FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 69

 Chapter 69

I heard voices. It sounded like Jason giving orders, women answering back. Their voices muted.

I guessed that they could be leaving in minutes.

I would be the last detail.

What had Jason said? “Do it outside the tent.” I had taken that to mean: No blood in the tent. The thought had occurred to me then: Why not shoot me in the head with a .22? Mafia style. Little sound, minimum splatter. But what was the fun in that?

I heard two women whispering, close.

I shut my eyes. If Powers had changed his mind and ordered one of his baldies to shoot me, then this would be it. There was no talking my way out.  But I was pretty sure that Powers and his crew wanted to see my head roll before they left camp.  I remembered a history teacher telling us that there were tribes in what is now Great Britain, who played a form of soccer with human skulls.

One last detail. Me.

I decided to pretend to be asleep. Less pleasure for them if I didn’t see it coming. Whatever it was.

I heard them come in. Tentative. Guarding against the unlikely event that I had somehow wiggled out of my bonds.

“He’s still out.”  Sheena whispered.

Evidently Jason had not told them that we had talked. Which hurt my feelings. It meant that he had not been affected one iota by my attempt to persuade him. One last sleight to endure.

One or the other women cut loose the ties around my ankles.

They don’t want to drag me.

“Up we go, pig.”

Peewee yanked my collar back.

I stayed limp, my eyes closed.

“Easier this way,”  Sheena whispered.

“Shut up and lift.”

They got on either side of me, pushing me into a sitting position.

I mumbled.

“Help us,” Peewee snarled into my ear.

I kept up the possum act.

My legs were numb but I could push a bit. I had my legs free, but both were numb. No kicking one of them in the gut. No running off. It would take at least a minute or two for the blood to circulate to my legs and feet.

And by that time…

They dragged me out of the tent, not an easy maneuver. Suddenly they stopped.

“Sh!” Peewee whispered. “Listen.”

I listened with them. It was a rumbling sound from inside the forest. Cars, trucks or maybe both. And following from above, a chopper.

I knew Powers had cameras trained on the road, which is how he surprised us. But maybe Powers was too busy at the moment to check them. Which told me there was a silent alarm. Otherwise it would be beeping or buzzing or ringing.

The vehicles were closer now.

“Jason!” Peewee shouted.

“What?” From inside the cabin.

I peeked and saw him running outside.

We all heard the chopper swinging closer, outrunning the vehicles on the ground.

“You have your assignment. Execute!”

The terrible double meaning of the word hit me like a rock.

Jason retreated, went into the cabin. Why wasn’t he heading for the Rover or the panel truck?

“Down on your knees,” Emily said. 

Instead I pushed away with my legs and landed flat on my face.

I saw Peewee rush up, her machete raised.

“Hold him still, Sheena.”

“I’m trying!”

Sheena sat on my back. I was going nowhere.

Suddenly the camp was lit up; a circle of eerie blue light surrounded us

“Fuck this!” said Sheena. “Run for it.”

I saw Peewee and her machete chase after Sheena, who had already reached the Rover.  She started it, revved the engine and Peewee jumped in. They left a cloud of dust as they rumbled out of the camp.
I was going to live. 

A voice blasted down from the copter. “That you, Francis?” I looked up and saw Driscoll seated next to the pilot.

“Yeah! Who else would it be?”

“Hang in, buddy. We gotta land this thing.”

Which they did, to deafening effect, coating me with dust. 

“You missed them!” I shouted. “They’re not here!”

They couldn’t hear me.

When the copter was down, Driscoll came running over. He quickly cut the ties around my wrist. 

“Powers ran back into the cabin, maybe with his girlfriend,” I shouted over the racket.

He pulled me to my feet, then drew his Glock.
“Can you walk? We need to move before they cut us down.”

“They’re not here,” I said. “There must be a tunnel. Powers is too smart to stay put and shoot it out with us.”

“Can’t take the chance,” said Driscoll.

In seconds we found shelter behind a clump of bushes.

“He’s not there, I tell you.”

“So you said. But this isn’t the Wild West. I’m waiting for backup.”

While he was calling in, I looked at the small cabin. No signs of life.

“What happened to Terry?” I asked.

Driscoll shook his head.

“He hasn’t made it to the highway or I would have heard.”

“Powers shot him in the back. He could be bleeding out in the woods.”

“Thornhill sent two agents to look for him. One’s a medic—or used to be.”

“Only two?” I asked.

“All she had.”

“Shit.”

“They’ve got huge flashlights and both are trained for these kinds of situations. If he’s out there, they’ll find him.”

  I did not share his optimism.

“I signaled Terry to run back into the woods. And he did. If he dies, it’s on me.”

“If he’d stayed with you, he’d probably be dead now. This way he has a fighting chance.”