Windigo Soul (13 page)

“I still can’t believe you got me out of there,” Hank stammered. He grabbed the dashboard to steady himself. “How did you even know where I was? Does Peg know I’m still alive? Sara?”

“I hate to break it to you, but I didn’t come here to rescue you.” Sanderson risked a quick glance at his father-in-law. “It just sort of happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain it to you later if we live that long. Climb into the back and see if there’s anything useful back there. We’re gonna have to ditch this thing any minute.”

Hank slid open the rear window and crawled through the tight opening into the canvas covered bed of the truck.

“What’s back there?” Sanderson yelled.

“Ah…looks like a couple cases of rifles and ammo, I think. Some uniforms, boots, a toolbox. That’s about it.”

“Hold on.” Sanderson slammed on the brakes and pulled the truck off to the side of the road. He got out and joined Hank in the back of the truck. “Get that box open.” He pointed to a crate with
M67
stenciled on the side. “Shove as many grenades in your pockets as they’ll hold.”

Sanderson opened the toolbox but found nothing useful. “Grab a pair of boots, too. I have an idea that’ll buy us some time.” Hank was right about the rifles. He grabbed a brand new M4 carbine, a couple thirty round magazines, and a box of 5.56mm NATO. If only he had more time and three more arms, he’d take it all. They would need it.

He picked up one of the boots and tossed it at Hank. “Pull the laces out of that.” Sanderson took one of the grenades and carefully wedged it between the locked steering wheel and the soft foam of the dashboard.

“Here.” Hank handed him the laces. “What are you doing?”

Sanderson tied one end of the string to the safety pin and got out of the truck. “Little booby trap that’ll hopefully buy us a few minutes.” He closed the door, leaned in through the open window, and tied the other end to the door handle. “One of ‘em is bound to open the truck for a closer look. When they do, all they’ll find is a few ounces of Comp B and a whole lot of shrapnel.”

“Jesus. Is that really necessary?”

Sanderson turned to Hank and shoved the box of ammo into his chest. “Hey, remember how that psycho dropped your buddy back there like a bag of dirt? We’re in the shit now and the guys coming after us aren’t going to be shooting spitballs. Got it?”

Both men turned their heads as the noise of approaching vehicles grew louder. “Let’s go.” Hank and John slipped off the road and into the woods as fast as they could run.

Chapter 17

Hank jumped when he heard the grenade go off. It seemed way too close. He’d sworn they’d run farther from the road than that. He turned around and looked at John, crouching beside a tree thirty feet away. His son-in-law gave him what he thought was supposed to be a quick and reassuring nod, but it didn’t make Hank feel much better. John raised his rifle and pointed in the direction where they’d come from.

Shouting in the distance. A cry of pain and confusion.

Hank took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on the grenade he’d been clutching in his right hand. He was holding it so tight his forearm was starting to cramp up. Panic seized him as he suddenly forgot John’s instructions. Completely forgot the quick plan he’d hatched as John positioned him by a fallen tree and had him spread the grenades out on the forest floor beside him. He stared at the small explosive in his hand and again tried to control his rapid breathing. Pull the pin, John had said. The fuse won’t arm until you throw it and the safety lever is released.

Movement ahead in the trees. Hank peered just over the top of the massive tree trunk in front of him, but still felt vulnerable. He made out the silhouette of a soldier and then another behind him. Hank glanced at John again, still as a statue. He continued to crouch behind the tree and stare down the sights of his rifle.

Hank made out eight of them now. They moved at a moderate pace, rifles at the ready, slightly bent over while they scanned the forest. Hank had his eye on the man in front, the first to go down according to John’s plan. He looked young and scared, probably no older than twenty. He glanced down at the trail John had left for them – dragging his feet through the damp leaves to leave an obvious trail. Right into an ambush.

John seemed confident enough, but Hank didn’t like the odds one bit. They were close now. Hank froze, the top of his head exposed over his fallen tree hiding place. He stared at the point man, sure that if Hank moved the slightest bit he would be spotted. What in the world was John waiting for?

