The Independents (18 page)

This was
n’t
the first time she had been at the campsite
without him
. Bishop had gone hunting several times since their arrival. Those times had been different
,
however. Back then, h
e wasn’t heading straight
into a dangerous situation where someone
might
try and kill him. And b
efore he had told her the story about Elvis and
Reaper
,
she
had always assumed his business trips were mundane and routine
. He always brought
her back
souvenirs from his travels
and often called her on the com
pany’s satellite phone. Once she realized the true nature of his work
, she was a little pissed off that he had never
divulged
how dangerous his job was. Now that she was walking around worrying about him, she was thankful he hadn’t. She couldn’t imagine how she would have coped with all those trips had she known the truth.
How do the wives and families of military men cope with this? I woul
d go nuts if I knew my
husband was
away fighting a war for months at a time.
Just come back to me
,
Bishop. Everything will be okay
,
if you just come back.

They had to move
the Colonel
to the truck. Despite his weak protes
ts that their actions were in va
in, Terri and David didn’t have Bishop’s net and needed to figure out a way to load him into the back of the bed under the camper shell.
The
net covering the truck was thin
and wouldn’t hold his weight.
The answer was simple enough, or so they thought. He was lying on some cushions to soften the earthen floor. Terri had covered the old foam with one of their few
sheets. David and she planned to
pick up eac
h end of the sheet and move their patient
to the truck.
That attempt resulted
in pain for
the Colonel
.
They couldn’t hol
d onto the corners of the fabric,
and they weren’t strong enough to lift the heavy man.
Terri finally figured it out by using the same stick bundles Bishop had used in his net. She found them out by the firewood pil
e, still tied together.
David
and she
cut several small slits in the old bed sheet and wove the sticks through each side. The
y picked up the patient and dragged
him to the back of the
truck
after Terri pulled it closer. After propping
one end
on the open tailgate, they went to the foot of the litter and lifted it in.

David volunteered to ride in the
bed with his
g
randpa
.
Terri opened the small window in the back windshield so they could talk on the way. She made one last check they had everything they needed, including her rifle and several mag
azines full of ammo. She left the weapon
sitting in the passen
ger seat beside her. She double-
checked
that
all the doors were locked
, before inching the truck forward, gently gaining momentum on their trip to Meraton.
Just come back to me Bishop
. Everything will be okay if you just come back.

Bishop managed to eat a little bit of the salted deer meat he kept in his kit.
He found some wild carrots and enjoyed the
roots, which
tasted like lemons.
His water bladder was ful
l,
and he even managed to sleep for about an hour. He had found a good observation spot between a large, car-sized boulder and a pine tree. His rifle
had a four power magnification scope, so he had
a pretty clear view of the activities below at the hotel. He was shocked at how many men,
women,
and children were
there
. At first, he was concerned this wasn’t the right spot
,
and h
e was looking down on
normal tourist
s
, not a gang of Columbian hoods. One of the men with Estebon this morning eventually walked outside eating a plate of food and waved at two small children playing nearby. They both ran over to give him a hug
,
and he patted them on their heads and sent them
back to
their
game
. When Bishop realized these men had brought along their families, he had to rethink the entire situation. He had had thoughts of busting into the hotel, gun blazing and somehow breaking the hostage out. With women and children all around the place,
he decided
that plan was no longer realistic.

As the sun move
d across the sky, Bishop began
to worry he had taken this risk for nothing.
He never saw Estebon or
the Colonel
’s granddaughter.
He couldn’t even be sure she was at this l
ocation. Estebon had been right;
he was one against many
,
and the park was a very big place.

It was going to be dark in about four hours
,
and he decided he had better do
something. He had to make
the other side
take
some sort of
action.
Bishop scouted
around
with his scope
,
trying to
remember the area from summers he spent
here as a youth. Beside
the updates to the hotel
and what appeared to be a new h
eadquarters, not much else had changed in the last 20 years. As he swept the
terrain
, he noticed the roof
of the
head
r
anger’s residence, about a quarter of a mile away.
He was focusing on the area around the home when movement a few hundred feet directly below c
aught his attention. A Mexican b
lack bear was lifting a fallen log
,
foraging for food. Bishop remembered
there was a small population of these magnificent creatures living
in
the park.
This big fella was moving slowly
due to the extra girth of his frame
in preparation for
winter hibernation.

