Dark Star (20 page)

“We still have you surrounded and backup is
coming,” the Rooster bluffed.

Nate shook his head; if they had help coming
they would be here by now. “Tsk. Tsk. Max. Didn’t your mother teach
you not to lie?” And with that Nate raised the cell phone he used
as a detonator for the improvised explosives. “Always remember to
close the backdoor,” he said as he punched in the code setting off
the booby traps he’d planted around the tree. The sound of the
explosions echoed through the canyon and left his ears ringing so
badly he was convinced he’d be permanently deaf. His breathing
techniques could no longer control his heartbeat. He was fairly
certain all three men were dead, but there was only one way to be
sure, and if he was wrong then he was a dead man. Either way he
really didn’t have much of a choice. Waiting much longer was
impossible.

He carefully slid under the tree to exit the
cave. The Rooster’s men were dead; there was no mistaking that. The
blast had scattered pieces of them several feet around the tree.
The Rooster was pretty much intact, but he wasn’t moving and the
gaping wound in his chest told the tale. Due to the tricky nature
of explosives, the Rooster, who was closest to the explosion,
suffered the least damage of the three. Nate paused as he always
did to say a prayer for the man’s soul and for forgiveness of his
own sin. Then he looked down at the rapid flow of blood coming from
the gunshot wound in his side. Weak from loss of blood he leaned
against the tree that had been his salvation, but he feared that
nothing would save him now. But at least he could die knowing that
Tonya was safe. And death was all but assured. He didn’t know where
the hell he was and suspected he was bleeding to death. First
things first, he had to get away from the scene. For one thing, the
blood was bound to attract all manner of wild life, and for
another, he wasn’t altogether positive that the Rooster had been
bluffing about back up. Checking the direction of the sun streaming
through the forest canopy Nate headed north as fast as he
could.

* * * * *

Nate lay curled up in the crotch of a tree.
The early morning sunlight shimmered through the leaves turning the
forest into an Impressionistic landscape. He’d walked as far as he
could the previous day before seeking sanctuary beneath the
branches of the low-hanging tree. Unfortunately, his condition
limited his ability to appreciate the scenery. He listened to the
footsteps that had followed him into the shallow cove. Whoever was
following him was good -- betrayed only by the occasional snapped
twig. He knew they’d find him and there was nothing he could do. He
couldn’t quite get his sluggish mind around exactly who
they
were, but he knew he was a dead man. As disturbing as that thought
was, it didn’t disrupt the lassitude of his limbs or his foggy
thinking. Then the footsteps stopped and he looked down at the top
of a familiar dreadlocked head.

Deringer peered up at him from the ground.
“You look like hell, old man. Of course, you always look like hell,
so who could tell the difference?” he said.

“You should see the other guy.” Nate laughed,
but it quickly turned into a cough. He knew he had at least one
broken rib and if the pain and breathlessness he was experiencing
were anything to go by that rib had punctured his lung or maybe the
bullet had. Grabbing one of the branches with his left hand, he
raised himself to a seated position. Now that Deringer was here he
would have to get moving again no matter how badly it hurt.

Deringer looked around the clearing under the
tree. “Speaking of the other guy, where is the Rooster?”

“He’s dead. They’re all dead. What are you
doing here? Where’s my Onion?”

“Still kicking ass and taking names. That
woman is five miles of bad road.”

“But you were supposed to -- ” Nate
began.

“I know what I was supposed to do, but she
threatened to come after you herself if I didn’t come for you. Do
you really want her down here?”

Nate started to laugh, but the pain cut that
off quickly. “That’s my girl.”

“Look, she’s got good people watching
her.”

Nate opened his mouth to speak but a coughing
fit halted his words. He wrapped his arms around his torso during
the spate, trying to keep his ribs in place. He felt things moving
around and knew that shouldn’t be happening.

“I hate to do this old man, but I’ve got to
wrap those ribs before one goes through your lung.”

“I think it already has,” Nate gasped. “It’s
damnably hard to breathe. You got a fentanyl lollipop in there?”
Nate asked gesturing toward the other man’s backpack.

