22. Angel #2
“Heavenly Father, we thank You for bringing us together in a shared purpose to protect the lives of the innocent and those in need of reprieve from dangerous elements. Today, we ask for Your protection over us as we go in search of the truth, which is often obscured or hidden from us. Please open our eyes so that we may see, and guide us in the direction You need us to go. For it is the path You set before us that we are destined to walk. In Your name we pray this. Amen.”
“Amen,” we echo.
“Amen!” the father at the fire pit shouts. “May you have a safe hike!”
The three of us mount the ATVs, waving to the family and giving Jeremy and Jack a quick nod.
It takes about ten minutes to get to the trailhead, where we hide our vehicles under some shrubbery.
The snow isn’t as deep here as where my sister and Jaxon are, but it’s enough that the hike ahead of us will be slow going.
The good news is that tracks should be easy to spot.
“It’s two miles until Dutton and the PCT meet.”
Owen gestures for me to lead the way. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Vinny, do you have the target acquired?”
“Negative,” Vinny says. “Switching to infrared. Standby.”
Scott scans the wooded area. “We’ll be lucky if the drone picks up his heat signature under the dense foliage.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “We’ll keep the ‘eyes in the sky’ but track the old-fashioned way.”
For the next hour, we don’t see any sign of human presence until we come to the spot where the trails converge. I scan the area due east up the mountain toward the rim. There are some animal tracks, but no human boot prints.
Just as I begin to question the intelligence we were given, I remember how Daisy kept to the trees when she was hunting me in the woods. Her prints disappeared the thicker the trees became because the canopy overhead blocked the snowfall.
“Scott and Owen, stay south of Dutton Trail and go 200 yards. Look for any sign that someone trekked through the trees. I’ll take the north side.”
Half an hour later, I find what I’m looking for. There’s a fresh crack in a branch from a young white fir tree, and below it is a slight indentation of dead pine needles. I squat down and scan the area further, noticing another, deeper impression about 20 inches away. Then another.
“I’ve got something,” I say into my comm device.
Scott acknowledges, and a few minutes later, he and Owen are standing behind me. “Those are definitely man-made.”
Relaying the information, I tell Vinny, “We have tracks 150 yards east of the PCT and 100 yards north of Dutton, heading northwest. Based on the firmness of the ground, the depth of the impression, and the distance between them, I’d say he’s carrying a heavy load.
It’s a single set of tracks, confirming he’s alone and moving at a rate of one mile per hour. ”
“Copy. Deviating from planned route and moving to your location,” Vinny says.
“Negative,” Scott replies. “Standby for further instructions.”
He stoops next to me, studies the trajectory, snaps his fingers, then opens his palm. Without him needing to say a word, I hand him the topographical map.
He points to a spot on the map. “The ‘S’ curve on the Pacific Coast Trail is five clicks away. At a rate of one mile per hour, Kenneth would have already seen that the trail opens up and removes any cover. If I were him, I’d head due west and stick to the treeline, then move north half a click to keep from being exposed.
The density of the trees in that area would provide plenty of concealment. ”
Doing quick math in my head, I say, “If he’s moving at the same pace, then that should put him near Little Castle Creek.
I’d start there. Kenneth knows we have drone capability; proof by the remnants scattered on the mountainside.
It’s logical for him to assume that we’re looking for him and have a spare in our possession. ”
Owen drinks from the hose attached to his pack and then says, “Vinny, we’ll press forward and update you if anything changes. Start searching the area surrounding Little Creek.”
“Acknowledged,” Vinny says.
The three of us continue, looking for signs when the tracks seemingly disappear: broken spider webs, overturned rocks with fresh soil showing, and a protein bar wrapper that fell out of his pack or pocket.
With conversation kept to a minimum, Roger’s voice echoing in my ear startles me. “We have a heat signature two clicks due north of your current location. Appears to be stationary.”
“Animal or human?” I ask.
“We believe it’s human, though the foliage makes it difficult to tell at this distance,” Vinny says. “If I get closer and am spotted, we could lose the drone and the advantage.”
