Centralia (29 page)

Karen lay on the ground, facedown, Lilly pressed up against her. Jed had hit the ground too. His shoulder burned like a hot poker had worked into the muscle surrounding it and now wrenched this way and that. He tried to move it, but it was useless; any activation of the muscles surrounding the shoulder sent that poker deeper into the tissue.

Below them, about forty feet, sat an outcropping of boulders. They needed some cover.

Dirt kicked up to Jed’s left as another shot sounded.

Jed slid Karen the rifle. “Take it and head for the rocks. I’ll cover you. Stay low and use the trees for protection.”

Eyes wide with fear, Karen grabbed the rifle and nodded.

Jed rolled onto his left side, ignoring the pain that ate at his
nerves, and lifted the handgun with his right hand. “Go,” he said to Karen and Lilly. He squeezed off three rounds as they scrambled to their feet and took off for the rocks.

More shots came from the higher ground. Jed returned fire and prayed Karen and Lilly had made it to the outcrop safely. He stole a glance behind him and didn’t see them.

Rolling to a tree five feet to his right, Jed got to his feet and used the thick pine for cover. He had seven rounds left, and the best he could tell, there were at least five gunman. He needed better cover than this tree; he too needed to head for the rocks.

Holding his left arm close to his body to minimize the jarring, Jed took off running, one tree to the next, zigzagging his way down the hill. Bullets zinged around him, took chunks out of the trees, and sprayed dirt. One nicked the flesh on the back of his right arm. It bit like a snake.

When he reached the rocks, he ducked behind them and found mother and daughter crouched, holding each other tightly.

The gunfire had stopped. Their pursuers were advancing.

Jed said to Karen, “Take the rifle and go with Lilly. You need to get out of here.” He handed her the envelope. “Here. I’ll hold them off.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Karen said.

“You have to. I’ll find you.” Though he knew he wouldn’t. He’d hold off the gunmen long enough for Karen and Lilly to escape, but the odds of his survival were not in his favor. “Now go. Quickly. They’re coming.”

Mother and daughter stood, Karen holding Lilly’s hand with her left and the rifle in her right.

“Ready?” Jed said.

They both nodded.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

“God’s with us, Daddy. I know that.”

Jed wished he had the faith that Lilly possessed. Truth was, he honestly didn’t know if this would be the last time he’d see them. How tragic, he thought, to be brought together after so much only be torn apart again. A lump lodged in his throat. He had so much he wanted to say to them; they had so much missing time to relive. But there was no time now; there might never be time. He reached out and touched Lilly’s hand, then Karen’s. “Go!”

Hand in hand, they took off down the hill. The moment they cleared the rocks, Jed popped up and scanned the area above them. Two gunmen slid out from behind trees and raised their weapons, but before they could fire, Jed dropped them both with two quick shots.

Another round came from his left and ricocheted off the rock. Jed spun, found the shooter, and squeezed off a shot. Bark exploded off the tree next to the man.

Four rounds left.

Movement higher up the mountain caught Jed’s eye. Two more men dashed out from behind a tree. Jed fired twice, hitting one in the chest but missing the other.

Two men remained, one about thirty yards to his left, ten o’clock, the other higher up the mountain, fifty yards, at one o’clock.

He had only two shots left. He needed to draw them out into the open. He knew he was a quicker aim than they were. If they exposed themselves, he could get off a round before they could. But he didn’t want to initiate a confrontation too soon. Karen and Lilly needed time to descend the mountain and get a safe distance away.

Jed moved around to the right of the boulder, putting the bulk of it between himself and the gunman to his left. From this
vantage point he would be able to focus on the gunman farther up the mountain without worrying about the other man getting off a clean shot. Every movement sent jarring pain through his arm, shoulder, and neck. The left side of his shirt was now soaked and clung to his body like plastic wrap.

Leaning against the cool rock, Jed again breathed a quick prayer, for Karen, for Lilly, for himself. It occurred to him then that he was falling back into old patterns, thinking it was up to him to save Lilly and Karen. Maybe he wasn’t the protection they needed. If he was to get out of this alive, it would not be by his own doing.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jed lunged away from the rock. Pine needles crackled; leaves crunched. But instead of committing himself forward, he stopped his progress and quickly pushed back.

The distraction worked. Hearing the commotion, the gunman peeked out from behind his tree, rifle raised. Jed had only the smallest target. He aimed, pulled the trigger. Bark flew and the gunman cursed. Jed had only succeeded in knocking the rifle from the man’s hands.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jed stepped out again, this time far enough that the man to his left could see him. The gunman on the higher ground hadn’t retrieved his gun yet. He was crouched by the tree, holding his hand. Pressing his left arm to his body, Jed ran forward, up the hill, keeping an eye on the position of the gunman to his left.

As planned, the man showed himself. He swung out from behind the tree, rifle raised, and as he dove to the ground, Jed saw the muzzle flash. As he fell, Jed raised his handgun and fired at the gunman, hitting him square in the chest. The man’s arms flew up, the rifle sailed, and he fell back, motionless.

Frantically Jed continued scrambling up the hill. If he could reach the other gunman before he retrieved his gun, he would have a fighting chance. But when he was still thirty feet away, the man launched himself forward, scooped up the rifle with his left hand while holding his right hand against his chest. He spun around and pointed it at Jed.

“Hold it! Stop right there!”

Jed pulled up, panting, sweating. His arm was going numb, his hand and forearm swelling. Blood dripped from his fingertips. He was growing weaker by the second.

“Hands up,” the man hollered.

Jed raised his right hand. His heart hammered in his chest. This was it. This was how it would all end. In the woods, alone, with no one but this killer to even witness his death. He was glad for that, though. He wouldn’t want Karen or Lilly to see this. He prayed again that they were far enough away and that they’d make it to the cabin in Idaho, someway, somehow, that they’d be safe and able to start a new life.