“Yeah,” Deringer said, pulling the anesthetic
out of his backpack. He handed it to Nate.

Nate unwrapped the package, and in a
practiced movement began swabbing the inside of his mouth with the
cherry-flavored painkiller. His rib hurt like crazy and wrapping it
would be agonizing, but he knew Deringer was right. They waited a
few minutes for the drug to take effect then Deringer helped him
climb down from the tree -- an activity that hurt considerably more
than climbing up had. Once he was back on the ground they waited
long enough for Nate to get his bearings then Deringer pushed
Nate’s shirt up so he could get to his ribs. Nate looked down at
the bullet wound, which he’d hurriedly bandaged the night before.
The skin over the ribs on his right side were various shades
ranging from black to cobalt, but he’d stopped bleeding. He knew
the bullet had passed through as he had struggled to get a bandage
on the hole in his back. Deringer checked both wounds, adding more
bandages to both before he began winding an Ace bandage around
Nate’s torso. Even with the fentanyl onboard the process was
painful but mercifully quick. Having the ribs wrapped made
breathing somewhat easier and Nate sighed in relief when his friend
was done.

Deringer secured the bandages as tightly as
possible. “I’m no doctor, but that should help the situation. Now
you need to shut up and let me get you the hell out of here. I’m
pretty sure that Tonya is in much better shape at the moment than
you are.”

Nate started to argue, but it took too much
effort, so he focused on breathing instead. “Yeah, that’s probably
a good idea.”

Getting out of Brazil was easier said than
done. Deringer had sneaked into the country as a tourist with a
forged passport. Once he was in country and realized that Nate’s
GPS system had probably been confiscated Deringer had feared that
finding him would be impossible. Fortunately, due to their contacts
in the area, finding the shell of the house wasn’t that difficult
and from there it was only a matter of using his knowledge of
Nate’s methods to figure out where he would go. He’d planned to
sneak Nate out the way he’d come in, but now having seen his friend
he knew nobody would ever believe the sunburned half-dead man
needed to be anywhere but the nearest hospital. There was nothing
for it; he’d have to contact the Department. A simple extraction
shouldn’t be too risky, especially as he knew their exact
coordinates. It should be reasonably safe with the Rooster dead. He
studied Nate closely as the other man leaned against the tree. He
wasn’t altogether certain he could survive the trip. He knew one
way to find out.

“Nate, sing the Alabama fight song,” he
said.

Nate gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m not
dead am I? Nothing else could keep me from singing the song. Yay
Alabama! Drown ‘em Tide!” He sang it all the way through and even
managing a rousing Roll Tide, Roll! at the end. Or it would have
been inspiring had he not collapsed into another coughing fit.

Deringer watched in concern as a speck of
foamy blood appeared on Nate’s ghostly lips. The two warriors were
experienced enough to recognize aspirated blood when they saw it.
There was a bleed in his lung. Despite his unease he knew they
really didn’t have any alternatives.

He pulled the satellite phone out of a pocket
in his backpack. Before he could call out though, Nate, who he’d
thought was unconscious, spoke up.

“Dare?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to get back to Maple Fork. To
Tonya,” Nate said, his voice so soft Deringer had to strain to hear
him.

“Yeah, eventually, but right now you’re going
to the hospital.” Deringer wasn’t really that focused on what Nate
was saying. He was far more concerned about the logistics of the
extraction operation.

“No. Now. The cutters can come to me at
Tonya’s. I’m dying and if I die in a Department hospital they’ll
dispose of my body and deny I ever existed. Tonya will never know
what happened to me. I did that to her once, I can’t do it
again.”

“Not going to happen. For one thing man,
you’re not dying, but if you do I can always tell her.”

Nate collapsed into another spate of
coughing. Deringer lay him down on the leaf-padded ground so he
could catch his breath. “Don’t argue with me,” Nate gasped.
“Promise. Maple Fork, nowhere else.” Despite the hollow quality of
his voice, there was a firmness there that Deringer knew well.
Nothing short of another bullet was going to change Nate’s mind and
Deringer wasn’t altogether firm in his resolve to avoid the little
town. He couldn’t ignore the little leap in the region of his heart
when he thought about Maple Fork. Roshonda.

