Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Book 4): Walking In The Shadow Of Death (6 page)

“I’ve been better. Come on, suit up
guys, we need to get moving.”

“Wait Chief, don’t ya think you
need some rest? You look like shit,” Brad said.

“No, we need to get moving again,
get off this trail and into the bush. According to the map, the cabin should
only be another couple hours. I’ll rest when we get there.”

“You’re bleeding, Chief … Did they
scratch you?” Parker said hesitantly.

“No. I messed myself up running
through the brush. If you boys really want to help, I need ammo. My 7.62 is
dried up. I need nine mil, I burnt though a lot of rounds last night. I was
down to half a mag on the MP5 and a couple mags for the sidearm when I found
you.”

“I have two boxes of nine in my
pack. Let’s beat feet. I’ll help you reload on the trail,” Daniel said.

“What do we do about this?” Brad
said, pointing at the Alpha who was still bleeding out.

Joseph stepped forward with his
tomahawk and with a quick swing he split the Alpha’s skull. “That thing ain’t
nothing to worry about ... not anymore. Come on, I’ll meet you at the top of
the hill,” he said, walking away with his brother following him.

7.

They followed Joseph up the hill
and moved quickly across the top of it. According to Sean’s map, the cabin was
located across a saddle from their current position. The men kept a quick pace.
Even though exhausted, they had no intentions of spending another night
outside. That and they wanted to separate themselves from the pursuing primals.

They moved through unbroken brush
now, avoiding trails, taking the path of most resistance. They found a small
stream, and even though it caused them to soak their cold feet, they waded
through the water as they followed it down the hill. The men were doing
everything they could to become hard to follow. Walking the streambed paved
with polished stones would help them avoid boot prints on the trail. The
tradeoff was cold and miserable feet. They tracked the stream for over five
hundred meters before moving back to the shore on the far side.

Sean broke some pine boughs to try
and brush away the tracks in the snow, concealing the spot where they exited the
water. Farther from the stream they spotted the old gravel road that the map
showed them would lead to the cabin. A burnt-out stone foundation near a plank
bridge was the final landmark. A small drive would be located just past it; it
would be covered. The team continued to move in line, meters from the road,
trying to remain hidden while they searched for the drive.

Hahn spotted it first, broken and
rutted as if a heavy truck had used it often, probably in the spring or early
fall when the ground was soft, using four wheel drive to battle its way up the
muddy drive. The entrance was halfheartedly blocked by a long pole and two cut
pine trees. Brad had seen similar things done around the hunting lodges in
northern Michigan. These remote deer camps were often rustic and seldom used,
so the owners would block or conceal the drives when they left them at the end
of the season, hoping to deter thieves or vandals.

The men approached the drive
tactically, posting on the opposite side of the road and providing cover as
they ran across it two at a time.  Not knowing if there were still roaming
primals about, they didn’t want to be exposed and in the open. They set back up
in three groups of two, now just off the head of the driveway. Sean nodded to
the Marines providing point; they stood slowly and began to patrol up the
approach to the cabin.

As they followed the drive it
widened into a small, open field. The trees there had been cut back and the
cabin sat in the middle of a snow-covered meadow. There was a pond behind it
and a pair of out buildings. Brad recognized one as an outhouse; the other
looked to be a tool shed. The cabin itself wasn’t the pioneer housing folks
would expect when they heard “cabin.” It was a meager one-story structure
sheathed in painted plywood and roofed with shabby cedar shingles. The door was
made of heavy planks and the windows were covered with heavy shutters. There
was a large stack of firewood under the covered front porch.

The men grouped together in some
high grass and observed the structure from a distance. They watched for several
minutes without detecting any movement. Brad volunteered to check it out, and
Hahn followed close behind him for support. The rest of the men covered the
driveway and the field behind the building. Brad ran across the open ground and
ducked behind the firewood on the porch.

Looking at the front door, he could
easily see a hasp and padlock on it. The shutters on the two front windows were
also padlocked shut.  Brad walked along the outside wall of the cabin,
staying low to the ground with his body close to the building. Every window
they passed had similar locks. He moved slowly with Hahn following until they
had completely circumnavigated the building and returned to the
front.  