While the population of bears at the park was thought to be less than 20 adults, the government was serious about keeping them away from the tourist
s
. Bishop had seen the pictures of an automobile in the park’s
main
parking lot
with one of its
door
s
torn off its hinges
, the result of a
hungry bear. A
red and white wicker
picnic basket piled with fried chicken
had been left in the
front passenger-side
seat
. T
he animal had smelled the grub
and decided to
get a closer look by pulling
off the door for a meal
. Ever
since that incident, the park had replaced every
trashcan
,
dumpster,
and food storage bin
with “bear-proof” containers.

Bishop
stalked
down the side of the moun
tain carefully, fearful that his
movement would draw the human eye. He stayed behind cover as often as possible
,
and when he was visible
from the hotel below,
he crept along very slowly. He was
also
on the alert for the l
ocal wildlife. Besides the bears, there were a few
documented
mountain lions inhabiting the park
.
A chance encounter with one of th
ese
500-
pound cats could ruin your
day. The deer meat in his pouch made him wonder how many lions were still living here.

Bishop circled around the hotel giving it
a wide berth. He remembered there
was a worn, gravel path between the r
anger’s residence and the hote
l, which he found
without any trouble.
He didn’t know if anyone were
still staying at the residence and approached it carefully.
I might even get lucky – they may be keeping the girl here.

The residence wouldn’t have looked out of place in any suburban neighborhood.
A single story, ranch style
abode
,
the government had wanted its
employees living in comfort, not luxury.
The partially grassed yard had
n’t
been mowed in several weeks
,
a
nd
knee high
weeds surrounded
the rusted swing set in the backyard. Bishop stayed back behind a large pine and
scouted the home with his rifle
scope. It
soon became apparent
why everyone was staying in the hotel.

The
modest structure
had been the site
of a gun bat
tle and had taken heavy fire.
Bishop could see the remains of two bodies, one on the back stoop
and the other hanging out of a window
. Scavengers, probably of the bird variety, had worked over the dead, leaving yellowish white bones scattered around the area. The
wooden clapboards
,
windows,
and doors were riddled with
bullet holes. Bishop slowly edged
closer
to investigate. After observing
no movement
from the area’s residents, he slipped
up to the back
porch
and pee
ked inside
one of the hazy windows
. The
interior
had been completely ransacked
, and there was evidence of a
fire.
Probably the incoming bullets ignited the curtains.
A splash of color lying next to the closest skelet
on caught his attention. The golden colored badge read,
“United States Park Ranger.”

Bishop began checking
the inside
, not really sure what he was looking for.
Within
minutes,
he was rushing back outside
to the edge of the yard
, tear
ing off his
baklava mask
and
trying to suck the clean air into his lungs
.
His efforts were unsuccessful. Beads of sweat lined his forehead,
and he vo
mited the deer meat snack he finished
a short time ago. He took a seat
in the grass, propping himself a
gainst a large above
gr
ound propane tank that helped to cool his
skin.

It was pretty clear what had happened here.
The children
had been gathered around the wooden picnic table, still partially covered by a faded, plastic covering that featured round, rainbow-colored balloons and the words “Happy Birthday.”
Still sitting on the table were a few gifts wrapped in foil paper
,
clearly intended for a younger chil
d. In a childlike scrawl, the message “I love you, Janie,” had been preserved in crayon on the now faded card.
What really bothered Bishop was
what he had discovered
inside
the building
. Huddled together in a back bedroom
w
ere the bodies of two women and several small children. Empty shell casing
s
littered the floor at the doorway.
The caliber matched the weapons he had
taken from the dead men at the plane crash. The attackers
had waited until the
entire
park
staff
had
gathered here for a
birthday party. When the violence
had begun
,
the wo
men had gathered up the little ones
and herded
them
into the back room. After
all of the rangers were down
, the murder
er
s had
entered the building
and executed everyone
hiding
in
side.