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Chapter 28
Though seated, he appeared tall and lanky, wearing camo, a gun propped on the log next to him.
Gripping our cold shotguns, we knelt on the forest floor and watched him for a very long and silent five minutes.
He didn’t move. Was he sleeping? Dead? Or was it a trap?
Very slowly I began walking down toward him. When I was about ten feet away, the guy sort of stirred and reached for his weapon.
I closed the gap and put both barrels of the shotgun to the back of his head. “Don’t!” I said.
I made him lie on his belly, searched his outer pockets, and found zip ties that I used on his hands. Twenty feet away from where he’d been sleeping, the trees gave way to a clearing I recognized as the firing range I’d seen the day before. Beyond it were the trailers.
We’d done it. We’d made it back to their camp. I told Rosalind to head to the tree line and wait for me there, while I went back to the soldier and lifted his weapon—an actual grenade launcher! Just amazing. These guys had to be CIA or something. You couldn’t get grenade launchers at Walmart. I’d never even seen one.
The man remained silent as I removed his camo balaclava. He looked boyish, in his late thirties, a pleasant enough curly-haired guy with a goofy gap in his teeth. His driver’s license said his name was Justin De Souza, with an address in San Jose, California.
“Long way from San Jose, Justin,” I said. I found a Clif energy bar in his bag, ripped off the wrapper, and started chewing.
“Where are the others?” I said, spitting crumbs.
“Where the hell do you think they are? Out looking for you.”
“You’re the only one here?” I said skeptically.
“Yes. I mean no. Therkelson is in the trailer with a broken back. And the old man is here. They got him locked up.”
“The old guy in the blue truck? He’s here?”
“Yes. He’s okay. A little roughed up, but okay.”
“Get up and show me,” I said, kicking him.
We walked to the clearing and stopped.
“Rosalind, I’m going to take this guy back over to those trailers. If something happens, I want you and Roxie to try to get to Chapman by yourself. But if it’s okay, I’ll whistle and you and Roxie run as fast as you can to the trailers, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Where’s my grandpa?”
“In one of the trailers, I think. Just let me go check first.”
I turned back to Justin.
“Okay, buddy. Showtime. If you’re lying and somebody takes a shot at me, I won’t shoot back at him. I will pull this trigger on you, Justin, and we can die together. Now get moving. Fast.”
The twenty seconds
it took to run out in the open toward the trailers were the longest of my life. Any moment, I thought I would know what it felt like to take a high-powered bullet to a vital part of my body. But we made it. There were no shots.
We found Joe Walke in the second trailer, sitting against the wall in his orange vest.
“You got the drop on them!” he said, leaping up with surprising energy. “I knew it! Where’s Rosalind?”
I whistled.
Their hug moments later on the edge of the firing range was epic. Roxie, who couldn’t contain herself any longer, let out a happy bark.
“Okay, Joe. Here’s what I’d like you to do. Find some keys, take one of the vehicles, and head down the hill.”
