Arkansas Assault (17 page)

“What’re you thinking, Fargo?”

“Just running through ideas.”

“I’m glad they captured you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m being selfish, I know. But the other men they kidnapped and brought here—you mentioned Daisy. All her brother could do was taunt Burgade, which wasn’t smart. Then he got dumb enough to try and race the dogs to the water. You’ve never seen anything uglier than what those dogs did to him.” She leaned across from her cot to his and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m sorry I said that I’m glad they captured you. I’m just glad we’ve got a man here finally who’s got some ideas.”

“Just because I’ve got the ideas doesn’t mean that they’ll work out.”

“Well, at least you’re not thinking of racing the dogs to the water.”

He frowned. “Poor bastard. He must’ve been pretty desperate.”

“He was more worried about his sister than he was himself. I’ll say that for him. That’s why he had to get off the island he told us—to save his sister before they found her and killed her.”

The new picture in his mind was the face of Ekert. The Trailsman owed Ekert a death—his own. And the same for Noah. How degenerate, how jaded, how perverted could you get—hunting your own species as sport. You didn’t even have the excuse of war. You were just having a good time. He owed Noah Tillman a death, too—and he was damned well going to pay off.

“I’m going to get a little more shut-eye,” he said. “Maybe by then they’ll be back and it’ll be our turn.”

“Maybe we can get Burgade’s rifle from him and blow his ugly face off.”

Fargo grinned. “You’re my kind of woman.”

They left late in the afternoon, Burgade, the dogs, and Nancy and Fargo. Burgade had given Nancy the key and she’d unshackled both herself and the Trailsman.

It was funny how serene the place was, Fargo thought, when you looked straight ahead and forgot about the rifle and dogs at your back. Most of the island was land that was untouched by white men. No timber had been chopped. No trenches dug. No shanties or shacks erected. Pure wild forest. And at this time of day, with the sun beginning to sink, there was a sense of completion, as if all the animals and birds were knocking off work after a hard day in the woods.

The illusion of tranquility was ended soon when Fargo heard Nancy curse. She pointed to a pile of bones just off the trail. Human bones long ago picked clean by various animals—whatever small pieces of meat the dogs had been too sated to eat themselves.

“Good old Burgade and his filthy dogs,” she said. She didn’t cringe from the sight. It obviously just reminded her all over again of how much she hated Burgade. She was a tough woman. No tears. Just rage. Fargo liked that.

Trees soared to the sky. Gnarled, clinging, tangled vegetation covered everything off the path they were traveling. The air was thick with the scents of wildflowers and mint leaves and loam. Butterflies and small birds of brilliant hues soared and dove in play. At a glance, there seemed to be a dozen places that looked like good spots to hide. But this was illusory. The dogs would find you instantly.

To the north were limestone cliffs, to the south a valley that stretched almost the entire width of the island. The valley was covered with a colorful variety of vegetation. What intrigued Fargo was how close its far perimeter was to the water. His eyes searched for trees. If you could elude the dogs by climbing a tree and then diving from a tree into the water.

But life was rarely that simple. No trees grew along this particular stretch of shoreline. You would still have the problem of trying to outrace the dogs to the water. And you’d lose.

When they reached a tiny clearing, Burgade planted his ass on a small boulder and said, “Go on ahead and look around all you want. I need to keep my strength for tonight. Noah always likes me to go along with him. I’ll send the dogs along to keep you company.”

The dogs.

Fargo wasn’t sure what cross-mixture of breeds they were exactly. They were the size of adult greyhounds but their coats were shiny black. Their eyes were a faintly ruby color. Easy to see why the sisters called them demons. Cold, silver spittle constantly dripped from their long snouts and the low rumble in their chest cavities was ceaseless. What struck Fargo most about the dogs was their lack of personality. Play had been trained out of them; and so had most other kinds of dog pleasures, including affection for humans. They were machines and nothing more, their behavior dictated by their trainer and master.

They set off without Burgade.

