Ever Onward (20 page)

“Holy shit, would you look at this!”,
Flame cried in wonder. She’s been in the lead for some time now,
drawn on by a sudden urge to reach the top. The sight of her tight
buttocks grinding away through her sweat-stained panties had been
the focus of Snake’s gaze for what seemed an eternity. His heart
pounding, his beer gut bouncing, he had forced himself to stay as
close to her well formed ass as he could, following her like a dog
after a bitch in heat. Yet lust had not been his only motive.
Flame’s sexuality was but the lifeline he clung to for the moment.
What he truly coveted was revenge.

Blade and Bull were still far back
down the trail. Bull’s wounded leg had proved too much for even his
tremendous strength. The large biker had been forced to use a stick
as a crutch, and needed Blade’s help up the steeper
rocks.

Flame, out in the open now, dropped
her bag and gazed in wonder at the panoramic view. She had reached
the Franconia Ridge, that long, winding, narrow, open backbone of
the White Mountains that hikers reverently called The Spine of God;
and though she knew not the name, deep in her heart of hearts she
suddenly felt awed by something vastly bigger than her own petty
little wants and needs.

Mountains stretched away to the
horizon in all directions. Every shade of green imaginable filled
the eye. A sky so blue it looked freshly made as on the day of
Creation; silence so profound it rang in her ears like a silver
bell. Billowing clouds, whiter than new fallen snow, drifted below
her in the valleys. Eagles soared overhead, hanging like silent
angels on the thermal updrafts. Flame spread her arms and embraced
the sky --- and her heart took wing.

A strange feeling rushed through her,
like a long ago memory of a young girl’s Christmas morning combined
with the jolt from a line of coke. Though she could never have
explained it, Flame was having a mystical experience. She had
climbed out of the darkness, and now stood as one newborn in the
sun. Dreamlike, she watched her old self slip away. Though
extremely erotic, there was a feeling of rightness about it. She
seemed to blend with the very earth itself. Her entire body
tingled. Her nipples hardened at the wind’s gentle caress. The
sun’s rays felt like warm hands on her thighs. No longer just a
biker’s whore, but Mother Nature spreading herself before the
Creator. Clean, pure, even virginal.

And it felt so damn good!

Snake’s course voice brought her
crashing back to reality. “Hey, tight ass! Haul your tits over
here!” Snake, his heavy gun once again in his hand, motioned at a
cluster of large boulders just in front of them. Flame reluctantly
drew her Smith & Wesson, wincing where the shoulder holster had
rubbed against her breast. Her empty belly rumbled. Licking her dry
lips, they silently converged on the pile of rocks.

All they found was a weathered
signpost, information etched into the blasted board. They were
apparently standing on the summit of Little Haystack; 4,659 feet
above sea level, 3.2 miles from the parking lot. To the right the
open ridge led to Mt. Liberty and on to Mt. Flume. To the left, a
mile away and several hundred feet above them, was Mt. Lincoln. A
mile beyond that, unseen from where they stood, Mt. Lafayette
waited majestically, its 5,260 foot summit lost in the
clouds.

“There’s nobody here,”, Flame said, an
odd feeling of relief flooding through her. The trail, marked by
stone cairns, stretched away on both sides. The beauty of it all
struck her again as she gazed wide-eyed at the majestic vista.
Suddenly she felt very small and frail. The heavy gun in her hand
seemed like an obscenity.

“Well, great white hunter, which way
now?” Blade’s voice was as sharp as his name, his cold eyes boring
into Snake. Behind him stood Bull, looking like a giant sucker
drowning in a stagnant pool.

Snake glanced about. The ridge seemed
to stretch away to infinity. Gently down in both directions; though
to the left it merely dipped into a boulder strewn gully before
rising steeply again. He pointed up at Mt. Lincoln with the long
barrel of his Redhawk.

“That way. These bastards think there
real tough. They’ll go up till their fucking noses bleed! Well,
we’ll show them who’s tough, right Bull?”

Bull, however, looked anything but
tough. Sitting massaging his leg, he sucked in air like a leaky
bellows. The grey rock beneath the wound was splattered red. Snake
strode over to him.

