

“Right,” she said, hurrying away.

When she returned the second time, it was nearly dark, and she found a good-sized fire burning in the pit. Tanner was breaking off leafy branches from nearby trees and tossing them back toward the campsite. She dumped the wood beside the fire pit, exhausted.

“Is that enough?” she asked in a tired voice.

“No,” he said, without even looking. “Get some more.”

Unable to take her eyes off the fire, she slowly turned and went in search of more branches.

By the time she returned, he had constructed a simple shelter by tying one of his shoestrings between two trees and leaning the green foliage against it. He was busy weaving in smaller branches, leaves, and dried grass to create a thatched roof.

“Not bad,” she said, dumping the branches onto what was now a respectable pile. She noticed a mound of dandelions and kudzu sitting on one of the stumps. “What are those for?”

“That’s dinner.”

“Weeds?”

“Those plants are quite nutritious.”

She picked up a dandelion and smelled the bright yellow flower.

“We can eat this?”

“Sure.” He tossed a large pile of pine needles under the lean-to and crawled in to spread them out. “Come over and try this out.”

Samantha walked over and sat beside him on the pile of dried needles.

“It’s kind of cramped under here.”

“Good. That way we won’t get cold.”

“I don’t suppose you have some magic way of getting us water.”

He held up a couple of the empty beer cans.

“That’s what these are for. But you’ll have to wait until morning to see that trick. Right now—” He froze. “Hand me your rifle. Slowly.”

“Why?” She looked around, stiffening with fear.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Pass it here.”

She carefully handed him the Savage .22 rifle.

He brought it to his shoulder, slowly swung left, and then fired into the darkness. The shot was followed by a quick rustle of the brush. Tanner hopped to his feet and raced out into the forest. He was only gone for a minute, and when he returned, he was carrying a large rabbit by its hind legs.

Samantha stared at it with a mixture of fascination and horror.

“Is it dead?”

He set it down on a rock beside the fire.

“It is.”

“Are you going to eat it?”

“No,
we
are going to eat it,” he said, opening the knife.

“Unh-unh. Not me.”

“No?”

“I told you. I don’t eat animals. You know, other than chicken and hamburgers.”

“Rabbits are like nature’s wild chickens.”

She eyed the dead rabbit.

“Nature’s wild chickens?”

“It’s true. I’m surprised you didn’t know that with all your schooling.”

“But how can you eat it? It’s so furry.”

“We have to undress it first. Come on, give me a hand.” Tanner lifted the rabbit by its hind legs and held them out to Samantha.

She shook her head.

“Just hold it all ready,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

She reluctantly reached out and gripped the rabbit’s hind legs. They were warm and soft.

“It’s heavy,” she said, her hands shaking.

“Do you want to close your eyes?”

She looked at the rabbit and then back at him.

“No.”

He nodded. “That’s my girl.”

Tanner used the pocket knife to cut a small notch in the top of the rabbit’s hide. Samantha flinched as he slipped a couple of fingers into the hole and peeled the skin down its body until it pulled free, leaving only two small fur-covered feet. He then did the same thing in the other direction, pulling the rest of the skin up over its head.

“There’s no blood,” she said, surprised.

“There’s a little on the inside, but rabbits are mostly meat and bones.”

He reached down and snapped the rabbit’s four ankle joints and used the knife to cut them off. After that, he placed it on a stump and severed the head.

“This is where it gets a little messy. You still good?”

She nodded, unable to look away.

With the rabbit still lying on the stump, he lifted up the pink flesh on the belly and carefully sliced it open from neck to groin. A thin layer of blood covered his fingers as the organs bulged out.

“You want to be careful not to cut the internals. Especially the bladder or sex organs.” He reached down into the pelvic area and lifted the bladder up and out. Then he split the pelvis open with a quick slice. “Hold him while I pull out the innards,” he said, lifting the rabbit back up and handing it to her.

When she grabbed it by the front legs, she noticed that her hands were no longer shaking.

“If you do it right,” he said, “everything comes out with a little tug.” He pulled the organs down and out through the pelvic split and set them aside. “There. Now we cut it up.” He cut off the two back legs and then the two shoulders. Finally, he split the body into two pieces, setting all six pieces in a neat row. “Voilà!”

“That’s it?”

“Other than looking the rabbit over to make sure that it doesn’t have tularemia.” He quickly examined the rabbit’s organs, picking up the liver and checking it carefully. “If it does, you’ll usually see white spots on the liver. This one’s good.” He held it out for her to take a look.

“I expected it to be bloodier,” she said. “It looks kind of like...”

“Like a raw chicken?” he teased.

She shrugged. “Sort of, yeah.”

“I told you—nature’s wild chickens.” Tanner scooped up the rabbit’s organs and skin and tossed them into the fire. “Never leave anything that might draw scavengers.”

She nodded. “Right.”

He dug though the pile of sticks until he found a couple that were green enough not to easily ignite. Then he poked the end of the stick through one of the back legs and added a shoulder and half of the body. Next, he stacked a few smaller rocks on each side of the fire pit to act as supports. When he was satisfied that the setup wouldn’t accidently drop his kill into the fire, he set the skewered rabbit in place.

“Should I do the other half?” she asked, looking at the rest of the meat.

“Only if you want to eat.”

Without answering, she mimicked what he had done. When she had it ready, she laid her stick on the rocks beside his.

“How long will it take to cook?”

He lowered himself to the ground and leaned up against a stump that was already warm from the fire.

