FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 66

 Chapter 66

Once we entered the forest, I drove slowly, staying well behind the Rover. 

Terry spotted something.

“Francis, check this out!”

I saw a round shelter fashioned from long, curved wooden poles.

“Pretty sure that’s Miwok,” I said. “Their version of a teepee.”

I slowed down so we could get a better look at it. The shelter sat by itself, surrounded by tall pine trees. It couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.

“Someone could live in it right now,” said Terry.

“Most likely deer.”

I pointed to a sign. It warned us to stay on the main road. Beneath the warning was Olompali Historical State Park.

Up ahead I saw a swirling dust cloud. Sheena had turned off the paved road onto a dirt one. 

“I think we’re leaving the park,” said Terry. He scribbled something in his tiny notebook. “That back there was the western boundary.”

“So we are now trespassers. Keep your eyes on that odometer.”

After a while, Terry said, ”We’ve gone two and a half miles.”

“There’s a turnoff up ahead.”

Sheena had turned left. I prayed that she didn’t look back. Our trailing cloud of dust would be easy to spot.

Now we bounced up and down and sideways along a rutted road. That lasted for a quarter of a mile before we had to turn right.

“This damned road is bad for hemorrhoids,” I said.

He gave me a bewildered look.

“Piles.” 

“Oh. Do you have piles?”

“No. I was just talking about the road. Never mind. Look.”

Up ahead their dust cloud was shrinking. 

“They’re stopping,” I said  “Either that or entering camp.”

“Whoa.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to bust in there with guns blazing.”

“We don’t have any guns,” he said.

“Precisely.”

The dust cloud had dissipated to reveal an opening. The land had been cleared of trees or there were none growing there, which seemed more likely. A natural clearing

I braked and reached for my binoculars.

“We’re stopping here?”

“If we drive right up to the opening we’ll be spotted for sure. I’m already worried that they might have heard us following them. We’ll need to walk from here. Grab your camera.”

He took out a tiny Minolta from his utility vest. A small baton hung from his belt, his only weapon. His hands shook as he quickly checked out his camera.

“You gonna be all right?”  I asked.

“Sure. I guess.”

“Remember, we’re here for a look-see. Couple a quick pictures and we’re gone.”

He nodded.

We started walking toward the opening ahead.

As we got closer, I signaled for Terry to stay on one side of the road. I heard music playing. It was an old Country Western tune, sung by Willie Nelson.

In the center of the clearing, its back toward forest, sat a log cabin. The closer we got, it looked like a prefab job. It had a porch with a couple of rocking chairs out front. There was a cooking pit in front.

We saw tents.

There were three, arranged in a crescent. Just beyond them, closer to the cabin, was a big tank. It was painted in camouflage, but I could see specks of white underneath.

Outside each tent there were bulging backpacks and a couple of carry-ons, also loaded.

Shit!

Powers and his bunch were feeling the heat and were ready to run at the first notice. I needed to report this at once.

I could hear the faint clicks from Terry’s camera. The rustling of branches as he changed his position, further away from the road than mine.

“How do you like my camp?” 

A man’s voice.

I gasped and spun around. Too late. A .32 was pointing toward my chest.

Jason Powers wore buckskins and Indian style moccasins. He had been waiting for us, I guessed. He wore a headband, his dark hair pulled up in back. I felt my bowels rumble.  Normally, many men would shit their pants then and there. Somehow I held back.

Powers’ dark eyes were searching mine.

It dawned on me that he was waiting for my answer.

“It’s pretty cool,” I said.

His eyes darted to the side,

“Tell your partner to come out in the open.”

“What for? So you can shoot him?”

“I’ll ask one more time.”

“Terry” I called.

“I’m coming,” Terry answered.

Just as he was about to step onto the road, I motioned for him to go back. 

Like the smart guy he was, he waited for Jason to swing his gun around at me. Then he spun back and ran like hell.

Jason fired once. 

Terry grunted, obviously hit. But he kept going.

Instead of firing again, Jason turned back before I could charge him. 

He’s quick. 

“Don’t try to be a hero,” he said. “Back off.”

I did.

“You didn’t have to shoot my partner,” I said. “He’s unarmed.”

“He’s going to blab to the cops. That makes him dangerous. But don’t worry. I’ll send one of my girls to check up on him.”

“You mean kill him.”

“You should worry about yourself, Mr. Kelly.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m familiar with your case.”

“What case?”

“You’re a convicted cop killer.”

“Oh that,” I joked.

He smiled.

“Yes, that. Come on, I want you to meet my tribe.”

“Since when did you become an Indian?”

He motioned for me to turn around.

I did.

 “Move.”

I started off, hoping Terry had enough strength to call for help and lie low until it arrived. Would there be service out here in the boonies?

Two bald women stepped out of their tents as we approached. I recognized Sheena. The short one we had seen at the market. Then a beautiful brown girl stepped out of the cabin. She tossed her head.  Her shining black hair swayed, long enough to reach the small of her back. 

As we drew closer I heard the women giggling and whispering back and forth. Maybe wondering which of them was going to kill me.

I heard a thunk. Powers had struck me with the butt of the .32.

All went black.