Gone Away (9 page)

He spent a few minutes simply holding Riece. To Mason this was a minor setback. To Riece it was a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t step back from Riece until he felt the tremors running through Riece lessen.

“How will we get out?” Riece looked around while wiping one hand over his face. “I didn’t think or realize what I’d stepped on.”

“
Don’t
worry about it.” Mason looked down at his belt and reached for his radio. “You’re fine, I’m fine, we’ll call for….” He put his hand where his radio should have been clipped to his belt.

Riece’s gaze followed his. They both turned in a circle looking around the small area they’d landed in. Silently Riece bent and picked up the radio in two hands. “It must have caught on the wood,” he said.

Mason’s radio had been dislodged from his belt when they fell through the wooden covering over the pit. It had landed squarely under Riece, probably accounting for the slight bruising he felt along his back. Right now it was in pieces.

“Still not a disaster. Once we’re up top, we can hike to where we’ll be in the open, get a cell signal, or use your locator beacon.” Mason looked up as he spoke. Lengthy pieces of wood planking covered with vines and long grass partially obscured the view of the sky above. Since they had been down in a gully to begin with, much of the rest of the sky was blocked by trees. “This would be a lot worse if one of us were hurt and couldn’t walk. See if you can find the batteries.”

“Still think there aren’t any poachers?” Riece asked. He leaned down and squinted at the dirt while Mason paced around, shuffling the toe of his boot along the ground.

They were in a pit that had obviously been dug out. It was about ten feet deep and eight feet wide. Mason stopped, put his hands on his hips, and turned to Riece, shaking his head. “I have no idea. Maybe. Though if it rains enough, I’m willing to bet this collects water, but I don’t see any way of holding it.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t think there would be much traffic by any sort of animal through here, but I guess it’s possible something might travel the gully length.”

Now that Riece’s panic had dialed back, they could work on climbing out. Mason picked up a few of the larger pieces of wood and tried shoving them into the pit side. The first one broke. Moving to a different spot, he attempted a second. That cracked into pieces as well.

“I can’t find the batteries,” Riece said. He’d managed to reassemble the radio, but it didn’t look promising. There was a large crack down the middle, and the casing didn’t want to fit together properly.

Mason turned to him and shrugged. “I have more in my backpack. Not that those will help if that thing is ruined.” He waved Riece over. “C’mere. I’ll boost you up.”

“I can’t lift you up. How will you get out?”

“You can go back up and get the rope.” Even as Mason said the words, he knew Riece wouldn’t try and truthfully might injure himself in the process.

“I would have broken my neck getting down that incline without you
and
the rope,” Riece said softly. “I can’t lift you, but I can give you enough of a shove to help you get out. Then you can get me out.”

Mason looked around the pit. He walked the few feet from one end to the other, then gazed up for a minute. “Riece, someone dug this pit and covered it in such a way that when some animal walked on it, the wood would give way. There is no sign of anything being down here, no bones or scat remains, nothing.”

“So?”

“
So
that makes me think whoever did this comes back and checks it often. I’d much rather you were up there”—Mason pointed up—“than down here if they come back and find us. Honestly the more I think about why this might be here, the more it’s starting to creep me out.” He put one hand on Riece’s shoulder. “All you have to do is leave me your water. Climb back up. Set off your locator beacon and see if you can get cell reception. Sit down and wait. People will show up to help.”

“You said it could be a day or more if we needed help. You won’t have any food.”

“It’ll take me a month to starve to death. I might be cranky after a day or two, but it won’t kill me,” Mason said.

“You don’t need the rope to get back down the gully, do you?”

Mason shrugged. “Probably not. I also don’t want you stuck in here alone. I’d rather you were….”

“Were what?” Riece looked up at the opening when they heard movement, but Mason didn’t see a thing.

“Free,” Mason said in a soft voice.

“So I can run away?” Riece asked. Mason nodded, and Riece shook his head. “I wouldn’t run.”

Mason sighed. His argument was thin, and he knew it. Worse, so did Riece. It made more sense for Mason, who was much more capable in this territory, to go retrieve some rope. Getting up to where he’d tied the rope off and bringing it down wouldn’t take him long. That he was so hesitant to leave Riece for what would likely be no more than an hour made no sense.