“Not long. Maybe thirty minutes. It’s better to cook it slowly.”

She looked over at the pile of dandelions and kudzu.

“Are you still going to eat those?”

He patted his thick belly.

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t waste food.”

She nodded her approval and moved over to sit beside him. The fire felt good.

After a few minutes, he rotated his half of the meat so that it would cook evenly. She did the same. The odor of sizzling meat permeated the entire campsite.

“Wow,” she said, licking her lips, “it smells delicious.”

He smiled but said nothing.

For the next half-hour, they watched the meat cook, turning from a creamy pink color to a crispy brown. When it was finally ready, Tanner lifted the skewers from the fire and pulled off all six pieces of meat. After letting them cool for a minute, he held out one of the legs to her.

Samantha looked at it for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether or not to accept his offering. Surrendering to hunger, she reached up and took the meat. She stared at it for several seconds without moving.

“Something wrong with it?” he asked.

“I was just thinking that... well, you know, that we should offer some kind of thanks. I mean you took this creature’s life.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“Really?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“But you’re a Buddhist.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not thankful.”

“Okay then,” she said, bowing her head. “Dear God, Tanner and I want to say thanks for the food. Even though this rabbit never did anything to us, we had to kill it to stay alive. Well, just to be clear, I didn’t kill it. He did.” She glanced over at Tanner. “Anyway, please don’t hold it against him.” She shrugged. “Amen.”

“Amen,” he said, immediately pulling off a piece of the crispy flesh and stuffing it into his mouth.

She closed her eyes and took a small bite of the meat.

“Well?” he said, licking his fingers.

She nodded.

He smiled and passed her some of the dandelions and kudzu.

“Think of this as your salad.”

She bit off the top of the dandelion. It was a little bitter but certainly no worse than the spinach leaves her mom made her eat. She took another bite of meat, and before long, she was shoveling it in almost as fast as her giant wilderness companion.

CHAPTER

8

By the time Nakai’s soldiers reached the part of the tree line where Mason had been hiding, he had already repositioned himself further down the interstate. He and Bowie now lay beneath a large pine tree, partially buried under a mound of straw. In his years of serving as an Army Ranger, Mason had been on countless reconnaissance missions, and he was no stranger to hiding, or waiting. Both required a calm sense of purpose that not every man possessed. As for Bowie, he seemed to find the entire experience terribly boring and used the time to nap the final hours of the day away, only occasionally stirring to rustle the pine straw.

Despite being nearly three hundred yards away, the convoy remained easy enough to see with its bright headlights and the fast-moving shadows of soldiers working to clear the overpass. They had managed to pull the damaged tractor-trailer back off the bridge and were in the final stages of sweeping the roadway of homemade caltrops. With the fading light, however, their search had become tediously slow. Soldiers were forced to crawl on the ground, scrubbing their hands across the asphalt like metal detectors in search of a lost Rolex.

As darkness took hold, the soldiers retreated to the protection of the convoy. The mercenaries had set up a defensive position with the tractor-trailers arranged end to end along the inner and outer lanes of the interstate. Bright lights beamed out, reflecting off a light fog that was beginning to form. Two of the HMMWVs had been positioned in the gap at the front of the convoy, and the other two at the rear. Each pair of HMMWVs consisted of a light reconnaissance vehicle as well as a more heavily armored model. The heavy vehicles were particularly dangerous because they were each equipped with a pedestal-mounted Browning M2 .50 caliber heavy barrel machine gun—true cannons of death.

Mason had yet to fully flesh out his plan, but what he did know was that the key to stopping the mercenaries was disabling the tractor-trailers. If he could take out a few more trucks, Nakai would not only fail to deliver the goods, his team would be hamstrung with thousands of pounds of equipment that couldn’t easily be moved. That, in turn, might force the soldiers to separate, some staying behind to make repairs, while others drove ahead to complete a partial delivery. Dividing the mercenaries into more manageable groups struck him as a reasonable next step in his one-man war. Mason was absolutely confident that, in the end, he would be facing off against Nakai. For now, though, he forced his thoughts to remain focused on inflicting damage on every front.

He studied their position for an easy way to disable another truck. A few bullets to the tires would do it, but the rifle’s muzzle flash would announce his position as clearly as hanging a road flare around his neck. No, he thought, his handiwork would have to be done up close and personal. A large rag soaked in gasoline should do the trick. If he could get up to one of the trucks and stuff the rag into the gas tank, it would only take a flick of his lighter to ensure complete chaos. If he were lucky, the fire might even take out two or three trucks.

Bowie stirred, finally sitting up and turning his head from side to side as he surveyed the sounds of the night.

“Are you about ready to move?” whispered Mason.

Bowie pressed a cold wet nose against his cheek.

“All right. Let’s get back to the truck and gather a few things. We’ve got a busy night ahead of us.” He stood and brushed the pine straw off his shoulders and back.

Bowie scrambled to his feet too, shaking his entire body to send needles flying in every direction. He looked up at Mason with excitement in his eyes.

Mason nodded to him.

“Stay close.”

Nakai stared out at the night. The enemy was out there, watching him. What he would have given for one of his patrols to have caught the man. Nakai’s questions were as obvious as they were irrelevant. What were the man’s motivations? What did he hope to accomplish? Was he acting alone or as part of a larger force? While Nakai would have liked to know the answers, he needed none of them. He had learned a long time ago that surviving combat starts and ends with killing the enemy. Everything else was noise.