Chapter 9: Lock N Load

I instinctively turned and looked up the southwest cliff face to the rim of the west canyon. Of course, I couldn’t see anything. “We are just crossing the dead tree; we will be there in five,” I replied, gesturing to Trinity to move faster.

“Ya want me to blow it out of the sky or nuke it?”

I considered, “We are almost to the clearing now,” I said, “I’m sending Trin your way, try to give them something to look at until I can get in the truck and head up the ravine,” I climbed up onto the clearing, giving her a hand, and then crossed over to the dwelling for my keys, “once I’m gone, deal with it as you want.”

Since there was no alert that the perimeter had been breached, I had to agree with Trinity’s assessment that the drone operator had to be somewhere along the rim. I just hoped that there was enough snow or mud to make out which way they went.

It took an agonizing 18 minutes to climb out of the ravine and onto the forest service road. Luck was with me because I could easily make out fresh tire tracks, heading toward the west rim as we had surmised. I turned down the rough, narrow track and crept along slowly until I came to a sharp bend around a steep rise to my left. The adjacent side appeared to be a sheer drop into the curved part of the H.

My phone dinged and I had the Bluetooth read the message aloud: “Drone down.”

Suddenly a brown mid-sized pick-up came racing around the bend only to slam on his brakes. I could see two people in the cab and they were clearly surprised by my appearance. Slamming the brakes caused the truck to skid outside its turn, precariously close to the canyon’s rim. When they came to a halt the truck was nearly broadside to me. The passenger was yelling something and I saw the door window begin rolling down.

I toggled the plow and raised it, while simultaneously changing its profile to a straight blade. My dash cam could still make out the trapped truck as the driver tried to reverse out of the rut, he found himself in. I inched forward until my plow clanked against the other vehicle, blocking the passenger’s door and window. Just to make sure I had their undivided attention I laid on my horn for a count of three.

Leaning out the driver’s window I shouted: “How do you want to play this?”

I could hear panicked shouting and yelling over the noise of my engine. I laid on my horn again for another three-count.

“What’s it gonna be?” I called out once more, “Do you want to cooperate or go cliff diving?”

In case they misunderstood me I stepped on the accelerator and my engine roared as all four tires bit into the hard-packed soil. The F350 lurched forward, pushing their smaller truck sideways towards the precipice, about a yard.

When I idled back down their screams were frantic. “I want to see that gun tossed over onto the road behind you!” I called out, “Otherwise I’m gonna decide for you!”

I saw a handgun sail past my plow and land in the dirt.

“Very good,” I said, “I’m gonna back up a little. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

I backed up and lowered my blade until I could see them both. They were two rough-looking white guys. They were gaping back at me with wide eyes, and their hands held up. The driver’s side was less than a foot from the edge of the ravine.

“Turn off your engine,” I ordered, “I’m tired of yelling.”

It got a little quieter with only one engine running.

“Now toss both of your wallets after the gun,” I ordered, “then your cell phones.” I watched as they slowly complied.

“I’m going to ask the questions,” I said firmly, “I expect you to answer truthfully. If you don’t...” I revved my 6.7-liter turbo diesel engine once more.

“Alright! Alright!” the passenger yelled back, “take it easy, we’ll talk.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“We’re just following orders,” the passenger replied, “we are to report your activities and scout your place.”

“Who do you report to?”

“I don’t know really,” he balked, “some guy named Kramer, that’s all I know. We send him the video and tell what we see.”

“I think you are lying to me,” in fact, I knew he was. I put the truck in drive and started creeping forward.

“No! We’ve never met, please!” he cried fearfully.

“Try harder.”

“We were sent here from Florida,” he insisted, “we scout safe houses, hide-outs, warehouses, and stuff. All we do is gather intelligence; I swear!”

“I need more than that buddy,” his frantic face disappeared below my plow as I inched closer, “who is calling the shots? Who freed those ex-cops? I want to know who is after me and why.”

“I swear I don’t know!” he screamed hysterically, “it could be the Cubans, MS 13, a politico hack, they are all intertwined.”

“Who are the Cubans?”

“It’s a shell cartel run by a group of families,” he pleaded, “no one can get close to them, I swear. Rumor, is they have ties in the State Senate and even higher.”

“Who is coming for me based on your intel?”

“What? How should I know man?” He was seriously losing his shit.

“How have they acted on your information in the past?” I demanded.

“Drive-byes, hit squads, sometimes they plant bombs,” he was struggling to contain himself, “I heard they blew an airliner out of the sky once.”

“How many per hit squad?”

“How the fu ... I don’t know man! Honest. Four maybe five guys, all with the latest commando tactical shit.”

“What have you reported about me?”

“Only that you just got back,” he panted, “you were supposed to be in the hospital. We told them you were here with a girl and an old guy. That’s it honest!”

