Chapter 4
Wilden was already parked back out at the same place where he had parked earlier.
He sat here in the vehicle for a long moment.
He had both dogs with him, and they were raring to go.
He had wondered about leaving one of the dogs with Nan, but she had been adamant that she was fine.
He just didn’t really believe it. Something in her tone revealed that she wasn’t so much fine as she was putting on a brave face.
At the same time, he couldn’t get rid of the idea in the back of his mind that there had been a call, a cry, or some noise out here, and he couldn’t ignore that.
He stepped out with the dogs, both on leashes, and headed in the direction they had gone earlier but stayed on the pathway, so there was less chance of anything diverting them.
The dogs were curious but content. No growling, no raised hair, no signs of distress at all, which was a good thing.
Yet that wouldn’t help Wilden find whatever could possibly be out here.
He walked steadily. He brought flashlights with him, but the moonlight was bright enough that he didn’t need anything, at least for the moment.
He had gone quiet for a while, all his senses engaged, when Sarge started to bark, and then he barked again and again.
Wilden stopped and asked him, “What is it, buddy?” He kept his voice low and quiet, but Sarge had been triggered by something.
Wilden moved forward cautiously, not sure what was going on, and then he called out, “Hello, is anybody out there?”
There was almost a call in reply, more of a feeble cry for help, and yet Wilden definitely heard it.
He let Sarge have his lead, yet firmly held the leash in his hand.
The dog took off running, with Dagger right beside him, not barking, but very intent on being involved in whatever was happening here.
Wilden ran up the pathway to keep up with Sarge, and, when Sarge darted off the path, Wilden knew he was in danger of losing his bearings.
He was hard-pressed to keep up and not hold back the dog, but Sarge was on a mission by now, and there was no stopping him.
He finally caught up with Sarge, only because the dog had stopped, panting heavily, looking around. It was obvious that he was confused by something. “You and me both, buddy. I’m not sure what we heard, but it sounded off.”
Sarge started to whine, milling around, his nose to the ground, looking for something.
Then Wilden wondered if it were possible. Could this be Jackson? Wilden called out again, “Hello, hello, anyone out there? Call out if you need help.”
And there it was, ever-so-faint, but it was definitely a cry for help.
Sarge took off again, and this time they crossed a creek to the other side, and within seconds they burst through into a small clearing. A man was crumpled on the ground, as if he couldn’t move, and Sarge was all over him.
The man started to sob, his arms reaching out for the dog. “Oh my God, Sarge, is that you? Please tell me that it’s you,” he whispered.
Wilden loomed over him, then bent down to check on him and noted the man looked familiar. “Hey, are you Jackson Russell?”
The man started to sob. “Yes, yes. I’m Jackson, and you brought Sarge. Oh my God.” He couldn’t stop hugging Sarge, who was wiggling like a puppy, so happy that he had found the person he had been missing so much.
But now they were all in a pickle. “Are you mobile at all?” Wilden asked Jackson.
The older man half laughed, half groaned. “Son, I haven’t been mobile for a very long time,” he whispered. “So, no.”
“Okay,” he replied, glancing around. “I know you probably have questions—and some answers too—but I need to get you somewhere safe.”
“You’ll need to do that before they come back and find me,” he shared, “because they expect me to be dead when they return. The bastards.”
Wilden stared down at him. “When did they leave you?”
“Yesterday,” he muttered.
“We thought we heard something earlier today and wondered, but we didn’t really hear much,” he shared. “However, I just couldn’t let it go, so I came back to check.”
“I’m grateful you did,” Jackson stated.
Wilden looked down on him and asked in a wry tone, “You want to tell me how much you weigh?”
“Too much for you to lift, lad,” he declared, “even though I’ve shriveled up in that wheelchair for the bulk of the last ten years at least.”
“We’ll see if you are too heavy,” Wilden stated, “because getting anybody to come here to get you will be a big production and not necessarily something that would easily succeed.”
“Whatever you intend to do, let’s do it fast because, if they were to find out somebody helped me, it won’t go so well.”
Wilden stared down at him, his jaw working. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, let’s get you out of here.”
Preparing to use a fireman’s lift, he bent down, adjusting his own stance accordingly, and then rolled the old man up and over onto his shoulder. As Jackson groaned, Wilden froze.
