| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted June 16, 2020 | Chapters: |
...9 10 -11- 12... 
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A simple camping trip turns into a life-and-death struggle.
A chapter in the book Looking for Orion - 2
The Hit - part 2
by DeboraDyess
| Background The McClellan brothr live charmed lives. But when Cody's wife is murdered in the commission of a robbery, their lives change. Jack talks Cody into a simple weekend away. But things turn suddenly wrong |
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The blond giant released his hold on the rifle with one hand and slammed his fist into the side of Cody's face. Lightning mushroomed again inside his skull and Cody crumpled. The blow sent him back several feet, spinning him around to face the path he'd just come up. He knelt, stunned, trying to catch his breath and regain his feet. As he shifted his weight, preparing to dive for cover in the nearby brush, the toe of his boot caught a rock and he stumbled.
The rifle exploded again, from behind him this time. He felt a brief moment of surprise and, on a different level, alarm, as pain ripped through his shoulder. He fell forward into a rush of rocks and trees and brush and darkness. |
The idea of taking a long, uninterrupted nap really appealed to Jack when he first thought of it. Time was a luxury at home; there was always yard work, or repairs to the car or house, or family activities begging for his attention. He had anxiously anticipated this moment since he set up the excursion, looking forward to it the way a child counts down days to his birthday. The fact that it might irritate Cody was a bonus, but that hadn't seemed to occur.
But he lay frowning under his old cap, aware of every pebble and twig underneath him, and of the fact that he'd probably lain his sleeping bag in the only spot in the entire campsite in full sun. After a few minutes, he decided he'd completely lost the knack for being uninterrupted, sat up and pushed the baseball cap off his face. He considered following Cody up the path he'd taken to catch him trying to call home, but decided instead to wait for him to return. He wasn't sure exactly which way Cody had gone, and didn't relish the idea of wandering around looking for his brother, only to find Cody waiting for him at the campsite, laughing, accusing him of getting lost. He would never hear the end of that.
He pulled a toy catalogue that Laine received in the mail from his backpack, along with an almost thawed Dr. Pepper and a box of Red Hots. 'Laine called the candy his 'fix'. He guessed she was probably right. Despite the lack of warnings on the manufacturer's label Jack had decided he was definitely addicted to the small, hot bites of cinnamon. They'd replaced, many years ago, the cigarettes he'd taken up shortly after his dad died. It seemed stupid now, like he'd somehow been taking on the villain responsible for his father's death"Don Quixote tilting at windmills. He'd smoked pretty regularly for about six months until one night, back in his and 'Laine's dating days, after he kissed her goodnight.
"I can't go out with you again, Jack," 'Laine whispered into his neck as they embraced.
Jack pushed an arms length away from her, startled. "What?"
'Laine looked at a potted ivy on an iron stand beside them, her gray-green eyes bright with tears. "I won't date anybody I wouldn't consider marrying someday. And I won't marry you, Jack."
"Well...why not?" Jack was so surprised by her proclamation that, had she just pulled a mask away from her angelic face to reveal that she was, in reality, Dick Van Dyke, his reaction would have been no different. It didn't even occur to him that marriage had not yet crossed his mind.
"I've watched your mom for the last few months. Since your dad got sick. And I don't want to go through that … ever. I couldn't bear to watch you be that sick. Or watch our children mourn. Or live without you after having you for so long. So I don't want to see you anymore."
Jack switched to Red Hots on his way home from her house.
He popped several of the sweet, hot candies into his mouth and moved the sleeping bag to a shadier spot, sitting down with his drink, his candy and the advertisement. He knew Cody would disappear with his camera. He'd been going on 'photo safaris' since he got his first 35mm camera on the occasion of his seventh birthday. Jack always found these treks boring and had come prepared. Travis' 13th birthday was coming up, and Jack planned to use the huge circular, close to the size of a magazine, to find something totally outrageous for his son's gift. The only problem he faced now was in deciding which of these hundreds of items would make his boy's smile the broadest.
He pulled a toy catalogue that Laine received in the mail from his backpack, along with an almost thawed Dr. Pepper and a box of Red Hots. 'Laine called the candy his 'fix'. He guessed she was probably right. Despite the lack of warnings on the manufacturer's label Jack had decided he was definitely addicted to the small, hot bites of cinnamon. They'd replaced, many years ago, the cigarettes he'd taken up shortly after his dad died. It seemed stupid now, like he'd somehow been taking on the villain responsible for his father's death"Don Quixote tilting at windmills. He'd smoked pretty regularly for about six months until one night, back in his and 'Laine's dating days, after he kissed her goodnight.
"I can't go out with you again, Jack," 'Laine whispered into his neck as they embraced.
Jack pushed an arms length away from her, startled. "What?"
'Laine looked at a potted ivy on an iron stand beside them, her gray-green eyes bright with tears. "I won't date anybody I wouldn't consider marrying someday. And I won't marry you, Jack."
"Well...why not?" Jack was so surprised by her proclamation that, had she just pulled a mask away from her angelic face to reveal that she was, in reality, Dick Van Dyke, his reaction would have been no different. It didn't even occur to him that marriage had not yet crossed his mind.
