Watchers in the Woods Read online

“Tonight I’ll show you all about the pole star and Plough, Little Bear, Cassiopeia, and Orion. But if we get separated, at night I want you all to hunt a hole and stay put. If it’s raining and you don’t have a compass or aren’t sure of your direction, build yourself a shelter, crawl under some thick underbrush, but stay put until the sun comes out and you can get your bearings.

  “I’m not trying to frighten you, kids. Really, I’m not. I just want you all to have a fighting chance . . .” He paused. How to tell them of the extreme danger they were in? He didn’t know. “I just want us all to get out of this mess that I got you in.”

  14

  “Holy God in Heaven!” The CWA man watched the thing come out of the timber to meet with the rider he’d been tracking ever since he’d ridden away from the campsite on the flats above the creek.

  “What is it? What is it?” his partner whispered.

  “Monroe was right. Them people done found monsters out here. Monroe hit the mark on this one.”

  The second man lifted his binoculars and focused in. Horror changed his face as he looked at the manlike thing talking with Nick. Even at this distance both men could tell that whatever it was, it was not human.

  “What do we do, Wilmot?”

  “We don’t move, that’s for sure. We mark this location on the map and stay put until that rider is long gone. I think he suspects he’s bein’ followed, so we can’t risk givin’ nothin’ away. He ain’t what we want no-how. We got a pretty good spot here, and here is where we’re gonna stay.”

  “What if that man heads this way?”

  “We let him. We let him get as close as he wants to. We don’t make a move, not a sound. The way we’re set in this brush, he’d have to ride right over us ’fore he knowed we was here. So if he does come this way, we sit tight until he leaves. And then we sit tight for another couple of hours just in case he’s antsy and backtracks. Come the night, we’ll radio in to Monroe for orders.”

  “I got to piss.”

  “Then go piss in that crick back behind us so’s it’ll wash on out. We don’t wanna leave no piss signs for that man to find; and he’s good, he’d find them.”

  “He’d think it was an animal.”

  “No, he wouldn’t, Telford. The only pee that’s alike is man’s and monkey’s. The rest is different. Go on. Do it now. Don’t break no branches, don’t step on no flowers, don’t leave no sign. If you leave signs and them things over yonder find us ’cause of it, I swear I’ll kill you before they get me. That’s a promise.”

  Telford looked long into the eyes of Wilmot. “All right. I believe you. I’ll be careful.”

  That spot between Nick’s shoulder blades had been itching ever since he’d left the campers on the flat. He had a nasty hunch he was being tracked, but everytime he circled back for a look, he could find nothing to confirm his suspicions. Maybe he was just jumpy, he finally concluded, even though there was still that nagging doubt in his mind. But time was running out, so he had to contact the leaders and get help for the campers. He had no choice in the matter. If he died, if Dan died, if Matt died, those were the risks of the game. But not the campers and their kids. That would be unfair.

  The elder agreed that the campers must be granted safety. If Nick said they meant them no harm, then they meant them no harm. But it would take at least two days for the runners to get to the edge of civilization, and another day at least for their contacts on the outside to get to the government man’s backup people.

  Three days, Nick was thinking as he began his trip back to the campers. Four days, more than likely, before any help arrived. He rode out of the valley and up into the timber on the slopes, his eyes constantly searching for any sign of those he still felt were following him. He could find nothing. He circled and backtracked and circled again. Nothing. He dismounted and searched on foot, sometimes dropping to the ground, sniffing at it like a dog. But Nick was too far removed from his kin in the timber; he had lost the ability to smell out his own kind.

  Swinging back into the saddle, Nick knew that if he had been followed, or was being followed, there was no point in taking a different route back to the campers. Matt was probably right in his assumption that the camp was being watched. So Nick would return the way he’d come. It was the shortest route.

  Wilmot and Telford watched until Nick was just a dot, far away in the long valley. “Close,” Wilmot muttered. “I thought he had us a couple of times.”

  “I got to shit,” Telford said.

