The afternoon passed rapidly for the five, and as the sun began sinking faster and the air got cooler the fishing began picking up. They returned almost all the fish they caught and that seemed to help make things go even better. This was the time of day they all liked the best. The lake was peaceful and serene as the fowl began calling to each other and replying to the others’ calls. The light as it reflected on the water turned it into an emerald pool, shimmering in the lazy rays and bouncing into the woods that abounded on either side of the lake.
The two boats sliced their way through the glassy surface and no one said a word but was caught up in his own thoughts of the day. The only thing that could be heard above the calling of the animals were the steady purrings of the two outboard motors.
Once at the island everything changed again. A flurry of activity was begun as everyone went to his task. Starting the cook fire, cleaning the fish or taking a picture of the lunker of the day with Gene standing proudly at his side.
Steve was about to start supper when they heard the sound of twin outboards at the far end of the lake. He looked at Mick and Greg and smiled, then dropped the first battered and floured fish on the hot griddle. Immediately the air was filled with the aroma of frying butter and batter. Steve dropped on another before speaking. “Sounds like Pete’s on his way back. Are you two ready?”
Mick and Greg looked at each other and smiled. “You better believe it, Steve!” Mick stated.
“Just let him make the first move. Okay?”
“Okay!” Greg acknowledged.
More fish and then turning them. The side dishes were at the other end of the fire and almost ready as the sound drew nearer the camp. Every one of the kids seemed to be wired for sound as the noise grew louder. The boat was in sight. It was Pete, and he was aiming right for the camp.
Mick and Greg walked to the edge of the island to guide the Mountie in and then moor the craft. The closer it got, the more nervous they got. “What would happen if he had changed?” Greg asked.
Mick didn’t say a word—he didn’t have to. The expression on his face was enough to let Greg know that the fuckin’ Mountie better not have gone straight or he might just get raped.
As Pete headed for the cove, the two kids thought he was going to ram it—he didn’t slow down at all until he was about fifteen feet from them and then he killed the twin engines, and as if he had dropped an anchor, the sleek boat slowed and drifted in the rest of the way casually.
“Hi! How was the fishing this afternoon?” Pete shouted as he climbed over the side.
“Fantastic! You should see the monster little Gene snagged when we first got to the place.” Mick stated.
“Do you still have it?” Pete inquired as they walked up the beach to the fire.
“Hey, Gene. Show Pete the fish you got!”
Gene ran over to the storage chest and extracted the pike. “What do you think?” He asked excitedly.
“Damn. I think that’s the biggest one I’ve seen this year. You should be proud.”
“Thanks. I am!” Gene acknowledged.
“Pete! Would you like to stay for supper? We have plenty of everything, and you’re welcome to stay,” Steve commented from the make-shift kitchen.
“If it isn’t putting you out.”
“Hell, no.” Greg interjected.
“Okay, you have a deal. I haven’t had fish cooked on a wood fire for a long time.”
They all settled down and waited for Steve to finish up the first batch of golden-fried fish. He set out the other dishes and everyone dug in. The pike melted in their mouths as they savored the morsels. For the next hour they feasted on the fish and vegetables. Then came the coffee and a cigarette for Steve and Pete. Accompanying the coffee were the series of jokes that produced belly laughs from the listeners. It was going to be another great evening as they watched the sun drop behind the tall pines of the Canadian woods.
“You know I should be getting back to camp,” Pete stated.
“No, but if you hum a few bars we’ll join in,” Mick replied.
“Booo!” came a chorus from the galley of listeners.
“Why don’t you call in and say that you have a lead on those three escaped convicts and tell them that you’re too far out to return until tomorrow.” Steve offered innocently.
“The kid’s got a point!” Came a voice from the dusky woods.
Pete turned around rapidly and saw two tall figures walking out of the shadows for the camp. He began reaching for the revolver at his side and was stopped when the taller of the two fired the rifle he was carrying. The bullet landed in the dirt next to his leg.
“I wouldn’t do anything that foolish if I was you, Copper!” The man said.
They all heard the lever drop back and eject the spent round and replace it in the chamber with a new one.
“You all sit right where you are, and I won’t have to kill you too much!” ordered the man. As he drew closer the firelight lit his face enough for them to see he was one of the men on the wanted poster Pete had shown them earlier. He was the one known as Jacque LaStrop, leader of the gang that broke out of the jail. He had always gone by that name and was well known for beating the shit out of anyone who made fun of it. The man at his side was Pierrie Foch, a smaller man, but according to the poster he was more dangerous than Jacque.
