Into The Darkness (14 page)

Kevin
picked a bed in the rear and reclined on it, putting his hands behind his head.
“I could fall sleep right now.”

“Guys,
you have to see this! It’s a shower and it works,” Richard yelled from the
bathroom.

“Hey,
shut it off. I’ll climb on top to see how much water is left in the tank,” said
Kevin.

Kevin
went outside to find the water level gauge.

Dylan
grinned at the prospect of being clean. “Maybe we could take a quick shower and
wash these clothes.” Dylan turned to look in the bathroom mirror. He did not
recognize the man staring back at him. The sun had burned his skin red. He had
greasy hair and a short beard. The man in the mirror looked like any of the
homeless people he would routinely see, and ignore, in the downtown area by his
office building.

Kevin
shouted from outside, “Fifty gallons. Let’s get busy.”

Each
man took his dirty clothes into the shower with him. They washed the dirt and smell
of the river off their bodies, and then rinsed the filth out of their clothes.
They hung the wet clothes on a makeshift clothesline inside the RV. Wrapped in
blankets on their beds, the men woke to dry clothes in the morning. They knew
their cleanliness would be short lived, but it was a pleasant change.

When
Dylan awoke, he noticed that he was the last to rise. His eyes scanned the
inside of the RV for anything useful. He opened every cabinet and carefully
took note of any item that could help their journey. He put a fillet knife, cooking
spices, and a package of lighters in a large stainless steel pot and wrapped that
in several blankets. That was all he would take. The cooking spices would add
some flavor to the bland food.

Dylan
joined the men sitting at the picnic table and put the newly acquired bundle of
items at his side. “Let’s give this man the fish we caught overnight and get on
our way. I want to get an early start. He needs the fish more than we do.”

The
man was pleased to have acquired three large catfish from his unexpected
meeting with the strangers. There was a polite wave goodbye and informal thanks
from the men as they left the campground. When they were far enough away that
the man couldn’t hear him speak, Dylan said, “He’ll be dead in a week.”

They
pulled the rafts free from the shrubbery and lowered the food from the tree
limb, then rearranged the supplies for better balance in the rafts and prepared
to enter the river.

“The
map has another campground about a day away. We could probably be there
tomorrow morning. What do you think it’ll be like?” Kevin asked. “Could it get
worse than what we just saw?”

“I
think it’ll get worse every day,” replied Dylan. “That man back there is going
to starve to death and his friends will most likely die on the road looking for
help.” Dylan jumped into the raft and held it close to shore by clinging to a
small tree hanging over the river. “Let’s go.”

The
morning air was cool and the current was swift. They did not need to paddle
much because the current was doing most of the work as they went downstream. It
felt good to be in clean clothes and just floating for a change. They ate deer
jerky, beans, and some partially dried chokecherries as they floated along, and
later they stopped to filter water near a steep dirt embankment. Dylan got the
river-cane arrows from the raft and decided it would be wise to practice
shooting the bow on a regular basis. Kevin and Richard joined him. They
practiced at a distance from which someone could reasonably expect to get a
squirrel or rabbit. The cane arrows still had no sharp tips, just blunt ends
that could stun a small animal.

Several
more hours downstream, they found an ideal location to set up camp for the
night. The riverbank was gravelly with a slight slope and there were enough
trees around to supply wood for a campfire. They pulled the rafts out of the
water, and began to set up camp.

Richard
walked over to some large rocks that created a fire ring and noticed something
strange. “Hey, look at this,” Richard announced. He pointed to where he was
going to build a fire. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Kevin
poked at the ashes with a stick. “They’re fresh.”

“Who
would want to build a fire here?” Richard asked.

“Someone
floating downstream, and I bet we know who it is,” said Dylan. “He must be
moving slow, because we’re closing in on him.” He squinted his eyes and surveyed
the horizon. Then he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till we meet again, asshole.”

Early
the next morning Dylan found some wild greens to go with the catfish that Kevin
caught overnight, and they used some of the new spices with their breakfast.

“If
I am judging the distance correctly, we’ll make it to the next bridge and
campsite this morning,” said Dylan. “Let’s stop before we get to it, and be
extra cautious. There’s someone out there we should try to avoid.”

The
men continued their journey, staying close to the riverbank and keeping their
speed down. They did not want to travel fast today. Going slower would help
them keep a safer distance from obstacles and dangers in their path. It was not
long before they saw, in the distance, another concrete bridge spanning the
river. They hugged the riverbank and Dylan signaled for Kevin to get the
binoculars out of the backpack. They floated a little further down, but the
steep terrain and trees blocked the view. Trees were plentiful around the
perimeter of the RV park. The men found a location on the same side of the
river as the campground, and went ashore. They hid the rafts, as usual, and
then moved to higher ground. They would feel more secure if they observed the
area before they passed it or decided to make contact. The tree line stopped at
the top of the slope overlooking the campsite. At this distance, they would
need the binoculars to get a good view of the roadside campground. Kevin
scanned the park with the binoculars.

