Authors: Doug Kelly
With
Kevin’s assistance, Dylan finished carving the two bows to the correct
dimensions and placed notches near the ends with the multi-tool. “I’ll let
these dry a couple more days and then I’ll try out the new arrows on something
furry. Keep your eyes open for feathers. I’ll need them for the cane arrows,”
Dylan said, looking at his companions as he pointed to the bundle of river cane
near the fire.
“You
guys ready for some food? I’m starving,” said Kevin, as he turned toward his
raft to survey the remaining rations. “We better be careful with the food we have
left. That asshole stole a third of it.”
“Give
me my share,” Dylan said, as he yawned. “I’m going to eat, then go to sleep. I
think that raft is a little crowded for two of us.” He stood and stretched. “No
offense, Richard, but I think I’ll sleep up in the deer stand tonight.” Dylan
took some food, water, and a blanket. He started toward the deer stand, then
stopped and turned to face the two men at the campfire. “I’ve been thinking
about Sergeant Haber. We’re wearing the same clothes he is, and he stole my
raft. He’s in front of us on the river somewhere and is going to terrorize
anyone to get what he wants on his way downstream. If people see us, they’re going
to think we’re with him because we have the same clothes and rafts. That’s not
good for us.”
“What
do we do?” asked Richard.
Dylan
shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know, but when we meet again, it
won’t be pleasant for him.” Dylan turned and walked to the deer stand for the
night.
A
distant thunderclap woke Dylan the next morning. He stiffly got up from the
uncomfortable wooden floor of the deer stand, stretched his aching back, and
turned his gaze toward the small window, edging forward to observe his new
surroundings. He froze in place as he looked out the window. In the clearing
below, he saw a huge mule deer using the saltlick that Kevin had dropped the
day before. In his mind, Dylan slowly raised an imaginary bow and arrow to aim
at the deer. Pretending to pull the string back to his cheek, he aimed directly
at the deer’s heart. He closed his eyes, released the arrow in his mind, and imagined
the deer collapsed where it stood. Dylan’s stomach rumbled with hunger, he opened
his eyes and ended his fantasy. The deer sprinted away with the next
thunderclap.
Kevin
had caught two small catfish overnight. They were prepared with dandelions and
lambsquarters that Dylan had scavenged from the surrounding area. As Dylan was
searching for something green to eat, he found bird eggs from nests in the
grass. He put the eggs on hot embers from the campfire to cook them.
Dylan
found the general’s letter, still concealed within a large envelope inside a
plastic bag, and turned to face his companions. He pointed downstream with the
letter and asked, “Ready for Fort Benton?”
“I
looked at the map,” Richard stated. “I think we should get there by late
afternoon.”
“Let’s
do it.”
The
sky remained gray with low clouds. The clouds harassed the men with occasional
raindrops, just enough to keep them in their rain gear as they floated
downstream. Late in the afternoon, they came upon a town on the north side of
the river. Estimating that this should be Fort Benton, they decided to look for
a place to hide the rafts so they could go ashore. They stopped just downstream
of the town and hid the two rafts in a patch of shrubbery close to the
riverbank.
“The
weather is still miserable,” said Dylan. “I think we should see if they offer
us a place to stay for the night before we try to set up camp.” He tucked the
letter under his poncho.
“I
don’t have a good feeling about this,” said Richard.
“We’ve
had some bad luck, Dylan,” Kevin added. “I’d feel better if you had that pistol
back.”
Dylan
was quiet as he looked toward the buildings of Fort Benton. He knew that he had
made a big mistake by losing the pistol and his raft to Sergeant Haber. A
pistol would be good insurance for walking into the unknown and he knew that
what they were about to do was definitely the unknown.
“You’re
right, I screwed up,” admitted Dylan. “I’ll drop the letter off and get out
quick. You don’t need to go with me. I understand.”
“I’ll
go, but I don’t want to stick around,” said Kevin.
“I’ll
go, too,” said Richard, looking hesitantly at the rafts.
They
walked toward the town. As they struggled up the slope and away from the water,
they looked back and saw fog hovering over the river, shrouding the bushes and
rafts. The fog at their backs seemed to grow thicker as they moved farther
away. There was nobody walking around the town. It looked completely deserted. They
realized the collapse of the electric grid would have kept normal business away
and the drizzle probably kept others away, too.
