A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1) (11 page)

It had been far from a relaxing day and he was dead tired, but they had to make some miles. He had to get them in position to be able to take full advantage the next time this white bitch turned her phone on; allowing the internal GPS program to transmit her position to Tyrone's cell phone. The phone that was never left unwatched.

Most people would not look at Jamal and think of him as a hunter. Yet there was no doubt he had the instincts and the hunger of a predator. Yes his life had been spent in cities and not chasing people across the countryside. But, people are people. They react the same way. The topography might change, but not people. People on the run, have the same behaviors. Once they start running, they keep running for a while, often in straight lines. Sometimes, they circle back to where they started. But in the initial run, their direction is usually a predictable straight line.

This rabbit, he felt sure, had not yet run to ground. He'd follow his instincts and move on west. When she made the mistake of revealing her location, they'd be close enough to take advantage of her stupidity.

Something that complicated this chase was the fact that this time, she'd not run to familiar people, and had left any country she had a knowledge of. Usually, someone trying to hide runs to family or a friend for help. Others simply stay in a familiar area as they try to hide. That fault, makes it far easier for a pursuer to narrow his search.

This time, either through some wisdom she'd gained along the way, or just accidentally, she'd made the chase a far greater problem for her pursuers. They had no idea where she was headed. At this point, considering the amount of cash she had available, the entire world was a possible hiding place.

This chase required Jamal to use every bit of instinct and predatory cunning he possessed, to have any chance of finding her. The only advantage he had left was her cell phone, and that small bit of technology hidden within it... Technology of which Amanda remained ignorant. The technology that allowed her pursuers to track her; as long as the phone was turned on. The GPS monitoring software that transmitted her precise location and movements...
IF
... her phone was turned on.

What Jamal didn't know was that she kept the phone off because she'd forgotten to pack it's charger in her preparations. The thing that was blocking their 'tracking device' and had them running blind was a simple, absent minded accident.

So... with their technology temporarily dark, they'd roll on following a predators instinct, until that small voice that guided him told him to wait, to hold up, to look; his prey was close. When he heard that small voice whispering to him, they'd stop their westward rush. They'd wait, they'd watch... and when she made her inadvertent mistake, they'd have her.

At ten thirty that night the Yukon pulled in to the lot of a Burger King, just off the interstate on the outskirts of Rapid City. The road weary riders of the Black SUV wolfed down some greasy burgers, filled a couple of thermoses with coffee, and in less than fifteen minutes had climbed back into their rig to continue west, their goal; Sheridan, Wyoming.

Less than a half hour later, the driver of a Yellow Freight truck laid on his air horn in a long, angry, choppy, blast. He hollered curses, at a Black Yukon when it swerved across the road in front of him, missing his fender by inches, as it weaved to the right shoulder of the road in the inky darkness of a moonless Wyoming night.

Inside the Yukon, the sleeping driver was now wide awake. The blaring of the air horn roused him just as he nodded off and swerved the Yukon across in front of 80,000 lbs of truck and freight.

As his head jerked up with panic wide eyes, Devon jerked the wheel hard left. The end of a guard rail raced toward him at 70 miles an hour, lit up in the headlights. His reaction was just a little too sudden for the heavy car, putting it into a spin that took it back across the road in front of the Yellow Freighter... whose horn continued, after a momentary pause, its' staccato, angry, blasting.

Everyone, inside the Yukon was now fully awake... and all were hollering in unison; "eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!"

Devon, his teeth bared and gritted, eyes wide, fought the wheel to regain control. The car spun, doing a slow 360 and slid off into the median as the semi roared by. The Yukon tipped up on two wheels, almost rolling over, before it ran out of momentum and slammed back down, right side up, and came to rest in a cloud of dust.

"Jesus mahn!" was all the driver could say as he sat there, dark skin hiding his "white knuckled" grip on the wheel... eyes wide and heart pounding.

"God Damn Devon! What the fuck are you doin' mahn!" Jamal shouted from the back seat.

The tension from his fear found its release in anger as he shouted back; "Shit Jamal. I'm dog ass tired mahn. We ain't been to bed in two days! I can't keep my fuckin' eyes open! I'm only drivin' 'cause Musa an' Terrance are more sleepy than me, and you won't drive! Don' shout at me mahn... I..."

"OK!" Jamal cut in... "We all awake now!" Jamal motioned down the road with his hand; " We can't sit here, jus' go down the road till we find a rest area... we'll stop there an' sleep for a couple hours. Jus' don' kill us before we get there, OK?"

Devon, finding some control after their near death experience, and marginally placated by Jamal's, almost, apologetic tone replied; "OK... I'll find us a place to sleep."

Devon put the transmission back into gear and pulled the Yukon slowly up out of the median. He waited on the shoulder for another semi to pass in the darkness. That driver was talking back and forth on the CB with a Yellow Freight driver up ahead, about the idiots in a black Yukon. Then he drove the big SUV back onto the pavement.

Just a few miles west he took an off ramp that looked promising and found a wide dirt area at the bottom of the ramp. He turned in there, pulling to the back of the area behind a semi parked there for the same reason, to get a few hours of sleep.

In two minutes all four men were slumped against the doors, sound asleep. They slept on as the truck they were parked behind fired up and pulled out, two hours later...

After more than 36 hours of running, they were weary, and they slept.

They slept on as light traffic rumbled by in the darkness... The weary men slept on as their prey slept comfortable in her bed, just three hours down the road.