“Unless the owner did some magic
trick where he locked the door, then teleported himself inside, the cabin must
be empty,” Brad whispered.

“You want me to pop the door?” Hahn
whispered, unfastening his tomahawk from his belt.

“Okay, let’s do it, but try not to
damage it, I’d like to be able to use it later.”

“Piece of cake,” Hahn answered.

The two of them left their position
by the woodpile and quickly moved up on opposite sides of the plank door. Hahn
inserted the spike of the hawk into the ring of the lock and applied pressure. The
lever arm of the hawk worked flawlessly and with a small sound of splitting
wood the hasp separated itself from the door. With the hasp removed, Hahn slid
his hand down to the knob. He twisted and felt resistance.  Hahn returned
the hawk to his belt and drew his knife. Forcing the blade between the door and
its frame, Hahn pushed the blade forward and the door popped.

He let go of the handle and let the
door swing open and into the structure. The door opened with a loud squeak,
allowing daylight to bleed into the room. Brad slowly crept into the opening
with Hahn beside him. They moved shoulder to shoulder, looking into the dark
interior of the cabin. Brad clicked on the light at the end of his M4 and
probed the interior of the structure. He swept the beam around the room
quickly; finding nothing that looked threatening, they moved inside.

The cabin was sparsely furnished
with a set of commercial bunk beds against one wall, a wood stove in a corner
with a cook plate on top. On the opposite side of the room was a small kitchen
and a long counter top. Mounted above the counter were long rough cut board
shelves stocked with canned goods.  A small sofa and a kitchen table with
four chairs around it sat in the center of the room.

Brad moved in and stood near the
table. He swept his hand across the surface and swiped a trail of dust. “This
place is empty, has been for a while. Go ahead and signal for the rest of them
to move in,” Brad said to Hahn.

As Hahn moved outside, Brad walked
over to the kitchen area. A small sink was cut out into the counter with a hand
pump for water sitting over it. The pump looked rusted and unserviceable. Brad
lifted the handle and forced it down; he heard the screech of the gear as it
broke free of the rust. He pumped it again and again before he was rewarded by
resistance followed by a gush of brown water. Brad let it rest there. He knew
from experience that if he continued to pump the water would most likely clear.
For now it wasn’t a priority with a foot of snow outside available for melting.

He looked at the shelves and the
canned goods. This place was obviously stocked by men, probably hunters. He
found cans of roast beef, salmon, and corned beef hash. There were very few
vegetables or fruits.
Better than nothing
, he thought as he walked to
the far wall and dropped his pack on the floor. Brad moved to the small dining
table and lit a candle that was sitting near the center of it. By now the rest
of the men had entered the cabin and they shut the door, blocking off the
sunlight.

The cabin’s door was antique and
had a wooden latch with a small length of 2x4 lumber to lock it shut. They put
the board in place and locked themselves in. The men checked the windows; they
were locked shut and the boards outside prevented them from seeing out. They
dropped their gear and gathered around the table.

“Fire or no?” Parker asked,
pointing to the woodstove.

“Let’s see if we can go without. We
had a hard time breaking contact with those things. If they creep up on us in
here we might not get another chance,” Sean said.

Brad walked over to the bunk beds
and found a pile of folded blankets stacked on the top rack. “Chief, why don’t
you get some sleep? We can set up a watch rotation and get settled in. It may
still be a while before the kid shows up.”

Sean nodded in agreement as he
walked across to the bunks. The Villegases agreed to take the first watch, but
first they wanted to inspect the out buildings. After they went outside, Parker
found a small ceiling access ladder leading to the attic. The attic wasn’t
finished and the space was narrow with small vents in both gable ends that
allowed them to see outside. These would make good watch positions if they
elected to keep the windows shuttered.

As Brad helped Parker leave the
attic, Daniel came back into the doorway, excited. “Hey Sergeant, check out
what we found in the shed.”

Brad grabbed his M4 and followed
Daniel out of the house and around back to the small out building. The shed
door was slid open, and a small padlock lay on the ground. Joey was inside
pulling a canvas cover off of a snow mobile; another sat right next to it. They
were very sleek racing models.

“Damn, someone had some sick toys!”
Joey exclaimed.