“See
anything?” asked Dylan.

“Maybe
ten or twelve people. That’s just a guess. They’re walking around the RVs.
There are a few children down there, too.” Kevin changed his position and
adjusted the focus of the binoculars. “That’s weird. They all seem to be
looking in the same direction, toward the river.” Kevin lowered the binoculars
and handed them to Dylan.

“You’re
right; the adults are all looking toward the water.” Dylan shifted his position
to view the riverbank near the park. “I see two people. Two men, down by the
river. The guy with long hair looks big. He has red hair and a flannel shirt.
He’s talking to a guy with short hair, maybe light brown or blonde, wearing a gray
shirt. They’re standing by a raft.” Dylan strained his eyes for more detail.
The two men moved slightly away from the raft as they talked. “Hey, guys, that
looks like my raft down there.” The larger man began jabbing his finger at the
other man and appeared to be yelling at him. Dylan adjusted the focus of the
binoculars just as the smaller man turned and seemed to be yelling back at the
larger man. “It’s him. I can see his face now. That’s Haber down there.” Dylan
handed the binoculars back to Kevin.

“I
see him. That’s definitely Haber, and it looks like the guy with the flannel
shirt is pissed off. Wait a second…ouch…Sergeant Haber just went flying
backwards into the raft. The big guy is walking back to the campground now.
Haber is just lying there.”

“I
hope he killed him,” said Richard, nervously.

“Do
you see any weapons?” asked Dylan.

“No.
Have another look around.” Kevin handed the binoculars back to Dylan.

Dylan
watched the man walk back to the RVs and tents. He seemed to be explaining what
just happened a moment ago. Another man was slapping him on the back and
laughing as the big man spoke to the others. Dylan pointed the binoculars back
toward the raft and saw that Haber was gone. He quickly swept the binoculars
across the landscape, desperately trying to locate Sergeant Haber. Dylan
followed a row of bushes from near the water as it curved up the slope, and he
saw Haber moving low behind the bushes toward the stranded campers.

“There
he is. He’s closer to us now. He’s by that row of bushes, making his way to the
campsite,” said Dylan, as he pointed toward the shrubbery Sergeant Haber used
as concealment. “He has a rifle with him. Looks like an assault rifle.”

Sergeant
Haber positioned himself so that when he walked through the bushes toward the
campers, a large concrete outhouse would hide him. Haber got to the concrete
building, and stood there with his back to the wall. Dylan watched him chamber a
round. Haber moved to the end of the building and peeked around the corner. He
was waiting for a chance to make his move. When the other campers gathered
around the big man that he had just fought with, Sergeant Haber jumped from
behind the building and advanced toward the crowd. The mothers screamed and
grabbed their children. He put his rifle barrel into the face of the large man
and pointed toward the ground. The man immediately went prone on the dirt. Haber
gestured with his rifle toward the large RV and told the others to go inside.
Sergeant Haber then flipped a small picnic table over and picked up one end,
shoving it under the door handle of the RV and making it impossible to open
from inside.

Dylan
laid the binoculars down. “He trapped everyone in the big camper, except the
guy that hit him. Something bad is about to happen.”

“We
have to get out of here now, Dylan!” exclaimed Richard.

“Is
he going to kill them?” asked Kevin.

“He
killed a guy back at that other camp. We have to do something. Come on men,
think.” Dylan put his face in his hands after he passed the binoculars back to
Kevin.

“He
has the guy tied to a chair,” reported Kevin. “Now he has his back to us…he’s
poking the guy with the rifle barrel. I can see the guy’s face…he looks
terrified.” Kevin watched the sergeant terrorize the man with his rifle.

The
sergeant would occasionally look around, then resume taunting the man tied to
the chair. Haber noticed something leaning against the picnic table by the
outhouse. He hit the man with the butt of his rifle, then turned and went
toward the object. Kevin adjusted the focus and saw that he was walking toward
a baseball bat. “He’s going to get that baseball bat by the picnic table.”
Kevin handed the binoculars back to Dylan.

Dylan
found Haber again with the binoculars and brought him into focus. He watched
Haber lean the rifle against the table and pick up the bat. The sergeant tested
the bat’s weight in his hands and swung it around. He looked back at the man
tied to the chair and strode directly toward him, leaving the rifle by the
picnic table.

“That’s
it. Checkmate, asshole!” Dylan quietly exclaimed, as he tossed the binoculars
back to Kevin. Dylan immediately dashed down the hill toward the row of bushes.

“Oh,
shit, what’s he doing?” Richard pleaded.

