Bevel watched the men go, muttered a curse, and then sat down on a stone near the water's edge. He laid his rifle across his lap and fished into his shirt pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Maddock tensed. At the instant the man's hands were fully occupied, his attention focused on lighting his smoke, Maddock pounced.
He covered the space between them in less than a second. By the time Bevel realized someone else was there, Maddock had his gloved hand clamped firmly over the man's mouth, the keen blade of his knife pressing down hard on his exposed throat.
“You make a single loud sound or try to fight me, and I open your throat,” he whispered. “Don’t doubt me. I’ve killed better men than you. Blink once if you understand.” Bevel blinked one time, and rolled his wide eyes back, trying to catch a glimpse of Maddock. “I'm going to uncover your mouth so you can answer my questions. If you, move, cry out, or even talk too loudly, I'll gag you, cut your Achilles tendons so you can’t run, and kill you as painfully as possible.” Privately, Maddock doubted he could bring himself to torture someone, but Bevel didn’t know that. “Blink once if you understand me.” The man blinked, still trying to see who held him from behind, and Maddock removed his hand. “Are you hunting my friend?”
“N-no.”
Maddock pressed the knife harder against the man's neck.
“Yes. Don't cut me. Please.” Bevel’s voice was a desperate whisper and his entire body trembled.
“Why are you doing this?”
“It's j-jist what we do. All we got around here are deer, maybe a bear or a mountain lion sometimes. It ain't no challenge. People are more fun.”
“You've done this before?” Maddock's stomach clenched and it was all he could do not to open the idiot's throat right then. “How many times?”
“A bunch. It’s sort of a… tradition in these parts for generations. Nowadays the ranger is the point man. He lets Carter know when someone’s going to be up here and he tells us. When we get the word, we drop everything and come quick.”
Maddock couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s the only reason? Some sick hillbilly tradition?”
Bevel’s eyes narrowed at that, but he seemed to lack the courage to retort. “Carter’s got a special interest in this place. He always asks them questions before he hunts them. It’s like he thinks one of them has information he needs.”
“What sorts of questions?”
Bevel considered this. “He always wants to know if they’re looking for something. I think somebody wants Carter to find something up here but he can’t. He’s been all around with a metal detector.”
That was interesting. Was this related to the search for Esau’s treasure? That was a subject for another time. “Are you telling me the police haven't investigated all these missing people?”
Bevel barked a short laugh. “Nothing to investigate. Eddings drives up here, takes a look around, and tells the authorities a story. They always chalk it up to lost hikers, careless folk killed by animals, or bad falls.”
“No one's ever gotten away to tell what the hell you're doing up here?”
“Not a one. We always get ‘em.” Bevel man smirked, unapologetic in the face of death. “They’ll get you too if you try anything.”
Maddock's blood ran hot. “You've never hunted a SEAL before, have you?”
“A seal? We ain't got no seals around here. Maybe some otters. What do you think this is, California?”
“A Navy SEAL, you idiot. My friend was one, and so was I. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.”
If Bevel had been pale before, his face went snow white at this new piece of information.
Maddock’s thoughts raced. Should he just kill the man now? No. He would tie him up with his own shoelaces, gag him with his socks, and stow him in the back of the truck. Then he would take the rifle and go after Bones.
“I'm going to remove this knife from your throat. When I do, I want you to very slowly get face-down on the ground. No noise, no sudden movements. You get me?”
“I hear you.”
Maddock released his grip on Bevel but kept his knife at the ready. He moved around in front of Bevel and prompted him to get down on the ground. Bevel complied, sinking to his knees.
And that was when he made a fatal mistake.
Bevel lurched to one side, rolling over and coming up with a .22 caliber pistol. Maddock was on him before he could pull the trigger, pinning his gun hand to the ground and burying his knife in Bevel’s heart. Just to be safe, he covered Bevel's mouth and nose, and waited for him to expire. It was a grisly kill, but one Maddock had tried to avoid. When he was sure the man was dead, Maddock relieved him of his pistol and his ammunition belt, which held spare bullets both for the hunting rifle and the pistol.
He dragged Bevel's body into the reeds and hastily covered it over with mud and debris. When the next man came to take his turn at guard duty, hopefully that person would assume Bevel had grown impatient and joined the hunt early, and therefore not grow suspicious. Maddock and Bones were going to need every advantage they could get.
His pulse pounding, he slipped on the ammunition belt, tucked the pistol inside his suit, hefted the rifle, and set out on a little hunting expedition of his own.
Chapter 10
Dry leaves crackled underfoot as Bones ran. Dark green foliage flashed by in his peripheral vision. Low hanging branches swatted him and undergrowth snatched at his ankles.
When you’re waiting in a doctor's office, five minutes takes freaking forever. When you're being hunted by a bunch of inbreeders, it flies by.
Strangely, Bones was not frightened. Perhaps it was due to the surreal nature of the situation in which he found himself. Of course, this was far from the first time his life had been in danger, and he'd always come out alive. Deep inside, he always assumed things would somehow turn out all right.
Now he kept his eyes peeled as he dashed through the woods, looking for something that could give him an advantage. He stopped to pick up a few fist-sized stones and stuff them into his pockets. He kept moving, and soon he found himself running along the base of a twenty-foot rock wall. This could be it.
He hastily spied out cracks and outcroppings that would serve as handholds, and clambered up. It wasn't an easy climb, but scaling rock walls was one of his specialties. Aside from Maddock, few could keep up with him on a free climb. Bones could scale a wall that others would consider impossible to climb. His pursuers would never look for him up here. In short order, he was at the top and hidden in a thicket of hemlock. He waited, all his senses alive and attuned to every sound, every motion in the forest.
He was rewarded in a matter of minutes. A bearded man in a John Deere cap came trotting along the base of the cliff. It was one of those who had arrived last. Bones did not know his name and didn’t care. As the man passed below him, Bones rose up and flung one of the stones he had picked up as hard as he could down onto the passer-by.
The missile struck the man on the crown of his head, and with a surprised grunt, he crumpled to the ground. After looking around for other hunters and seeing none, Bones climbed back down to where the man lay. He rolled the fellow over onto his back and removed his cap to reveal a split scalp and a deep indentation that indicated a fractured skull. The wound was probably fatal, but Bones couldn't take the chance that the man would come after him. After all, this guy had been hunting him like an animal and would have shot him for the sheer pleasure of it if he’d gotten the chance.
Bones growled at the memory of the men taunting him, laughing as they sent him running into the woods. He dragged the dying man off the trail and bound him to a tree with his own belt. The man would probably die there very soon, but Bones didn’t care. These were no longer human beings to him. They were targets to be eliminated.