Call of the Wild (23 page)

Pulling out his pack, he took out his first aid kit. It was a little more extensive than the usual and had everything he needed. He used a squeeze bottle of sterile water to remove as much detritus from the wound as he could. There was dirt and fabric from his shirt embedded. After using up all of the water, next came the hard part. Using a mirror and some tweezers, he probed the wound and got a hold of the bullet. Not wanting to give away his position, he bit back the groan stuck in his throat. He packed the wound and placed a pressure bandage on top of it. His forehead was beaded with sweat from his efforts. Wiping his free arm across it to keep the sweat from his eyes, he repacked the first aid kit and spent bandages. When he was done, he assessed his environment and equipment.

He was ready to go hunting. Reaching up, he checked his earpiece and realized he’d lost it. Looking around, he saw it was a few feet away, close to where he fell. Until he knew where the tango was, he couldn’t exactly go over and pick up the earpiece. Instead he held very still, sending all of his senses out. He listened carefully for any sound. He didn’t hear any, but that didn’t mean anything. In his world, the person who moved first died first. He wasn’t going to be the one dead here today.

Looking over the terrain, Benji decided he could move down and around. If it were clear, he’d work his way around those rocks to high ground, then that fucker would be his. After he took care of the tango, he’d come back for his earpiece. He purposely left his pack to mark his spot and ease his movements as he hunted. This was a big forest and he needed to be able to recognize this spot and retrieve his earpiece. The rock formation and pack would help.

It took him about thirty minutes, moving carefully, to work his way over to the tree. He didn’t bother with keeping under cover for the last twenty yards. He saw the tango tangled in a branch of the tree, very dead. It looked as if he’d hung himself on his rifle strap. He couldn’t see clearly, but there appeared to be scratches on his face. Benji was considering climbing up to take a look when he heard the bird. It was coming from nearby and it sounded hurt.

Minutes later, he’d zeroed in on the sound and found the owl. Its wing was broken. From the ruffled feathers on its head, it might have been knocked out for a bit.

“Thank you, little owl. I’m guessing those scratches are your handiwork. I’m sure you threw off his aim and saved my life. Let’s see if I can return the favor,” he said.

He took off his shirt, wincing a little when he moved his left shoulder. Then he carefully wrapped up the owl.

“I’m sorry, little owl,” he said when it squawked. “I’ll be as careful as I can. I have some bandages in my first aid kit, sweetie. I’m going to fix you right up.”

He was very gentle with the bird. He held it close to his chest as he made his way back to his backpack. He didn’t have to be careful any longer of being shot, so it didn’t take nearly as long to get back to the tree where he’d left his pack holding his first aid kit.

Twenty minutes later, he’d finished bandaging the owl. Then he remembered about his earpiece. A glance at his watch told him it was way past his check-in time. It took him another few minutes to find it again, minutes he didn’t really have. The wind had blown some leaves over the area. The owl sat on the ground and watched him carefully. Fitting it to his ear, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the other half of his radio.

He inserted the battery and turned it on. He clicked the mic and was answered by two clicks in response.

“Benji, I’m really glad to hear your voice. What was the delay?” asked Aaron.

“I’ve been having a little problem with men in trees. One of them got off a lucky shot. I’m good to go now. How far up the trail are you?” he asked.

“We’re at the crossroads. We’re going to be moving from the Beta Route to the Alpha Route and going radio silent for the duration. Can you meet us at Rendezvous Delta?”

“That’s an affirmative. I’m not too far ahead of you because of my little delay. I’ll be able to make the change easily. Keep an eye on the trees,” he said before signing off.

Looking down at the owl, which was looking at him…well, owlishly, he said, “Little owl, we’re taking a hike. Since you can’t fly, I’m not going to leave you here on the ground for some predator to find. Do you think you can perch on my shoulder? And no pirate jokes, please.”

He put his right arm in front of the bird and it hopped on. Slowly lifting his arm level with his shoulder, the owl walked sideways until it was perched there.

“Okay, we’re the point guard for a group of children fleeing the bad guys. So keep your eyes peeled for more tangos in trees.”

Benji didn’t think the bird could understand him. The Great Horned Owl was the most common owl species in North America. They were probably all through this forest. The smoke would bother them. The man in the tree probably came too close to a nest when he was climbing down. He knew there were shifters. Only all of the people he’d met had been mammals. Perhaps, though, they had a way of communicating to other species?

He rearranged his weapons and headed off. The owl stayed on his shoulder. Even though its talons were sharp, the owl was careful not to hurt him. The Kevlar vest made a secure post for one leg; the other rested on the ball of his shoulder. Benji tried to make it a smooth ride for the bird. He thought it might be in shock.

The owl
had
suffered another injury. On its breast, there was a small wound, a shallow slice from a branch when she fell. There was only a little blood; it trickled slowly down the owl’s breast unnoticed.

After watching two of his team go off with the children, Matt regrouped with the remaining four agents. These men were all part of his shifter unit in the FBI; they all understood what was at stake here. They kept their vehicle by the side of the road and waited. Their Intel informed them that this was the place to be, so they waited some more.

Matt sent a couple of his team members went into the woods. They wanted to climb some trees and take a look around. They had just returned, when Matt heard the sound of multiple vehicles coming up the road.

“What did you see?” Matt asked George Soyez, head of the shifter unit.

“I found two high perch hunter blinds within my eye line. Only thing is, they were both empty. From the broken branches, it looks as if they fell,” he said.

“That sounds like our friends at the EPA helping out. We’ve got company coming, let’s get everyone into position,” said Matt.

