Double Blind (41 page)

Suddenly the hand she dragged along the wall floated free. The first turn. She stopped. Billy collided into her from behind, nearly knocking her down. He grabbed her and held her upright, then shoved her into the new tunnel.

Another explosion, this one less intense, since they were farther away and around a corner. Still, Sam felt a cloud of grit pepper her. Her lungs spasmed. She bent over coughing and wheezing.

Billy grabbed her arm. “Keep moving. We’ll suffocate if we don’t.”

Billy led. Sam followed, again keeping her hand in contact with the left wall. They found the second left, then the third, and finally stepped out of the Old Watkin's Mine into the air. Dawn was beginning to press from the east.

Sam dropped to her knees coughing, expelling strings of watery sputum, blackened and gritty. Her left ear throbbed and she touched it. The entire area was wet. She examined her fingers and even in the dim morning light she knew it was blood.

Billy squatted beside her. “You alright?”

“Been better.”

He looked at the blood on the side of her face. ‘That doesn’t look good.”

“I’ll live.” She stood, spit a wad of dark sputum on the ground, and wiped blood from the side of her face with her shirtsleeve.

Billy looked around. “Let’s go. We have to stop Burt and Wade before they get to the state boys and twist this all around.”

“I think it’s a little late for him to do that.”

Billy stepped toward her, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Listen to me. Burt will lay all this at our feet. And without Morgan, we have no proof.”

“The journals,” Sam said.

“You can bet they’ll disappear. Edgar and Martha, too.”

Sam looked into his eyes, letting his words sink in. For the billions Burt expected to make out of this, what were two more lives? The black grit that covered Billy’s face proved that Burt would do whatever was necessary.

“You’re right,” Sam said. “But I lost my gun and they’re armed.”

“We still have one advantage. Burt thinks we’re dead and buried.”

“You thinking an ambush?”

“Unless you can come up with a better plan.”

Sam nodded. “OK. Which way?”

Billy started down the slope.

Sam squatted behind a rock. Twenty feet away, Billy plastered his back against the trunk of a large spruce, its sagging branches hiding even his massive body. Billy had selected this spot, saying they would likely come down the narrow trail that lay between them to get to their vehicles. The morning sun lightened the forest mist minute by minute.

Hurry up, Sam said to herself as her eyes scanned the trees and her one functioning ear searched for the sounds of their approach. Without weapons, the dim light and the element of surprise were their only allies.

She heard them. Scraping footsteps, snapping twigs, and the brushing of branches against clothing, drifted through the trees. Then, she saw their shadows, moving toward them. Eloy led; Burt and Wade followed several hundred feet behind him.

She caught Billy’s gaze. He crouched behind the tree trunk, legs coiled beneath him, ready to pounce.

Eloy hummed some unrecognizable tune as he moved along the trail. He held his rifle across his chest, using the stock to push aside the tree branches that drooped across his path. As soon as he moved between them, Sam stepped from behind the rock and into his path. His eyes sprang wide and an involuntary cry escaped his throat. She swiped the startled look from his face with a crisp left hook that caught him flush in the jaw. Eloy staggered and his rifle discharged, its roar reverberating among the trees and rocks, the bullet snapping through branches above them.

Sam took a quick step forward, planted her feet, and popped a left hook into Eloy’s midsection. He stiffened and the gun dropped from his hands. Billy slammed a fist into the side of Eloy’s head. Eloy’s eyes seemed to straighten for a brief moment before he spun and fell face down.

Sam knelt behind the rock and looked up the slope toward Burt and Wade.

“Eloy?” Wade shouted.

“What the hell is he doing?” Burt said.

“Eloy?” Wade shouted again.

Silence.

“I don’t like this,“ Burt said.

“You think it could be them?” Wade asked.

“Don’t see how they could’ve survived that blast.”

“There,” Wade said, pointing.

“What?”

“Behind those rocks. I saw someone move.”

“Could you tell who it was?”

“Strawberry blonde ponytail.”

“You’re kidding,” Burt said.

Damn it. Keep your head down, Samantha.

