American Criminal (27 page)

    Burnside looked both ways, didn’t see any traffic, and took a left onto E Carmel Valley Rd. He hit the gas in an attempt to make up for the few moments he wasted at the intersection. The road was initially surrounded by forested hills, but a short time later the land to his right flattened as some ranch buildings and pastures came into view. Several small hills interspersed the ranchland and larger hills loomed in the distance. He saw cattle grazing in the hilly pastures and horses trotting in hillside corrals. To his left were the usual forests and hills with larger snow-capped mountains in the distance. That was the way he needed to go. He just had to figure out where to ditch the ambulance and strike off on foot.

    The engine rumbled as he put the pedal to the floor. He cracked his window as sweat broke out on his forehead. The cool breeze felt refreshing.

   
Come on, come on, I need to get off the road.

    Burnside turned a corner and saw a large bridge ahead. Reaching the bridge, he glanced right over the rail. He was amazed to see that he was driving over an enormous chasm that plunged down hundreds of feet to a raging river below. The bridge connected two sheer cliff walls that fell precipitously to a rocky riverbank. He crossed the bridge and saw a white sign with a picture of a tent on it. Slowing down, he spotted a dirt trail to the left of the sign.

   
Perfect.

  
Ray swung left and careened down the rough, unpaved road at forty mph. He struck a bump that sent him airborne and he was forced to slow down. The road was designed for a four-wheel-drive
and it was wreaking havoc with his shocks. Burnside felt like he was on a carnival ride as he bounced in the seat every time he struck a large bump. Still, it was better than being caught driving on the main road.

    The trail was surrounded by thick forest and the trees opened up sporadically to form small camp sites. Luckily, there were no actual tents or campers. Burnside thought his particular vehicle might raise a few eyebrows on the remote trail. He slowed down as he approached a spot where the trail branched off to the left. He could continue straight through the forest or take a left towards the river. Taking a left, he drove by several camp sites before the trail opened up to a dirt clearing surrounded by a wide grassy area. A triangular orange sign at the entrance to the clearing stated “SCENIC VIEW AHEAD.” He drove to the edge of the clearing and parked. A dirt path veered toward a four-foot concrete wall with a long-range viewer built into the top. He got out, walked to the end of the path, and looked over the wall.

    Ray was astounded by the view. The wall was built at the edge of a steep cliff that plunged down hundreds of feet to the river below. Leaning his elbows on top, he looked down at the wide blue river. The river flowed to the edge of the cliff on this side, while there was a bank on the opposite shore.

    Glancing left, Ray saw the bridge he crossed earlier connecting the chasm walls. Glancing right, he saw the blue river meandering through the steep canyon until the sheer cliffs tapered down to a forest at river level. The river twisted its way through the green mass like a blue snake until it disappeared behind the mountains.

    Ray estimated the river was several hundred feet wide and fairly deep because of the deep blue that showed no evidence of a bottom. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily in the azure sky above the opposite cliff. He felt a moment of peace and tranquility before his mind came back down to earth.

    An idea suddenly struck him and he knew what he had to do. Ray returned to the ambulance and drove toward the cliff edge. As he neared the edge, he turned and drove alongside the precipice until he reached a place where the terrain sloped down to a sheer drop. He steered the ambulance toward the chasm and hit the brakes at the edge of the slope. He placed the gears in neutral and got out. Smiling grimly, he circled around to the back and pushed. The vehicle picked up speed as it rolled down the slope. Burnside let it go and smiled as it descended toward its doom.

    Ray walked behind the rolling ambulance and watched it disappear over the precipice. He approached the edge, peered over, and watched the metal monstrosity begin its incredible plunge toward the river far below. A horrific crashing sound blasted his ears as the front of the ambulance struck an outcropping in the cliff and spun, end-over-end, until it struck the water and disappeared into the blue depths. 

Fugitive

   
Burnside couldn’t see a trace of metal in the deep blue waters. It was as if the vehicle had never existed. He smiled with satisfaction.

   
Ray stood at the top of the cliff like a lone conqueror looking down on his enemy. He turned away from the precipice and strode across the clearing toward the forest. Distant mountains loomed high above the trees.

   
They will never find me there.

    Ray felt free for the first time since escaping. His back was to the wind and his lungs breathed in fresh mountain air. He would rather die free in God’s country than live caged like an animal. It was a win-win scenario. Whether he survived or not was irrelevant. He was out.

    Still, he wasn’t about to give up. Being confined in prison had given him a thirst for freedom and he intended to drink deeply of it.

    Ray made sure the Taser was still secured in its holster and checked for the bottle of pepper spray and handcuffs on his belt. At least he wasn’t completely defenseless. The Taser could operate for weeks on battery power.  All the cartridges were used up, but the base of the handle could still deliver a formidable shock. He didn’t know how effective it would be against any wildlife like a large bear. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into any.    