Hank locked eyes with the kid and they stared at each other for what felt like minutes. The soldier stopped and raised his hand to signal the others. He opened his mouth and before a word could pass his lips, his head from the eyebrows up simply disappeared as the crack from John’s rifle echoed through the woods. The young soldier on point was dead before he hit the ground.

The forest erupted in a violent symphony of gunfire as the rest of the squad opened up with their rifles and scrambled for cover. Behind Hank came the steady and methodical CACK, CACK, CACK from John’s rifle as he picked his targets.

A round hit the tree trunk just inches from Hank’s face, spraying him with dust and wood fragments. A volley of shots followed directly above him, the bullets cracking as they broke the sound barrier. He finally snapped out of it and realized he was still holding the first grenade, idle and useless in his hand. Hank pulled the pin and heaved it over the tree. He had the second grenade in his shaking hand before the first one detonated.

Hank risked a glance in John’s direction and panicked when he didn’t see him. He picked up another grenade and tossed. Explosion. Shouting. John ducked out from a different tree to Hank’s left, moving forward tree to tree, taking shots before taking cover again.

Just a couple of grenades left. Hank picked one up and pulled the pin. He got to his knees and peered over the top of the tree, ready to throw it at the first sign of movement. He heard nothing over the ringing in his ears and didn’t see anything but a handful of soldiers sprawled out in the leaves.

Hank watched as John slowly walked forward with his rifle and scanned the trees for survivors. His face was stone and Hank could’ve sworn he looked completely at ease, as if he was just taking a stroll through the woods. Who was this guy?

“Hank!” John waved him over before he crouched over one of the dead soldiers. He picked up a rifle and pulled several magazines from the kid’s ammo pouches. John handed him the M16. “Here, you better take this.”

Hank held up the grenade in his hand. “What about this?”

“What about it? Stick it back in your pocket, we need to get the hell out of here.”

“Uh, I already pulled the pin out.” Hank held the explosive out at arm’s length and looked over his shoulder, knowing the pin lay in the dirt somewhere by his tree hiding spot.

“For the love of...” John grabbed the grenade from Hank’s hand and tossed it. He shoved the M16 in Hank’s chest as it exploded thirty feet away. Hank flinched. John didn’t. “You ever do any shooting?”

Hank inspected the assault rifle in his hands. “I had a BB gun when I was a kid. That’s about it.”

“Well, I guess that’s better than nothing. Grab as many mags as you can hold. Make it quick.” Sanderson checked the pockets of another downed soldier and found a multi-tool and cigarette lighter. It was obvious the men didn’t have much time to gather any significant gear before chasing the escapees that had assaulted their commanding officer. Just weapons and ammo. A canteen of water or two would’ve been nice.

“Come on, Hank. We’re on the move.”

“Where are we headed?”

John started walking away from the road. “As far away as possible. Those were just glorified baby sitters back there. Probably the first time any of them saw anything close to combat. Won’t be long before we’re hunted by professionals and we need to be as far away as possible when they get here.”

Chapter 18

With no compass handy, Sanderson tried his best to figure out which way was north by the position of the sun. He remembered from maps of the area that an old highway ran east to west about ten miles north of the installation. It was a long hike through the woods with no food or water, but it was the best idea he could come up with. Without a solid landmark as a guide, they were likely to walk in circles until they were captured or died of exposure. An abandoned strip of pavement wouldn’t do them much good once they got there, but it was better than nothing and would give him plenty of time to think of their next move.

He walked with Hank following in silence for a while, trying to keep his mind from the oppressive heat and his dry mouth. Sanderson regarded Hank’s uniform with a twinge of jealousy. His soft khaki colored uniform and work shoes were a much better fit for hiking compared to Sanderson’s expensive yet useless suit. He was tempted to lose the suit coat, but his brilliant white shirt underneath would stand out in the woods like a sore thumb. He took off his tie, used it as a headband, and unbuttoned his shirt to get a little air. His black leather shoes, also terribly expensive, offered practically no traction and made his feet sweat like crazy. All in all, Sanderson couldn’t have dressed worse for a ten mile hike through the woods if he tried. On top of that, he lugged a rifle, two handguns, and as much ammo as his pockets would hold.

