Escape - part 2

by DeboraDyess

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Jack almost has Cody to safety. But is it too late?

Birdsong floated around them and Jack decided he hated birds. Birds and flowers and those stupid, tiny clouds that did nothing but make empty promises of shade. 'Gotcha vines' wrapped themselves around his hiking boots and slowed them down as he tried to balance his brother and rip his feet free.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.

The old memory verse made Jack want to wave his hand in the air like he was shooing away flies. 'How else can I say that I don't need You?' he thought. Still, what would it hurt..

He decided to check the compass again. It was nowhere. 'The near-fall', he thought as he searched franticly for the key chain that clipped the compass to his shirt pocket, and then checked the shoulder holster where his Glock had been nestled. Both gone, and there was no way they could backtrack in the hopes of finding them. So much for hoping God might really be watching after them. There was no one guiding their path, no all-knowing, all-powerful compassionate being up there rooting for them. They were on their own.

He stopped, shifting the backpack to his front, and pulled Cody's Browning from the pocket. He balanced it in his hand for a second. He liked the heft of the 9mm and stood staring into the bluish tinted metal, hoping he wouldn't have to pull it out again. Cody sagged, unable to support himself, and he holstered the weapon, pressing on.
"What do you think Encyclopedia Brown would do?" Rocks slid beneath his boot and he caught his balance quickly.

"Huh?"

Jack couldn't tell if Cody was asking for clarification or grunting in pain. He opted for clarification. "Encyclopedia Brown. What would he do if he found himself in this wonderful situation?"

"Ask his father ... for help."

"Yeah." Jack rolled his shoulders under Cody's weight. "Too bad we don't have one of them around."

He'd been lost once before, when he was about ten. He'd come somewhere near here with his father and two uncles; his first camping trip without his mom. At dusk he stepped away from the campsite to pee and got turned around in the lengthening shadows. After about twenty minutes of panicked search, which he knew only made things worse, he sat down on a rock, trying hard to stem the tears that threatened to steal his fledgling manhood. Within moments he heard his dad's deep voice calling his name. He never forgot the feel of Thomas McClellan's arms pulling him into an iron hug, or the feeling of strength that permeated from his father's hold into his tired, frightened heart.

I am Yahweh, there is no other. There is no God but me. I will strengthen you, though you do not know me.

He'd learned that one only a few months before his sister-in-law's murder, as part of a men's Bible study. He decided to change it. He could eliminate everything except 'there is no God'. "Get out of my head," he ordered silently. "Leave me alone." He felt a heartbeat of chill, thinking that maybe God already had. Maybe part of this whole mess was because he'd ordered God to get out of his life and God had obliged.

"We're going down, Cody," he grunted, looking ahead, trying to keep his semi-conscious brother aware and moving. The terrain was rocky, rougher than where they'd come in. Their hike earlier had been a clear, easy shot. Now they battled over every dip and rise. They would miss the Bronco, Jack knew, come out somewhere else along Deer Creek Road. He wouldn't even know which way to go to find the vehicle, and imagined them wandering aimlessly along the gravel road, easy prey. He cursed aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing." The path dropped at about a 40 degree angle. It was going to be rough. "Listen, we've got to get down this bit here, and then I think we're almost there."

Cody managed to raise his head a fraction and look around, then let it fall against Jack's shoulder again. "We're ... lost..."

"Not lost. We're cool."

"Stop..." Cody's effort to push away from Jack was feeble, like a kitten trying to escape the grasp of a determined child. "You have to ... get ahead ... get the ranger ..."

The move turned the burning cramping in Jack's hand to fire and he bit his lip to silence the groan that tried to form in his throat. "I have to get you down this hill without turning you into Humpty Dumpty because, in case you haven't noticed, we don't have any of the king's horses or men. I'm going to move you behind me. All you have to do is lean into me as we go. Got it?" He carefully shifted Cody slightly behind him, felt his brother's arm press into his back, felt Cody stiffen as the arm was sandwiched between them. Cody slumped against him and Jack had to grab frantically to keep him from falling backwards into the trail behind them.

Overcompensating for the sudden dead-weight behind him, Jack nearly stumbled down the small decline, catching his balance as he pushed into a clearing at the bottom. Cody leaned heavily against him, but as they reached level ground, he started trying to get his feet beneath him. Conscious again, Jack thought. He didn't know whether to be relieved or --

"What the hell?" A deep, graelly voice blasted through him, and he jerked his head up, instinctively grabbing for the Browning.

Two men knelt beside a small circle of rocks and what appeared to be the beginning of a campsite. African-American, Jack saw, father and son, from the looks of them. No way these guys could be the ones either he or Cody saw earlier. His hand froze.