As the clock in the dash of the car clicked 5:00 am... Jamal's eyes opened... He lay against the door for a few seconds rubbing his eyes. Slowly he got his bearings and where he was, awakened in his head. The man sat up looking around and continued to rub his face with his hands. After a few seconds, his eyes fell upon the blue numbers of that LED clock in the dash...

"Shit! Damn!" he squalled... "Wake up! Wake up all you bwoys... Wake the Fuck Up!" He hollered. He slapped Terrance on the shoulder, as the man slept beside him on the back seat and reached forward to rap Musa on the back of the head... "It's late! We slept too long! We got to go! Wake up!"

Chapter
12

Though Amanda might be intelligent and streetwise, she still lacked any training or even experience in security or tracking. Sure, after being on the street for a couple years she could spot the cop pretending to be a john. But she lacked any true understanding of all the small pieces and suggestions of pieces that a tracker's intuition was watching for. She had no knowledge of the tiny little nuances of a trail, which were perceived on a subconscious level, by a skilled tracker. That simply, was not a part of her skill set. It left her vulnerable to making mistakes that someone hunting her could take advantage of.

Even if hers had been a shockingly difficult life, today that didn't matter. Today she was simply a Mother, trying as hard as she could to protect her son and give him the opportunity for a chance. An honest chance at the life she'd never had.

Amanda had them up early again. Before hitting the road, she got them each an Egg McMuffin meal at the golden arches across the road from their motel, along with an orange juice for Timmy and a large coffee for herself. By the time the clock in the dash said 8 a.m. Amanda and Timmy had rolled on up I-90, had crossed the border, and were in Mon-ta-na!

Timmy had cheered; "Hooray!" when Amanda pointed to the sign at the border that welcomed them to the Big Sky state. "See Momma!" he said.

She wouldn't have been laughing, had she seen the black Yukon, with its four occupants, pulling into the drive-in lane of the same McDonalds where she'd bought their breakfast only a half hour before, at the very moment they were crossing the line into Montana.

She was ignorant of their closeness when she stopped in Billings an hour and a half later to fuel the car and get some road snacks.

She had no idea they were even closer when she stopped at the small grocery store in Columbus. She needed to get ice and a few days supplies before turning south, headed for a campground at the Base of the Beartooth Mountains.

Her pursuers had no understanding of how close they were either. When the little red Saturn pulled away from the grocery store, and passed through the intersection just yards in front of their Yukon, they never saw it. Any possible view of it was blocked by the pair of semi-trucks sitting in front of them at the traffic light.

Amanda and Timmy rolled south headed for their campground. The four men in the Yukon crossed the intersection behind them. The Saturn was already made invisible by the light traffic behind it. The Yukon and its occupants, unwittingly allowing its prey to escape yet again, drove another block to where its' road weary cargo could lay up for the night in a Motel 6.

Amanda entertained no fantasies that the hunt, which she knew had been ordered, had been called off. Though she knew in her heart they were coming, she hadn't any inkling how close they were, as she struggled to set up their small tent in the Forest Service campground on Lodgepole Creek.

If she'd known that her pursuers had checked into a motel just a few miles away in Columbus, Montana; she'd have thrown everything in the car and drove in a panic all night long.

She couldn't comprehend the small little crumbs of a trail she'd been leaving... and how those small, little, inadvertent bits were pulling in the men she was trying to evade, like a homing beacon.

It took her nearly an hour to make sense out of the confusing tangle of spindly tent poles and erect their shelter. While she struggled with their nylon mansion, Timmy played in the water of Lodgepole creek. As all boys seemed to be, he was intrigued by the splash of stones thrown into the water, and the floating of sticks, watching them float away down stream, after being tossed into the current.

With their shelter finally properly erected, Amanda pulled out the Coleman stove, screwed in the disposable, green propane bottle, turned the knob until she could hear the escaping gas, and then punched the red button in the front of the stove that the clerk had assured her would ignite the gas.

It did... though after having the gas escaping, on a calm day, for several seconds, it ignited with a WOOSH! that made her squeal and jump, just as Timmy ran up the bank from the creek.

"OK Momma, I will!" The laughing little boy ran back to throw more sticks and stones into the stream while his mother searched through the goods stuffed into the back of her little red Saturn for what she needed to make their supper.

She pulled out three small pans, two plates, a can opener, and a few utensils, along with a can of beans, one of mixed vegetables, a couple small jars of seasonings and a pair of pork chops from the small ice chest.

While Timmy splashed and played along the bank of the creek, throwing rocks and having the time of his life; Amanda stood by the pic nic table, watching their pork chops frying in the pan on the Coleman stove, and her son, playing like little boys should be allowed to, for the first time in his short life.

Unconsciously, she smiled, and for the first time in her life, felt the first stirrings within herself of something she'd never known. It was the first time in her life, that she had ever felt what it was like to be peaceful, to be content... For the very first time the sensations of what it felt like to be... happy.

She was unfamiliar with the feeling. At first, not knowing what it was, her reaction was to be nervous. But then, after letting it rest and allowing her mind to become accustomed to it, all the time watching her son throwing stones and floating sticks in the creek, she decided she liked it.

Neither she nor Timmy could see the horse herd coming down the mountain high above them late that afternoon. They couldn't see the man sitting at a table in a motel in Columbus, staring at a cell phone. They couldn't see the future.

Neither Amanda or her son... nor the unknown man with the horse herd on the mountain above them, had the sliver of an idea what was in store for them in the days ahead.

If any of them had, none of them would have been feeling quite so content. As it was, they all lived in ignorant bliss that late summer Montana afternoon.