In the next forty-five minutes, Nancy showed him the caves she’d mentioned, the one possibility that just might be an underground stream, but wasn’t, and then a variety of places where they might lie in ambush and turn the tables on Noah and Burgade. The trouble again being the dogs. They might knock out or even kill Noah and Burgade with rocks but the animals would still be there.

He spent a third of their time near the shoreline inspecting the trees. Because the birches were so close together, they offered the fastest escape route. You could use two trees at the same time if you needed to, thereby insuring not only speed but relative safety from falling. The other trees he saw were too thick or too flimsy. What the birches lacked was the heavy leafing of some of the other trees. It wouldn’t be easy to hide at the top of them. But then, he decided, no matter which kind of tree they elected, the dogs could sniff them out, anyway. What they’d have to do was reach the top of the trees and then start climbing from tree top to tree top until they reached trees whose leaves would hide them adequately.

And then what? Fargo wondered. He hadn’t thought beyond finding a hiding place. But if they could put themselves in a place that would keep them away from the dogs, at least there’d been the hope of surviving the night. Maybe some turn of good luck, some unexpected opportunity might save them.

“You look sort of devious, Fargo,” Nancy joked.

“Just part of my personality,” he smiled. “Being devious.”

“You see any way to avoid getting killed tonight?”

“I’m working on it.”

“My sister and I always act like it never gets to us. Being on this island, I mean. We made a pact when we were kidnapped that we’d keep our spirits up. But now that I know we’re probably going to die tonight—”

He slid his arm around her. “Don’t think about it.”

“Is that how you handle it? Not being scared?”

“Who says I’m not scared? But I’m sure as hell not going to give up without a fight.”

She slid out from under his comforting arm. “There. That’s exactly what I needed. A little kick in the behind to get me going again. I’m mad—I’d like to tear Burgade apart with my hands—and I plan to stay mad.” She made fists, serious ones. Fargo had no doubt that she could throw a solid punch. “Now, tell me what’s going on in that devious mind of yours.”

“How are you at climbing trees?”

“Well, Steph and I were pretty much tomboys when we were growing up. We could outrun, out punch and out climb every boy in our little town. The ones who were our age, anyway. Why?”

“Because that’s what I’m working on.”

He gave her his theory about how climbing the trees would keep the dogs at bay for a while and might just give them time to figure out a way to kill Noah and Burgade.

“I like all this, Fargo. But you haven’t figured out what to do about the dogs yet. I mean, we get down from the tree. And there they are, waiting for us. Then what?”

“That’s the part I’m still working on.”

“Well,” she said, “you’d better work fast.”

 

 

The supper was downright delicious. Slices of beef, baked potato, green beans. Real restaurant repast. Even the dishes the meal was served on were of café quality.

“I told you they fed us well,” Stephanie said.

Burgade had left them all unshackled. He joked that it was the least he could do since they were going to be dead in a few hours.

They ate in an empty corner of the log cabin. Sitting on the floor.

“Maybe he put something in the food,” Aaron said.

“Like what?” Fargo asked.

“You know, some kind of herb or something that’ll slow us down tonight when we’re trying to escape my dear brother Noah and his dogs. I sure wouldn’t put it past him.”

They all looked at their food.

“Thanks, Aaron,” Nancy said. “I was actually enjoying this food until you said that.”

“Yeah, thanks Aaron,” her sister said in the same sarcastic tone.

“Well, we might as well enjoy it,” Fargo said, “being that we’ve all eaten at least half of our meals.”

Aaron frowned. “You know, my friend, your optimism could get me down. We’re probably less than three hours from our death and you’re making jokes.”

“Well, there won’t be any time for jokes after we die, Aaron. We might as well tell ’em now.”

Nancy, trying to alleviate the sudden tension, “Tell him about the trees, Fargo.”

“Yes, and while you’re at it, tell me about the birds and bees, too.” He laughed. “Sorry I got so cranky there, Fargo. All the times in my miserable life I thought I wanted to die but when I come right up against it—I really want to live. I’ve got a bad case of nerves.” He nodded to Nancy. “I hope our beautiful young companion means that you’ve got some foolproof escape plan.”

