Sticks and Stones (19 page)

T
HEY
spent the next day and a half making their way slowly up the trail, winding ever higher, going farther and farther into the backcountry where not even trail cabins interrupted the wilderness. Earl had slowed their pace to a near crawl, being careful of the treacherous trail made slick and unreliable by the most recent storms.

Every now and then Ty would check his cell phone, noting that he hadn’t gotten even a hint of a signal since the storms had swept through. It made him a little nervous. He knew that you were pretty much on your own up here no matter what the conditions. You had to rely on yourself and your companions. But there was always that knowledge that help was just a day’s trek away—and in the last ten years or so, a phone call away.

Now they were completely cut off, out in territory none of them had ever seen before. Why Earl had picked this particular hike to go trailblazing, Ty didn’t know. He and Deuce had long ago stopped trying to figure out their father’s mind.

During a lag in conversation as they all concentrated on the rough terrain they traversed, Ty began to notice a distinct lack of noise. He frowned and glanced around for wildlife, finding only birds in the trees. No squirrels, no rodents, no deer in the distance. Nothing. He glanced up at the birds in confusion. If there were danger, the birds would have been long gone too. Deuce looked over his shoulder to meet Ty’s eyes, obviously taking note of the unusual silence as well. They both shrugged.

Deuce turned and kept going, but Ty picked up his pace, closing in on the men ahead of him. Something was setting off his warning bells, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Something just felt off. He tried to tell himself it was the sudden change in weather or the exertion after so long stuck behind a desk. Earl hadn’t stopped moving, so maybe he wasn’t noticing the unusual quiet. Ty cursed under his breath, thinking they should have just turned back when the weather broke. Just as he caught up with Deuce, Earl stopped suddenly.

“It’s quiet,” Earl said as he turned to look at them. “Must be other hikers ahead of us,” he reasoned. Ty nodded in agreement and looked back down at the trail they’d just traveled. “Damned litterbugs, is what they are,” he heard Earl mutter under his breath.

He looked up to see Earl bending to pick up a faded Coke can someone had tossed to the side of the trail, just under the brush. Ty gasped for a breath as the scene triggered a full-fledged flashback: Earl blurred into a Marine ahead of him bathed in the green tint of night vision, kneeling to pick up a piece of trash on the side of a desert road.

“Dad!” Ty shouted in warning. He rushed past Deuce and Zane, who both instinctively ducked and covered, and Ty tackled Earl to the ground just as he picked up the can. But it was too late. A string attached to something inside the can pulled and snapped as they fell, and in the brush just off the path, something clicked loudly.

“Run!” Ty cried as he pushed Earl to get up off the ground. The four of them scattered, heading for cover anywhere they could find it. Just after throwing themselves over and behind a couple of fallen logs, a small explosion rocked the mountain around them, the booming sound echoing through the trees, sending debris raining down on them.

“I ain’t seen nothing like that since ’Nam,” Earl panted after a long minute.

Deuce groaned where he lay in the dirt next to Earl. “You saying Charlie’s in the Appalachians trying to kill you?” he asked with a hint of psychiatric concern for his father’s sanity.

“Don’t be a smartass, Deacon,” Earl snapped. “I’m saying that was a trap set to kill. Only thing up here worth booby-trapping is marijuana. But I ain’t never seen marijuana growers use that kinda thing.”

Deuce rolled and flattened on his back, extracting his cell phone to check if it had reception. He cursed. “So what the hell? What are we dealing with here?” he asked breathlessly.

“If it isn’t marijuana, it sure as hell ain’t moonshine,” Ty offered as he lay on Earl’s other side, his face still pressed to the ground where he’d landed. His heart was racing, and adrenaline sang through him just like it always had when explosives had been involved back in his Recon days. His head felt swimmy, and he would have sworn that if he raised it to look around, he’d be looking through the lenses of night-vision goggles.

“Doesn’t help to jump to conclusions,” Zane murmured from his sprawl next to Ty. “With the information available on the Internet, a grade-schooler would know how to create something like that.”

“That’s not just something you come up with for shits and giggles,” Earl argued. “The Vietcong used to see how American soldiers liked to kick cans on the road as they marched through. They started setting up bombs set off by the kicks. That’s what this reminds me of. Must have been held taut by the weight of the can, and the release when it snapped triggered it. Takes a little bit a forethought, anyway, and sure as hell means they meant to kill.”

Ty swallowed hard. The Vietcong weren’t the only ones who’d used those traps. He could still smell the stench of burnt flesh and dry heat surrounding them after that Marine had picked up that can. He breathed in the scent of the wet earth beneath him to calm himself and try to force his mind into remembering he wasn’t in the desert.

“Whoever or whatever we’re dealing with,” he said slowly as he raised his head just enough to speak without eating dirt, “we need to concentrate on getting off this mountain safely and making sure the rangers close these trails off until we can get people in here and clear this shit out. God knows how many civilians come through here every year. That trap was intentionally set to kill a do-gooder.”

“At least it’s the offseason,” Deuce whispered.

“How many people come up this far, anyway?” Zane asked in disbelief.

“Not many,” Deuce muttered.

“Picking up litter on the mountain gets you killed,” Ty whispered in disgust. He reached up and carefully pulled a few dried leaves out of his mouth and made a face as he spit out some of the twigs and dirt he’d practically inhaled when he’d landed. He was careful not to raise his head above the log, though. And he was relieved to see the damp woods around him rather than dry sand.

“Wait a damn minute. Are you saying we run?” Earl asked as he kept his face in the wet leaves on the ground too. Ty knew they both were dealing with memories of past battles, and Deuce and Zane followed their example.

“Yes, Dad, we run,” Ty hissed in annoyance as he glanced sideways at Earl.