  “Well, go on and shit!” Wilmot said. “I swear, I hope Monroe don’t never pair us up again. You ’bout as useless as tits on a tank! Go on, I’m gonna radio in.”

  Wilmot called in, then put the radio back into its waterproof pouch and tucked the small but powerful transceiver under some brush. Telford had found him a log, dropped his trousers, and hung his bare ass over the other side. He sighed with relief as he emptied his bowels.

  Telford was pulling up his trousers when he heard movement to his right. He cut his eyes. His mouth dropped open and his throat constricted in fright, closing off the scream of pure terror that was forming there.

  His mind formed prayers and profanity all jumbled up. Holy Jesus help me but that is one ugly motherfucker help me please God don’t let that thing I pray to you Jesus Joseph Mary I swear I will be good from, now on keep that whatever that son-of-a-bitch is away from me amen.

  The prayer and the scream that was lodged in his throat were now about ten feet from Telford. The Unseen had ripped out Telford’s throat like shredding a marshmallow and tossed the bloody mass of flesh and muscle to the ground.

  Telford swayed for a moment, then crashed to the earth, his legs and arms kicking and waving as the blood poured from the massive wound. He rolled over on his back. The blood squirted several feet into the air as his heart continued to labor.

  The Unseen reached down, clamped both big hands on either side of Telford’s head, and squeezed.

  The skull popped like an overripe watermelon.

  Fifty feet away, Wilmot heard the sound and thought it was Telford having a massive bowel movement. He shook his head in disgust. Then the smell reached him, but it wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d smelled it before and knew instantly what it was: blood.

  Wilmot rolled to his knees, his AK-47 up and ready. Very powerful clawed hands closed around his throat from behind. He felt himself being bodily lifted off the ground. He dropped the assault rifle and tried to free his neck from the powerful grip, but could not. He tried to scream, but could not. The Unseen shook him like a doll and continued to shake him until his neck popped. Wilmot died with his eyes bugging out, his face a strange plum color.

  The Unseen were scouts from the tribe, men who ranged several miles in all directions from the main camp. They had seen their friend Nick ride in and felt sorry for him, since it was obvious he now had so much human in him he had lost the ability to sense his followers. No matter . . . they would take care of the hostiles.

  The scouts cleaned the area while others, using their clawed hands, carefully removed whole blocks of sod and then quickly scooped out a grave. They dumped the bodies and the hated guns into the hole and covered it, patting it down with their tough, bare feet. They vanished into the timber.

  “Wilmot!” Monroe’s voice came tinny out of the small speaker of the transceiver, in its waterproof pouch under the brush. “Wilmot, you bes’ answer me, now, boy. Where you at, Wilmot?”

  When there was no answer, Monroe cussed over the air.

  One of the scouts picked up on the tinny transmissions and returned, finding the radio. He recognized it from a picture he’d seen in a book. He handed the radio to another scout and pointed in the direction Nick had taken. The Unseen nodded, took the radio, and ran after Nick. The radio might be important to their friend.

  * * *

  “Matt hasn’t checked in,” the contact reported to Langley.

  “What else is new? He might not report in for two or three days, may
be longer.”

  “I don’t know,” the agent in charge of the Agency’s backup team in Idaho said. “I been talking to Williams from the Bureau. As big as this operation is, I can’t understand why Husky wasn’t assigned a regular check-in time.”

  “Because Number Two isn’t handling it. Number One is.”

  “Oh ... shit!” Idaho broke off from Virginia.

  [The reasoning for the disgust is that the DCI is a political appointee, while the rest of the staff are career and much more skilled in handling clandestine operations.]

  * * *

  The stockade looked pretty good at first glance. A second look would reveal its flaws. It certainly wasn’t bulletproof, but for something that had been hurriedly thrown up in one day, it would do.

  In the middle of the afternoon, Matt had taken Dennis, Walter, and Frank, and by dusk the four of them had hauled in enough small logs and cut limbs to put together a corral of sorts behind the stockade around the tents. Matt did not want to lose the horses. He wasn’t worried about himself. But the kids and the women did worry him.