“If I had a foolproof escape plan, I’d already be gone,” Fargo said.

He went over his plan. He’d added a new angle since talking about it to Nancy. “Since we don’t have any weapons, we talked about pelting them with rocks. Maybe knocking them out.”

“Or killing the bastards,” Stephanie said.

“Right,” Fargo laughed, “or killing the bastards if you happen to be as bloodthirsty as Stephanie. But now I’ve added to the idea. What if we set them up for a trap. Maybe hitting them with rocks would work then.”

“How do we set up a trap?” Aaron said. “They’ve got the dogs and the guns.”

“They give us a head start, I hear.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Stephanie said. “They’re so generous.”

“All right. So what if we try this?” Fargo said. “We know where the tree branches are thickest with leaves. What if I run on ahead of you three, pick out a tree, carry as many rocks as I can up with me, and then start firing at them as soon as they reach the tree.”

“What makes you think they’ll stop at that particular tree?” Aaron said.

“You’re going to lead them there. You’re going to make all the noise you can and they’re going to come after you. Then you start scrambling up the birches before they get to me. When they get there, they’ll be confused, wondering where you folks are. Then I hit them with the rocks.”

“They’ll kill you,” Nancy said.

“All they’ll have to do is point their rifles up there and start blasting away,” Stephanie said. “Even if they can’t see you, they’re bound to hit you eventually.”

“I appreciate your concern, ladies, but I don’t see that we have much choice.”

“You’re a braver man than I am,” Aaron said.

“That wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot,” Nancy said.

“I’m a lot younger and spryer than Aaron here. If he was my age, I’m sure he’d do it. So let’s not go calling each other names.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” Nancy said. “That was a mean thing to say. I guess I’ve got a bad case of nerves, too.”

“Apology accepted. And I agree with you, Nancy. Even if I was Fargo’s age, I doubt I’d have the nerve for what he’s proposing.”

“I’m more than proposing it,” Fargo said. “I’m going to do it. And for what it’s worth, it’s not going to be all that simple for you, either. You’ve got to scramble up those trees before the dogs get a scent of you.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Stephanie said.

“I had,” Nancy said. “But I’d rather run our risk than Fargo’s.” She reached over and touched his arms. “Poor Fargo’s going to have two guns blazing away at him.”

 

Fargo watched the preparations from the cabin window.

Noah had arrived a half hour ago, carrying one hell of a fancy Spencer. He wore black clothes and his face was smudged with some kind of grease that made his face half as dark as his clothes. From what Fargo could see, the man had also rubbed the same stuff on his hands. Mr. Invisible, Fargo thought. He knows the island a hell of lot better than we ever will. He’s got his gunny Burgade, his dogs, and his disguise. Bastard doesn’t give us much of anything. It’s a poker game of the worst kind—Noah took all the aces out before the game started and shoved them right into his own five cards.

There was a half-moon. The light was unnaturally bright.

Burgade appeared. He had a hunting rifle and a pair of field glasses. Fargo wasn’t sure that, even with the brilliance of the moon, the field glasses were going to be a whole lot of help once they got into the forest.

They talked for maybe fifteen minutes, just the two of them, about halfway up from the dock. The dogs weren’t barking but they were growling. Tonight just might be their dream—atrocity heaven for carnivores of the worst sort. Even if they could only bag one human, that would be a truly sumptuous and memorable meal. As long as they didn’t kill each other fighting over who got the last few bites.

Burgade went over and let the dogs out.

It was sort of funny the way Noah jerked backwards a bit when the animals came out of their run. So the old man was just as afraid of the dogs as everybody else was. Someday, if Fargo could survive the night, that would make one hell of a saloon story.

The dogs got excited with no warning and for no reason Fargo could see. They leapt up at Noah, who kept backing away and did his own sort of barking at Burgade. Even from here, Fargo could see the strain on Burgade’s face. He liked to boast about the kind of control he had over the dogs but at moments like these his face told the truth. You could see the fear and the desperation as he began to command the dogs into settling down. At one point, Noah raised the Spencer. He looked as if he were about to shoot one or two of the dogs himself.