The
sign for Main Street was just ahead. They decided to walk Main Street toward
the center of town and look for any government building. If they could hand the
letter from the general to the mayor or anyone on the city council, they could
consider their mission complete. Only a few blocks away they saw a building
with a sign that advertised, City Hall. It was a brick building with concrete
steps leading to a row of glass doors.
“What
day is it?” asked Richard.
“I
stopped keeping track,” answered Kevin. “What’s the point now?”
Dylan
glanced nervously around. He ascended the concrete steps. At the top, he
stopped and looked back again. Nobody was around. He pulled on a glass door and
hesitantly opened it. Dylan looked surprised, as if he had not expected it to
open. He swung the door wide and stepped in with Kevin and Richard behind him.
“Hey!”
exclaimed a man from a dark corner.
The
three men were startled. They heard the voice, but could not see anybody in the
darkness. They heard someone walking toward them. As he got closer, the faint
outside light coming through the glass doors revealed his features. He was an
older man with gray hair and a moustache. He appeared to have on a law
enforcement uniform with a leather gun belt and pistol. The man looked like he
had been sleeping somewhere in the darkness. He walked toward the three men
with his right hand resting on the pistol. The man was tall and his name badge
was right at Dylan’s eye level.
“Officer
Billet?” asked Dylan.
“That’s
Chief Billet. What do you want? This area is off limits to the general public,”
said the chief of police, as he scanned the three men with bleary eyes. The chief
rested his hand on the pistol and tapped his trigger finger on the holster.
“We
have a letter for the town.”
“For
the town? That makes no sense to me. What the hell are you talking about?” asked
the chief, tapping his holster more rapidly.
“Maybe
I should’ve said for the mayor or City Council.”
“We
still have a mayor. He’s there, just down the hall,” said Chief Billet,
pointing down the corridor.
Dylan
took a step forward and he felt a hard thump on his chest. The chief had shoved
the end of his nightstick into Dylan’s chest to stop him from walking to the
corridor.
“Hold
it. No one goes down there without permission. I’ll take the letter.”
“We
were asked to personally deliver it,” said Dylan, holding up the plastic bag
with the envelope to show the chief.
The
chief took several steps backward. He unsnapped the leather strap holding his
pistol in the holster. “Listen to me. Turn around and put your hands on the
doors. Spread your legs wide. I’m going to pat you down for weapons. Don’t make
any funny moves.”
Dylan
felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He had brought the large survival knife
with him under the rain poncho. Reluctantly, Dylan turned to the glass doors as
instructed.
This is where it goes bad
, he thought. He risked a quick
glance toward Kevin and Richard. From the expressions on their faces, he knew
what they were thinking.
The
chief patted Dylan down first. Dylan closed his eyes and his mouth went dry. He
felt the chief probe around the rain poncho’s collar, then pat under his
armpits with the palms of his hands. The chief briefly felt past Dylan’s
waistline and down his legs. Without commenting, the chief moved on to the
other two men and again found no weapons. Dylan opened his eyes in disbelief.
He slightly turned his head toward Kevin and saw him fighting away a grin of
relief.
“Who’s
the letter from?” asked the chief, stepping back and pointing to the letter
with the nightstick.
“General
Matthews at the Air Force base asked us to deliver the letter,” answered Dylan,
authoritatively.
The
chief considered what Dylan said. He briefly stared at the men as he rubbed the
razor stubble on his face. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the conference room where
Mayor Jenkins has been working,” said Chief Billet, as he turned and walked
down the corridor. The three men followed the chief in single file with Dylan
in front.
They
walked into a room and saw a large meeting table near a wall with several large
windows. The blinds had been lifted to allow the meager sunlight into the room.
An older man was sitting at the table with his back to the windows. He looked
up at the men as they walked into the room. The mayor tilted his head downward
and moved his reading glasses to the tip of his nose. The mayor remained seated
and stared stoically at his uninvited guests.
“Visitors,”
announced the chief.
The
chief walked toward the mayor’s side of the table to face the men. He backed up
to a window behind the mayor and leaned against it. The three men stood in
front of the large table, facing the chief and the mayor. Behind the three men
was a large flat-screen television secured to the wall. The screen reflected a
black glare from the dim light coming through the windows.
“Can
I help you?” asked the mayor, insincerely, while raising an eyebrow and looking
over his glasses.