Heaving another sigh Mason asked, “You think you can boost me high enough?”

“Sure.”

Mason moved his hand to the back of Riece’s neck and squeezed, then pulled him in and gently kissed his forehead.

Dirt fell down the edge of the pit, and at the same time, Mason heard a male voice say, “Well don’t you boys look like you’ve gotten yourselves into a real pickle.”

Mason and Riece looked up. Almost immediately Riece’s gaze shifted to Mason, and he felt Riece tense.

Glancing around the pit, Mason snorted and used the back of one hand to nudge Riece back a step while he took a step forward. “That’s one way to put it,” Mason said. “Have any rope?”

The man stood there staring down at them, and for a few seconds, Mason worried he’d turn around and leave. Or worse, start firing the crossbow he held at them. Mason had the distinct impression he was being sized up the same way Mason was judging this man.

He looked to be in his fifties or maybe early sixties, but in good shape, and even without the crossbow, Mason wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His hair was short and stylish, more salt than pepper. He carried himself like a man who was used to issuing orders and having them followed. The clothing he wore was expensive but well-worn. To Mason he appeared to be a man comfortable in the outdoors, probably a hunter.

The man turned and set the crossbow down, then crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Mason and Riece as he spoke to someone out of Mason’s line of vision. “Jason, bring a line over, will you?”

Mason wondered who Jason was and who this guy was and why they were here. It didn’t take long before a length of rope dropped over the side. Mason stepped forward and reached for it, muttering, “Interesting place to put a hole.” Mason grabbed the rope.

“Not you. Him first,” the man ordered, gesturing at Riece. The rope began to slither back up.

Mason stared up at the man. He felt pretty confident he would win a tug-of-war, but they’d still be trapped. The man lifted the crossbow but didn’t take aim. He simply held it.

“I must insist. Your friend doesn’t look very comfortable down there.”

Mason looked back at Riece. He stood in stony silence. His expression was impassive, and he was still. There was very little about his body language that anyone would see as anything other than a man who wanted to be left alone. Riece’s gaze met Mason’s, then moved to the rope, following it up to the opening and the man standing there staring down at them. Mason recognized Riece’s lack of reaction for what it really was. Riece was uncertain, maybe downright afraid. Possibly this man recognized the same thing?

Slowly releasing the rope, Mason nodded. He couldn’t begin to process the extent to which he didn’t like this, but he had no choice. They had to get out, and Riece wouldn’t be able to climb out unassisted. He turned and held one hand out to Riece, saying softly, “C’mon, it’ll be fine.”

Riece stood rooted to the spot until Mason leaned closer and took his arm. The man grumbled something, but Mason didn’t catch the words. He caught the tone, however, and wondered if the man had seen Mason hold and kiss Riece.

“Riece,” Mason said quietly, then winced inwardly. He knew better than to announce their names.

Riece walked with his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Once he was within reaching distance of the rope, Riece stopped. Mason wound the loose end around Riece’s waist and tied it. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “Do what they say. No matter what it is.” He gave the rope a tug and looked up, saying, “All set.”

The men pulled while Riece scrambled up the side of the pit. If it hadn’t been for the rope, he’d have slipped and fallen at least twice. When he reached the top, Mason watched as hands grabbed Riece’s belt. The number of hands didn’t match the two men Mason had seen or heard, and he wondered how many people were actually up there.

A minute went by, then another, and the rope didn’t come back down. He heard some movement, but nothing he could identify. There were no shouts, nor even the sound of Riece’s voice. Mason stalked along the pit side, looking up.

“Hey, still here,” he called, trying to sound casual. Mason paced a few feet one way, then returned to his starting point. He searched for more of the wooden planks and felt along the earthen wall for handholds. The nice little pep talk he’d given Riece replayed in his head. It
wasn’t
that far to the top. He
could
get out.

He was thinking he’d have to make a decision and make it fast when the rope dropped down once more.

