THE PAIN… The pain was so unbearable yet he did not lose consciousness. He was being sucked through this dark tunnel. There was no light at either end but it was just light enough to know he was in a tunnel. It was the same effect as those science shows that showed theoretical travel through wormholes. Time was nonexistent. Yet he seemed to be falling, traveling forever. And the pain continued. Finally, he did lose consciousness. When he awoke he found himself on the side of the mountain he had crossed to enter the valley. There was a hat on his lap with a few blue berries in it and the weather was lousy. He jumped to his feet. It had all been a dream. He had fallen asleep after taking a break and lunching on the berries. Again he had suffered through one of the realistic nightmares that almost drove him to insanity. The dream in prison had saved his life as events revealed themselves to him that kept him from making those fatal mistakes. Could this be the harbinger to prevent the same fate befalling on him if he took a misstep. He did not ignore the dream when he had it in prison. He would not ignore it now. He continued on across the side of the mountain. His thoughts on the possibilities of dropping off the mountain before he intended had passed with the dream. He knew if he went into any valley before reaching the far side of the mountain range he would die.
He continued on at the higher elevations and actually made better time than he ever imagined he could. He had been out on his own for 2 weeks now and other than for never being warm enough he managed quite well. He was proud of himself and all he had learned when he applied himself at the prison. He even would sometimes pass the time wondering what his life would be like if he had applied himself so judiciously in his early life. He in all likelihood would not be on the run now.
He had done it. There were no more hills in front of him. It was all down hill from here. He had not seen a single search vehicle or aircraft of any kind during his entire escape. He was half way down the mountain when he saw the vehicle. He knew at this distance he would be invisible. He watched as what appeared to be a pickup truck dragging a trailer over rough road. It slowly and laboriously crawled through the treacherous low spots that made up the obviously non-maintained road. Where ever the trailer went he watched and waited. It was obvious whoever was bringing the trailer would be parked for at least a day or why bother. There would be things he could use including the truck. Even though he had suffered and developed beyond his wildest belief through this experience, he was still on the run. He watched the truck draw closer and then just as it was getting dusk, the headlights shut down and the vehicle stopped. He couldn’t be more than 3 miles away from them.
The walking was easy as he moved down the old game trail that wound around the base of the mountain. It was headed right towards his rendezvous with whomever may be there at the campsite, now glowing in the dark from a growing camp fire. He could hear them talking as he moved through the brush. He moved stealthily now. He was amazed at the sharpness of his woods skills. He found a break in the underbrush that finally gave him the chance to see the fire and the people around it. He was well back in the shadows so he was not concerned about being observed. There were two men sitting there by the fire and one younger child, maybe 11 or 12. The one man was old enough to be the father of the other man. He thought about it. Father and son and grandson? Father and two sons? From viewing them and seeing how they were relating to each other there was no doubt about them being family. Their conversation involved birthdays and family functions and how this was the first real hunting trip for the boy. GunKid thought about that. They would have firearms for sure. Now, how to get them and every thing else without becoming part of the game.
The boy went to bed at around 9:00. The two men sat around the fire and talked about the next days hunt while they nursed their beers. He could smell the alcohol as its scent came to him downwind. He would kill for a beer, it had been so long. HE smiled to himself as they indulged themselves. So far away from civilization and the encroachment of others and their disapproving glares the men could let their hair down a little and put on just a nice comfortable buzz before retiring for the night. Why not? They were the only ones around for miles. The older man finally had enough and said he was going to retire. He walked over towards his hiding spot and at first he feared he had been spotted. But that was not the case. He just looked for a place to relieve the pressure on his bladder before retiring. GK was right on his estimation of the group. The “good night dad” made all their relationships quite clear. The last remaining man at the fire was the one he worried about the most. He was younger and maybe stronger then he might be though all the training he endured prior to his flight might not make it so. He only had the makeshift knives he found on the shale piles for a weapon. They had guns.
The man at the fire had 3 more beers before he rose, a little unstable on his feet. He moved to where his dad had done his thing before retiring. Evidently they had agreed on that spot for taking care of business. The Kid moved like a cat on sand. Even if he hadn’t been half drunk the result may not have been different. The Kid stepped in behind the man as he concentrated on his answering nature without him knowing he was there. Instead of killing him though he reversed the stone and brought it down on the back of the mans head knocking him senseless. He quickly went through his pockets and found a small knife, the usual pocket clutter and wallet. He stuck the wallet in his pocket for later. He removed the mans belt and tied his hands behind his back although he didn’t think he would come out of it right away if he ever did. When he pulled the belt a surprise dropped to the ground in front of him. The man had been wearing an inside the pants holster for a small revolver. It was a model 36 S&W.
