Читать книгу Grizzly Season - S W Lauden - Страница 9

Chapter Four

People all around Greg jumped up from their tables and started running. The women made a beeline for the tents, while the men scattered. A few of them headed for the corral to pull out the motorcycles. Two dune buggies tore across camp in the direction of the tent where they grew the Grizzly Bear. Greg assumed that Magnus must have been in one of those vehicles, but couldn’t spot him.

Two men yanked tarps back from where the motorcycles had been stashed and started handing out guns. Greg grabbed a rifle and headed straight for his tent. He had no idea if Kristen would be there in the middle of the day, but he didn’t know where else to look. She had their backpacks ready to go when he arrived.

“We have to hurry.”

“We can’t leave without Marco.”

She took both of his hands in hers and looked him straight in the eye.

“I know. I’ll take you to him.”

The tents on either side of theirs were already collapsing when they emerged. He heard gunfire on the other side of the camp, and motorcycles revving. The unmistakable scent of burning marijuana choked the air as the field went up in flames. Smoke closed in all around them as they fumbled along to the few structures that still remained standing. Marco was nowhere to be found, but Kristen wasn’t ready to give up.

She grabbed Greg’s wrist, pulling him along behind her. It was hard to see even a few feet in front of them now, but they managed to find the bear pit. She pulled off the cinderblocks while Greg ripped the plywood back. They raced down the ramp together, but found only dirt and bones at the bottom.

The first shots buzzed by their heads as they reemerged. Greg pushed Kristen to the ground and chanced a look over the edge. He could see the silhouettes of Magnus and a gaggle of goons closing in fast. It looked like they were dragging Marco behind them.

Overloaded motorcycles whizzed out of the camp all around them, heading for the hiking trails. Greg lifted his rifle and fired, narrowly missing one of the young guards. He fell hard and the others dropped on their bellies beside him. Magnus screamed to Greg over the automatic gunfire that echoed through the camp.

“Now or never! Give me the girl or your friend is bear food!”

Greg looked down at Kristen. She looked back with pleading eyes, begging him not to hand her over. He knew that he needed to save both Kristen and Marco, but he didn’t know how.

Visibility was almost down to zero, and an army of Forest Service, Sheriff’s Department, and Drug Enforcement Agency officers would be on them soon. Greg knew that saving Kristen entailed more than just getting her away from Magnus. He had to find a way to keep her from getting arrested and thrown in prison too.

He lifted her up and pointed toward the field.

“Straight across the middle, where the smoke’s the thickest. Just like on the map you showed me. Don’t stop until you reach the other side. Keep climbing up the slope until you find the trail.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I’ll be right behind you, as soon as I get Marco. Ready?”

She bit her lip and nodded, stroking his face with the back of her hand. Greg took aim in the direction of Magnus and started squeezing the trigger in a slow rhythm. He wasn’t trying to hit anybody, just buy her some time.

“Go!”

Magnus and his men returned fire, but none of the bullets came close. The fields were engulfed in flames now. Smoke billowed over Greg like whitewash from a massive wave. He thought he could hear Marco whimpering, but tried to block it out. Then he heard him scream.

“Greg! He’s got a gun to my head!”

“Last chance or your friend dies.”

Two stun grenades went off in the stadium, knocking several people to the ground. Dark figures in combat gear swarmed the camp. Greg heard a single shot ring out, followed by a heavy thud and the sound of Magnus and his men running away. He sprang from the pit and sprinted to where he thought Marco might be. He was halfway there when two helmeted figures emerged from the smoke. He put his hands behind his head and dropped to his knees. Tears sparkled in the little red dots that danced across his face.

“Take it easy. I’m a cop.”

It wasn’t true, but it kept him from getting shot, especially since he was dressed like all the others. They zip-tied his wrists behind his back and led him out of the camp. There was a command center set up several hundred yards beyond the burning field. A dozen other men in jeans and flannel shirts sat with their backs against huge boulders. Greg dropped down beside them and kept his mouth shut tight.

The gunfire didn’t die down for another hour, getting farther and farther away. Fire planes arrived a little while later and dumped lake water on the flames. The steam it generated brought the temperature up for a few minutes, just as everything got silent again. Agents led the prisoners away one by one for questioning. Greg was practically alone when the sky turned a deep blue and a spray of stars slowly emerged. He looked up, trying to think about Kristen more than Marco—praying his friend had survived.

“You the cop?”

A sheriff’s deputy stood above him. His helmet was tucked under one arm and his face was smeared with greasy sweat. He held his hand out to Greg and helped him up.

“Depends on who you ask.”

“What the hell were you doing all the way out here? You undercover or something?”

“It’s a long story.”

They entered the tent and Greg plopped down into a folding chair. He answered an avalanche of questions, careful to keep his responses short and consistent. His interrogators seemed annoyed at first, but the light eventually went on behind their intense eyes.

“Tell us about your friend.”

“His name is Marco Johnson: stringy, blond hair, about five foot nine, maybe a buck forty soaking wet.”

“We’ll let you know if we find anybody who meets that description. In the meantime, you mind telling us what precinct you supposedly work in?”

“Virgil Heights. At least, that’s where I used to work.”

The commander took a step forward, shoving the deputy aside.

“I thought you said you were a cop.”

“Call the police chief there. He’ll give you all the details.”