Deringer looked down at his frantic friend.
He did look as though he’d die at any moment. He was gray under his
customary tan, and his lips had a bluish tinge. Nate stared back at
him with eyes that were bright and feverish looking.

“Okay, Maple Fork it is. Now can I call
somebody to get us the hell out of here before we become a jaguar’s
supper?”

Chapter Twelve

Tonya lay sprawled on the rug in her living
room as Callie’s twins climbed all over her like something from
Gulliver’s Travels
. Nothing could lift her spirits like
these little darlings and she really appreciated Callie making the
effort to bring them over. She looked at her friend who was half
sitting, half lying on the huge sofa trying to get some much-needed
rest. Callie wasn’t due for another month, but frankly she looked
ready to pop at any moment. Tonya had a feeling Callie would
welcome labor as these last few weeks had been especially hard on
her. Tonya tickled Rory’s round belly, as Brodie climbed on her
back to rescue his sister. Both children screamed at the top of
their lungs as they played with their favorite “aunt.” She’d just
picked Brodie up to play airplane much to his ear-splitting delight
when one of her security detail rushed into the room.

“What’s going on?” she asked, instinctively
placing herself between the children and the deadly man. Callie sat
up with a gasp and they both stared at him in consternation.
Everything had been perfectly quiet since Deringer left, but she
was constantly aware of what could happen. She suddenly regretted
letting Callie bring the babies over. What had she been
thinking?

“Some strange men have approached your
apartment. The other guys are checking them out, but we have to
make sure you’re secure.”

Strange men? “Who are they?” Tonya asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to assess right
now, ma’am. Now if you’ll just come with us -- ”

At that moment another man rushed up to the
first man. He whispered hurriedly into his ear. The first man
frowned, then looked at her. “Ma’am do you know anyone named
Nate?”

“Ohmigod, Nate!” Tonya screamed. She quickly
handed Brodie to Callie, then followed the men out of her
apartment.

“Nate,” she gasped, pausing on the landing.
He and Deringer stood at the foot of the stairs, or at least
Deringer was standing. Nate leaned against the other man; so pale
Tonya feared he’d lose consciousness before she could get to him.
She ran down the stairs, reaching for him the moment she got to the
bottom.

“Be careful,” Deringer said.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

Deringer looked at the three security guards
who were standing behind her.

When he didn’t answer Tonya followed his gaze
and understood his concern. “They’re okay. Bryan’s agent vetted
them, they’re from Hollywood and used to keeping secrets.” Deringer
just stared at them and they gradually backed up until they were as
far away as possible in the small foyer.

Deringer nodded. “He’s been shot,” he said in
a soft tone that wouldn’t carry.

“What?” she said gingerly embracing Nate.
“Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?”

“Because he wouldn’t go. Said he had to see
you first.”

“Of all the idiotic...” She touched Nate’s
forehead. “He’s feverish, he’s probably not in his right mind. Why
didn’t you take him anyway? It’s not like you don’t have the
means,” she said giving him a pointed glare.

“Yeah, but he would’ve killed me when he woke
up.”

“Like I wouldn’t?”

“I’m sure you would, but he’s got more
experience with that type of thing,” Deringer said.

“Are y’all going to argue all night while I
die right here?” Nate asked. He was so breathless it was difficult
to understand him.

“Of course not. You’ve got to go to the
hospital,” she said.

“No. Too many questions,” Nate whispered.

“We’ve got somebody on the way. If we can
just get him upstairs I think he can be taken care of here,”
Deringer said.

Tonya frowned, “But a bullet wound...”

“It went through,” Nate said. “I’ve been shot
before; these guys can take care of it.”

Tonya frowned. She’d seen the scars on his
body from previous injuries, so she knew he knew what he was
talking about. Still the idea of having such a serious wound
treated in her house... “Are you sure?”

“It’s the only way to keep him safe,”
Deringer said.

That clinched it for her. Apparently they
hadn’t managed to kill the Rooster and Nate was still in danger.
“Okay, come on up.”