“That takes care of two of you, where is John Browning.” Pete asked authoritatively.
“Right behind you, fuzz!”
Pete turned around again just in time to see the butt of a shotgun speeding for his forehead. His brain exploded with a flash of stars and he fell limply to the ground.
“You KILLED him, you mother fucker!” Gene yelled as he got to his feet and charged the man, his fists flailing the air hoping to make contact with something solid.
Browning sidestepped the whirling dervish and planted the butt of the gun in his stomach.
Gene felt the hard wood stock sink into his unprepared flesh, the air in his lungs leaped free and he was standing breathless, dazed and bewildered for an instant. He felt himself falling to the ground and landing next to Pete. He hadn’t lost consciousness but was willing to treat one problem at a time, and the first was breathing. Panting and gasping for air seemed to be the best thing to do under the circumstances.
Steve ran over to the lad’s side and began helping. Browning let him tend the kid as best he could. After Gene was breathing a little better, he went to the Mountie’s side. Blood was oozing from a deep cut just above his forehead and his face had the look of confusion, even while he was out of it. Steve took a handkerchief from his pocket and went to the five gallon jerry can. Soaking the cloth with water, he returned and began cleaning the wound.
“Don’t bother with that piece of shit, punk. Fix some of those fish we smelled and make it snappy!” Foch ordered.
“We don’t have any more. We ate them all!” Mick blasted.
“Shut the fuck up you little bastard or I bash your gourd in like I did the cop’s!” Foch smiled at his compatriot as he walked to the grill. “There’s plenty left. Now get your ass over here and get cooking, or I’ll let John work on you a little!”
Steve reluctantly went to the fire and began slopping the filleted fish into the remains of the batter. Then he slapped them on the hot steel plate.
“Hey, Jacque, get a load of the kid I pelted.” Browning said pointing the gun at Gene.
“He looks like the kid we fucked yesterday. Do you think this one would like to let us fuck him?” LaStrop asked with an evil-sounding voice.
“Whether he wants to or not, let’s do it to him anyway! He looks like the type who can take a cock in the ass and not sweat the outcome.”
“I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole!” Gene said still recovering his breath.
“The kid’s still got moxie. Jacque, you want him first, or can I have him?” Browning queried.
“What the fuck, you can have him!” Came the answer.
Browning began pulling off his shirt as Gene got up and started to run for the woods. “Hey, kid! If you don’t get your ass back here I’ll kill the cop and then start on your friends!”
Gene stopped dead in his tracks. That was the last thing he wanted. Slowly he turned around and walked back to the fire. He could see the devilish smile sneaking across Browning’s face as he drew closer.
“Go up and get your sleeping bag and make it fast!” Browning ordered.
Gene did as he was told and returned with the bag.
“Now lay it down next to the fire and take your clothes off. I want to see what I’m going to fuck!”
Slowly, very slowly, Gene began to unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. He aimed it to the side of the bag and it fell in a pile. A couple of minutes later his Levi’s, shoes and socks had been added to the pile and he stood naked next to the fire.
“Would you look at the size of that kid’s prick! Turn around so I can see your ass!” Browning ordered.
Gene did as he was told and turned slowly until his back was turned to the man. This was one time that he wasn’t excited about getting fucked and he showed it by not letting his prick get hard. By the time he had turned around the rest of the way, the man was just as naked as he was.
“Come here and lay on your stomach. Spread your legs and close your eyes!”
“The rest of you fuckers stay right where you are!” Jacque ordered when he saw Mick and Clint get a little restless.
“I’m gonna FUCK you like you never been fucked BEFORE!” John bellowed.
A small tear came to Gene’s eye as he felt the weight on top of him. Browning didn’t bother with any lubricant but mounted Gene’s firm mounds like he was going to fuck a dog. He reached under the large stomach and guided his hard, oversized shaft right for the small opening.
Gene began to weep out loud and began muttering, “Please don’t do that to me. I’ve never had it there! Please!” He hoped his little scene would make the burly fucker have a change of heart and wouldn’t screw him.
No such luck. Browning became more determined than ever as he forced his rod past the anal knot, letting his weight drive the monster all the way in.
