Chapter 15

As fall drew ever and ever closer, Clipper began to plan an epic hunt. He wanted at least one more deer for the winter, mostly for jerky for dog food. He’d take whatever he could get. He knew Dylan would be able to bag squirrels and rabbits, but it would set his mind at ease to have a large supply of jerky just in case.

Dylan was eager, never having hunted on that scale before. Girl was ho-hum, but she wasn’t going to let herself be left behind. One crisp cool morning they set out, having spent the night before packing. They went to the west again,

Clipper was hoping to give Dylan some experience with the AK, as good as the kid was doing with the .22. Clipper was carrying the .22, and Dylan had the AK slung on his back. Girl had the automatic in her belt, just to round things out. Clipper felt like they were reasonably armed, should a situation arise.

Four hours later found them way down the mountain, struggling through thick underbrush. Five hours later, and they had come out into a magical, fairyland forest, with lush grass and low bushes under the tree canopy. Girl was enchanted, and it was beautiful. They walked along and Clipper wondered if they could find something in the area to shoot.

Unfortunately, something found them. They came around a large bush, and there, not more than twenty feet away was a campsite. Two men sat on a log, one facing them, and one turned away. The man spoke instantly, and the other man turned. Clipper was already bringing up the .22, not exactly pointing it at the men, but letting them know he was ready. Girl had been sheltered from seeing them by the bush, but she had noticed Clipper stop and raise the rifle. She peered around the bush to see what was going on.

By then both the men had stood, and, one of the men, to Clipper’s surprise, raised an assault rifle. Clipper recognized the M4 variant of the M16 rifle. It didn’t matter what it was, though, it was an ugly, dangerous-looking weapon, and it was pointed right at him. He slowly relaxed, and let the .22 muzzle fall back to the ground. He was pissed off. Every time, he thought, every time we go through this the bad guys get the drop on me. He desperately hoped Girl didn’t try to draw the .45, he knew there was no way she could get it out before the muzzle of the M4 swung a few feet to her. The man motioned for her to come out from behind the bush, and she did, cautiously. Not that caution did any good at this point. Where the hell is Dylan? he thought.

“Jett. Get that rifle, and that Colt,” the man with the AR said. The other man came forward, blocking them with his body more than once, giving Clipper a little hope that the men weren’t professionals. The man took the .22 from his limp fingers, and yanked the automatic from Girl’s waist. He took her knives, too, smiling at her, leering, really.

Where the hell is Dylan? Clipper thought again. He’d been right behind them, just a few seconds ago. Was he hiding behind the bush? Had he beat it for home? Surely not. Shit. That was his only hope. But Dylan was just a kid.

“Look,” said Clipper, “we don’t want no trouble. Just let us go on, and we won’t bother you.”

The guy with the M4 laughed, nervously, Clipper thought. Not a good sign.

“You can go, old man,” the guy said. “But the girl stays.”

“Uh-uh,” Girl spoke. “I’m goin’ with him.” She grabbed Clipper by the sleeve of his upraised arm.

“The fuck you are,” the guy seemed to get a little angry. “Your ass is mine, now. Get the fuck over here.” He motioned for her to come to him. She didn’t move.

“Girl...” said Clipper. He didn’t want her to go, but he didn’t want her to get shot, either. The other guy came right over to them and grabbed her by the sleeve and began pulling her away. He was laughing and he stared at her frankly and appraisingly. Clipper looked at the two, measuring them up, wondering what he could do. He still had a couple on knives in his belt, but against a rifle? Suicide. The man held the gun on him unwaveringly. The other man pulled Girl over to the side, and Clipper thought at least she’s out of the line of fire.

“Lay down, old fuck,” the guy with the gun said. “Face down.”

Clipper slowly, wearily, dropped to his knees, and then lowered himself to the ground. This was getting old, he told himself. Every goddam time they left the cabin, they ran into this shit.