Roger provides the team with the coordinates, and Jaxon and my sister acknowledge that they’ll have to stage at a new location. Roger concurs, and our team moves forward.
“Kenneth could be setting a trap,” Owen says as we fan out and stagger our approach.
I keep my head on a swivel, searching for any signs of such traps, including tripwires or landmines. “Or he could be taking a lunch break. Time will tell.”
Moving at a snail’s pace, it takes nearly an hour and a half for us to get within 200 yards of the coordinates we were provided. During that time, Vinny informs us that the target’s heat signature disappeared. It didn’t move; it just vanished.
I hold up my hand to signal a stop when I notice shadowy movement ahead, and we all drop low to the ground. With our rifles balanced on our elbows, we low crawl until we each reach a position where we can fire a clear shot.
“SMART simunition rounds only,” Scott whispers into his comms.
I’m not going to lie, I’m a little eager to try out Noctira’s modified weapon and targeting system.
Using a laser to paint the target, the bullet tracks and adjusts course like a mini-missile.
It’s not new technology, but if Noctira has perfected it, then it would change the game of modern warfare.
I can’t blame Daisy for using me as a guinea pig because I can admit that if I’d known about the weapon and ammunition before she unloaded a $10,000 simunition round into my thigh, I would have volunteered to be a test subject just for the “cool” factor.
Chuckling to myself at the thought, I look through my scope and survey the area. That’s when I see Kenneth Johnson appear from behind a curtain of moss.
Vinny, who is still monitoring the area with the drone, says, “Target reacquired. I have your position. Do you have the target in sight?”
“Target in sight. Clear to engage?”
Before anyone can answer, there’s movement behind Kenneth as Eva appears, covered in what looks like a thermal blanket. Behind her is Uri, who is looking directly at me and shaking his head to warn us off.
“Standby,” Owen says. “We have two, I repeat, two individuals in sight. One is Kenneth Johnson, and the other is an unknown.”
“She’s the woman who sent Daisy the photo of the man at the mines,” I say in a low tone so only the comm devices can pick up the sound.
“Then she needs to be taken in for questioning,” Owen says.
The anger in his tone can’t be mistaken for anything else. To him, Eva jeopardized his sister’s life and mine.
While I agree, using a paralyzing agent is not the way I want to go about doing it. “Just wait.” If Uri is nearby, unseen by anyone other than me or Eva, then I have to trust that there’s more to this story.
We all go silent when Eva looks around and then says, “You shouldn’t have come back, Ken. What if you were followed?”
“You said you were running low on supplies. What was I going to do? Should I let you starve out here until he makes his move? The way I see it, with the mining accident, there’s too much attention in the area. Our best bet at catching this guy is to stay out of sight.”
“Wait, what?” Owen whispers. “Did I just hear that right?”
Uri’s message to Daisy and me was that there are more people on our side than we were aware of.
It hits me that Eva isn’t the only one he was referring to.
Kenneth Johnson isn’t here to kidnap the girls.
He’s come to Crater Lake with the same mission Daisy has carried in her heart: justice, maybe vengeance. But why?
Eva interrupts my thoughts. “We need help, Ken. I’ve told you before that this is much bigger than you and I can do on our own.”
“But the Southern Knights are working with the CIA. How can you trust them when you are on the CIA watchlist? No, I’m unwilling to risk everything we’ve been working toward this past year because you hear some voice in your head guiding you.”
Looking through my scope, I see Eva’s eyes dart to Uri, then back at Ken. “Trust me when I tell you that it’s more than a ‘voice’ in my head.”
Ken waves away the comment. “Imaginary friend or not, the risk is too great.”
“The Southern Knights can be trusted. You’ve seen her yourself. Sadie is alive. I sent you to the diner to confirm it. She just doesn’t know who the real enemy is.”
Ken huffs. “And you think that the Southern Knights can take down Dominion? That’s not what I signed up for, Eva.”
There’s a moment when Ken chokes up and pinches the bridge of his nose to prevent tears from falling. “I just want to find her. It’s been five years, and the clock is running out before Brit disappears forever. My daughter is my priority.”