Billy threw her a frown.

“I only caught a glimpse,” Wade said. “But that’s what it looked like to me.”

“Did you see anyone else? Billy? Morgan?”

“No.”

“Who’s there?” Burt shouted. “Sam? Is that you?”

Billy raised a finger to his lips. Sam nodded back.

The bullet sparked off the rock, peppering her face with fragments. She dropped to the ground, flattening herself into the pine needles. Two more shots struck a tree above her, showering bark. She covered her head and waited for the next volley. None came.

She heard movement. Carefully shifting to a position where she could peer around the rock, she saw Burt slipping to her left in an obvious attempt to flank them. Wade came down the slope, following the trail toward where she lay.

Eloy’s rifle lay near her feet. She hooked it with one boot and dragged it toward her. Grabbing its barrel, she pulled it to her chest and slowly, quietly levered a shell into the chamber. The spent cartridge popped out and fell to the ground.

Rising to a squat, she brought the rifle to her shoulder and pointed the muzzle toward Burt’s silhouette as he moved through the shadows. His movements were difficult to track as he appeared and disappeared through the trees. He made a wide circle, giving them plenty of room, no doubt attempting to get behind them. Her palms felt sticky as her finger curled around the trigger.

She smiled inside, thinking of something her boss Charlie Walker had told her years ago. Charlie had been a cop in Houston as a young man and he swore that in Texas a justifiable homicide defense was “he needed killing.” Well, if anyone needed killing it was Burt.

She followed his movement more by sound than sight, unable to get a clear shot. She lowered the rifle and sank more deeply behind the rock as Wade came down the trail toward them.

Billy bent down and picked up a baseball sized stone, and then pointed up the slope toward Wade.

Sam scanned the area to her left for signs of Burt, and, seeing no one, focused her attention on Wade.

Wade continued to close the distance between them, his gun leading the way. When he saw Eloy stretched out face down in the middle of the trail, he stopped. His gun waved one way and then the other. He moved toward Eloy.

Sam stood, the rifle pointing in his direction. “Looking for me?”

Wade swung his gun toward her. “Put it down,” he said.

“You going to arrest me or shoot me?”

“That depends on you, I guess.”

“OK. You win.” She dropped the rifle at his feet.

“Over here,” Wade yelled. “I got her.” He looked at her. She smiled. “What so funny?”

“This,” Billy said from behind him. As Wade turned, Billy slammed the rock into the side of his head. Wade crumpled like a marionette with severed strings.

“Good work,” Sam said.

In the shadows behind Billy a muzzle flashed simultaneously with the report of the gunshot. Billy grabbed his neck and dropped to the ground. Sam ducked behind the tree trunk.

Billy pulled his hand away. Blood covered his palm and the side of his neck.

“You OK?” Sam asked.

“I think so.”

Another flash-boom. The bullet cut through the tree branches. Sam saw Burt moving toward them only 150 feet away. He fired again, splintering the bark of the tree. Billy rolled behind the spruce’s trunk.

Sam looked around the rock. Eloy’s rifle was wedged beneath Wade’s limp body and Wade’s pistol nowhere in sight.

Burt fired again. This time his shot thudded into the tree several feet above her head.

Where the hell is Wade’s gun?

Burt charged toward her, his pistol extended in front of him. Two more shots whizzed past her.

Click.

Sam leaped to her feet and burst through the drooping branches toward Burt. Shock him, overwhelm him, she told herself.

Burt squeezed the trigger again. Click. He threw his empty weapon at her, but missed. It clattered against a rock somewhere behind her.

“End of the line Burt,” she said.

He pulled a thick bladed hunting knife from his belt and held it before him. “Come ahead. See what I have for you?”

She circled him, fists set near her chest. Make him angry, she thought. Make him irrationally angry. “I don’t think so, Burt. You don’t have your thugs with you. And you don’t have the balls to do it yourself.”

“But I have the knife.”

“You going to talk?” Sam said. “Or are we going to do the dance?”

He shifted the knife to his left hand and moved toward her.