Gene began to scream—maybe this would help—but still nothing. The man was a pure pig, all he wanted to do was get his nuts off in some little chicken and then climb off. The thought was sickening to Gene as he felt the man pumping his ass with no class at all.
Browning was beginning to grunt and moan as he drove his whang in and out of Gene’s experienced ass. He wasn’t going to stop until he had shot his load. His tremendous weight drove Gene into the sleeping bag to a point where he could feel the rocks underneath it. His stomach was getting sore along with his ass. He wasn’t about to show any emotion as the man humped him. He had to put this down as the worst fuck in the world. He felt Browning speed up a little and hoped that he was about ready to come. All of a sudden he felt the sleeping bag shift and as he opened his eyes he saw the hairy crotch with a throbbing boner in front of him.
“Suck it, you little asswipe. Suck it or I’ll blast the cop!” It was Foch’s voice and it was obvious he meant business. Foch slid his hips closer to the boy and guided his cock to the pursed lips that seemed sealed. “Open your goddamn mouth or I’ll break it.”
Gene was getting a little scared. He didn’t really mind having the guy fuck him, but he didn’t like the look on Foch’s face. It was evil, uneducated, almost moronic looking as it leered down upon him. The huge whang was rubbing against his lips already waiting for them to open. Gene released them and Foch’s mammoth column lurched into his oral cavity. It was the biggest, most revolting dick he’d ever sucked—he wanted to vomit as the hot flesh slid in and out. He was certain the convict hadn’t taken any time off for a bath or shower in the last year. He didn’t have much time to think about the man when he felt two powerful hands on the back of his head.
Foch was making his head bounce over the shaft, not gently, but with the force of a maniac. “SUCK IT, you little queer! Suck my fuckin’ cock!” he yelled. Repeatedly he screamed the same words and then he would laugh. He was getting his jollies with the kid the only way he knew how.
Gene was beginning to cry now for real as he realized the men who were on him were really bad men. The guy fucking him was an animal, and the guy he was sucking had the kind of humor that would make him laugh at a wagon full of dead babies.
He finally realized that he and his friends were in a world of shit. His mouth was sore from the rough use it was getting from the huge rod, and his ass was getting sorer from the dry fuck Browning was about to conclude. Gene could feel the hot breath panting away on the back of his neck as Browning seemed to be in the throes of a fit. The kid thought he was coming, but really didn’t care, just as long as he got off his back soon.
Foch was still laughing and making his demands as Gene managed to get a little more of the gargantuan invader into his mouth. He thought he was doing good to be getting the giant crown in, but Foch wanted more of it in and pushed on the back of his head until he was gagging on the hard flesh. The crimson helmet bashed against the back of his throat and tried to go down farther, but Gene would have none of it. His lips were already as wide as they would go, and they felt like they would rip by the time he came. Gene sensed the awesome creature expand lurch into his mouth more as Foch lifted his hips for the final blow and then little Gene felt the hot blast of creamy jizz explode from the spasming tip. “SWALLOW IT! SWALLOW IT!” he heard. At this point he really didn’t care what he did, just as long as he got that cock out of his mouth. He tried to swallow as much as he could, but some of the hot load sneaked by and slid down his chin. At last Foch pulled his prod free and Gene sighed in relief.
“You did real good, little boy! What’s your name?” Foch asked.
Gene didn’t say a word as he felt the clod climb from his back.
“I asked you a question! You will answer Pierrie when he asks a question!” Foch said as he lifted the scared lad by the scruff of the neck and slapped him.
The stinging hand came back on the other side of Gene’s face before he could answer. He brought his head back to the front and reached to his lip. A small trickle of blood was working its way down the same line the creamy load had begun and as he wiped the blood from his mouth, it mingled with the remains of Foch’s load.
“My name is Gene!” he blurted out.
“Ah, the little one can talk after being fucked. What do you say we take him with us? He would make a good little partner on a cold night.” Foch suggested to the other two.
“Why not? The other kid we had was too much of a baby and would have died on a long trip. You look at this one as he stands there with his clothes off. I would be proud to call him my son!” LaStrop stated.
Gene was really getting frightened now. “Don’t take me with you. Please don’t!” he pleaded.
“You shut up, little one! If Jacque wants to take you with him, you go!” LaStrop ordered.
“You eat more fish now and get your clothes on. John, you check the boat for supplies and get everything we will need!” Foch ordered.
