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Authors: Nathan Jones
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about to die?” he asked quietly.
“Do you really want to die trying to stop them?” Lewis shot back, although the question had clearly gotten to him.
Trev shook his head. “Of course not. But maybe it's not as bad as you think. If they're following the road looking for an ambush spot then once they arrive their eyes will be on their victims. If we can get behind them then they'll be the ones who're sitting ducks.”
“What if their ambush spot is a copse of trees that covers them from all sides?” Lewis argued. But his cousin was wavering.
A surge of relief filled Trev. He knew Lewis took responsibility for keeping them both alive, but he hadn't believed his cousin would just walk away from innocents in danger. “We can at least go and check, right? We know this area better than them and we've got more practice making our way quietly through this terrain. They'll never see us coming.”
“If they do we're dead,” Lewis predicted gloomily. But he motioned in the direction of the slope above the logging road. The game trail had long since petered out, but they'd found a narrow strip of relatively flat land they could follow.
Grinning with relief, Trev took the lead and hurried to catch up to the men below.
They caught up to the group and trailed them for about an hour to a spot where the mountainside sloped down steeply to the river below, which flowed swift and narrow right next to the highway. The seven men had left the logging road behind and descended most of the way down the slope to a flat clearing. It had a large log at one end overlooking the road less than 50 yards away, and as Trev and Lewis watched the bandits positioned themselves behind the log, readying their weapons.
Along with the two rifles and a shotgun one of the bandits produced a massive revolver that had to be a .44, while the other one he hadn't seen with a weapon pulled out a heavy knife that looked like a small machete and prepared himself to rush down and corner any refugees who tried to flee. There was a narrow wooden footbridge across the river below, available for the use of fishermen to reach good spots farther up and down the river, and it was obvious they planned to use it.
While the slope down to the road was fairly barren, making it ideal for an ambush, the slope above the clearing was just as thickly wooded as anywhere. With the seven men lined up behind the log Trev couldn't think of a more ideal situation for them.
He glanced back at Lewis, and his cousin gave him a resigned look and nodded as he spoke some last advice. “Remember, even if you hit the thoracic cavity your .223 might need two or three shots to bring an enemy down.” He reached out to grip Trev's shoulder. “Don't die.”
Trev nodded and started picking his way carefully down the slope, keeping behind cover, as Lewis did the same about twenty feet farther on.
About halfway down he found a fairly good spot behind an uprooted tree, where he settled in with his rifle clutched to his chest while he waited for his cousin to get into position. The longer he waited the more he felt his heart pounding in his chest and his extremities starting to go numb as the reality of the situation washed over him. It didn't help that he could hear the bandits talking, and he poked his head around just enough to see the men behind the log. Their eyes were on the road below, where the refugees were just trailing into view.
“Look, those trick or treaters are all dressed up like beggars,” one of the bandits said, eliciting a few chuckles. “Not very imaginative. Should we give them tricks or treats?”
Trev gave a start of surprise. Was October already over? He hadn't realized today was Halloween.
The bandit with the small machete was using the binoculars at the moment, and in response to his companion's comment pointed. “See that one? She's definitely got some tricks for us.”
“Who?” the bandit with the group's only scoped rifle hissed back, peering through
“Do you really want to die trying to stop them?” Lewis shot back, although the question had clearly gotten to him.
Trev shook his head. “Of course not. But maybe it's not as bad as you think. If they're following the road looking for an ambush spot then once they arrive their eyes will be on their victims. If we can get behind them then they'll be the ones who're sitting ducks.”
“What if their ambush spot is a copse of trees that covers them from all sides?” Lewis argued. But his cousin was wavering.
A surge of relief filled Trev. He knew Lewis took responsibility for keeping them both alive, but he hadn't believed his cousin would just walk away from innocents in danger. “We can at least go and check, right? We know this area better than them and we've got more practice making our way quietly through this terrain. They'll never see us coming.”
“If they do we're dead,” Lewis predicted gloomily. But he motioned in the direction of the slope above the logging road. The game trail had long since petered out, but they'd found a narrow strip of relatively flat land they could follow.
Grinning with relief, Trev took the lead and hurried to catch up to the men below.
They caught up to the group and trailed them for about an hour to a spot where the mountainside sloped down steeply to the river below, which flowed swift and narrow right next to the highway. The seven men had left the logging road behind and descended most of the way down the slope to a flat clearing. It had a large log at one end overlooking the road less than 50 yards away, and as Trev and Lewis watched the bandits positioned themselves behind the log, readying their weapons.
Along with the two rifles and a shotgun one of the bandits produced a massive revolver that had to be a .44, while the other one he hadn't seen with a weapon pulled out a heavy knife that looked like a small machete and prepared himself to rush down and corner any refugees who tried to flee. There was a narrow wooden footbridge across the river below, available for the use of fishermen to reach good spots farther up and down the river, and it was obvious they planned to use it.
While the slope down to the road was fairly barren, making it ideal for an ambush, the slope above the clearing was just as thickly wooded as anywhere. With the seven men lined up behind the log Trev couldn't think of a more ideal situation for them.
He glanced back at Lewis, and his cousin gave him a resigned look and nodded as he spoke some last advice. “Remember, even if you hit the thoracic cavity your .223 might need two or three shots to bring an enemy down.” He reached out to grip Trev's shoulder. “Don't die.”
Trev nodded and started picking his way carefully down the slope, keeping behind cover, as Lewis did the same about twenty feet farther on.
About halfway down he found a fairly good spot behind an uprooted tree, where he settled in with his rifle clutched to his chest while he waited for his cousin to get into position. The longer he waited the more he felt his heart pounding in his chest and his extremities starting to go numb as the reality of the situation washed over him. It didn't help that he could hear the bandits talking, and he poked his head around just enough to see the men behind the log. Their eyes were on the road below, where the refugees were just trailing into view.
“Look, those trick or treaters are all dressed up like beggars,” one of the bandits said, eliciting a few chuckles. “Not very imaginative. Should we give them tricks or treats?”
Trev gave a start of surprise. Was October already over? He hadn't realized today was Halloween.
The bandit with the small machete was using the binoculars at the moment, and in response to his companion's comment pointed. “See that one? She's definitely got some tricks for us.”
“Who?” the bandit with the group's only scoped rifle hissed back, peering through
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