A familiar voice spoke then from an unseen location. “You’re a difficult man to hold on to, Peter.”

Nichols. His voice was unmistakable. He emerged from behind the trunk of an ancient oak, hands behind his back, head held high, like a big-game hunter who had just brought down his prize trophy and now wanted to gloat in his victory.

The gunman approached Jed cautiously, making sure to keep enough distance between them to avoid any hand-to-hand engagement. As he drew closer, though, Jed noticed two fingers missing from his right hand. He held the rifle tight against his shoulder, but still it wavered. He’d gone pale and his skin glistened from a cold sweat.

“They want me to discontinue you, you know,” Nichols said. He too made his way closer to Jed, carefully navigating the rocky, sloped terrain.

Jed said nothing because there was nothing to say, no argument to make, no sentence to deliver. He didn’t want to give Nichols the joy of hearing him beg, either.

Nichols and the gunman stepped closer to Jed until they were fifteen feet away. Nichols put a hand on the gunman’s shoulder. “I don’t want to kill you, though. There’s still more to do. But you know those military types
 
—they do want their orders followed. They’re so obsessive about it.” He drew in a deep, melodramatic breath. “So I guess I have to reluctantly comply.”

Jed’s mind whirled, searching for any way out of the situation, but there was none. He was trapped, had no plan and no options. End of the road.

“But I don’t have to watch,” Nichols said. He tapped the gunman on the shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.” Then he turned his back to Jed and began making his way up the hill.

The gunman repositioned his feet and tucked the stock of the gun even tighter against his shoulder. He tilted his head to the left to bring Jed into the gun’s sights.

Jed tensed. He had to do something; he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. But if he lunged at the gunman, he’d be dropped before he could take one complete step.

Nichols continued making his way up the hill. Every now and then his shoes would slip on the pine needles.

Before Jed could do anything, the crack of a gun sounded, and he flinched, thinking it was the gunman. Nichols spun around. The gunman wavered, lowered the rifle slowly, then went to his knees. A hole the size of a quarter oozed bright-red blood from side of his head.

Nichols reached inside his coat, but before he could draw his own weapon, Jed snatched the rifle from the falling gunman and aimed it at Nichols. “Don’t do it,” he said.

Nichols froze, his hand still buried in his coat, feet wide, eyes intent and serious.

Jed quickly closed the gap between himself and Nichols, keeping the rifle trained on Nichols’s head. “Pull it out and drop it.”

Nichols slowly removed his hand, which grasped not a handgun but rather an envelope. He held it high.

From Jed’s right, Karen and Lilly emerged from behind a stand of three close pines. They walked quickly to Jed, Karen still grasping the rifle she’d just used to put down the gunman. When she reached Jed, she said, “I told you we weren’t leaving you.”

Jed gave them both a subtle smile, then said to Nichols, “What’s that?”

“My insurance.”

“Throw it on the ground in front of you.”

He did. The envelope landed midway between Jed and Nichols. Jed asked Karen, “Can you open that, please? Tell us what’s in it.”

Karen moved forward carefully to retrieve the envelope, then opened it and slid out a packet of papers. She unfolded them and scanned the top sheet.

“What is it?” Jed asked.

Nichols stood relaxed, arms at his sides, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Karen and Jed.

Karen held out the papers. “You’ll want to see this for yourself.” She handed over the papers, then trained her own rifle on Nichols.

Jed stared at the documents, not sure he wanted to know what was printed there. He’d been told so many lies already; how could he ever sort it all out? He was still getting spotty, sporadic
memories stuttering through his mind, images and voices and feelings, as valuable to him now as pure platinum and yet so foreign.

Jed took a deep breath and read the top page. It was a birth certificate for Peter Ryan, born in Baltimore, Maryland, on August 15. His own birthday. The parents were Richard and Serena Ryan.

“It’s yours, son,” Nichols said. “Your true identity. Abernathy told you your name was Jedidiah, didn’t he? That you were an orphan and the military became the only real family you ever knew.”

Jed flipped to the next page, a military medical report for a Sergeant Peter Ryan. Ryan had apparently spent time in Walter Reed Medical Center after suffering severe head trauma, six contusions across the cerebral cortex. Words like
blunt force trauma
,
comatose
,
unresponsive
,
vegetative state
, and
death
jumped out at him.

“It’s just a name. Peter Ryan could be anybody,” Jed challenged, even while an eel squirmed in his stomach.

“Keep reading,” Nichols said.

Jed flipped to the next page and nearly dropped the papers. There was a picture of him in his dress blues, an official Army photo. Peter Ryan, Ranger.

The forest floor seemed to shift beneath his feet. The trees overhead and all around loomed menacingly, their branches reaching for him. It couldn’t be him.

“You were the best,” Nichols said.

Jed didn’t look up from the paper. He stared at it but read none of the words. They were just black letters floating in a white sea.

Nichols took a step closer. “It was an ambush. You were part of a team sent to rescue our ambassador to Kenya. His convoy had been attacked, everyone killed except him. A group of rebels held him hostage and we needed to get him out. But someone must have tipped off the rebels. They knew you were coming. Casualties
were high.” He paused to shove his hands in his pockets. “You were beaten to within an inch of your life. It was a miracle we got you out and even more of a miracle that you survived. The doctors at Walter Reed wanted to pull the plug on you, but I wouldn’t let them. I believed in you, Peter. You were the best I’d ever seen. I knew if anyone could pull out of that coma, it would be you. And you did, but . . .”

Jed looked up. “But what?”

“You had complete amnesia. Couldn’t remember a thing. Doctors said, considering how extensive your brain damage was, you would probably never regain your memory.”