"I've watched your mom for the last few months. Since your dad got sick. And I don't want to go through that … ever. I couldn't bear to watch you be that sick. Or watch our children mourn. Or live without you after having you for so long. So I don't want to see you anymore."
Jack switched to Red Hots on his way home from her house.
He popped several of the sweet, hot candies into his mouth and moved the sleeping bag to a shadier spot, sitting down with his drink, his candy and the advertisement. He knew Cody would disappear with his camera. He'd been going on 'photo safaris' since he got his first 35mm camera on the occasion of his seventh birthday. Jack always found these treks boring and had come prepared. Travis' 13th birthday was coming up, and Jack planned to use the huge circular, close to the size of a magazine, to find something totally outrageous for his son's gift. The only problem he faced now was in deciding which of these hundreds of items would make his boy's smile the broadest.
He'd popped the top on the drink and leaned back to look through the advertisement when he heard the first shot boom toward him.
He bolted to his feet, rolled up the circular and stuffed it into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans. The soda spilled into the box of candy, making a sticky, unnoticed mess on the sleeping bag. Jack jerked the binoculars to his eyes and visually followed a deer path up a nearby slope, hoping without hope it was the one Cody had taken. It was probably poachers, he thought. But his fool brother was up there with a camera. Most poachers he knew of were not exactly the camera types.
He squinted through the binoculars, looking in the area he guessed Cody to be. He found a spot of pale blue, the same color as Cody's chambray shirt, through a gap in the trees. He adjusted the binoculars and pulled his brother's face into focus. Blood ran down the side of Cody's cheek.
As Jack watched, Cody shook his head slowly, dazed, and started to stand. He stumbled and threw his hands in the air to catch his balance. Another shot boomed. Cody's head snapped suddenly back and he fell.
Jack exhaled sharply and sucked in a lung full of air. He fought the instinct to try to follow Cody's path with the binoculars, instead holding them steady at the last place he'd seen his brother.
Almost immediately two men appeared. They were blond and light-complected, and both held rifles. They stared down, talking. The shorter of the two pulled a wicked looking knife from a sheath on his belt and started down the incline. Fear swelled in the pit of Jack's stomach and, like a wave on the ocean, tried to engulf him. His heart pounded wildly, drowning out surrounding noises.
"No," Jack breathed, "No." He tried to calculate the distance between them, tried to remember the range of the handgun he carried, tried to decide if a shout might draw the men's attention away from Cody.
The taller of the pair spoke and his knife-wielding partner frowned, his narrowed eyes still looking down toward Cody, and shook his head, arguing back. The tall man spoke again, turned and left.
Jack held his breath. The remaining man lifted his lip in a snarl, yelled something Jack couldn't hear down at Cody and followed the other.
Without moving the binoculars Jack fished his compass out of the front pocket of his shirt. He checked it carefully, grabbed the small first aid kit and his gun out of his backpack and sprinted up the hill. A tiny, dark voice, far in the back of his mind, worried that Cody would not need first aid.
He bolted to his feet, rolled up the circular and stuffed it into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans. The soda spilled into the box of candy, making a sticky, unnoticed mess on the sleeping bag. Jack jerked the binoculars to his eyes and visually followed a deer path up a nearby slope, hoping without hope it was the one Cody had taken. It was probably poachers, he thought. But his fool brother was up there with a camera. Most poachers he knew of were not exactly the camera types.
He squinted through the binoculars, looking in the area he guessed Cody to be. He found a spot of pale blue, the same color as Cody's chambray shirt, through a gap in the trees. He adjusted the binoculars and pulled his brother's face into focus. Blood ran down the side of Cody's cheek.
As Jack watched, Cody shook his head slowly, dazed, and started to stand. He stumbled and threw his hands in the air to catch his balance. Another shot boomed. Cody's head snapped suddenly back and he fell.
Jack exhaled sharply and sucked in a lung full of air. He fought the instinct to try to follow Cody's path with the binoculars, instead holding them steady at the last place he'd seen his brother.
Almost immediately two men appeared. They were blond and light-complected, and both held rifles. They stared down, talking. The shorter of the two pulled a wicked looking knife from a sheath on his belt and started down the incline. Fear swelled in the pit of Jack's stomach and, like a wave on the ocean, tried to engulf him. His heart pounded wildly, drowning out surrounding noises.
"No," Jack breathed, "No." He tried to calculate the distance between them, tried to remember the range of the handgun he carried, tried to decide if a shout might draw the men's attention away from Cody.
The taller of the pair spoke and his knife-wielding partner frowned, his narrowed eyes still looking down toward Cody, and shook his head, arguing back. The tall man spoke again, turned and left.
Jack held his breath. The remaining man lifted his lip in a snarl, yelled something Jack couldn't hear down at Cody and followed the other.
Without moving the binoculars Jack fished his compass out of the front pocket of his shirt. He checked it carefully, grabbed the small first aid kit and his gun out of his backpack and sprinted up the hill. A tiny, dark voice, far in the back of his mind, worried that Cody would not need first aid.
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