    Burnside quickened his pace and returned to the trail through the woods. He passed by several empty camp sites and reached the intersection where the trail branched left, right and straight ahead. The trees around the trail blocked any view of the distant mountains, but he knew the general direction to go.

    Burnside halted when he smelled smoke coming from the trail to the right.

    Is it a forest fire?

    Burnside turned right and saw drifting plumes of smoke ahead. He stopped when he saw a glint of red metal through the trees. Ducking, he went off the path and slid behind a tree trunk. He peered cautiously around the edge of the tree and saw the sun gleaming off a red metal panel.

    Ray darted behind another tree trunk deeper in the woods. He peered around the edge and realized the metal panel belonged to a large red pickup truck. Two long fishing poles were propped against the back of the truck and a tackle-box rested on the ground. He also saw a Coleman lantern perched on an old wooden picnic table. Smoke drifted up beyond the cab of the pick-up.

    Burnside glanced down at the light blue EMT uniform he was wearing and realized it wasn’t exactly camouflage. In fact, it would stand out against the verdurous green environment. That just meant he had to be more careful. He needed to see what he was dealing with. Glancing right, he saw plenty of trees to hide behind. He ducked and moved behind the next closest tree. A blue tent came into view beyond the picnic table, but he still couldn’t see the fire.

    Burnside cautiously slid over to the next trunk and peered around it. He saw a man wearing an orange hunter’s cap and vest standing next to a lively pit fire. The man wore a plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows and a faded pair of jeans. He looked to be about 5’8” and maybe a hundred and sixty pounds.

   
He’s no match for an escaped convict pushing two-twenty. I just need to get closer.

    Scanning the campsite, Burnside saw a hunting rifle propped against the front passenger door of the truck – within easy reach of the man tending the fire.

  
That makes this more challenging.     

   
Burnside heard a sizzling noise and realized the man was frying fish on a grill over the fire. The man wore a thick oven mitt and held a long spatula, which he was using to flip the fish. The smell of frying fish was intoxicating. At this moment, Burnside realized how hungry he was.

    I must be careful not to upset the grill. 

    Burnside scanned the camp site and realized his best bet was to return to the original tree he hid behind, so he could use the truck as cover. It was only a few steps from the front bumper of the truck to the man by the fire. Ray returned to the first tree trunk, ducked low, and slid over to the truck. Staying low, he crept along until he reached the front of the cab. The smell of frying fish was stronger than ever. Ray slid the Taser from its holster, ducked low behind the trunk, and worked his way to the edge. He took a deep breath and tensed his muscles for action. 

    Ray stood from his hiding place, brought the Taser back over his shoulder, took three long strides and pummeled the fisherman in his right shoulder blade. The fisherman’s body tensed up as he collapsed. Burnside re-holstered the Taser and grabbed the man by the shoulders before he could fall forward onto the fire. Ray expertly brought him, face-down, to the ground and pulled his arms behind his back. He snapped open the handcuff case on his riot belt and took out the metal restraints, one-handed, as he was taught to do in the Police Academy. He snapped the cuffs on the fisherman’s wrists, stood up, and waited for the guy to come around.

     The unlucky fisherman groaned as he tried to move and found he couldn’t budge as he lay on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. Burnside grabbed his arms and pulled him up. Ray led the dazed man to the picnic table and sat him down. As far as Ray was concerned, the man was out of commission and there was no need for further use of force.

    The man took a few seconds to focus and his eyes widened when he saw Burnside standing above him in the EMT uniform. The man’s orange hunting cap had been knocked off and his thick black hair was as disheveled as the rest of him. Ray guessed the guy was about his own age – early-thirties.  

    “What’s your name, buddy?” Ray asked.

    “Tom,” the man said. “Who’re you?”

    “I’m Ray. Tom, are you here alone?”

    “Yes, I’m here by myself.”

    Burnside took several long strides to the front of the truck and picked up the hunting rifle.

    “I hope you’re sure about that because we don’t want any accidents,” Ray said.

    He held the rifle pointing towards the ground, but he was ready to raise it and fire at a moment’s notice. The rifle had a state-of-the-art scope on it. An image flashed into Ray’s mind of a pair of crosshairs focused on his old Tactical Team Leader, Mike Pierce.

    “Why are you doing this?” Tom asked. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

    “Nor I with you,” Ray said. “Unfortunately, fate has thrown me across your path. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to borrow some equipment and I’ll be on my way.”

    “What kind of uniform is that?” the man asked.

    “Don’t worry about that,” Burnside said. “Suffice it to say I’m in a bit of a hurry and I’ll be on my way ASAP.”

    Burnside heard a sizzling sound coming from the grill and remembered the frying fish.