“They killed Runt, Bull. Killed Rings
too! Tossed her at me like a piece of meat! They hurt Blade and
they hurt Flame. And they hurt you! Now we’re going to hurt
them!”

The big man’s head lifted, making him
look like a hound scenting the wind.

“Ya, Snake! I want to hurt them real
bad!”

Snake slapped him on the shoulder. “I
knew I could count on you, Bull. Once we get them, we’ll fix up
your leg. They’ll have bandages and shit. Food too! What do ya
say?”

Bull grinned and heaved himself to his
feet. More blood dripped onto the rocks. Blade swore and Flame
turned away.

“As for you two,” Snake said, again
drawing his heavy revolver; “move out, now! Blade, you lead. I want
you where I can see you. Me and Bull will bring up the
rear.”

Blade glared back at the bearded
madman, then stalked off towards Mt. Lincoln. Flame picked up her
bag and started down the gentle slope. She felt lightheaded. Snake
grabbed her arm. “You stay just in front of me. Your ass is still
the best view up here.”

“Another pig”, she muttered, walking
behind the rocks by the signpost to put on her pants and
shirt.

Watching her walk away, Snake laughed.
Bull joined in, though he had no idea why. But Snake did, and for
Snake, that was all that really mattered.

Chapter 17
: ‘SHOWDOWN AT WITCH’S
HEAD’

Franconia Ridge

New Hampshire

June
30
^th

“Hey, Mr. Williams!”, Billy called.
“They’re coming!”

Josh waved back at the young man,
signaling him to climb down. Billy had been sitting up on the huge
chunk of bare granite called The Witch’s Head. Over the slow
passing of the millennia, the wind and rain had shaped the giant
slab into the form of an old woman’s face, hooked nose and
all.

The rest of them were in the jumble of
weathered boulders below Witch’s Head, half way between Little
Haystack and Mt. Lincoln. This was the narrowest part of the ridge;
a place where the trail shrank to a twisting footpath marked with
splashes of paint. A thousand foot drop fell away on both sides. A
perfect place for an ambush.

Josh sat on a slab of granite
overlooking Chimney Rock, a sixty foot finger of stone thrusting up
out of the steep slope just below Witch’s Face. How many thousands
of years had it stood there? How many thousands of hikers had sat
were he now sat, gazing in wonder at tons of rock seemingly defying
gravity? How many were left to see it now?

His mind cast itself back to the last
time he had passed this way. The summer before this. Jessie had
been away at camp and for two weeks Josh and his wife had roamed
New England in their camper. The beauty of Acadia Park in Main; the
noisy, frantic hustle of Old Orchard; the slower, quieter charm of
The Yorks. His wife’s face hovered before him. Romantic walks on
the beach; lobsters, clams and wine at their campsites; making
gentle love in their camper. And all the time she knew where he
longed to be, back here in the Whites.

Baking on a crowded beach was not his
style, and so they had spent one week at the ocean and one week in
the mountains. Swimming in the sun-warmed lakes and the cold,
rushing streams, and hiking the numerous, winding trails and open
ridges.

Fighting vertigo all the way, she had
followed. He was so very proud of her for that. Each time they had
passed this place she had trembled and he had lovingly held her
hand. Above the treeline brought her closer to her own personal
view of God, but as with all things, there was a price to pay. She
paid it willingly and he had loved her all the more for it. He
still did.

“I can see them, Dad! Halfway down the
slope!”

Jessie’s excited voice brought Josh
out of his reverie. Looking back down the trail, he saw the four
tiny figures. He raised his binoculars for a better
look.

Blade was way out in front, just
dipping down into the scrub filled hollow a quarter mile below
them. The others followed a hundred yards behind. Flame leading,
her hair a red flag blowing in the breeze. Snake and the big one,
Bull, followed close behind. Josh saw that Bull was limping
badly.

He looked at the anxious faces all
around him and tried to smile. Og licked his face. Princess stood
by Jessie’s side. “You all know the plan. Blade will get here
first. When he’s halfway through, Brad and I will jump him. Those
behind won’t see or hear a thing. Billy will help us tie and gag
him and drag him off the trail.”

“What if he fights back or
something?”, Kenneth asked.

“He won’t have time, son,”, Brad said.
“We’ll be fine.”