  As the shadows began lengthening and pockets of darkness around the flats enlarged, Matt told the band of campers to get inside the crude stockade. The night was not their friend.

  With everyone inside, Matt walked the edge of their perimeter, checking his perimeter bangers. He had rigged them at various heights, from ankle high to chest high. The thin black wire was invisible.

  There was nothing left to do at this late hour, so Matt returned to the compound.

  As soon as he entered, Tom Dalton confronted him. “First thing in the morning, I’m leaving,” he announced.

  “No, you’re not,” Matt corrected him.

  “You’ll have to stop me.”

  “That can certainly be arranged.”

  In the last of early summer’s light, the lawyer stared at the CIA man. “You have no right to force me to remain here.”

  “I could debate that, but I won’t. I’m trying to save your life, Tom. You wouldn’t stand a chance alone out there.”

  “That isn’t the real reason. You just don’t want me to contact the press.”

  Matt did not bother to reply, and Tom finally shook his head and walked back to his tent.

  “Tom is out as far as standing watches,” Matt told the others. “I think he’s going to try to slip away the first chance he gets.”

  “He’d die out there,” Dennis said. “He doesn’t even know north from south on a sunny day. He’s worse in the woods than I am, and I’m terrible!”

  “Nevertheless, he’ll try, so keep an eye on him. Dennis, take the first watch. Frank, you take the next two hours. Then Wade, Norm, and I will take the dogwatch. I don’t know when Nick’ll be back. But he’ll know to approach cautiously and to sing out when he’s close.”

  “I thought you secret-agent types had to check in at certain times,” Nancy said.

  “Depends on the operation. I’m known as pretty much of a lone-wolf operative. But if I haven’t checked in by say, three days from now, someone should come looking. But that’s only a guess.”

  “Let’s eat, folks,” Susan called. “It’s ready.”

  * * *

  “Hello, the camp!” Nick’s call came out of the darkness.

  Matt rolled out of his blankets and walked to the stockade gate. Wade was standing there, a club in his hand.

  “Come on in, Nick,” Matt called. “We have a corral of sorts in the back.”

  Susan fixed him a plate of food and put on fresh coffee. Nick handed the small transceiver to Matt. “Scouts from the tribe killed two GWA men. They’re pretty sure the CWA guys had time to radio back to their base camp, telling them the tribe’s location. So we may start getting some action tomorrow.”

  “Let’s go over our options,” Dennis said. “We’re not only facing a conflict with these CWA people, but the Sataws are out to get us, too. Is that right?”

  “That pretty well sums it up,” the guide agreed.

  Matt had inspected the small transceiver. “This has a built-in scanner. We can use it to keep track of the GWA’s movements—as long as the batteries hold out, that is. I may try to bluff these crud out by advising them I’m a federal officer. But I really don’t think that’s going to make much of an impression.”

  “Does your agency have a file on these people?” Frank asked.

  “Oh, yes. Many of them have minor criminal records. Some of them have done hard time for major crimes: assault, rape, civil rights violations, attempted murder, manslaughter, murder. They’re an unsavory bunch.”

  “Why not make a deal with them?” Tom called from his spot in front of his tent.

  “What kind of deal?” Nick asked.

  “Whatever they want in exchange for our freedom to leave.”

  “What they probably want is to exploit the Unseen,” Matt said. “They’ve got dollar signs in their eyes. There are certain types of people in the world who would turn the tribe members into a traveling sideshow.”

  “Yes. The same type who enjoys watching the abuse of animals,” Cathy said.

  “So?” Tom questioned.

  “They’re God’s creatures, Tom,” Susan told him, disgust evident in her voice. “Trying to survive. What you’re suggesting is horrible.”

  “I’m trying to survive as well. We all are,” Tom replied. “These tribe people are not productive members of society. Saving them makes about as much sense as these do-gooders who sob and moan about the rights of animals. Animals have no rights as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You’d best shut your goddamned mouth, Dalton,” Nick warned him, real menace in his voice.