The pair had been laughing, but the merriment died as the brothers crashed into the clearing. The boy, mid-teens, looked up, startled by the sight of the two strangers, bloody and worn, the gun in plain sight. The father reached beside him, retrieved a baseball bat, stood and raised the bat menacingly. He drew his heavy brows together, creating a thick line of black across his forehead, narrowing his eyes. "What's going on here?" His voice was gruff -- bottom of the basement deep.

Jack blinked, trying to figure out how to answer the question. He had no doubt that the giant before him could take both him and Cody out with one solid swing of his bat-turned-weapon.

The man raised the bat, putting it at the ready.

Jack held his hand up, mentally trying to ward away the new threat. "No," he said breathlessly. "You don't need that. My brother's hurt. We just ... I'm trying ... I have to get him help. He's hurt and we've missed the Bronco. The shooters are somewhere back there and he's hurt bad." Words dumped from Jack's mouth like water flowing over a spillway. He hoped at least a few of them made sense.

The man looked unconvinced. He glanced down at his boy and back at the brothers.

The thought of him chasing them from his camp, running them back to face the assassins stole the last of Jack's resolve. He changed his hold on his brother, preparing to lower him to the ground and walk away. Maybe, with the threat of him gone, the pair would get help for Cody. And maybe he could lead the shooters away, play decoy to buy them time. "I'm not lying to you," he tried again. "He's hurt. I think maybe he's dying." The weight of those words, which he'd refused to even think until that second, leveled him. "I'm a cop," he added lamely, "and I need your help."

"And I'm a disgruntled postal worker. Everybody knows how crazy we are." The man lifted the bat again, waving it to make sure Jack saw it.

"A Bronco?" The kid spoke now.

Jack glanced at him, but still gave the father his full attention. "Yeah."

"What's it look like?"

"Red ... old ... there's a dent in the right fender. My kid wrote 'wash me' in the dirt on the backend before we left this morning. There's a maroon bumper sticker that says 'Football Mom'." He felt like he needed to remember every detail of the old vehicle, but wasn't sure why.

The boy nodded. "Yeah, we saw that on the way in. Remember, Dad? A couple of miles back."

A couple of miles. They would have never made it. They would've been sitting ducks on the road.

The frown on the dark man's face disappeared, and he looked Jack over, sizing him up. "Someone did this to him? They're behind you?"

Jack nodded.

"Then we better move fast. Ashton," the older man spat directions at the boy, "you help him." He turned to the car, an old station wagon parked only a few yards away.

Ashton moved toward them. As he drew within arms length of the brothers, Cody dropped. His position was wrong for Jack to really catch him, but he managed to keep Cody's head from crashing into the rocky ground and knelt beside him, cradling him. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't you do this, Cody. Damn it, not now."

Cody's eyes fluttered open in a colorless face. "Tell ... kids ... Mom ... I love them." He moaned and frowned. "You ... you, too, Jack." His eyes drifted shut and the muscles in his face relaxed.

"No." Jack shook him gently. "I'm not telling anybody anything. You want them to know you're going to have to tell them. Do you hear me? Cody!"

The car engine roared to life. "Let's go," the big man called from the driver's seat.

The boy Ashton knelt beside the pair. He touched Jack's arm. "Come on," he said softly. He moved to take Cody's legs. "You get him up there, okay?"

Jack nodded, unable to speak. He leaned close to Cody's face and felt a barely detectible exhalation. He inhaled sharply and swallowed in relief, looked up at the teen and nodded. They lifted Cody carefully and moved toward the car.

Ashton lowered Cody's feet to the ground and opened the rear door. Jack slipped inside, pulling Cody as he scooted backward.

"Got him?" the boy asked. His voice cracked, either with puberty or excitement.

"Yeah," Jack grunted. "Get his feet."

Ashton bent to do so.

Two gunshots erupted in the quiet woods, shattering the silence and slamming into the metal of the car where Ashton's head had been just a moment before.

Jack barreled out the other side of the car, drawing the Browning as he moved. He aimed into the tree line and yelled, "Go, go, go!" as he pulled off several shots.

Ashton ran, hunched, around the front of the car, diving into the front passenger seat as Jack fired. Jack dove into the car and jerked at Cody as the tires spun, slinging gravel, slamming the rear door closed, fishtailing the car onto the road and away.

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The Bible verses are Isaiah 45:5 and Deuteronomy 31:6. Both are great to memorize, if you're looking for some to put into your mind and heart.
I know people who believe that, if you ever lose faith, you're not able to come back to God. I believe the parable of the Prodigal disagrees with that.
Be patient with Jack. He's working through a lot. :)
But don't lean back and think this is over -- not even close.

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The guys finally get out of the woods, but is Cody safe?

A chapter in the book Looking for Orion - 2

Escape - part 2

by DeboraDyess

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