“Sorry about that. You tie a killer knot,” the man from before called down, leaning over the edge. The tone of his voice, as well as his statement, made the hair along the back of Mason’s neck rise.

Mason grabbed the rope. He didn’t bother tying it around himself as he had Riece. Being tethered was something he neither wanted nor needed. The knot he tied shouldn’t have given anyone any trouble. It was reasonable to think someone up there had a knife. Most people this deep in the wilderness carried at least a pocketknife. The rope could have been cut off of Riece if need be, with plenty left to help Mason.

The man was lying.

When he reached the top, two different men grabbed his arms and hauled him up. A wave a relief flowed over Mason. He was out of that hole. Now he could assess their situation.

His relief was short-lived. It was replaced at once by dread.

There were three men. The first man he’d seen and two others slightly younger, maybe forty to fifty. Riece was on his knees. His camera hung from the fingers of one hand. It must have fallen near the pit edge. How Riece had managed to grab it Mason had no idea.

A man Mason judged to be in his forties stood over Riece. His red hair was cut military style. He was dressed in fatigues and boots designed for the terrain surrounding them. Mason put his hands in the air. He took two steps away from the edge of the pit and stopped, staring at the scene before him.

Red Hair was closest to Riece and held a .45 caliber Glock popular with many branches of military. He had it trained on the back of Riece’s head. It was obvious the guy had training. He stood close enough to Riece he’d have a point-blank shot, yet far enough away Riece couldn’t spin around and disarm the man. Not that Riece could’ve done that even if he did know how. A second pistol, a 9mm Glock, was holstered at the man’s hip.

The oldest of the men carried a crossbow, but he also wore hip holsters with a pair of handguns. On his belt he wore a multipurpose entrenching tool—commonly carried—and a sheath encasing a survival knife—a little extreme but not unheard of. He wore a crossbow backpack, and from what Mason could see, he was well supplied with bolts in the quiver.

Mason grappled with himself. Should he tell these men who he was and hope he could talk them down and convince them the best option was letting him and Riece—or at least Riece—go? Or keep his mouth shut and hope for an escape?

The oldest of the three waved at the ground with the crossbow and said, “Get down.” He then said to the third man, “Get his gun.”

“We’re here to take pictures. That’s it,” Mason said as he eased to his knees a few feet from Riece. If he’d been alone, Mason would have made his move while they were trying to disarm him, and taken his chances.

He wouldn’t take chances with Riece’s life, however. Civilians’ lives always took priority. Riece’s life even more so.

The man sidestepped close and held out one hand, waggling his fingers. “Try anything and you’ll end up dead.”

Mason slowly took his gun from his hip holster and set it on the ground, then gave it a shove so it was closer to the man. He was trying to decide the best way to diffuse this situation and get Riece the hell out of here when he heard the approach of yet more people.

Riece’s eyes widened and Mason’s hopes of them leaving without a fight were dashed. He pressed his lips together and stifled a groan when the woman and kid from the general store tromped through the trees along the gully.

“What the hell?” the woman asked. She carried a rifle, standard for hunting, but also wore a sidearm. The kid had added a crossbow, slung over his back, and a rifle to his collection.

Mason was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. These people were armed to the gills. Far more than any hunter needed to be or usually was. He ran through the possibilities—drugs, poachers, survivalists, escaped cons—none of them were good.

“Oh, Ranger Rick isn’t so mouthy now,” the kid chimed in.

“What?” the older man asked.

“He’s a park ranger,” the woman snapped.

Red Hair burst out laughing. “So, don’t litter and we have nothing to worry about.” Mason sort of hated this guy.

The woman rolled her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “Are you stupid? Park rangers are federal officers same as ATF and FBI. We trapped a fucking fed.”

“What’s he?” Red Hair pointed to Riece.

“A photographer. Like I said, we’re here to take pictures. That’s all,” Mason said.

“Empty your pockets,” Red Hair ordered Mason. He still held the gun on Riece but didn’t seem interested in him.

Mason pulled his badge from his hip pocket and his wallet from his back pocket, tossing them to the ground and out of his reach. The kid swooped in and grabbed them off the ground. He immediately rifled through the wallet.