But Jackson grunted and moaned and then added, “It’s fine,” he whispered. “I’ve just been lying on the ground for a while. Believe me that nothing you could do to me now will hurt me more than I already do,” he said.
With Jackson balanced carefully on Wilden’s shoulder, Wilden made his way back across the creek, searching for the path.
“Sarge, come on. Let’s get back to the vehicle.
Take me back to the vehicle.” Sarge barked happily and led the way, with Dagger following close behind.
Both dogs were leashed and happy to have one lead and one follow.
The old man whispered, “Who’s the second dog?”
“His name is Dagger,” Wilden replied. “He was brought into the vet clinic today, and his next stop was going back to the shelter, where they would probably euthanize him.”
“Damn,” Jackson spat. “We don’t want to see that. That’s a good-looking dog.”
“That’s because he’s a copy of old Sarge here.”
Jackson sighed. “I would laugh, but I don’t have any energy for it,” he admitted. “Honest to God, I’m more terrified that they’re coming for you and me and these dogs, even before we get out of here.”
“We’ll do our best to not let that happen,” Wilden stated, but he almost fell at that point.
He took a moment to recalibrate, and the old man tapped his back feebly. “You need to put me down. You can go get help.”
“No,” Wilden stated flatly. “I might have been injured in the damn war, but I am not so bad that I can’t help somebody in need.”
After a moment of silence, Jackson patted his arm. “Sometimes the chip on our shoulders gets to be a bit much to carry.”
Wilden laughed. “You are quite right about that,” he agreed, “but we both know, if I put you back down, it’ll be doubly hard to pick you back up. So, I’m not putting you down.”
“And I appreciate that, son, but I don’t want you to get hurt carrying me around like a sack of potatoes.”
“A sack of potatoes might be easier,” Wilden quipped. “I could just munch on one or two to lighten the load.”
The old man laughed. “Do I know you? I didn’t recognize you right off, yet in some ways I feel as if I know you somehow.”
“I’m Wilden,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I saw you. I went to war while in the navy myself, quite a few years back. I got hurt, and now I’m out on a medical discharge.”
“Ah, hell, what body part did you give up?”
“A leg,” he replied, “but just the lower part, so I’m way better off than many.”
“You absolutely are, but it still sucks.”
“It absolutely does suck,” Wilden agreed, “and I’m trying hard to deal with the loss with as much grace as possible, in between kicking and screaming at life for having done this.”
“Yeah, I did plenty of that too,” Jackson admitted, “but, if you can get to a place where you’re not hating the whole world, it does help. And finding some independence helps too.”
“I’m walking, and I’m carrying you,” Wilden pointed out, “so I am reminded that things could be a lot worse.”
“And I’m damn grateful for your help, son,” Jackson muttered. “I was pretty sure I wouldn’t survive the second night.”
Wilden shook his head. “Do you urgently need any medication? That’s something we should deal with pretty quickly.”
“No,” he replied. “I’m a diabetic, but it’s not as if I’ve eaten anything in days, so my blood sugar should be nice and flat.” As they hit some uneven ground, he groaned again.
Wilden took a moment to pause and to shift the weight on his shoulder, then took his next step more carefully. “I think the road is just up ahead.”
At that, Sarge barked and leaped forward.
“How the hell did you find my Sarge?” Jackson asked. “I mean, if they had at least left me with my dog, I wouldn’t have been so bad off.”
“Which is why they didn’t,” Wilden pointed out, “because you and I both know it’s all about power. It’s all about playing whatever sick games by whoever did this to you. So who was this? Anyone you know? And when did it happen?”
“It was a few days ago,” he began, “quite a few days, maybe a week now, since they started hassling me. It was that goddamn no-good Larry. He’s the one who really started it.”
Wilden winced at that and asked, “Are you talking about Larry Hinkle?”
The old man stiffened. “You know him?”
“You can say that. Larry used to be a friend of my father.”
“Your father?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah, my father. You may remember John Hookman, but I haven’t had anything to do with him in years.”
The old man sighed. “Sorry, son. If that’s your father, that couldn’t have been easy.”
“No, not easy at all, and that’s why I left long ago and ended up in the military. Yeah, he was my father, but you don’t need to worry about him. In case you hadn’t heard yet, he’s dead.”
At that, Jackson shifted, trying to look at Wilden’s face, but he couldn’t. “Are you serious?” he cried out.
“Yeah, he died about five days ago, or maybe it’s six now,” he told him.