This was going nowhere. I backed up a couple of feet and put the truck back in drive. These two were a part of the overall group intent on killing me and it didn’t appear as if locking them up would offer any more security. I didn’t feel cold-blooded as I stomped the accelerator and forced their vehicle over the edge. Maybe they screamed or begged or completely shit themselves—I couldn’t see over the blade or hear anything over the roar of my engine. I just felt the sudden ease of resistance as the truck toppled over the edge and I backed up to retrieve the phones, wallets, and gun. A simple solution to a complicated problem.

On my way back to the clearing I phoned Sam and gave her the gist of what I had learned as well as their ID information. She had cloned both their phones by the time I parked in the carport.

“Give me a bit to check on this,” she told me as I got out and greeted Travis, “something about it is gnawing at me.”

“Sure thing,” I replied and hung up.

Gil and Trin were waiting for me on my porch. I handed them the items and Trinity’s eyes lit up,

“Ooh! A Glock!” she cooed eagerly as she took the gun, “a 43x with double stack mag and a red dot optic. Me likee!” I watched her begin breaking the gun down like a drill sergeant and noticed Gil’s appreciative expression too.

“I need to go to town,” I said as we gathered back around the table for a quick lunch of sandwiches, “and I need to head over to Harrison to pick up some more demolition supplies.”

Trinity frowned and put her food down. “You know they are gonna be waiting for you.”

I nodded, “Probably. But I can’t do much about it from down here.”

“Let us come,” she pleaded, grabbing Gil’s shoulder, “that way we can level the odds a bit.” She continued before I could reply, “I ... we can both shoot at them and you can do your Kung Fu behind the wheel. It is the smart thing to do Carter, please let us help!”

Gil seemed indifferent about the whole thing, like when we brought down a skyscraper on the heads of the Bartolo family.

I scoffed as I bit into my sandwich. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you two were getting a bit bored down here and would like to go for a little road trip with me.”

Gil simply grunted and missed his face entirely when Trinity squealed, “Yes!” and hugged him as she jumped up and down.

We were on red alert by the time we climbed out of the canyon onto the forest service road. There was no sign of potential aggressors, however, and we proceeded to the county road without incident. The sun was bright overhead as we headed SW for the interstate.

“Hmph,” Gil muttered beside me, “maybe thay dint wanna play tuhday.”

“I may have tossed a wrench in the works when they didn’t get their last intel report,” I replied.

As we were eating Sam had gotten back to me, reporting that the two cell phones were typical burners but had recorded several calls from South Florida. Both of the drone spies had Florida driver’s licenses too. The passenger Andy Slocum had an address in Ft Meyers and the driver, Detrick Pavlovich, was from Tallahassee.

“I won’t say I’m disappointed,” Trinity piped in from the back seat. Travis just sat quietly with his tongue hanging out.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and I was disappointed. But I was still able to make it to the Minerals and Mining Commission to purchase a few cases of dynamite, det cord, and fuse. Naturally, Gil wanted to stop at Cabela’s for more black powder and reloading supplies. I smirked as he added 1000 rounds of 9mm and several extra magazines to the cart.

Trinity had disappeared briefly but came back, grabbing my arm excitedly. “Carter!” she grinned at me, “Come here, you’ve got to check these out.” She led us to a counter loaded with binoculars, rifle scopes, and ... night vision optics. She pointed at a pair of them. “Aren’t those badass? And they are only $150!”

Gil leaned over the counter and then peered at the display against the wall behind it. He pointed at a pair of much more expensive goggles. “Them thars badass darlin,” he drawled, “those are AGM military-grade, tactical optics right there.” There went that accent!

She balked at his selection. “Yeah, but those are over five grand Gil!”

“Good ain’t cheap,” he replied cheekily, “an cheap ain’t good.”

A salesman approached us and I nodded to him.

“We will take three pairs of those please,” I said, pointing at the AGMs.

After another quick stop at Mavericks, we headed back to the canyon. Nobody was tailing us as far as I could tell, but as soon as we got onto the county road, I could see the signs of recent traffic. My mind automatically began centering itself as I scanned ahead for any sign of our enemy.

I became even more focused as we turned onto the packed dirt FS road heading to the canyon. There were tire tracks from at least two other vehicles since we had left it. Gil noticed it too and handed the Glock back to Trinity, who was playing with her new NVGs.

“Lock n load darlin,” he said softly and pointed to his side-by-side resting on the gun rack behind her, “mind passin Bessy up heh?”

I anticipated that the crooks would have gone down into the canyon, but when I got to the dirt road their tracks continued to the northeast through the high plains terrain. Eventually, the Forest Service Road would merge with another County Road that led into Jasper County. I continued past to about where I thought they had lain in wait for me the last time, and parked.