    “Oh damn,” Ray said, as he transferred the rifle to his left hand and held it by the stock. He approached the fire and reached down for the fallen oven mitt and spatula with his free hand.

    The spatula had dirt on it, which Burnside wiped off on his pants leg. He reached over to the grill and flipped the fish over. There were two fish on the grill, cut into four decent-sized slabs. The fish were slightly blackened on the side facing up, but still appeared to be edible. Burnside liked his meat well-done anyway, and besides, there was less chance of catching a disease that way.

    “Sorry I have to take your fish,” Burnside said. “But it’s absolutely necessary.”

    The man leaned forward slightly and stood awkwardly to his feet. Ray moved toward him with the speed of a panther and shoved him back down.

    “Sorry, pal, I can’t let you move. It’s for your safety and mine.”

    “Are you going to let me go?” Tom asked.

    “Sure, as long as you cooperate,” Burnside said with an intentional hint of menace as he returned to the grill and flipped the fish. They were done.

    “Got any plates?” Burnside asked.

    “Over there,” Tom said, pointing to the back of the truck.

    Burnside strode to the pick-up and found a large duffle bag and several paper grocery bags in the back compartment. He checked the first grocery bag and found paper plates and plastic utensils in it. Ray placed the rifle next to the duffle bag and grabbed a couple plates and utensils with his free hand. He returned to the grill and used the spatula to put the sizzling fish on the plate. The pieces were large, so he ran out of room after placing two halves on a plate.

    Burnside carried the plate to the picnic table, placed it on the opposite end from the fisherman and returned to the back of the truck, keeping a constant eye on his prisoner as he did so. Not that the guy was going anywhere with his hands secured behind his back. Burnside knew from experience that moving quickly in handcuffs was difficult and launching an attack was next to impossible. Unless this guy was some kind of black belt and could use his legs as a weapon, he had nothing to worry about.

    Burnside retrieved another plate, returned to the grill and scooped up the remaining fish. He brought it to the picnic table, sat at the end, and went to work with the plastic utensils.

Chapter 37

Decision

 
Tom remained calm while Ray finished his meal. Ray thought it showed common sense because the fisherman was obviously in no position to resist. Ray was no longer the slim, athletic guy he was when he entered prison. He had put on thirty pounds of solid muscle and was more dangerous than ever. Now that his hunger was satiated, he could concentrate on what to do next.

   “Stop looking so worried,” Burnside said. “I’m going to let you go.”

    “Who are you?”

    “Don’t worry about that. Suffice it to say I have to borrow your truck. I need you to cooperate for a very short time and I’ll let you go. If you are honest with me, everything will go smoothly. If not…”

    Burnside let the word hang as he glowered at Tom. Tom shuddered.

    “Sure, sure, I’ll cooperate. Take whatever you want. Just let me go.”

    “That’s the plan.”

    “If it makes a difference to you, I have a family waiting for me. A wife and son.”

    “I’m a reasonable guy. I’m not going to kill an unarmed man,” Burnside said. He was wasting time talking to this guy. He needed to get going. “Do you have any clothes that might fit me?”

    “You can check the duffle-bag in the back of the truck.”

    “What about a cell phone?”   

    “In the glove compartment. Take it. I don’t care,” Tom said.

    “Okay, good,” Burnside said, standing and walking over to the truck.

    He checked the duffle-bag and found several pairs of jeans that were obviously too small and several pairs of oversized lumberjack shirts that looked like they might fit. Ray stripped off his EMT shirt and tried on a brown and red checked lumberjack shirt. It was tight, but it fit. The best part was it was long enough to cover the riot belt containing the Taser. Burnside glanced down at the dark blue EMT pants and thought they could pass as civilian pants if they had to. There was a thin blue stripe running down the leg sections, but it wasn’t obvious.

    Burnside began pacing alongside the truck. 

    It’s a fifteen minute ride from the main road to this section of trail. If Tom walks fast, it’s a thirty minute trek for him to reach the main road and flag someone down. I need more of a head-start than that.

    “How far is it to the spot you were fishing at?” Ray asked.

    “It’s a ten minute ride down the trail,” Tom said, gesturing with his head to the right.

   
Ten minutes. Still not good enough. This is not going to work.

   
Burnside continued pacing.

    The only way for me to obtain enough distance is to kill him.

   
“We’re going for a ride in your truck. Where are the keys?”

    “In the ignition.”

    “Perfect. Let’s go.”

    “Where are we going?”

    “To the river. I need more of a head-start. I figure it will take you an hour to reach the main road from there. With luck, you won’t run into any traffic for another hour. By then, I’ll be long gone.”

     Now that he had made a decision, Ray went over to Tom, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

    “Let’s go, buddy,” Ray said, leading him to the passenger side of the truck. “I hate to do this, but I need to borrow your cash. You have a wallet on you?”

    “In my back pocket.”