“It’s beautiful out here,” Angie said wistfully.
Mac glanced around. It was getting dark. Sunset was at 8:30 p.m., and they were getting close to that time. He was surprised they were setting up camp so late. So, he looked out there and saw the dark settling in, pooling shadows around dense forests and heavy undergrowth. He was driving with his headlights on, and it barely cut through the gloom. They’d left the main road rather quickly and were on a narrow one-lane road, graveled well enough to still make good speed.
He looked out into the forested hillside and saw nothing but hiding places for enemies. She saw beauty.
He smiled at her.
He downshifted, they were beginning a crawl up a steep incline and the vans ahead were making hard work of it. The oiled gravel had changed to loose gravel and now to rutted dirt and mud. He straddled the ruts, feeling the mud pull at his wheels. They were crazy to take heavily loaded vans out on a road like this early in the spring, Mac thought grimly. He wondered why they were. He didn’t think they had been this far into the back country on previous outings. The noise complaints? Reason or excuse?
It also bothered him that he was now out in the middle of nowhere, and he hadn’t seen the route in daylight. Mountain survival had one axiom: down was the way out. But that was good and fine, if you could tell which way was down. They’d gone up and down small hills for an hour. He couldn’t tell if there had been viable roads branching off.
He might as well have been blindfolded.
It was almost 10 p.m. when they pulled into a clearing. A van was already there, and overhead lights set up. Tents were up, someone had a campfire going. Got it, Mac thought. Ken Bryson had sent up a team ahead of time. Smart.
He appreciated the planning and forethought that went into the trips, although it spoke of many more trips than he’d previously believed. They had it down. He parked where one of Bryson’s assistants directed him.
“Welcome, I’m Rand,” the man said. Another veteran, Mac thought, but younger by a generation than Bryson. He was tall, muscled, with weathered skin and squint lines at his eyes. “Ken said to put you two in a tent together near the campfire. That OK with you both?”
Angie nodded. “I’m Angie,” she said, before Mac had a chance to say anything. She held out her hand, and he shook it. “This is Mac.”
Mac shook the man’s hand too. Rand’s handshake was firm, and he didn’t play games.
“Good to meet you,” Rand said. “They’re getting the men organized, and there will be a late meal here shortly. Food is excellent, by the way. This is by no means roughing it.”
Mac snorted. “I suspect what ‘roughing it’ means to you and me is far outside their imagination,” Mac said.
Rand grunted. “Marine?”
“Yeah,” Mac acknowledged. “You served.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Desert Storm,” he said. “Most of Bryson’s employees have served. It’s his way of looking out for men like himself, I think. Not that he’s said. I’ve worked for him off and on for 10 years, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a complete sentence from the man.”
Mac grinned. These were his kind of men. “So, what’s the schedule?”
“Tonight? Dinner. Camp fire. Some storytelling I suspect. The clients like to hear about military maneuvers. We’ll talk about weapons. Craig orchestrates all that — usually so cleverly that it looks casual. Tomorrow? A three-mile hike then breakfast. We’ll do some shooting. Craig probably has some new weapons to introduce. Lunch. Then we do a geocaching exercise. Ever done that?”
“Only the real kind,” Mac said. Wouldn’t that be a joy to do with amateurs?
“Well this works like a scavenger hunt, and they have to find all the locations in order to learn where dinner is being served. Dinner. Some wilderness survival techniques to learn. Sleep. Another hike before breakfast. More guns. You get that this is a gun-happy crowd, right? Lunch, and then head out.”
“How long have you been doing this?” Mac asked.
“Me personally? I did some trips with Craig last fall. Then these pampered trips stop, but Ken’s always has a few rougher snow trips scheduled over the winter. These comfy weekend adventures start back up in early April — as soon as the weather permits us to get out of town a ways. Every two weeks,” Rand said.
“How long have the trips been going on?”
“Two years, I think.” He shrugged. “Not sure. Ken says he makes good money off them. But they’re noisy fuckers.”
Mac laughed. “The sheriff usually comes along?”
“Yeah,” Rand said with a frown. “Not sure why he’s not here this time. Not like him to miss.”
“Malloy?”
Rand shrugged. “He comes along if we need an extra hand, or if Craig can’t make it. I got the impression that he’s not into the whole wilderness camping gig.”
First time he’d found something he had in common with that bastard, Mac thought. He heard Angie’s laugh, and looked around. She was sitting by the fire, talking with a couple of the guys. She had a beer in her hand, just like they did. They seemed relaxed enough.
“First time we’ve had a woman along,” Rand said. “You guys together?”
“Work team,” Mac said. “She’s great to work with.”
“Sharing a tent though.”
Mac looked at him. “If you brought a woman co-worker along with these guys, what would you do?”
Rand met his eyes. “I wouldn’t bring a woman along with these guys,” he said. “They get to drinking and they think they have to talk tough.
