Chapter 2: The Body

"How far to the cabin?" I asked as we started out. Rachel replied that she thought it was about half a mile, maybe a little more.

As we started on the path into the woods, I noticed that she carried her weapon left handed and asked her about it. "I'm naturally left handed and even shoot that way," she explained. "It takes a little adjustment to account for casings flying off to the right, but it works for me. I'm pretty good with popup targets, but today will be the first time that I croak a living being!"

I thought to myself, 'If your partner going into a firefight is a beautiful woman, how lucky is it that she knows what the heck she is doing with a rifle? Not only that - but she is familiar with the model weapon that you just happen to have!'

"My time in the Army was in the Signal Corps, so I've had damned little formal training in small unit infantry tactics," I offered. "On the other hand, Dad and I processed a lot of rounds at paper and other targets. Maybe we can both bag our first thug today."

Rachel smiled, and the sun rose.

"I've got an idea," I said after thinking a minute. "You naturally walk with your rifle pointing right, and mine tends to the left. If we need to shoot, you take any bozo on the right - I'll take any bozo on the left. We won't have to think about it. How does that sound?"

"I like it!" she said. "But how will I know when to shoot?"

"I trust you to know," I said.

Thus was born the first tactic of our new partnership.

Snow continued falling, and we were both grateful for our insulated boots. Rachel led, and I stayed about ten feet behind her. Between the deepening snow and our caution, about fifteen minutes passed before Rachel held up a hand. As we reached the clearing, Rachel moved left as I moved right.

There was no sound other than the whisper of the falling snow, and nothing else moved. We moved around to the other side of the cabin, and Rachel gasped - then began to cry. Tied to a tree, obviously dead, was the naked body of a tall, slender man. His body was covered with cuts, and his genitals had been removed and stuffed in his mouth. From the amount of blood at his feet, I was pretty sure the thugs had left him to bleed to death.

I did a quick survey to be sure there was no one in or around the cabin, then helped Rachel cut Jack's bonds and gently laid him on the ground. Tears ran as we cleaned him as best we could, then wrapped him in a blanket we found in the cabin.

The ground was too hard to dig a grave, so we picked a spot near the edge of the clearing and piled rocks on him until we were sure animals would not be able to uncover him. Before we started, I wrote a note with his name and the circumstances of his death. Rachel and I both signed and dated it and included our cell phone numbers. Then we sealed it into two plastic sandwich bags and placed it in his hands, crossed over his chest.

I looked at the tracks of the departing murderers. The snow was slowing, so they were still relatively easy to discern.