Lie Down in Green Pastures (27 page)

"But, but . . . but . . . it tasted like fish . . . where . . . how . . ." Brenda stammered.

"I can't believe you made me eat rattlesnake. . . . Ewwww . . ." blurted out Sarah.

"I didn't make you eat anything. You were hungry and assumed it was fish. You are accustomed to eating fish. The meat smelled like, looked like, and tasted like fish, didn't it?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yeah, but . . ." started Brenda.

"Rattlesnake is actually quite nutritious, and as you now know, tastes pretty good too."

Noah, changing the subject, asked, "What now, Rabbi?"

"It is close to four o'clock. It is still too bright out to risk moving right now. We will stay here till midnight before starting down the fire road. Right now we all need some rest."

"I set up another table for us to sleep on because the other kids have totally covered our dinner table," Noah told the girls.Turning to Jeremiah, he asked, "Guard duty?"

Before Jeremiah could respond, Sarah jumped in with "I'll take the first shift. I am totally weirded out by what I just ate."

"Me too. I'll go second," Brenda added.

"You girls stand guard together. Noah will go second and I will be last. Sarah, teach Brenda how guard duty works, Okay?"

"Rabbi, that means you will have a longer shift than the three of us," said Noah.

"True, but I am no longer growing and don't need much sleep anyway."
Thirty-two hours awake so far, well short of the ninety-two in that place . . . don't think it!
He took a breath. "If any of the kids wakes up and needs a bathroom, escort them to the shack and back. We don't need anyone aimlessly wandering around the area."

Everyone acknowledged the instructions and started for the door. "Are we going to make it?" asked Sarah as she crouched down to crawl through the doorway.

"Yes!" was all Jeremiah said before waving her out the door.

Right. When did you turn into Mister Happy? All things being equal, the odds say none of us will make it.

Cindy paced her bedroom, having moved there to pace after having accidentally stepped on the spot where Max had died when pacing the living room. "Come on, Mark, call me back.Tell me what's going on," she said out loud.

She tried his cell again, but he didn't pick up. The longer she went without hearing the worse she felt. It was going to be dark soon and all she could think of was Jeremiah and the kids on the mountain, fighting for their lives.

If they haven't already lost them,
she thought. She slapped herself lightly on the cheek.
Don't think that way!

She couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something.

Mark heard a soft knock on the locked door to the interrogation room. Then a scratching sound. Someone was picking the lock. It was now or never. His finger tightened on the trigger.

The door swung open. Mark turned to look. Kneeling at the door was his wife.

"Traci?" he asked, his mind racing.

She stared from him to Frank's unconscious form and then back at him. "Mark?"

"It's not . . ." he stopped. It was exactly what it looked like and she would know even if he tried to deny it.

She stood and swung the door closed behind her. "Put the gun down, honey."

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Paul called me. He told me what was happening. He said that he thought you were going to need me. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry."

"I'm sorry for everything," he said.

"I'm not. You haven't done anything yet that I'm ashamed of, and I'll stand by you no matter what comes."

"They're going to come in here at any moment," Mark said.

She shook her head. "There's a very hysterical lady outside demanding that they send every available officer to Green Pastures in armored trucks."

"Cindy," Mark groaned.

"I kind of figured it had to be. No one's going to be looking for us for a while."

She put her hand on his arm and he dropped it, taking his finger offthe trigger and sliding the safety on like he always did whenever he was around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he clung to her like he was drowning.

"Help me, Traci."

"I'm here."

The group walked back to the dining area. Noah climbed up onto the second table he had constructed and settled himself for a nap. Without saying anything Jeremiah pointed out the best guard locations to the two girls. As Brenda moved to her position, Jeremiah whispered to Sarah, "I'm going to scout the area for activity. I will return here from the direction of the cooking shack."

She nodded.

Jeremiah began his scouting trek by returning to the trail they had made coming down into the logging camp. He then turned and moved down the ridge for about fifteen minutes.He then turned half right heading in the general direction of the fire road. Carefully making his way through heavy brush and undergrowth, Jeremiah took extra care not to leave any tracks or damage any bushes. Thirty minutes later he arrived at the fire road. He figured his location to be about two miles away from the logging camp. Turning uphill toward the camp, Jeremiah carefully inspected the road.

This is not a good road. This would be very difficult at any time, but in the dark it is going to be very dangerous.

The road had not been used for a long time. It was full of ruts and holes, all of which contained muddy water. There were no shoulders to speak of and there were rocks and boulders everywhere. About a half mile from the logging camp, he could see there were a couple of large trees lying across the road.

What's that sound?