He checked it and it was loaded. He stuffed a rag into the mans mouth so he couldn’t cry out and he moved to the trailer door. As he stepped inside he saw it was a very rudimentary home made kind of set up. The lighting from the Coleman lantern let him see there were 3 cots on the floor for sleeping and a kitchen area. He walked up to grandpa and slugged him while he was sleeping. The child never moved. All the camping gear and rifles were in the far corner of the small room. He walked over and went though the gear. In the dim light he managed to find a Remington 742 30’06 and a box of ammo. He popped out the magazine and loaded up. With his power over the situation well in hand he dragged gramps outside and using some rope he found he hogtied father and son using the knots he learned in the SAS survival book. Both men had remained completely unconscious during that time.
He pondered the situation. Should he leave the kid alone for now or tie him with the others? After a half a heartbeat he knew what he had to do. He went inside and woke the kid who recoiled in terror at seeing the stranger in the trailer and no one else there. Half dragging him he threw him to the ground next to his prostrate relatives and told him not to scream or “he’d get it” just like they did. But if he kept quiet and didn’t fuss he wouldn’t gag him but he did tie him up. Feeling some pang of humanity the last thing he did before retiring to the trailer was to throw a blanket over the child and then he pick a cot and went to sleep.
HE awoke with a start. It was daylight. Outside the trailer he could hear the kid trying to talk to his dad and grandpa. The Kid had learned his knots well. No one had budged from where he left them the night before. He walked to the two now conscious men and removed the gags. They started to protest but he stopped them with a wave from the .38. He told them to talk only when spoken to and everything would be all right. He questioned the men for the next half hour. He found that the old forest service road had been abandoned several years before. He found out that they were almost another 40 miles from any real road or highway and another 20 miles to the nearest town after that. The men were just starting a 2 week long hunting trip and that the plans had been for the boy’s grandfather to hunt around the area with the boy while the father took off and did some camping hunting up in the mountains. He had been doing it for years. The keys were in the truck. They repeatedly told him to take the truck and just leave them. It would take days for them to get out to where they could get help. He would be safe and there was no need to hurt anyone. The Kid agreed with them and told them that if they behaved that is exactly what would happen. He then went to the trailer so in the light of day he could see what he could find.
In the daylight he could see much better what the trailer had to offer. He lit the little cook stove and started some coffee. While it was warming up he started going through the piles of gear. They may have traveled on the cheap but they didn’t slack on the gear. Everything was top notch. As he tossed off a sleeping bag he saw it. It sent a charge through him like an electric shock. The backpack on the floor was identical to the one he had seen in his dream. He opened it up and stared rummaging inside of it. Maps, a compass, freeze dried food, cooking utensils… it was all there. The only thing missing was the .38, but he already had that. NO, it didn’t make sense. When he found the bag it had been there for weeks if not years. It couldn’t be the same. He walked back outside. Looking at the younger man he asked him “Where were you going to hunt?” The man replied “two valleys over there is an old campers cabin I use for a base and it is loaded with deer and the occasional bear. If I get something I call a friend of mine and he will meet me with some horses and help me get it out. If you are looking for a hideout, I can take you there. Just let my son and dad go.” He was in a different world as he just half acknowledged the man’s offer. “No, it just didn’t make sense” he thought as he walked back into the trailer to find the coffee boiling where he had forgotten it. “It just can’t be the same one, the same guy. It didn’t make sense.”
He took his time as he plundered the campsite for everything of value and worth. He scored fairly well for a random luck contact. Between them the men had several hundred dollars in cash. There were several more guns and ammo. The camping gear was worth a small fortune. As he looked for other items to steal he would quiz the men ignoring their protests for release and seek their help in finding all of value, constantly reminding them there was a big difference between being left as they were or being left with their hands free. About 2 hours later and he was ready to go. He had all of the goods safely tucked under the camper top in the back of the pickup away from prying eyes and he had everyone’s ID and other necessary papers.