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Greg Salem.”

They traded looks. The commander nodded and the deputy went to make the call. He was back with the radio five minutes later.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Greg brought the device to his ear and waited. The chief’s voice sounded like a ghost from another lifetime.

“Greg, you there?”

“That you, Chief?”

“Jesus Christ. Why the hell can’t you stay out of trouble?”

›

It couldn’t have been easy to get those bulky news vans up the mountain, but there they were. A line of them stretched along the curving road as far as Greg could see in both directions. He kept his head down and followed the two officers who were supposed give him a lift. ATVs had gotten them from the smoldering field and out to the road, but now they had to walk a hundred yards to where the cruisers were parked. He hoped the windbreaker they’d loaned him would be enough of a disguise. It wasn’t.

They’d only made it a few feet when he heard somebody shout his name. He didn’t respond or even turn around, but his shoulders tensed and he broke his stride. That was confirmation enough for the media vultures. An army of reporters and their camera-wielding crews descended on him, forming a circle that was impossible to break.

Greg found himself bathed in a blinding glow of light. Microphones shoved into his face. Questions yelled at him from every direction.

“Are you the cop that solved those murders in the Bay Cities?”

“Where have you been hiding out?”

“Why did the sheriff’s department call you in to help with this raid?”

“Are you working undercover for the DEA?”

“Is it true that they were growing a mutant strain of marijuana up here?”

Greg kept his mouth shut tight and waited for the cavalry to arrive. Ten officers broke up the news crew blockade and whisked him away to a waiting car. Reporters shouted after him as they chased the car on foot. Greg kept his eyes forward, trying hard to catch his breath.

It was only a few minutes before the cruiser pulled up to the end of the road that led to Greg’s cabin. Greg pulled on the handle and swung the passenger door open as the officer spoke.

“You’re the hero cop, right? The one that brought who gang down in Virgil Heights.”

“All I did was shoot some kid.”

He slammed the door shut, turned, and walked off. The cruiser pulled away, taking all the light with it. Greg shuffled along the winding gravel road, letting his memory guide him through the dark. His El Camino came into view just before the darkened cabin did.

The back door was unlocked, just like it used to be when he was a kid. He stepped inside and started peeling his pants and shirt off as he walked. The strong odor of woodsmoke from the fireplace in the living room was no match for the stench of his clothes. Greg tried to make sense of everything that had happened as he made his way to the bathroom.

He pulled the chain on the overhead light and turned the faucet on in the sink. His body was suddenly sore all over, now that he wasn’t worried about escaping from Grizzly Flats. Images of Marco flashed in his mind as he splashed cold water on his face.

“What took you so long?”

Greg almost sprang backward through the bathroom door. He was still gasping for air when she sat up in the bathtub. The bear paw tattoo flexed and danced on her shoulder as she rubbed a washcloth across her neck.

“You mind getting my back?”

He took a step forward and knelt down. Kristen pulled his head against her naked chest and ran her fingers across his cropped hair. A whisper was the most he could manage.

“I couldn’t find him.”

“Magnus?”

“No, Marco. It looks like Magnus got away with a few of his men.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

She stood up and grabbed a towel from the rack. Greg let his cheek rest on the edge of the bathtub, too exhausted to move.

“We need to get out of here right away.”

“Kristen, you have to turn yourself in.”

“No way! He kept me there against my will. He kept me high and he…he used me. You saw it with your own eyes. Besides, none of these cops even know that I exist.”

“For now, but what about down the road? They’re questioning everybody they caught. Any one of them could give up your name to make a deal.”

“Hardly any of them even know my real name.”

“You’ve got blood on your hands, Kristen. You said so yourself.”

She was trembling now. He wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t bring himself to stand. Everybody he got close to seemed to get killed.

“Listen to me, Greg. If Magnus is still alive, then he’s gonna come looking for me. For both of us. Probably tonight.”

“Are you insane? The sheriff’s department has officers searching for him all over these mountains.”

“That won’t matter to him. Turn me in if you want to, but not until we’re far away from here.”

There was a cup of instant coffee waiting for him when he emerged from the bedroom in clean clothes. She had a pair of his loose-fitting board shorts on and a tattered tour shirt. He thought she looked just like every surfer girl he’d ever known. They threw her pack beside his in the back of the El Camino and started down the winding mountain roads.

They got waved through several checkpoints on their way out of the Angeles National Forest. The first signs of civilization came into view less than two hours after they’d left. Greg was merging onto the freeway ramp when two motorcycles came speeding up behind them. Kristen dug her fingers into his thigh as he stepped on the accelerator.

“What’s the matter?”

“Magnus does business with some of the local bikers.”

The two motorcycles were gaining on them fast. Greg knew he couldn’t lose them. He reached across her legs and yanked the Glock from the glove compartment. His finger was on the trigger just below the window as the bikes whipped around them. Greg tapped the brakes and tried to steady his aim. That’s when he saw them—just a couple of cocky teenagers taking their girlfriends out for a ride on their crotch rockets.

Greg set the gun down in his lap and exhaled. It felt wrong to be leaving the mountains with Marco missing, but he needed to get Kristen out of there. He needed to take her somewhere safe, somewhere far away from Magnus and Grizzly Flats. Descendents were kicking into “Silly Girl” on the car stereo as she rested her head on his shoulder and gave a little sniffle.