The two men talked among themselves but Clipper couldn’t understand them. He thought if they do leave and take her I can at least follow them. And where the hell is Dylan? He had a halfway hope that Dylan was hiding out somewhere behind them and he could hook back up with him when the bad guys left. When they left and took Girl. That, now, that would piss him off. He would spare no mercy on these fuckers if he got the chance. They were as good as dead, he thought, if they don’t kill me first. I will not rest, he told himself. I will not rest.

“Hey, old fuck,” the gunman said. “Sorry to do this, but we can’t have you following us. Here goes...”

Clipper tightened his whole body, in anticipation of the bullet. He wondered idly if it would be a head shot, or somewhere in his midsection. He’d never been shot before. He halfway wondered what it would feel like, if it would be insanely painful immediately. He realized that nothing mattered, if he was going to get shot. He tensed his body, and prepared to leap up and try and defend himself. He didn’t get that far.

The shot blasted in his ears, and it was loud. Way louder than what he’d guessed it would be. He mentally felt along his body for the wound, wondering why he hadn’t even felt a shock when it entered his body. Shit, he thought. Am I dead already? Was it a head shot? Or did the dumb fuck miss?

Two more shots followed, in quick succession. Clipper just lay there, amazed. I’m still alive, he thought. Why can’t I feel it? Why didn’t I feel the impact? Why doesn’t anything hurt? Am I in shock? Shit!

Something fell on top of him, and grabbed him and rolled him over. It was Girl. She was blubbering like a baby. He stared at her, bemused. Behind her, he could see Dylan, the AK still at his shoulder. Shit, he thought, shit. That little motherfucker. Shit. Now I owe him big time.

He sat up slowly, hugging Girl, who was still sniffling. He turned and looked behind them. The two men were stretched out on the ground, one of them visibly bloody, one not. Jeezus, he thought. Thank you Jeezus. Thank you, Dylan.

Dylan stood over them, and reached his hand down. Clipper grasped it, and Dylan pulled him to his feet. He lifted Girl, holding her, letting her cry. He understood. His body was still flooded with adrenalin. His heart was still pounding in his chest.

“Man,” he held Dylan’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you for saving us.”

“No biggie,” said Dylan. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We don’t know if there’s more of them.”

“Yeah.”

Dylan handed the AK to Clipper, went over to the dead men and took the M4 from the man’s lifeless hands. It was a fine weapon. Shit. They were amassing quite a collection of firearms, Clipper thought. He just wished they all used the same ammo. He joined Dylan, and they searched the men, finding a Ruger .22 pistol on the gunman. And a handful of knives. The other guy had nothing. He must have been the flunky, Clipper thought. A backpack was next to the log, and Clipper opened it. Holy shit. It was full of .223 ammo, a thousand rounds, it looked like. That’s literally all that was in it. Bullets. They were fixed up for bullets.

“Thanks, guys,” Clipper told the dead men, grabbed the bag, and they got the hell out of there. Girl had settled down by now, and was back to her usual bad-ass self. They struck out into the woods, headed back up the mountain. They were all ready to go home, now, after that. As they moved through the woods, cautiously, now, they talked about ways to hunt and move about the woods with more safety. The woods felt dangerous to Clipper now, as many encounters as they had had. He tried to do better about keeping his eyes on the territory ahead, to see what they were walking into. Every time they were caught he hoped it was their last.

That night they curled up around the fire, and had a little discussion about the events of the day. Clipper remembered Girl’s mood after she’d killed her first man. Dylan didn’t seem bothered a bit, he thought. He seemed outgoing, and laughed at everything. Well, some people it affected differently. He was glad the boy didn’t seem disturbed. They’d stripped down and cleaned the M4, and it was in the hiding place, now. The hiding place was getting a bit crowded, in fact. And all those bullets. Good grief. Clipper knew you could never have too many bullets. This was a good start. He’d let Dylan and Girl both have a little target practice, now. They could afford it. He sat back, feeling the warmth of the fire. Things were going well. Very well, if they could just keep from being caught with their pants down again.