Browning disappeared in the darkness as Gene slowly put on his clothes and sat down with the others.
“Don’t sit with them, you are with us now, get over here.” Jacque said.
Gene didn’t move, but stayed at Steve’s side. “Don’t let them take me, Steve,” he begged.
“They won’t take you, Gene!” Clint said as he felt the blood of a thousand John Waynes flow through his veins. He patted Gene on the knee and got to his feet.
“Don’t try it, Clint,” Steve whispered.
Clint didn’t hear the warning, but charged the back of LaStrop. He was almost on him when Jacque turned and delivered a punishing uppercut with the butt of the rifle that landed on the bottom of his chin. Clint didn’t remember anything after that from the time it hit and he flew backwards in the air, to the time he landed unconscious next to Steve. In fact he didn’t recall anything else the whole night.
“I think you will come with us now! If you others have any ideas about trying the same thing, remember the other end of the rifle is a lot better at stopping you than the butt. The next one who tries such a trip will be shot,” Jacque said as he cocked the rifle.
Browning returned to the fire with everything Pete had on the boat that would do them any good in the wilds of Canada. “I’ll put it in our boat and then come back for the boy.” He stated.
“You do that!” Foch ordered.
Browning was back in a couple of minutes and the other two had gathered up everything the boys had in the camp that they could use. Browning walked over to Gene and grabbed his hand. “Come on!” he said as he pulled Gene to the upright position.
Gene began to fight for all he was worth as the big man tugged on his arm. Then he saw the man’s face turn mad and felt a hard fist on his chin.
Browning picked Gene up from the ground and began carrying him to the boat. Foch and LaStrop followed him, keeping an eye on the others they left behind.
A minute later Steve and the rest heard the twin engines start and leave the other side of the island. Mick ran in the direction of the sound, but by the time he reached the water the boat was almost two hundred yards away and gathering speed. He rushed back to the camp and saw all the rest of the guys around Pete. When he got to their side, he saw the Mountie open his eyes.
Pete shook his head to clear the cobwebs and sipped at the water Steve offered him. “Are you guys all right?” he asked.
“Clint’s knocked out and they took Gene!” Steve informed the still groggy mountie.
Pete took a big drink of water with that news and asked the boys to help him to his feet. “Steve, you see what you can do for Clint and the rest of you kids help me to the boat.”
Steve went to Clint and began checking him out as the others went for the boat.
Pete climbed in and made a quick check of the things Browning had taken. He reached under the instrument panel and felt what he was looking for. Another pistol to replace the one Foch had taken while Browning was loading their boat. He flipped the switch on his radio and picked up the microphone. Waiting for the yellow warm-up light to go on, he looked around the craft for the other things that were missing. The instant the light appeared he pressed the switch on the mike and began transmitting. “Roger Mike One, this is Roger Mike Five. Over!” releasing the button he listened and repeated the call sign.
A strong electrical voice came over the speaker, “Roger Mike Five, this is Roger Mike One. Where are you?”
“Location, Bear Island. We had a run in with LaStrop and his gang. I’m with four teenagers now. They kidnapped the fifth.”
“Do you need help?”
“Roger! Could you send O’Hara and Riley with another revolver and equipment for one week?”
“Will do. Out.”
Pete hung the mike back on the hook and turned to the boys. “They should be here by morning and then we’ll go after them. Let’s go back to the fire. The mosquitoes are murder out here!”
Mick and Greg helped the mountie back to the solid ground and they rejoined Steve who was bending over Clint.
“How is he?” Pete asked softly.
“They cold-cocked him. I think he’ll be all right. I’ll take him back to the sleeping bags and put him to bed.”
“Good. We’ll wait for you here.”
As they waited for Steve to return, Pete got a cup of coffee and sat down. Sipping the hot brew he seemed to drop into deep thought and didn’t move until Steve returned.
The guide poured a cup of the black stuff and sat beside the cop. “I want to go with you!” he said.
“Leave the big stuff to us, Steve. We’re the ones who are paid for it. We’ll get them, and when we do, I wouldn’t give you a plug nickel for the three of them gettin’ back to jail alive.”
“I still want to go. I can handle a rifle. I had good training for it in ‘Nam!”
“That’s right. You guys did have a war going, didn’t you?”
“That’s right, and right now I am responsible for the kid, and I want to help get him back.”