  “Everybody go to bed,” Matt suggested. “Nick’s right: We need all our energy. Tomorrow we’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  The CWA was on the march. On horseback. The forty-odd members of the Citizens for a White America left shortly after Monroe tried for the last time and failed to reach Wilmot and Telford.

  “They been grabbed,” he told his men. “Or worse. We know that they’s some sort of subhuman species in the wilderness, and that pretty well tells us what the campers is doin’ in here. Their kids is a smokescreen. Let’s gear up and move out, boys. We got some hard ridin’ ahead of us before dark. Duff, you and Ely be sure you bring them capture nets Marcel went and got. We fixin’ to catch us a missin’ link.”

  The men stuffed their pockets with all the ammunition they could carry and swung into the saddles.

  “I wish we had us some kind of a flag to wave,” Darnell said.

  At one time the CWA was in the habit of flying Confederate flags—until several groups from Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana told Monroe, rather bluntly, that if they ever again saw the battle flag of the Confederacy being raised by such rednecks and white trash they’d remove it and Monroe wouldn’t like where the flagpole ended up.

  “Well, we ain’t,” Monroe said, rather testily. “So let’s just go.” Monroe turned in the saddle and looked back at his troops. He felt proud of his men. They was gonna wrest the government from the hands of liberals and such trash as that and run it right, by God. Monroe lifted his right arm. “Forward, ho!” he called.

  There was a slight delay as Monroe’s mount took that time to evacuate his bowels. Monroe waited with a sour look on his ugly face. Something like that took all the excitement out of the moment.

  15

  Matt did not have to wake the others. They were all up, even Tom, long before dawn. Susan was first, and she went to stand by Matt’s side in the chill of predawn.

  “Tell me the truth, Matt.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re really in serious trouble, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. It might be a week before any of my backup people are ordered in. If they try several times to contact me and can’t, then they’ll come in. Not before. By that time we could have been forced off this flat and be miles from the last map coordinates I gave them.”

  �
�Or dead.”

  “Yes. Or dead.”

  “I’m sorry Tom is being such an ass.”

  “It isn’t your fault. He’s just scared, Susie. He’s in a situation he can’t control and doesn’t know how to respond to it except by running away. But in this case, that would be the worst thing to do. I wish I could make him understand that.”

  “I think you’ve already realized that Tom has tunnel vision, Matt. He sees exactly what he wants to see.”

  “That will get him killed out here, Susie.”

  She smiled. “You’re the only person I ever, ever allowed to call me Susie.”

  “You want me to stop?”

  “Oh, no. I, uh, might as well say it: I had quite a crush on you in school, Matt.”

  “You’re kidding! God, I was in love with you.”

  They shared a soft laugh in the early quiet.

  “Maybe it all worked out for the best, Susie,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I got the wildness out of me and you have two fine kids.”

  “It’s over with Tom, Matt—totally, permanently, irreconcilably over. I finally realized, yesterday, that any love I might have felt for him died years ago. I’m doing my best not to hate him.”

  “If we ever get out of this mess, Susie, I’ll put on my best duds and come calling.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to that, Matt.”

  They looked at each other in the darkness. She smiled at him. “How about some coffee and breakfast?”

  “I’d love it.”

  * * *

  “Keep them folks hemmed in,” Monroe ordered, after viewing the campers on the flats. He slipped his binoculars into their case. “Judd, you’re the leader of the second team. Keep them people pinned down until we catch us a couple of them Links. Then we’ll decide what to do with the campers.”

  “I already know what I’m gonna do to them women,” Judd said with a grin. He shifted his chewing tobacco and spat on the ground.

  “For a fact,” Monroe agreed. “Let’s go, boys. We got us a Link to catch.”

  Across the valley Matt lowered his binoculars. “They’re splitting up. They’re going to keep us pinned down in this valley while the others try for a member of the tribe. That’s my guess, anyway.”