Instantly, Jeremiah was offthe road, lying behind a large boulder, holding the open pocketknife at the ready. He lay there not moving or breathing for nearly a minute until he heard the sound again.
A vehicle . . . maybe a Jeep . . . someone's coming. But who?
he whispered to himself as he drew a shallow breath.

Can I make it to the fallen tree? No! Great!
he hissed to himself.
I'm on the wrong side of the road to take out the driver . . . can't move now . . . too late for that . . . think.

The Jeep appeared about fifty feet away. It was struggling to make headway on the messed-up road.
Get ready, breathe,
he said to himself as every nerve and muscle tensed for what was to come.

Forty feet to go.

Good, a convertible with its top removed. Breathe.

Thirty feet.

Dive through the passenger opening, knife extended. Breathe.

Twenty feet.

Whoever this guy is, he knows how to wrestle that Jeep.
Breathe.

Ten feet.

One last breath. Tense up the proper muscles. Get ready . . . ready . . . steady . . . NOW!

Jeremiah sprang through the passenger opening with his outstretched arm tipped with the skinned knife blade. One foot from the man's throat, he realized who it was.

NO! Paul . . . it's Paul . . . Hold . . . Hold . . . NO!

Jeremiah jerked his hand to the right, just missing Paul's throat, and slammed into him with full force. Both men went flying out the driver side entrance and landed about five feet down the slope from the road.

"Umphhh!" issued from Paul's throat as all the wind was knocked from him. He was unconscious.

Close . . . so very close.
Jeremiah stood and, taking Paul's feet, turned him around so that his head was elevated. Using his hand, he scooped some water from a puddle and sprinkled Paul's face.

The Jeep had continued for a few feet, then flipped over onto the driver's side. The engine was racing. Jeremiah ran up and turned off the ignition.

Maybe we can right this . . . Sure . . . with ten men and a boy, maybe . . . or . . . two men and fourteen kids, yeah.
Jeremiah climbed back to where Paul was lying.

Paul was starting to revive.

"Come on . . . wake up!" Jeremiah splashed more muddy rainwater on Paul's face.

"Whaaa. . . ." Paul said, reaching for his sidearm. "What happened and who are y . . . Jeremiah! Thank heaven, I have been looking for you. Where are the kids? What happened at the summer camp? Did you see what happened? Was it an accident? What hit me? Why am I covered in mud?"

"Take it easy. Breathe a little. The kids are all fine and unless I miss my guess are fast asleep."

Jeremiah wasn't sure that Paul got that, but his anxious expression was starting to relax. Paul gingerly raised himself onto his elbows. Taking a few quick breaths, he tensed and then stood up in one smooth motion.

He didn't learn that at the police academy.

"Asleep?" Paul asked.

From his expression, Jeremiah could tell Paul was feeling better. So much so that he was speaking in his "cop voice."

Before starting up the fire road, the two men inspected the Jeep. "We should be able to get this righted with all of us working together. We can then get out of here," Paul said.

I don't think so . . . Oh, we can right the Jeep all right, but it won't carry us all, will make too much noise in the night air, and don't forget those cursed headlights . . . No, we are walking out of here.

The two men retrieved some water bottles and another flashlight from the Jeep.

Jeremiah took about ten minutes to explain the chain of events up to but not including how close Paul came to permanent sleep. He also left out the part about the two dead men and the mother lion.

"Unbelievable! One teenager alone doesn't act like that. Get a group of them together, like your fourteen, and they become a totally unmanageable mob. No! You must be sugarcoating," Paul said with an incredulous and unbelieving expression on his muddy face.

Cops! Always so suspicious.

"Rabbis don't believe in sugarcoating." Jeremiah took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Paul. "Here, clean your face. We are fairly close to the logging camp where you can witness my words firsthand. Oh, and be prepared to apologize. How did you come to know we needed help?"

It was Paul's turn to explain.

"Cindy, a roomful of bad guys, and a handful of darts. That had to be something to see."

"She made quite an impression on them, some of them quite literally," Paul said.

As they moved Jeremiah kept his eyes roving, searching for signs of the enemy.

"Why aren't you two together?" Paul asked.

"Excuse me?" Jeremiah said, stumbling over a rock in the road.

"You like her. What's the problem?"

Jeremiah stared hard at Paul. He had no desire to talk about anything with Paul, least of all Cindy and his problem. "Just liking someone isn't always enough," he said at last when Paul continued to stare at him.

"Is it because she's Protestant?"

It would be easy to lie and tell Paul that was exactly the problem. It wasn't, though. He wished they shared the same religion, but his past was the real problem. The truth was he couldn't see himself with anyone, especially anyone as curious as Cindy. He could never tell her who he really was, what he really was, but sooner or later she would start asking questions he wouldn't be able to answer.