She circled clockwise, keeping the knife away from her and him in her sights. He lunged at her, aiming the knife at her belly. Sam easily sidestepped his thrust and popped a straight right hand into the side of his head. He swiped the knife across her left forearm. Sharp pain, and then a stream of blood erupted down her arm.

Burt stepped back, switched the blade to his other hand. He waved the knife toward her. “Want some more?”

Be cool. Make him angry. Make him attack.

“Don’t you wish you had a gun, Burt? Aren’t cross-hairs from a half mile more your speed?”

He flashed the blade at her. “This’ll do.”

Sam laughed at him. “I don’t think that’s a big enough ordinance advantage for you. Even against a woman half your size.”

Burt grimaced and lunged at her. She slid to her left, chopped the blade from his hand, and then slammed her fist into his throat.

His breath escaped in a wheeze and his knees buckled. He clutched her arm with his right hand, holding himself upright. 

Sam yanked her arm free, stepped back, and released a short, sharp left hook that caught him squarely on the chin. He stiffened for a brief moment, swayed. She followed with a lightning quick left-right-left combination. He staggered and then crumpled to the ground.

“Freeze.” The voice came from behind her. She turned to see three uniforms, guns drawn. A fourth appeared. He wore a Captain’s shield on his jacket.

“You Captain Baker?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He looked at the blood that oozed down her forearm and dripped from her fingers. “You OK?”

Sam clamped a hand over her wound. “Yeah.”

“You must be Deputy Cody?”

She nodded.

“Want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Glad to,” Billy said as he came from behind the tree, one bloody hand cupped against his neck.

After Sam and Billy explained what had happened, Captain Baker called Edgar Locke, who corroborated their story and assured him that Sam and Billy were the good guys. He then took Burt and Wade into custody and followed Sam and Billy to Gold Creek Hospital.

Sam sat on the treatment table in the emergency department. Dr. Beth Hartsman confirmed Sam’s suspicion that she had a ruptured eardrum and then applied eight sutures to the laceration on her left forearm. The nurse gave Sam an injection of antibiotics while Beth scribbled a prescription for more.

“Take these three times a day for the next ten days. Don’t worry, everything’ll heal nicely,” Beth said. “But I want to see you in my office in a couple of days to make sure it’s going as expected.”

The door to the exam room opened and Alyss and Shelby walked in. Nathan followed. Sam jumped off the table and they embraced.

“You look wonderful,” she said.

He pushed her back and examined her. Her clothes and face and arms still showed remnants of black soot. “I wish I could say the same,” he said with a grin. “But, you’ve looked better.”

“On that note,” Beth said, “I’m out of here. Sam, I’ll see you in a couple of days.” She smiled at Nathan as she left the room.

Sam looked at Nathan. “You missed all the fun.”

“So I’ve heard.” He shook his head.

“How did your story work out?” Sam asked.

“A bust. No Big Foot.”

“That’s because he’s here. Was here,” Sam said.

“What?” Nathan asked.

“I’ll tell you about it later. First, I have to see how Billy’s doing.”

Sam pulled Nathan down the hall, Alyss and Shelby close behind. She pushed open the door to Billy’s room. He sat in his bed, eating chocolate ice cream from a small plastic bowl. He had obviously bathed and had a clean bandage on his shoulder and the side of his neck. An IV bag hung from a pole at the head of his bed.

Billy looked up and smiled. “You OK?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Billy, I want you to meet someone. This is Nathan Klimek. Nathan, this is the world famous Billy Bear Wingo.”

They shook hands.

Billy looked at Sam. “So, what’s the story?”

“Burt and Eloy are on the way to Montrose, courtesy of the state. They’ll stop by and pick up Hollis on the way. Wade’ll be shipped off as soon as Dr. Hartsman says he can travel. You did a number on his head.”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve. What about Morgan?”

“Baker is going to send an excavation crew down to dig out his body.”

“Good. He deserves a proper burial,” Billy said.

Nathan looked from Billy to Sam. “Who’s Morgan?”

“The real Big Foot,” Sam said.