“Yes. Slower. There must be some kind of path, goat trail, farm trail, whatever. It may only be a driveway, or it may take us to the next valley over. Whatever it is, it’ll buy us half an hour, maybe more. We’ve got a Jeep, so we can do some cross-country traveling. We’ve got weapons, and I’ve got American money, which may also buy us some time. All we need is a telephone. Or to get into cell range, I guess, since I grabbed that guy’s phone. We need to communicate, one way or another, the contents of the last message to the Embassy. They’ll handle the rest. And maybe they can come pick us up afterward.”
Jennifer looked over at Richard. For a messed up addict, he did sometimes show flashes of brilliance. Maybe that was the Richard of old, before his eyes went, before he tanked a plane, before divorce one and divorce two, and before the drugs. There was certainly a lot of sadness in his eyes.
“Will do, Richard. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Yes, but we should turn right, not left. Downhill is to the right. Our chances are better if we turn right,” said Richard, slurring his words again.
A nerve-racking five minutes followed. Once they thought they saw a trail to the right and backed up, but it had been a trick of shadows. They saw a couple of trails to the left, but ignored those. Their anxiety sharpened, and they stopped talking completely. This had become a life and death exercise, and death would likely be short on palliative care.
“There,” barked Richard. “Right there. Sharp right, Jen. Now.”
Jennifer almost flipped the Jeep turning, but she managed to right it, and they found themselves on a narrow, heavily rutted trail. They pulled ahead 20 feet.
“Cut the lights, Jen. We go forward in the dark. Give your eyes a minute to adjust. Then keep going ahead, slowly.”
They edged along in the darkness. Five minutes later, they heard the roar of the other Jeeps as they raced downhill, chasing a gopher that had just bolted into a different hole.
Jennifer continued to creep along the mountain trail, drawing farther and farther away from the main road. Occasionally the trail widened enough that two vehicles would be able to pass each other, only to narrow again to a trail so closed off that cedar and pine trees slapped against the windshield and sides of the Jeep as they drove. The trail would climb, then descend, and appeared to move through the valley opposite a fast-flowing mountain creek, on the other side of what appeared to be the main road.
An hour went by, then two. The Jeep continued on its slow journey, heading toward what they hoped to be the valley floor. Tiny twinkling lights could be seen in the distance. Little hamlets in the Frontier Province, perhaps friendly, perhaps not. All they needed was a telephone, or a cell signal. All they needed was 30 seconds of conversation, and the looming catastrophe could be averted.
Richard was not doing well. His head was throbbing, and the pain had moved on to a full-blown migraine. He stretched every once in a while, to ease the spasms in his back. He’d long since realized that the medication wasn’t helping, but continued to take more pills from time to time. The pain had almost completely taken over, and he was starting to have more complex conversations with Zak’s tibia. Jennifer had to stop the Jeep twice, as Richard retched and vomited violently. Then more moaning. More Vicodin. She was astounded at the sheer volume of medication the man was consuming.
“Richard, you’ve got a problem there. You need to detox and get in a program somewhere,” she said at one point.
“Bullshit, Jennifer. There’s nothing wrong with me other than the blinding pain in my head, thanks to a couple of shots from that bastard and smashing my own head into a stone wall back in that dungeon, oh, I’d say five or six times. I’ve had migraines all my life, and I’ve got one now. Don’t lecture me unless you’ve walked a mile or two in my shoes.” He shouted out the last words in a whisper, managing somehow to remember that they were trying to hide.
“Yes, that may be true. But it’s still one hell of a pile of meds, and powerful stuff to boot. Vicodin is addictive. I think you need some help,” she continued. “Your road’s going to lead straight to a heroin addiction if you’re not careful.”
“Go fuck yourself, Jen. We may be dead here. Look at the lights on the other side of that canyon. They’re looking for us. Those guys will have us for breakfast. I don’t know about you, but when that moment comes, I would like to be very, very stoned.”
“Richard, you cannot give up like that. You used to be the best of the best. I need you to get back to that. I need you alert and helping me, if we’re going to get out of this mess,” Jennifer snapped.
Richard knew she was right. He knew that he needed to stay sharp if he was going to come through this. If he was going to bring his partner through safely. But the pain and stress were overwhelming. He was squinting his eyes constantly now because it hurt too much to open them all the way. He could count his heartbeats by the surge of the blood pounding through his temples.
“Jen, I will come through when you need me,” he mumbled. “I can promise you that. I just can’t stay sharp every second. Give me a break, here.”
“Whatever,” she retorted, and continued to focus on the goat trail ahead of her.
Another hour passed, and the night sky started surrendering to a pink pre-dawn glow on their right. They kept driving — there was no time to rest or contemplate the beauty of the early morning. Jennifer was about to make a comment about the dawn when the Jeep’s engine missed a few beats, restarted, missed a few more strokes, and died. Richard, who appeared to be fading in and out of consciousness, roused himself enough to note the change.
“What’s up?” Richard asked. “Restart it.”
“Out of gas. It was inevitable. And dawn is just over the horizon. By now those drug guys will have searched every inch of that road. They’ll know we turned off. They may be on this trail as we speak. We’ve got to keep moving, Richard.”
“Which way?”
She looked up at a draw leading between two high hills. According to the sunrise, that would be east.
“That way,” she said, pointing up.
“No Jen, there’s very little vegetation up there. No cover that way.”
“It’s our only choice. When they find the Jeep they’ll send a team downstream, along this trail, right away. That would be the logical way for us to go,” she replied. “So logically, we can’t take it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “But before we start our trek, let’s hide the Jeep. See that little ravine, there?” he said, pointing. “Let’s push the Jeep down that way, and cover it up some. They’ll find it eventually, but it may save us an hour or two.”
“Good idea,” said Jennifer. Together they put their shoulders to the Jeep, and pushed it into the ravine. Jennifer hopped down after it, and arranged grass and brush to cover it. As she climbed out of the ravine, she was nearly knocked over by Richard, rushing down after the vehicle.
“Wait!” he shouted. “I left Zak in the Jeep. I can’t leave him. I can’t leave Zak.”
Before Jennifer could stop him, he had jumped back into the ravine where they’d hidden the Jeep. “Richard, you idiot! It’s just a bone. It might not even be Zak’s. We don’t have time for this. Please!”
He ignored her, and disappeared from view. She could hear him rustling and cursing at the bottom of the ravine. Ten minutes passed before he finally returned with his grisly memento.
Jennifer was jogging in place when he got back, itching to be gone. “Richard, I’ve been thinking. I got in a few words to Buckingham just before we were nailed. He knows that we’re in trouble. The cavalry’s coming. We just need to stay alive a few more hours. Let’s go. Please, PLEASE don’t waste any more time.” She grabbed his hand and, half pulling him, half supporting him, clambered up the hillside.