“Well, I think you might be able to help. I want you to know one thing. I doubt if we’ll get Gene back alive. Those men don’t care what happens to them now. They will only go to the gallows as it is. They have nothing to lose by killing another person. I just want you to know that!” Pete said quietly.
“I understand. I just want a chance to get those bastards. You should have seen the way they raped Gene—like animals!” Steve stated angrily.
“I saw what happened to the first kid they had, and he was a lot smaller than Gene is. The kid said Foch fucked him. It took a lot of surgery to make the kid able to take a good shit again. They ripped him wide open. At the same time they were fucking him, they made him watch as they cut off his father’s balls and let him bleed almost to death. They finished him off quick, though. They had him kneel about five feet from the kid and made the boy watch as they blew the man’s face off with a shotgun. I doubt if the lad will ever be the same!”
The two men finished their coffee and conversation and then went to bed. Pete wasn’t in much of a mood for sleep as he propped the bag against a broad pine by the fire. He had a lot of thinking to do before the other Mounties arrived in the morning, but more important he wanted to keep watch on the camp just in case the three men returned for more fun and games. The more he thought, the madder he got. Thoughts of what could happen to the kid when they thought he was no more fun. They had to find them in the next two days or it would be too late to help the lad. He stayed awake all night, thinking and watching.
In the morning he watched the sun light the sky and turn the fleecy clouds in the east brilliant gold. He lit up a cigarette and climbed out of the bag. Gathering some wood, he put it on the fire and watched as the embers first charred the new wood and then ignited the bottoms of the branches. Soon a nice fire was again blazing in the hearth and he had made a fresh pot of coffee. Half way through his first cup he heard the distant sound of an outboard motor coming from the end of the lake. With luck it would be the other Mounties.
Ten minutes later, Pete saw the boat approach with a flashing red light above the windshield. Walking down to the water he could make out the two men inside as the ones he’d ask for—O’Hara and Riley.
Riley threw Pete the tie line as they approached the shore and after he secured it to an old log greeted them with warm hand shakes. “Come on up to camp and I’ll explain the whole thing. The kids aren’t awake yet, but when they are, they will be able to tell more than I can.”
“I think I see what you mean. Riley, go back to the boat and get the first aid kit. We should clean that head wound better,” O’Hara ordered the other mountie.
“The oldest kid is a guide and wants to go with us to get the bastards. He’s a vet from ‘Nam and I think he’ll be okay,” Pete explained as he offered a cup of coffee to the man.
“Do you think that’s a good idea—a U.S. citizen and civilian at that?” O’Hara asked.
“Wait ’til you see him and then ask the same question.”
“Oh, I get you!” O’Hara said with a smile. “What about the others?”
“The same goes for them! I just hope we can get the boy back in one piece. I think you’d like him.”
“Oh! That cute, huh?” O’Hara asked. His smile was getting bigger by the minute. What about Riley. Is there anything he might like, too?”
“Just wait until they wake up. You’ll see.” Pete exclaimed.
They finished their coffee and waited until the boys did wake up, which wasn’t long after the two mounties had finished their conversation. Pete introduced the gang to the new cops and Steve made breakfast for them all.
At seven, the three Mounties and Steve climbed into the two boats, leaving Mick in charge until they returned. They gave orders to him as to what to do with Clint and the rest and told him to be back in camp every day at noon and again at five, just in case they did come back with Gene and the cons.
Mick promised that he would follow the rules and take care of things until they returned.
With that taken care of Pete and Steve lead out with Riley and O’Hara close behind. They headed in the direction that Mick had seen the boat go the night before. Pete opened the engine wide open and before long they had put a lot of water between them and the island the three boys on it. The Mountie thought he knew where they were heading and wasn’t about to lose time getting there, too.
“Steve, there’s an old trapper’s cabin at the far end of the lake and I have a feeling that they might spend some time there. It’s about five or six miles back in the woods, so we might stand a good chance of sneaking up on them. By the way, which weapon would you like to carry?”
Steve looked at the small arsenal that the others had brought and saw an M-14 with a scope on it. “That M-14 will do!”
“I had an idea you’d say that. Check it out sometime between now and the time we land. Ammo is in the cartridge belt under it.”
Steve picked up the rifle and pulled the cartridge belt from under the pile. He unfastened the snap on one of the magazine pouches and extracted the loaded clip. Blowing the dust from the bullets before he slammed the black rectangle into the bottom of the rifle, he felt that he was ready. Instinctively, he reached for each of the pouches to make certain they were all full.