Kevin
brought the binoculars back up to his face. He watched Dylan as he arrived at
the row of bushes and positioned himself so that the concrete outhouse was
between him and Haber. He moved silently to the concrete wall, and then
sidestepped toward the corner near the table. There it was. He could see the
rifle now. It was about six feet away leaning against the table. Dylan’s heart
was racing when he leaped from the corner and snatched the rifle. He
immediately put the rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the sergeant. The sergeant
was facing the restrained man and taunting him with the baseball bat. The man
tied to the chair saw Dylan approaching with the rifle and turned his head
toward him. As the man’s expression changed from fear to disbelief, Haber spun
around and saw Dylan approaching. He immediately noticed that it was his own
weapon that Dylan was pointing at his head.

“Haber…Haber…Haber…a
good soldier never abandons his weapon,” said Dylan, sarcastically, looking at
the sergeant and shaking his head. “I think I should keep this rifle,
Sergeant...I wouldn’t abandon a good rifle…especially if it was my only
weapon.” Sergeant Haber froze in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his jaw hung
open in absolute shock as he stared at Dylan and the rifle. Keeping his eyes on
the sergeant, Dylan waved for his friends to come down from behind the trees.
He expected one of them would be watching with the binoculars and knew they
would understand the hand signal. “Was I the last person you expected to see
alive?” Dylan smirked. “Drop that bat and put your hands on your head.”

The
sergeant dropped the bat and faced Dylan as commanded. “Are you going to kill
me?” he asked, without emotion.

“Get
on your knees, asshole!” commanded Dylan.

The
sergeant dropped to his knees and continued to face Dylan. His hands were on
top of his head. Dylan could see the look of defeat in his eyes as he walked
behind the sergeant and placed the end of the barrel at the back of the
defeated man’s skull. The man tied to the chair was trying to scoot the chair
back away from the scene, but with little result. Kevin and Richard ran down to
Dylan’s location. Kevin had his pistol drawn and told Richard to untie the man.

Dylan
looked at the man in the flannel shirt and asked, “The sergeant wants to know
if I’m going to kill him. What do you think?”

“It’s
your rifle,” said the large man, holding his hands up as he took several steps
away from Dylan.

“Fair
enough,” said Dylan, as he pressed the rifle harder against the sergeant’s
skull. “I will count down from five. Say your prayers, asshole.”

The
sergeant began to cry uncontrollably as Dylan slowly counted down. At zero,
Dylan paused for a moment, leaned toward Sergeant Haber’s ear, and yelled,
“Bang!” The sergeant began to scream that he was sorry, and tried to beg for
forgiveness from everyone.

Dylan
circled around the kneeling sergeant and told him to look up. “I should kill
you. You stole my raft, and tried to get us killed in Fort Benton. There’s one
thing holding me back.” Dylan took a step away from the sergeant and lowered
the rifle. “You’re not worth a bullet.” Dylan kicked the baseball bat to the
large man, then walked back to the sergeant who was casting his eyes at the
ground in front of his knees. “Look at me, you bastard!” yelled Dylan. The sergeant
raised his head. His eyes were red and snot was dripping from his nose. Dylan
lifted his right foot and kicked the sergeant hard, right in the center of his
chest, sending him several feet backwards. The sergeant landed flat on his back,
gasping for air. Dylan instructed Richard to frisk the sergeant for weapons.
Richard found nothing and stepped away.

Dylan
walked toward the sergeant and nudged him with his boot. He looked down at his
contorted face. The sergeant was desperately struggling to breathe, and his
broken ribs were not cooperating. “When we were in Fort Benton, someone tried
to introduce us to frontier justice. We didn’t stick around for the
introduction. I think we’re supposed to thank you for that.” Dylan tested the sergeant’s
broken ribs with his boot. The sergeant screamed. “Sergeant Haber, I would like
to formally introduce you to
my
version of frontier justice.”

Dylan
walked toward the barricaded RV. He passed the large man who was holding the
baseball bat. “He’s all yours.” Dylan went to the picnic table that was holding
the door shut on the RV, and pulled. The table collapsed and Dylan dragged it
away from the door. The men inside the RV jumped out of the vehicle and stared
at the sergeant, who was writhing on the ground. “He’s all yours now. Do what
you want.” The men from the RV immediately ran to the sergeant and dragged him
to the river, and the man with the bat followed behind them. Dylan decided not
to watch, although he briefly heard the sergeant screaming.

Dylan,
Kevin, and Richard, stood near the RV that the sergeant had held the campers
captive in. The men picked up the picnic table and placed it upright on the
ground. They discussed what had just happened and felt a sense of relief
knowing that the campers had taken care of Sergeant Haber. Realizing that it
had just gotten quiet by the riverbank, Dylan glanced in that direction. He saw
the men standing there looking down. The large man was still holding the
baseball bat, but now he was using it to poke a motionless body sprawled on the
ground. Dylan saw them throw the body into the river.