Throughout the morning he noticed that he even looked a fair amount like the man on the ground. Although, he didn’t know if he could get used to the name of Rodney Lehe. It did have a catchy ring to it though. He jacked up the trailer and released the hitch to the truck. He turned the truck around and had it pointed out when he got back out of the truck and asked them if there was anything he could do for them before he left. As he did so he looked off to the woods and with a look of surprise on his face he said “Hey look at the deer.” As the boy turned to look out of reflex he shot the boy in the back of the head with the .38. His father screamed out in anguish and was in the middle of a curse when the Kid walked up and kicked him across the face and stopped the man in mid word. He looked down at the man in shock and said “This doesn’t matter. You were going to be a dead man anyway.” Then he shot him almost between the eyes. The elderly man had not uttered a sound during the first two shootings. As tears welled up in his eyes he looked at the Kid and said “What are you waiting for? Please kill me now so I don’t have to deal with what you have done to the only family I have.” He then turned his head and closed his eyes. He replied “Sure pops, notta problem.” Then shot the man through the back of his head.
Next was the question, to bury or not to bury. He thought it out. Burying meant time and it meant work. It also meant they would be harder to find. But, he was a con on the run. If anybody found him with their stuff it wouldn’t matter anyway. They would eventually find them as he sat in prison. He took one more look at the dead men and then he noticed the shiny object on a chain around Rodney’s neck. He looked closer and saw it was a medic alert emblem. Shaken…He walked back to the truck and started down the trail road as the bodies started to cool in the morning sun.
He wrestled with the truck in the soft sandy road. He had to admit, he had never had to drive anything as big and lumbering as this truck in his life nor had he ever had to navigate under such bad road conditions. Several times he had almost stuck it in sand pits. He couldn’t believe the skill it must have taken to get that trailer back to where it was. Now he could actually see the next road off in the distance and with carelessness born of haste he plunged into the last low spot only to get out of the tire cuts and bog in the sand. Stuck, as solidly as if he were cemented into place. He got out to see if he could dig it free and to see if he could find some logs or sticks to get under the tires.
The ranger was doing his usual patrol thing. When you are named “Richard” and you happen to be a park ranger you had to have a great sense of humor in life. He countered the jabs with going out of his way to be helpful in his life. As he made his rounds he saw the motionless vehicle off in the distance. It was a surprise to see it there. He knew that truck even from that range as there were so few people who would chance the back country trails with a full size vehicle. Jeeps, the old Land Rovers, smaller Broncos and Blazers sure and of course the Hummer drivers were fearless in the area, but running a pickup just was not smart unless you were really good and had 4WD. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name but he and his dad had been coming there for several years to get way into the back country and he never needed help before. This year he had his kid with him for his first real big hunt and it was really great to see the adults almost as excited as the kid. They had stopped and talked to him as he worked on one of the picnic areas before they headed off into the wilderness just to let him know they were going back on the old trail. It really wasn’t a park service responsibility any more for that road but it was a slow day and he did just happen to have what they dubbed the Park Service retriever vehicle. A one ton Chevy 3500HD dually 4WD with air lockers so everything turned and with the 12,000Lb winch on the front. He pulled onto the old trail, engaged the 4WD and started to help the family who he knew would be in the vehicle.
The Kid saw the park truck coming from a ways off. Keeping down any panic he figured it would be just natural for the park service to come to the aid of a stuck driver. He would just keep his cool and if the park guy wanted to know where the vehicle owner was after a paper check he would just tell him he was back at camp and that he was just going out on a supply run. He would play it by ear. He kept working on freeing the truck. The ranger brought the big truck to a halt as he saw a man working on freeing the truck. The Kid turned and waved a big friendly wave. The ranger saw it wasn’t the owner and he knew he wasn’t traveling with them when they went into the wilderness, but there was something familiar about the man, he just couldn’t place it. He got out and asked if he could help and then asked where was the owner? The directness of the question shook him. How did he know he wasn’t the owner? It threw his planned calm demeanor right out the window. He stumbled for a second and then said what he originally planned. All the other folks were back there at the camp and they found they needed some stuff and he volunteered for the job. The tone of his voice though was not what it should have been. Mentally he thought “dammit, he was going to have to kill this pig. There was something wrong and he knew it.” Still trying to sport a winning smile he turned slightly as he was talking and he was still answering the ranger when the .38 came from his pocket and he turned and started to fire.