At last Hank broke the silence. “You said you’d explain later. How’s this for later?”

Sanderson stopped and leaned up against a tree. “What the hell. I’m in as much trouble as you are, so I might as well tell you everything.”

Hank sat down on a fallen tree and wiped his sweaty face with his shirt sleeve. “So let’s hear it.”

“I knew where you were because it’s related to what I do for a living.” John sat down next to Hank with a groan. “I work for the State. What we call an operator. I guess that would be a fancy name for hit man. I go by the call sign Razorback.”

Hank raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda stupid but I didn’t get to pick it out. Anyway, people hear or say things they shouldn’t, and the State goes through a lot of effort to keep their dirty laundry out of sight. Hell, I don’t have to tell you that. Look at where we just came from. They use people like me to tie up loose ends and make sure secrets stay secret.

Hank wiped his face again and nodded. “You know, a year ago my jaw would have hit the floor, but it takes quite a bit to surprise me these days. Sara doesn’t know, does she?”

“Nobody knows. I’ve kept it from her since the day we met and it hasn’t been easy.” John glanced at his father-in-law for a reaction but Hank just stared off into the woods. “I was at Windigo today as part of my security duties. That usually isn’t in my job description but I’ve been on probation, so to speak. I already knew you were there before I arrived, but I just happened to show up on the day you and your buddy decided to escape.”

“Seamus didn’t have to die,” Hank said softly. “He was a good man. If I hadn’t been so stupid he’d still be alive. And I guess you’d be on your way home about now.”

“You can beat yourself up as much as you want to later if we live though this. What’s done is done. The bottom line is, I couldn’t let Hendricks kill you so I did what I had to do. Besides, it was almost worth it just to see the look on that prick’s face when I shoved him in the broom closet.”

“What did you say before? Windigo?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, that’s the name of the installation. I guess you wouldn’t have known that.” John rose and helped Hank to his feet. “Come on, we better keep moving.”

“So what are we going to do now?”

Sanderson sighed. “I don’t know. We’re going to be two of the most wanted men in the world and it won’t be redneck sheriff deputies coming after us. We’ll be hunted by the best and they won’t stop until we’re dead.” The gravity of the situation sunk in as soon as he heard himself say it. There was no going back.

“What is that?” Hank stopped and looked up. A steady hum in the distance grew louder.

Sanderson clutched his jaw. “Dammit, how could I forget?”

“What?”

“Move! We need to find cover, fast!”

They ran out of the clearing just as a Blackhawk helicopter soared overhead just inches above the tree line.

“Do you think they saw us?” Hank yelled.

“Doesn’t matter! They know exactly where we are!”

The chopper came around for another pass and slowed to a hover above them. Hank peered around the tree he was hiding behind as the entire forest surrounding him seemed to explode. The helicopter’s minigun spun into action and spit fire into the trees. It sounded like the sky was being ripped in half above him as tree trunks exploded and dirt from the rounds hitting the ground showered everywhere.

John shoved Hank from behind and commanded him to run. Hank’s knees screamed in agony as he weaved through the trees, waiting to be cut down any second. The shooting stopped as the gunner lost Hank and John in the trees. The helicopter rose out of the hover and followed them.

Hank was finished. He could run no more despite John pushing him from behind and screaming into his ear to keep moving. The trees suddenly gave way to a vast open gorge. “Now what?” Hank gasped. He bent over to catch his breath and looked down at the muddy river below. “Do we go back? We can’t get across that.”

Before Sanderson could answer, the Blackhawk came into view. The gunner leaned out the window, aiming the minigun in their direction and prepared to fire. Sanderson dropped to one knee and opened up with his M4. The gunner ducked back into the cabin as John’s short and controlled bursts hit the hull of the chopper as it settled into another hover.

Sanderson slung the rifle over his shoulder and grabbed one of the remaining grenades from Hank’s pocket. He took Hank’s M16, made sure the safety was off, and racked a round into the chamber before tossing it back to Hank. “Shoot at that thing until you run out of ammo!” He pulled the pin on the grenade and sprinted down the rim of the gorge to get closer to the helicopter.