Josh continued. “Once Blade’s down, we
stay hidden till the others reach the narrow ledge below us. I’ll
fire a shot in the air and order them to surrender. Tina, you watch
Flame. Billy, you get Bull. Brad and I will handle Snake and the
boys will cover us from up here.”

Jessie scratched Og’s ears. “And if
they don’t surrender?”

Josh’s answer was swift and slightly
forced. “They will, Jess. Caught in the open like that, they’ll
have no choice.”

He turned to Eddy, forcing a smile he
didn’t feel. “You’ve got the tricky part. Hide in the scrub down
below till they’ve walked by you, then cover their
escape.”

Eddy looked at everyone, then winked
at Jessie and Ken. “You guys make sure the dogs are quiet. Any
barking will give us away.”

Jessie nodded and both boys led the
dogs behind the large boulders under The Witch’s Face. Keeping low,
Eddy trotted back down the trail and vanished into the thick
scrub.

The rear guard was set. Now
the waiting began.

Blade felt like shit. His feet hurt,
his wrist still throbbed and hunger and thirst were making him
dizzy. The steep drops on both sides had closed in and the path had
narrowed to a twisting goat’s trail. He had passed through a briar
patch of scrub and now faced a rock wall. Painted blazes stretched
up and over.

It looked like another bitching climb.
He glanced back, but the boulders obscured his view. “Fuck it!”, he
muttered. Shoving his .38 Special in his belt, he wiped the sweat
from his brow and started up. Being careful of his injured left
hand, he climbed over the ledge and down into a protected
draw.

The three men jumped him as he sat
down to catch his breath. They came from above and both sides at
the same time. Rough hands grabbed him, pulling him back, stifling
his cries. Then something hard struck the side of his head and the
dazzling blue sky dissolved into blackness.

“Blade! Blade!”, Snake yelled. “Answer
me you fuck!”

Snake drew his revolver and fired into
the air. The roar of the heavy gun rumbled back from the
surrounding peaks. He called to Flame, ordering her to go on ahead.
She held his gaze for a long moment, then pulled her Smith &
Wesson and started up the trail. Snake and Bull shuffled along
behind.

Flame’s mind raced. Where was Blade?
Was he hurt? Had he fallen? Surely he’d heard Snake’s cannon? Why
hadn’t he answered?!

Then another thought intruded,
stabbing her mind like an icicle through the eye. What if she found
him dead? His neck broken from a fall. Did she care? Really care? A
shudder ran down her spine as she gazed about. These mountains were
beautiful but unforgiving. She’d felt that the moment she’d stepped
out on the ridge. The Spine of God. A place where He saw
all.

She shook her head to clear the image.
“Fuck that shit!” Despite her best effort a long buried feeling
washed over her, a tidal wave of guilt that carried her all the way
back to her daddy’s farm. ‘Thou shalt not blaspheme, daughter!’
After all these years the old prick’s voice still roared in her
ears. Good old God-fearing Daddy. Praying out loud while he
finger-fucked his red-headed little girl. Reading the Good Book
while he made her...

“Jesus Christ!”, Flame yelled to the
sky, not sure if it was an oath or a prayer. Forcing the memories
away, back into that little used door in her mind, she strode up
the twisting path, the Smith & Wesson held before her like a
cross.

Through a slit between two boulders
Josh watched her approach. Snake and Bull were out of sight
somewhere behind her. Did they have time to capture her like they
had Blade? Should he let her continue on, hoping Tina could take
her when they jumped Snake? But that would leave her close to the
boys! Josh, making up his mind, drew his handgun. Watching him,
Brad and Billy did the same. All three moved on his
signal.

Flame heard something off to the left.
Turning to meet it, a form momentarily blotted out the sun. She had
started to bring her gun up when something struck her hard in the
stomach. Her lungs emptied and she fell on her back gasping for
air. A boot stepped on her hand and the .357 seemed to slither away
like a snake. Strange. Part of her was glad to see it go. Then the
form was leaning over her, the sun making a glittering nimbus
around the silhouette. Lack of food and drink made her head swim.
She was pulled forward by her hair and the muzzle of a black
handgun shoved in her face. Instinct told her to start sucking, but
she pushed the thought away. It belonged in the past. Back on
Daddy’s farm; back with the snakes.