The ranger was already mentally in condition “yellow” when he saw the man he expected to see was not driving. The story was not clicking Then there was the way the man was holding himself and turning with the arm motion on the far side of his body. Suddenly his subconscious SCREAMED at his conscious mind GUN!!!!!. The ranger was half a heartbeat behind the curve. The .38 145gr Remington hollowpoint slammed into him just about 2 finger widths below his sternum. It was followed less than a second later by another hitting 3 inches higher above the first due to the recoil of the light revolver. The second shot to hit him was fired almost at the exact second he got off his first shot. The .230gr Speer Golddot .45 hit the Kid below the rib area as it plowed an ever increasing sized path through the Kid’s internal organs, splitting a kidney and his liver before exiting out his back leaving a gaping exit wound. The second .45 hole appeared at just below the sternum as he was now on an angle from the first hit and the round tore a path through his left lung, slammed into the ribs near his spine and then the bullet took a chunk of the rib bone driving out the back. The third .45 entered just under his right nipple as the Kid continued spinning from the reaction to being struck. The round tore a chunk from the right lung and blew out the left ventricle of the heart before coming to rest almost penetrating the left scapula. He finished his spin back where he started facing the ranger as his knees started to buckle. He was dead a long time before he finally hit the ground, on his back, staring unsighted up into the heavens.
The ranger raised the safety on the Colt 1911. He covered the prostrate figure on the ground. There was no movement, no signs of respiration taking place. As he stared at the face looking up at him frozen in death he remembered where he had seen the man before. It was on the flyer from the prison about some escapee. Nobody ever dreamed someone could come over the mountains. As he finally stabilized himself he took several deep breaths while he went over rolled the dead man over on his face and cuffed the hands behind his back. Never let down your guard he had been trained. He almost had too far. With his prisoner secured he started to check himself for injuries. None. He would have to remember to write a nice letter of thanks to the people at Armor Express in Michigan and tell them what a great job their body armor did for him. He thought of the truck in front of him and the family it belonged to and was not hopeful. “Maybe the guy wasn’t such a bad guy after all and just left them back there OK” he thought to himself. In a few hours the State police helicopter would report otherwise.
The Kid looked at the ranger looking down at the prostrate form on the ground. It was as if he was floating on a cloud above it all taking it all in. This time there was no pain, no dark tunnel. It had to be another dream. Then it was a blur of dimensions. He was moving, but not through space or even time, it was through worlds that seemed to be existing he had never even seen before where other creatures existed and lived in places of strange madness. Then he came to a stop in a large dark hall that held over billion people, all seated at tables and not making a sound. He became aware of a presence. He turned and looked directly into the face of Satan.
The sharp features, the red skin, The demon was complete including the horns and tail. The creature spoke to him. “You see me this way because that is the way you were taught I would look and I am different to every soul. Those others behind you all see me differently. It is the simple matter that each mind has created its own demon and its own hell. Those are the ones waiting for their judgment not realizing their fears of what will come is the punishment they will live for eternity. They sit quietly in their fears hoping they will never be called to me for judgment they have already received. Others are sent to the pits, others to some other destination they create for themselves. Those at the tables… they will sit there patiently in terror with their minds choosing the most horrible of fates and experiencing them because of their weakness. You on the other hand are different. Your test showed your path.” The Kid felt nothing. There was no pain. There was no pit of fire before him. He was lucid enough to ask “What test?” “On that mountain when you felt you had developed self worth you had a moment of reflection and introspective of yourself that made you a subject for redemption. Your moment of revelation meant you had depth that made you different than those you see waiting. Your test was in the family you slaughtered to see to your own selfish needs. The test revealed your true self. Only the truly great and worthy ever descend into the pits. You are worthy.” Before he could even think of a response the floor dissolved below him and he felt himself falling into an atmosphere of searing pain beyond anything he ever experienced even in his dreams. He could feel the flesh burning but it would not be consumed. Before his mind reverted to pure animal fear of the pain he thought “eternity will be a long time.” Then the madness of the pain took over all thought process. All that was left for him to do was scream.
HE came awake startled by what sounded like the scream of a thousand banshees. Then he realized it was coming from him. His body cried out to him from the pain of the muscle contortions he had been experiencing while trying to escape in his dream. His eyes started to focus and slowly he brought his respirations down to reduce the hyperventilation and his heart rate slowed from the staccato beat it had been keeping in his chest. He looked around. He was in his cabin in the little valley. He looked around and he saw the backpack on the floor. Was he crazy? What was happening? He got up and moved around. He opened the front door and he froze in mid step as he saw the remains of a large hornets nest in pieces on the ground. He moved back inside and slammed the door shut. That was not there when he went to bed. That was from the first bad dream.