Dylan
stepped forward and slid the plastic bag with the letter from General Matthews
across the table to the mayor. “This is from General Matthews at the Air Force
base. He asked us to deliver this letter to you.”
The
mayor opened the plastic bag to remove the envelope. He slid a letter opener,
shaped like a sword, across the seal, removed the letter, and began to read it.
He tilted it to the dim light as his eyes peered down his nose through the
reading glasses. Dylan noticed the mayor’s hands begin to shake as his face
contorted into a furious expression. The mayor stood up angrily. “What nonsense
is this!” yelled the mayor, as his fist hit the table. The chief suddenly
straightened up and put his hand on his pistol. “You are demanding the
unconditional surrender of my town?” screamed the mayor. As he yelled, he held
the letter up toward them.
Dylan
was close enough to see the letter in the dim light. It was not the letter from
the general. Dylan instantly got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he
realized what had just happened. Sergeant Haber had switched letters to set
them up, as if stealing their raft and supplies was not enough.
“Hold
on…just wait a minute—” pleaded Dylan, before the mayor abruptly cut him off.
“Bullshit!”
yelled the mayor.
“That’s
not the letter we were supposed to deliver.”
“Haber
did this?” asked Kevin, speaking in an angry tone.
Dylan
nodded his head at Kevin, then spoke directly to the mayor again. “Just calm
down—” Dylan tried to plead before he was cut off once more by the mayor.
The
mayor furiously wadded the letter into a ball and threw it at the men. “Arrest
them!” he roared.
The
chief drew his pistol and fanned it back and forth at the three men. “Put your
hands on your heads and interlock your fingers,” commanded the chief. He
stepped closer to the men. “Turn around and face the wall.”
“You
ever hear of frontier justice?” asked the mayor sarcastically. “You’re about to
get some.”
The
three men faced the wall and Dylan noticed that the large glossy screen of the television
on the wall was reflecting the images of the mayor and chief of police standing
behind them. The chief was moving toward the closest man, which was Kevin, and
Dylan was directly next to him, in the middle. Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan
watched the image of the chief’s reflection, on the flat-screen. As the chief
got closer to Kevin, he placed the pistol in his holster and removed a set of
dull chrome handcuffs. Dylan jumped on the chief’s back as he reached for
Kevin’s wrists with the handcuffs. Dylan wrapped his right arm around the
chief’s neck, wiggled his forearm under the chief’s chin, and pulled it back
and up to choke him. The chief flailed his arms frantically at Dylan and he
flung the handcuffs backward, hitting Dylan several times.
Kevin
desperately grabbed the pistol from the struggling man’s holster and leveled it
at the mayor.
As
the pressure from Dylan’s forearm increased on his trachea, the chief let the
handcuffs slip from his fingers and desperately clawed at Dylan’s forearm.
Dylan pulled his arm violently backward and, as he pressed harder on the
chief’s carotid artery, the chief dropped to his knees and then fell backward,
unconscious, on top of Dylan. Dylan pushed the limp body off him and stood up,
quickly handcuffing the chief’s wrists together. Dylan picked up another pair
of handcuffs, and stood to face the mayor.
“You
ever hear of frontier justice?” asked Kevin, parroting the mayor’s sarcastic
statement.
“Just
shoot me, you bastard!” said the mayor, holding the letter opener like a knife
and pointing it at Kevin.
Dylan
motioned to Kevin to lower the pistol. “I have a better idea,” said Dylan, as
he tossed the handcuffs on the table toward the mayor. “Handcuff yourself to
this table and we’ll be happy to be on our way.”
The
mayor angrily threw the letter opener down, then handcuffed his wrist to the
leg of the large table, which was secured to the floor.
“For
the record, that letter is a fake. We were set up. If anyone from the Air Force
base comes this way, show them that letter and tell them Sergeant Haber wrote
it. Let them know that he deserted when he left the base. The general just
wanted to have an alliance with the surrounding communities. He would supply
men to work the fields and provide protection for a share of the food. That’s
it.”
The
mayor remained mute, but his anger was obvious.
“I
get it. We’re not welcome here,” said Dylan. “Like I said, we are happy to
leave. But we’ll be taking the pistol. I think you understand.” Dylan bent over
and grabbed the spare magazine for their new pistol from the chief’s belt. He
handed it to Kevin and told him to keep the pistol.