Ark

Chapter 8

Bones kept a close eye on the calm, dark lake. He tracked Maddock's progress by the bubbles rising to the otherwise smooth surface of the water until, finally, the turbulence around the waterfall hid all signs of his partner.

“Good luck, Maddock. And hurry in case Eddings shows up.”

The roar of a vehicle speeding up the dirt road caught his ear. Was it the nosy ranger coming to check up on him? Bones turned his camera on and aimed it at the waterfall, trying to look like a sightseer. Since he’d already voiced his concern that Eddings might make in appearance, he had every confidence that Maddock would be cautious about his return to the surface. They didn’t need the hassle.

The roar grew louder and Bones realized that, in fact, several vehicles were approaching. A keen sense of vulnerability pierced his heart and he suddenly wished he had not left his Glock in the car. Abandoning any pretense of casual sightseeing, he hurried back around the edge of the lake toward the place they had parked, but he had not gone more than twenty paces when a pickup barreled out of the woods. The truck shot out onto the grassy valley floor, fishtailed as it turned, and then headed straight for Bones.

An open-top jeep, its driver looking stern and the fellow in the passenger seat hooting like a hog caller, and two more pickups followed behind. The lead truck skidded to a halt right in front of Bones. The driver gave a friendly wave before climbing out of the cab. The jeep pulled up alongside the truck. The young man on the passenger side was smiling and waving as well.

Bones didn't relax one bit. Rednecks got on his nerves in the best of circumstances, and these circumstances were far from the best. He nodded politely to the first man, a broad-shouldered fellow of early middle years, whose flannel-covered paunch hung down over what Bones just knew was a big silver belt buckle.

The two in the jeep were ruddy-faced and flaxen-haired, clearly father and son. The driver’s face was lined and his temples dusted with white. Were it not for the added years, the two could have been brothers, even twins. The hunting rifles they suddenly leveled at Bones, however, were identical.

“Hands behind your head, boy.” The paunchy man who had arrived first drew an old Colt long barrel and leveled it at Bones' head. “You got any weapons on you?”

“No, but I’d sure love to shoot that revolver of yours.” Though his thoughts were racing a mile a minute, years of training and experience in tight situations allowed him to remain calm. “What model is that?”

“U.S. Army 1903. But I don't let nobody shoot this 'cept me. Do I, Nathan?” The young man in the jeep shook his head. “Tell you what. We'll wait for the others to get here before I search you. You look like you might could give somebody a spot of trouble if you had a mind to.”

“Yes he does, Carter.” The driver of the jeep spoke in a deep, rich voice befitting a politician or a morning radio host. “He does indeed.” Oddly, the man seemed to relish the thought.

“Not me,” Bones said. “I’m a wuss. I take bubble baths and listen to Kenny what’s-his-name. That curly-haired dude.”

“Kenny Roberts?” Nathan pursed his lips. “Naw, that Footloose guy. Kenny Loggins!” His face lit up like he'd just guessed the answer to Final Jeopardy.

“He's a funny one,” Carter said. Far behind him, the two pickup trucks had boxed in Bones’ car, and their passengers had unloaded. There were four of them, all carrying rifles and looking decidedly inbred. Bones soon found himself surrounded by seven hillbillies, all of whom looked like they could handle their weapons. What was going on?

“You gonna' search him, Carter?” Nathan could not keep a tremor of excitement from his voice. “Search him quick so we can get started.”

Carter silenced Nathan with a glance before holstering his pistol and approaching Bones with cautious steps.

“I'm going to search you, boy. You try anything funny, I promise you'll be dead in the time it takes these fellows to pull the trigger. You understand me?”

“Do you mind if I asked what I’m supposed to have done? I checked in with the local ranger and told him I was doing some sightseeing. That’s not illegal, is it?”

“How about you just shut your mouth until I’m ready to tell you what happens next?”

Bones nodded. He had no doubt he could kill Carter, and perhaps a second man, but seven was far too many to take on single-handed, not to mention unarmed. Even if Maddock were to show up right now, he had no weapon, and thus would be able to do little, if anything, to help. Bones' best hope was to remain alive and hope Maddock would return, realize what was going on and, come up with one of his patented plans. He waited impatiently while Carter patted him down and relieved him of his watch, wallet, keys, and camera.

“Tell me, boy. What are you looking for up here?”

“Nothing. Just taking pictures. Check my camera.”

“What did your ancestor lose up here?” Carter asked sharply.

Had Bones not received extensive training in how to deal with interrogation, that question might have drawn a reaction, but he kept up his confused facade. “I don’t get it.”

“You told Eddings you had an ancestor who fought here. Did he lose something?”

“Only his freedom. He was captured and taken to Andersonville.”

“So he was a Yankee!” Nathan exclaimed.

Bones shrugged. “Look, this place was a turning point in my great granduncle’s life. I just wanted to see it. I don’t think I’m trespassing or anything, but if you want me to leave, I will.”

“You’re going to leave, all right, but not the way you think,” Nathan said.

“Shut up, Nathan,” Carter said. “Here's how this is going to work.” He stepped back as he spoke, pocketing Bones' possessions before drawing his pistol again. “You are going to run thataway.” He nodded in the direction of the forest. “In five minutes, Kevin here is going to fire his rifle.” One of the late arrivals, a moon-faced young man with a wispy mustache and his cheek bulging from what must have been a plum-sized wad of chewing tobacco, nodded. “That'll let you know we're coming for you. We want to make it all sportsmanlike, you know.” Carter grinned.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bones kept his voice level, but his insides were ice. The man couldn’t be serious.

“Just a little game we like to play. It’s much more entertaining than deer hunting, and sometimes more challenging.”

“Is this a joke?”

Carter shook his head.

“In that case, if you want to give me a sporting chance, shouldn’t I get a rifle too?”

Carter glanced at his wristwatch. “You should get moving. You've already wasted ten seconds.”

“And you ain't got that many left to live. Run boy!” Nathan fired off a shot near Bones' feet.

Still unable to believe what was happening, Bones dashed toward the forest, wondering all the while how he was going to get out of this alive.