His mind was racing at what it meant. His dreams had saved his life. His dreams had guided him on how to survive and get away. This was all wrong. He knew he couldn’t be dreaming this. What did it mean? His dream had warned him of the acts that would cause his death if he escaped as he originally planned. They guided him to this place. Yet at the same time his dream on the hill warned him about not entering the valley because when he would try to leave he would be killed. But if he did not enter the valley and went ahead he would be killed by the ranger. What was the answer? Besides he was already in the valley. What could he do now? OR, was this all a dream now and would he awake back in prison, or at the trailer, or… or…? The thought process was maddening to him. One thing for sure. He could never leave the valley until he had it figured out. He continued on with his trapping and fishing trying to figure out what was happening. He finally fell a sleep still wondering.
THE PAIN… The pain. He awoke to an intense pain and someone screaming in his ear “Paybacks are a bitch.” His eyes opened and as he grabbed in reflex at the location of the pain his hands filled with blood from the gaping wound the prison shank had caused. Vinny Lamberra was standing over him next to his bunk. Vinny looked at him and said “die punk” and he stabbed him twice more before dropping the shiv to the floor and walking out of the cell. He struggled to rise from the bunk as the blood flowed from his wounds. There was no doubt in his mind now it had all been a dream. THIS… This was real. He had to get to the corridor so the guards would see him. He made the door and the guard in the tower post saw him leaving a blood trail as he dragged himself out and across the floor. He heard the lockdown horn echoing through the halls. There was a flurry of activity as the guards arrived with a gurney and he was rushed to the infirmary. He was bleeding out as the medics and the old prison doctor worked feverishly to stop the major bleeders. The pain was intense. Cutting instruments didn’t impart shock except though the loss of blood. As he fogged on the edge of consciousness at least he finally had his answer. He was still in prison. He drifted on the edge then slipped over into unconsciousness into that long dark tunnel.
THE PAIN… The pain was so intense as he started to come out of whatever they had done to him to repair the damage the knife attack had done. He forced himself to recover. He forced himself to full awake and as he laid there with his eyes closed breathing deeply the pain subsided. If fact it went away completely. He opened his eyes and saw the cabin roof above him. He almost leaped from the bed in a start. He broke into a heavy cold sweat. He needed fresh air. He opened the door to the cabin and as he walked out he noticed the remnants of the hive were missing. The previous day hadn’t really existed at all. That had been a dream. The return to prison had been a dream. The descent into hell had of course all been a dream. He was back at his cabin. A cabin and survival all the result of him paying attention to his dreams. He couldn’t stand it. Was he growing mad? What could he do? Was there a bear waiting for him when he tried to leave or not? Was there a family camping on the other side of the mountains or not? He didn’t know. What he did know for sure was that there was a bear out there waiting for him to leave… he thought, wasn’t there? Can he leave if he wanted? For the next few days he played it out in his mind every waking moment was tearing at him. The nights were filled with the terror of the same dreams coming back to torment him. He realized he was going mad. He couldn’t take it anymore. Anything, even the pit would be a reprieve to where he was now. Satan was right. The greatest punishment was the fear of what might happen, not what would happen. He walked out of the cabin and looked up at the sky one more time. Then he put the little .38 to his head and pulled the trigger.
There was no pain to it at first. Then it was intense, but not at his head. It was in his intestines. He opened his eyes and saw Vinny Lamberra standing over him and he was being stabbed. There was no escape from Vinny and his knife. Was he in hell in madness, forever doomed to replay out his fears and futures all intertwined with his dreams, and NEVER knowing where or what was real and what was not? Always with the hope of salvation but never having it happen? He fought for his life. No, that could not be his fate. He fought to live. In pain, he was sucked into the long dark tunnel.
The doctors looked down from the gallery as they watched the Kid tossing and twitching on his hospital bed. The restraint straps kept him from tearing out the feed lines and the catheter. The head physician for the clinic advised the new flock of “terns” that this was an unusual case. “Evidently the man had taken some sort of prison brewed LSD and shortly after that he fell into a coma. EEGs indicate he is in a constant state of mental activity and agitation. It is unknown right now if or when he may recover, if ever. We have tried every known drug to counter the effects but nothing is working. His physical needs are accommodated with nothing other than standard treatment as given to any coma patient. And, since he is in a constant state of physical agitation there is no need for physical therapy. Maybe in the future someone will come up with a drug to counter his situation but for now…”
He let his voice trail off, and then, as he moved to the next patient,
GunKid awoke on the side of the mountain, blue berries in his hat…
The escape pt. 3
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