But now he was going solo, and there was no one to rely on except himself.
He checked his watch and stood, pulling on his rain jacket and throwing the last remaining items in his bag. He heard Katie shifting on the cot, looking vainly for a comfortable position, and felt her eyes on the back of his head. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”
Carson took a heartbeat to assume his game-face before turning. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. They don’t, and they don’t expect me to break the plan. I’ll be back soon and we’ll get the hell out of here – together.”
“You better, dammit. It’s my ass.”
“And such a lovely ass it is,” he responded, trying to lighten the mood. He’d heard the hitch in Katie’s voice. As hard as it was to leave her here, it would be 10 times worse if she started crying.
She took the joke for what it was and did her best to smile. “I know. If you want more of it, you better come back.” Her smile faded, and so did the tears in her eyes. “Be careful, admiral.”
“We’re back to that now?” Carson asked with feigned irritation.
“Yup. Revenge gives you motivation to make it back to me.”
Carson shook his head, turned, and walked out the door. The second it closed behind him, he pushed every other thought from his head and focused on the only thing that mattered – the mission. And the first step of the mission was to make a few last-minute preparations.
Carson hopped into the car, turning the dash lights all the way down. Then he turned the interior dome light off. Finally, opening the trunk, he pulled aside the felt mat and, using a tiny pen light, searched until he found the wires to the brake lights and cut them. When he got back inside and pressed the pedal, the telltale red glow was conspicuously absent. He nodded.
With his preparations complete, he started the car and headed down the bumpy driveway, his mouth dry but his palms sweaty on the wheel. Why doesn’t my body give me the moisture where I need it? He turned onto the paved road slowly, partially to keep the car in one piece on the rutted road, but mostly because he was keeping his eyes open just enough to see the breaks in the trees, not wishing to ruin his night vision by staring where the headlights were pointing. He accelerated down the road at a reasonable rate.
Just prior to reaching the first intersection he slowed significantly. He made a right turn and drove about 200 yards before he killed his headlights. He then turned around and proceeded back the way he came. Without the headlights, he had to be careful not to drive off the road, so he stayed at about 15 miles per hour. Even after his night vision improved he stayed slow, doing everything he could to minimize the noise of the tires and the engine. The second he saw the tiny yellow running lights in the distance, he slowed to a crawl and turned off the road, driving between two trees and moving as deeply as he dared into the woods. After about 20 yards, he brought the car to a halt. He got out and scanned the area from the road. Anyone who wasn’t really looking for it would not see the vehicle if they drove by. Perfect.
Now the hard work started. He re-entered the woods, moving slowly. Despite the gentle background whisper of the breeze and the steady drizzle, he knew everything depended on him being as silent as he could. He made each movement with great care, watching where each foot would land and exactly what was under it to ensure he made as little sound as possible, and rotated his head slowly as he looked around between steps. The human eye is designed to spot movement. It indicated the approach of possible danger, and the key to survival was to see it before it saw you. With his dark rain jacket, blue jeans, and sloth-like movement, Carson was part of the forest, and no animal, human or otherwise, would sense him or the threat he represented before it was far too late.
There was one more thing he could do to help matters. Crouching low and facing back toward the way he came, he pulled out the cell phone and, using his body to hide the light and sound, placed a call back to the last number that had contacted him earlier in the day. The same voice answered. “Yeah?”
“Where the fuck are you guys? I’m right here,” Carson said, doing his best to sound worried and confused.
“We don’t see you. We’re right at the edge of the field.”
“Well, so am I, and I just flashed my headlights, so if you guys can’t see them either you’re blind or one of us is in the wrong place.”
“You went right, then left, then a mile, right?”
“What? You said ‘right, right, left!’”
“No, you dumb fuck. You made one too many right turns. Come back to that first intersection and go straight, then a mile, and we’re on the right. You got it now?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Carson decided to twist the other guy’s tail a little. Angry men were less cautious, which would work in his favor. “Next time get the rocks outta your mouth before you mumble shit at me.”
“Hey, go fuck yourself.”
“Up yours, asshole. You think I like wandering around muddy fields in the middle of a rainstorm in the dark because you sound like some jamoke from Buttfuck, Slovakia.” Even though it had no bearing on the situation, it felt good to insult this dickhead.
He heard a grumble come through the phone, and knew the guy was biting off