Brad moved in and looked closer at
the sleds. One was a high end Polaris, the other was an older pull start Artic
Cat. From outward appearances they looked to be very well maintained.

“You see any fuel?” Brad asked.

“Oh yeah, we got close to two
five-gallon cans along the back wall. Might be stale. There’s a jug of
stabilizer here also, I bet it will fire these up,” Joey said.

“Nice find, anything else?”

“Decent splitting axe and a
chainsaw,” Joey answered.

“Very good, bring them in the
cabin. Might as well get these topped off with fuel, maybe we will have to use them
in a hurry. You never know.”

Brad stepped out of the shed and
took a look at the far tree lines. He sat and observed while he listened to the
Villegases fuel the snow mobiles. He scanned the area where they had come up
the driveway. He could see the wind blowing some of the high grass that reached
above the snow fall, but other than that, there was nothing to be seen. The sun
had disappeared back behind the heavy gray clouds. Brad knew it would grow cold
again tonight. He hoped they would be able to keep warm enough in the shade of
the cabin without a fire.

When the Villegases finished
fueling the snow mobiles, Brad helped them secure the doors to the shed, then
followed them to the small outhouse. Unlike the other building, this one was
unlocked. They pulled the door open and found nothing out of the ordinary. It
was just a rustic plank building with a shitter in the center. They closed the
door and moved back to the cabin’s porch.

“You think we should poke some view
ports in these shutters?” Daniel asked.

Brad looked out at the opposing
tree lines and the far off area where the driveway disappeared into the tall
pines. Even with the vents they’d found in the attic, their view would still be
limited. “Yeah, let’s do it, but make them small, and let’s finish quick. We
need to get back inside and button up before we’re seen.”

“Understood,” Daniel said as he
unsheathed his Ka-Bar and started working a hole into the wooden shutter.

Brad left the brothers on the porch
and moved back into the small cabin. Sean was already snoring away on the
bottom bunk. Hahn and Parker were sorting through the various food stores that
were in the cabin. Hahn pulled down a rusty old biscuit tin and smiled when he
heard the metallic rattle. He popped the top off of the tin and poured the
contents onto the table. A little over a half dozen loose rounds and a small
paper box landed on the wooden surface.

Brad walked over and picked up the
box. “Looks like we’re in the home of a big game hunter. A bit over fifty
rounds of .308.”

“You think the gun is in here
somewhere?” Hahn asked.

“Maybe, but I know for a fact Sean
will be happy to add these to his kit.”

Brad took the box of ammo and piled
the rounds close around it. He saw a flash of light enter the cabin where the
Villegases outside had successfully carved a peek hole into the shutter. Brad
walked across the room to the wood stove. An old mercury thermometer embedded
into an old tin beer sign hung on the wall.  The sign was advocating some
unknown lager, but the thermometer was already twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit,
or negative two degrees Celsius.

Brad stood staring at the
thermometer as Parker walked up behind him. “Twenty-eight! Damn, Sergeant, you
sure we can’t build a fire?”

“Not tonight, we can’t risk
detection again.”

“How we gonna keep from freezing?”
Hahn asked as he walked from across the room.

Before Brad could answer, the
Villegases came in and bolted the door shut. “We got small spy holes in the
front and back, we can see the flanks from the attic. I think we should cover
them from the inside so we don’t leak any light after dark,” Joseph said.

“Sounds good,” Brad replied.

“So what were ya all talking
about?” Joseph asked.

Parker turned towards the rest of
them. “I was telling the sergeant we’re gonna need a fire in the stove. It’s
already below freezing with the sun still up; we’re gonna freeze tonight.”

Joseph smiled. “Damn Parker, you
always belly aching. We’ll be okay, we can just double up in them bunks. The
body heat will keep you cozy, you can rack with me if ya want.”

“Man, fuck you,” Parker mumbled,
shaking his head.

“It’s actually a good idea,” Hahn
said. “Four sleeping with two on watch.”

“You all are stupid,” Parker
protested.

“Fine with me, you can have first
watch,” Joseph said. “I get top bunk with Danny, you all can fight over who
gets to sleep with the chief,” he said, laughing as he started stripping off
his gear.