Pete’s voice broke his thought, “We should be there in about five miles. If everything goes right we should be at the cabin by eleven.”
“Steve nodded and checked the safety on the rifle, “Just tell me what to do.”
“There are several things I’d like to tell you to do right now, but…”
“If you can get him out of there, you have my word that you and the others can have anything you want!” Steve stated. “In fact, I think the boys will give you more than you would like.”
Pete smiled warmly at his passenger and commented, “For a while yesterday, I thought you might have forgotten about our little meeting a couple of years ago.”
“When I first recognized you, that was the first thing that came to my mind. I thought about it all afternoon and tried to remember everything about it,” Steve said stretching the truth a little.
“I was wondering if I pissed you off when we did it.”
“Hell, no! I’d been doing it with all the kids back home and a couple here in Canada. Most of them lived in Sioux Narrows where we got our supplies.”
“Do all the boys back there do what we did?” Pete inquired.
“And a hellofa lot more. We’ve all screwed the kid we’re going after. He’s been taking the dick for a couple of years now, and would you believe—he loves it. Most of us think he’s got a crush on Clint. What the hell, if he wants to put out for one guy, all the better. We don’t care.”
“You mean that when we first met and I sucked you off, I could have fucked you?” Pete questioned.
“I didn’t say that, but it would have been true. As I remember, I was feeling the horns pretty good that day. I wouldn’t have minded a stiff dick.”
“I’ll be a sonofabitch!”
“If you’d like after this little sortee is over and it works out okay, I’ll let you fuck me for everything I’m worth.” Pete promised.
“Fucks duck, you just made my day! Now to get back to the point of this little boat ride—the cove is straight ahead. Can you see it?
“Yeah, about two hundred yards or so!” Steve said somewhat excited.
“We’ll land to the left of it and see if we can locate the boat. Get the binoculars out of the storage cabinet and eyeball the area.”
Steve walked back to the large waterproof box and rummaged around until he came out with an expensive pair of Zeiss glasses. Moving back to the seat he began scanning the shore line for any signs of life or where life had been. Working from center, the glasses moved to the right and then to the left very slowly until Steve saw a glint of reflected light through the reeds at the edge of the water. “There!” Steve yelled and pointed. “I saw a reflection about thirty degrees to the left—inside the reeds!”
“Keep an eye on them, kid!” Pete replied as he throttled down the engines and signaled the others to steer in that direction.
“I still have it! There, you’re right on it. Straight ahead.”
Riley and O’Hara saw the glint now and cautiously approached it from the other side. Both boats hit the shore at the same time and before Pete had the engines turned off, Steve was on the shore, rifle pointed at the spot. Seconds later, Pete was at his side and they began prowling in the direction of the marsh grass. The other mounties approached from the other side at the alert, ready for anything and expecting it. Pete began giving hand signals as directions for the others to move to different locations or to spread out. Then when Pete and Steve had found adequate cover, he motioned for them to move in. Ready to cut loose with everything they had, Pete and Steve watched the two men move in slowly until they arrived at the source of the reflection. O’Hara motioned that it was okay to come in and check it out and by the time the others got there, O’Hara and Riley were already investigating.
“Is this the boat they used?” Pete asked.
“Sure is!” Steve replied. “Where in the hell are they?”
“I think they went inland to the cabin. Riley, pull out the distributor wire and then come back to your boat. We have some hiking to do!” Pete ordered. “Come on Steve, let’s get out the equipment we need and move out.”
They made their way back to the boat and packed enough gear to last several days in the woods. Steve arranged his pack and fastened the waist strap while Pete checked out the walkie-talkie.
“Let’s go!” Pete ordered. “Take it easy on the way to the cabin, we have a long way to go, and if we get tired on the way it will make it just that much easier for them to get the drop on us.”
“Just like ‘Nam!” Steve mentioned without thinking.
“Right!”
The woods and forest they walked through were fairly clean of underbrush and they made good time for the first hour. It seemed more like a pleasure hike than a hunt. They followed the trail left by the men and Gene until they were about two miles from the lake, and then things got sticky. The underbrush got thicker on the other side of a clearing. The bramble bushes were particularly thick, and the going got tough. The only good thing about the thorns was that the trail was easier to follow and apparently Gene was making certain that they would have no problem following him. Along the way were broken branches that weren’t snapped by boots, but with hands. They were too high. A perfect trail!