One agent stayed in the car, George’s brother, Rick. It looked as if he were napping. The others were taking up positions on both sides of the highway in the woods. George was their sniper, so he went back to his perch. A couple of moments later, a line of pick-ups and SUVs came around the bend in the road and into view. Matt was bent over the hood of his SUV, looking at a map, his back to the forest, when the lead truck pulled even with him. The passenger rolled down his window as Matt looked up.

“Lost?” the guy asked.

Matt smiled as he straightened. He was wearing a faded FBI t-shirt.

“Nah, we just stopped to stretch our legs. It was a long drive down from Quantico,” Matt said.

The guy glanced over at the sleeping Rick. “It doesn’t look like he’s getting much exercise.”

“Never mind Rick; he just came off a big bust. We picked him up from the office. He was worried he might miss this fishing trip, so he worked late finishing his paperwork. I meant my other guys. Call of nature, you understand,” Matt said, with a tilt of his head toward the trees.

The man leaned over to speak with his own driver as Matt started folding up his map. He’d obliquely informed the men he was law enforcement and wasn’t alone. The next move was theirs. From the number of trucks he saw, he only wished he’d brought more men. When the passenger turned back to him, Matt spoke first.

“Where are all of you off to?” Matt asked casually. “I can’t help but notice you’re together with all of these other trucks,” Matt gestured to the line of vehicles.

Drawing the man’s eyes away with the arm movement, he pulled his weapon with his other hand. He felt better holding the familiar grip. He may spend more time riding a desk these days, it didn’t mean he’d lost any of his skills.

“What makes you assume we’re together?” the man asked suspiciously.

Matt gave him a
get real
look.

“This is an empty highway; all of you are obviously driving together. Besides that, none of the vehicles in the back of the line has tried to pass. So, I’m asking you again, where are you all going? I’m going to have to insist on an answer.”

“Last time I noticed, this was a free country. You’re a federal cop, and you don’t have any jurisdiction here,” said the man, his voice rising as he got angry.

A few men had left their trucks down the line. Rick stirred, stretching his arms as if he were waking up from a deep sleep. In fact, he’d been awake, aware and alert the entire time. Their SUV was especially equipped for surveillance. The windows could be clear the way they were now, or at the touch of a button, darken. Every camera and microphone had become active as soon as the other truck had pulled up. Rick had merely pressed a button on the remote in his hand.

Matt just laughed. “Sir, you are correct. I am a federal cop, and you’re sitting in a National Forest. You are smack dab in the middle of
my
jurisdiction.” His voice grew hard. “Answer my question. What are you men up to? And I say men, because I don’t see any women or children in your group.”

When one of the men who’d left his vehicle walked toward the tree line, Rick opened the passenger door. The open door effectively screened Matt from the new possible threat. He leaned his head to the side without sticking it out like a target.

“Hey, boss, what’s up?” Rick called out.

Without taking his eyes off the man still sitting in the truck—who had yet to answer his questions—Matt filled Rick in, pretending he hadn’t just heard it all over his earpiece.

Suddenly without warning, the lead truck roared forward and spun, blocking Matt’s SUV. The second and third trucks started to leave, gunning their engines. Bullets to their tires caused one truck to flip and roll; the next one rammed into the spinning truck even as it tried to evade. George was doing what he did best.

“This is the FBI! Put your hands up and exit the vehicle,” Matt shouted, aiming his gun at the other truck.

“Death to the animals!” shouted a voice.

At his shout, men sprouted guns and started shooting. Outmanned and outgunned, the situation became a firefight. Matt was really glad his SUV was bulletproof. Rick had hopped into the back seat and opened the rear door, which enabled Matt to work his way in between the two doors. He traded in his handgun for an automatic rifle.

Rick jumped out. From the waist down, he’d already been wearing tactical gear. Now he’d put on his vest and helmet, along with ammo packs and his M4 Carbine.

“Matt, get your gear on, I’ve got your back!” he yelled out.

It wasn’t necessary. Matt quickly threw on his vest and equipment while Rick held off anyone from getting too close. George was also making his shots count. They weren’t trying to kill, just immobilize. They needed people they could arrest. If all they wound up with was a pile of dead bodies, the press would crucify the “evil” Feds. Matt was grateful these assholes weren’t hiding behind women and children.

Some of the trucks around the bend at the end of the convoy had turned around and sped off when the shooting started. Matt hoped there were other people who could pick them up. He made a call on his radio to a contact in Mill Point, instructing them to put up the road block where Highway 150 intersected with Highway 55. Others were already stationed on the smaller side roads. The Society had hoped to box them in. But the good guys had built a bigger box.

When the shooters realized there were snipers in the trees, and the snipers weren’t theirs, many tried to escape. Some, acting fanatically, started pulling large balls of barbed wire filled with sticks out of their truck beds.

Matt and his men were able to stop this group from setting fire to the forest. An explosion from down the road told another tale altogether. Soon after that, the fighters all surrendered. They had realized they were in a crossfire from both sides of the road. They didn’t know how many men Matt had…luckily.

Laying down their arms, some of them already screaming for medical care, they gave up. They believed they had won. The forest would burn and the others in their organization would succeed. The two men from the lead truck were both dead, as were five others, including the ones in the two trucks that had crashed. Six were wounded. Rick kept them all covered as Matt went around and disarmed them one by one, cataloging their arms with his shoulder camera as he cuffed them with zip ties. He then bound them together at the elbows and ankles, so it would be difficult for one man to break away if he got free.

The pile of guns and knives was growing by the minute. The bad guys hadn’t come equipped with too much ammo, though. They hadn’t expected any resistance on their mission. One of the prisoners spoke up when Matt stripped him of weapons and bound him up.

“Smell that—the forest is burning. You can’t leave us all sitting here like this. You have to get us out. Our lawyers will have a field day; this is cruel and unusual treatment,” he said.