“The hell you say,” Earl growled back at Ty. “The four of us is more than capable of taking on some pissant little backwoods pot growers, even if they do know how to lay trap. We know the signs, what to look for. Hell, we’d probably be back up here helping the search as soon as we report it!”

“Yeah, with guns and bomb-sniffing dogs and a lot of people who are carrying first aid kits and food,” Ty argued.

“Someone could get hurt up here while we run off with our tails between our legs,” Earl argued in outrage. “You remember those missing hikers the ranger told us about? God knows how many people already been hurt.”

“Dad,” Ty said in frustration. “We have two weapons with minimum ammunition, we’re on unfamiliar ground, and we have very little supplies. If one of us gets hurt bad, we’ll never make it off the mountain in time. And you’re not twenty-five anymore!” he grated out, trying to keep his voice down.

“I may be an old man, Beaumont, but at least I ain’t a coward,” Earl growled.

The harsh words landed with force, knocking the breath from Ty’s chest and wiping away any argument he’d been about to put forth. He blinked at Earl in shock before forcing himself to look away, resting his forehead against the ground again to make certain Earl wouldn’t see the crushing impact the implication of the words had on him.

“That’s enough, Earl,” Zane hissed.

“No,” Ty muttered as he raised his head again. He reached up and plucked off a leaf that had stuck to his forehead, looking at it dejectedly. “He’s right,” he told Zane as he dropped the leaf to the ground.

“You’re damn straight I am,” Earl told him angrily. “You and I both got enough deaths on the conscience. We can’t afford anymore.”

“There’s four lives here to take care of,” Zane snapped as he motioned among them with one hand. “That ought to register loud and clear on your conscience.”

Ty pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded, not speaking in response to either statement. He began to move, pulling himself toward Deuce while still staying below the level of the log. He reached for Deuce’s pack and gave him a shake of the head when Deuce opened his mouth to speak. Deuce snapped his mouth closed and glanced at the others. Then he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the ground. Ty knew what Deuce was thinking. He was just as stunned as Ty was. They both loved and respected their father a great deal. He’d always been strict and expected the very best from his sons, but Earl had never been mean, and he’d never resorted to saying things that cut painfully deep in order to get his way.

Ty tried to let it slide.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me
. He shook his head as he snagged Deuce’s pack, taking care to stay behind the fallen log as he pulled it close. Whoever came up with that stupid-ass rhyme deserved a few sticks and stones to the head.

He unzipped the outer pocket and extracted the small case that carried Deuce’s extra set of contacts. He flipped it open and carefully lifted it, using the tiny mirror inside to peer at their back trail.

“Anything?” Earl asked.

Ty shook his head. “It appears to be an unmanned deterrent system,” he reported in a low voice. He was surprised to find speaking difficult, and he cleared his throat quietly. “Early warning system, maybe. That’s why it was so damn big. If there’s anybody up here, they know we’re here now,” he decided grimly as he snapped the contact case shut and slid it back into Deuce’s pack.

“Whether we’re going or not,” Zane growled, “we need to figure out what the hell to do next. Sitting here is not safe. We need a defensible position.”

“If they’re coming, they’ll be coming soon,” Earl agreed. He raised up slightly and peered over the log. “Be nice to see who we’re up against from a safe distance.”

Ty made his decision. “I may have an idea.”

T
Y LAY
in the underbrush, unmoving, watching the trail. He and Earl had made a makeshift ghillie suit out of a few branches and the wet, dead leaves that littered the forest floor. He’d had nothing to cover his face with but dirt and debris, but it worked if he didn’t move. Even blinking risked the cover as he lay near the edge of the clearing in hopes of hearing or seeing whoever came to check on the explosion.

It had been a long time since Ty had done this properly. And God, was he getting twitchy. It had only been fifteen or so minutes of lying there, and he already wanted to move. His biggest hurdle had always been the incessant rocking he did when he was tense or nervous or bored. Even lying alone in bed at night sometimes, he had to rock just to keep himself from going crazy. It wasn’t nearly as bad when he was with Zane, if for no other reason than Ty forced himself to remain still so as not to disturb him. Zane slept precious little as it was, and he tended to jab Ty in the ribs when he rocked.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait much longer. A twig broke in the underbrush just yards away from where he lay. Ty resisted the urge to turn his head and check the positions of the others. He’d already made certain none of them could be seen; they were further away. Ty was only this close so he could hear.

Suddenly, two men moved through the overgrown foliage to his right. Ty could just barely see them out of the corner of his eye. They were both dressed in heavy, camouflage Carhartt jackets. The bigger of the two wore a hunting cap with earflaps, which were pinned up so they made him look a little like a moose in the woods. They both carried shotguns slung over their forearms and held in the crooks of their arms. Earflaps gave a low whistle as he peered out into the clearing at the crater the explosion had produced.

“We got somebody, huh?” he whispered to his buddy, who nodded and looked around wordlessly.

“No body,” the smaller man observed as he chewed on what looked like a plastic swizzle stick.

Both men looked skyward, as if expecting to see a body in the trees. Ty caught himself almost rolling his eyes. They expected someone to have been blown up into the air?

“Must have been a lucky one,” Earflaps decided quietly. ”Got away,” he murmured even as he turned his head and peered around the quiet forest.

Ty closed his eyes quickly and mentally cursed himself. He should have been more thorough with his camouflage. He should have known whoever was up here wouldn’t be green city folks. He’d underestimated their opponent already, and he damn well knew better.

“Looks like he just got scared and ran,” the thin, cruel-looking man with the swizzle stick said with a sneer. Ty risked opening his eyes into slits, watching through his eyelashes as Earflaps nodded wordlessly and continued to look around suspiciously. “Should we follow him?” he asked after a moment.