The next mile was a long one and when they came to the next clearing Pete called a halt. “Take ten!” he said as he plopped on the soft grass. “You know, Steve, that kid is making a trail a blind man could follow. He’s got some balls!”
“You should see them!” Steve added for a laugh. Then on a more serious note: “How much farther is it?”
“About two miles or so. The brush is just about over, now we have some nice rolling hills and then we’re there.”
Steve looked down at his Levi’s, he had two new tears and assorted thorns and stickers on them. “That will be a relief. I was getting a little tired of those thorns, anyway.”
They both lit up cigarettes and leaned back for the next minutes lost in their own thoughts. The white fleecy clouds overhead scudded by through the bright blue sky and the air was full of the smells and sounds of the woods. It was beginning to get warm as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
“Everybody ready? Let’s do it!” Pete said as he got to his feet.
Pete was right, the brambles were at a minimum as they began climbing small hills until they came to a small beaver creek. Steve would have given anything for a camera then when they arrived, for it was right out of a Jack London book. It almost made Steve forget why they were hiking like they were.
“We’ll follow the stream the rest of the way, and when you see a beaver dam we’ll be there,” Pete commented as he started up the steam.
Riley and O’Hara waded across the water and moved up the other side parallel with Pete and Steve.
A half a mile from the point where they joined the water, Riley bent down and picked up a piece of cloth. “English,” he yelled just loud enough for the two to hear.
Pete looked over and saw him waving the material. Steve saw him also, and his heart sank at the exact instant he saw the thing. Walking through the water and joining the others Pete examined the article and it didn’t take much to figure what was going on. The shirt was covered with blood that hadn’t dried completely.
“That’s Gene’s shirt!” Steve stated. There was a note of hate and anticipation in it as he spoke.
“It might be nothing,” Pete said. One of them might have fallen and hurt himself. They needed something to stop the bleeding so they used Gene’s shirt. I think the kid is still okay. Let’s spread out a little and move in on the cabin. It’s only about a thousand yards more. One more thing—they might have the trapper in there, too, so be careful.”
The four men spread out and began the last stretch of the hike. Their nerves were as taut as they could be as they approached the little log structure, and finally as they came to the top of a rise and looked down, they could see it. Pete gave more hand signals and O’Hara crept down the hill heading for the back wall of the building. Everyone else was on their belly, their rifles aimed at the two windows in the front. A small wisp of smoke was drifting from the chimney and there were fresh wood chips by the log pile.
O’Hara was now in back, slowly working his way around front to the first window. They watched as he peered through it and then leaped to their feet when he signaled for them to come running. As they walked through the door they saw the cabin floor strewn with everything that had once been on the two shelves.
“What in the fuck happened here?” Steve asked. “Looks like someone put up one hell of a fight or they just tore it up for kicks.”
“Hey, Pete!” Riley called, “Come here!”
Pete approached him and saw the feet of someone laying on the floor. “Is it the trapper?”
“Sure is, and he’s deader than hell. A bullet right through the chest. His hands are tied, too!”
“Bastards!” Pete yelled as he stomped the floor with his boot. “Those cocksuckers don’t give a shit anymore.”
“Is there any sign of Gene?” Steve questioned. “Riley, check outside. O’Hara, check the inside better.” Pete said.
“You want me to start digging a grave for the old man?”
“If you’d like. I think you’ll find a shovel outside. Take your rifle with you and keep it by your side. We don’t know how long ago they left. They could be hiding in the hills just above here, so be careful. Don’t fuck around too far from the cabin or at least cover!”
“Right!” Steve acknowledged as he took off his back pack. Leaving it in the corner he picked up his rifle and walked outside to start the task of digging a hole, six by six by three. He was about half done with the hole when Pete walked over to the edge and squatted.
“What do you think?” Steve asked.
“Looking good. The guys and I thought you might like to take a break and come in for some lunch.”
Pete stated.
“Riley spotted their tracks on the other side of the clearing and followed them for about a quarter of a mile. They aren’t heading back for the lake at least. I think I know where they plan to go, and if they take the way I think they’re going, we can beat them there.” Pete offered.
“Do you think Gene is still alive?”
“I’m pretty certain he is. We would have found him by now.”
