“Get up, Cowboy.”
Slowly, Dan rose to his feet. The gun remained in his face, following him as he moved. Still clutching the radio handset, he managed to find his voice. “What’s the gun for, Billy-Boy?”
“I want what’s mine, and I can’t wait any more.” The ice-blue eyes were positively glacial.
“I don’t think I have anything that belongs to you,” Dan said cautiously. “Did you lose something?”
“Vince lost it, the damned idiot!” The gun wavered slightly. “He was just supposed to slow you down, but no. He has to get creative and loses the damned key. I want it back, and I want it now!”
“What key?” Dan tried to look confused, but his ploy didn’t work.
“Don’t play dumb with me!” Bill pressed the gun against Dan’s forehead. “I heard you two talking about it. I know you have it.”
Caught, Dan let comprehension dawn on his face. “You mean the key that we found in the 4Runner?”
“Yes. That key. Get it for me.”
“I don’t have it on me.
Bill narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I want my key, and I don’t care if I get it over your dead body or not.”
“I’m not lying,” Dan told him. “I put it on the ring with the cache keys.”
“Where’s the ring?” Bill’s eyes were wild, his hand tightening on the pistol grip.
“In Jim’s pocket.”
Bill took a step back. “Then we’ll go find Richie Rich.” He grabbed Dan’s shoulder and thrust him out of the tent, repositioning the gun so that it rested against Dan’s back, slightly above his right kidney. “Lead on.”
It was Mark who first recognized the sound, dropping the metal plate and yelling “Hit the ground!” He dove towards the nearest boys, dragging both Brady and Luis to the ground. Denis obeyed his brother immediately, but Sam and Kris took their time, uncertain of the reasons for going face-first into the dirt. It took Jim a half-second longer to realize what had happened, but then he, too, hit the ground. Cautiously, he raised his head, listening.
“Get down, Ranger!” Mark hissed, almost directly in his ear. “Somebody’s shooting.”
Jim hesitated. He was well aware of Mark’s familiarity with gunfire. “I know,” he whispered. “What I don’t know is who or why.” He looked around at the boys. “Take the boys into the woods. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
“No.” Mark shook his head. “What if you don’t come back?”
Jim saw open fear in the eyes of the normally cool and confident Mark. “I’m planning on coming back, Mark,” he said gently. “But if you don’t see either Cowboy or me in the next thirty minutes, you get the boys down to the base camp. Take them wide, and meet up with the trail.”
“I don’t have the map,” Mark protested.
“No,” Jim agreed. “You don’t have the map, but you know the trail, and Kris still has the compass. Keep near the trail, head south and east, and you’ll hit civilization. I know you can do it, Mark.” Jim reached out and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to need to, but I know you can.”
Mark gave Jim a long look. Finally, he nodded and signaled to the other boys. “Follow me,” he said. “Stay low, and stay quiet.” With a last glance at Jim, he said, “Be careful.” Jim smiled weakly, as Mark started moving toward the tree line, the boys following behind him.
Jim looked around for something, anything he could use as a weapon. The washtub caught his eye, and he rummaged around, coming up with two smallish paring knives. Better than nothing, he thought, tucking them into his left hand. Staying low, he moved stealthily back toward camp, keeping a sharp lookout for anything out of the ordinary.
Dan walked stiffly, trying to avoid the gun that kept prodding him. Deliberately, he led Bill in the opposite direction from the stream, toward the trailhead, and away from Jim and the boys. His mind was racing, trying to come up with an escape plan that was feasible, and not dependent on his non-existent martial arts knowledge or an act of God. The only thing he could come up with was the cliff edge. Dan figured if he could get Billy near the edge of the mountain lip, he might be able to trip him, or push him over. The drop-off was not terribly steep, but if he could get Billy over the side, it might gain him time. Time to make sure that the boys could escape, hopefully with their counselors intact.
“You’re stalling, Cowboy.” Bill jabbed Dan in the side with the gun.
“No,” Dan licked his lips as he lied, trying to make his voice calm. “Ranger and the boys went on a hike. The hiking trail starts over there, just behind the trees.” Dan pointed to a spot near the edge of the mountain.
“If you’re lyin’, you’ll be dyin’.” Billy sneered. “Where’s this trail?”
“Right here.” Dan stopped, pointing to a path leading into the woods.
Billy moved around Dan, the gun still pointed in his general direction. “Well, I suppose I can wait here by myself. Too bad for you.” Dan felt his mouth go dry.
“Let him go, Billy! It’s over.”
The voice took both of them by surprise. Billy turned slightly, cocking his head. “Teddy. Dear old Daddy-man himself. What brings you out here?”
Sneaking around the perimeter of the camp, Jim immediately spotted Dan and Billy walking toward the cliff edge. Although he couldn’t see a weapon, he could tell by the oddly stiff way Dan was moving, that he wasn’t taking a walk for pleasure.
Creeping past the clearing and into the woods, Jim carefully and quickly found the trail and headed up it. He arrived just ahead of Billy and Dan, and concealed himself in the underbrush. The gunman stopped his reluctant hostage almost within spitting distance of Jim’s hiding place. Listening to the conversation, he prepared himself to leap at Billy before the man could shoot Dan. Gauging the distance, Jim was in his crouch position when Ted suddenly appeared. With Billy distracted, Jim shifted position, watching and waiting for the right opportunity.
“I came for you, Bill. Put the gun down.” Ted took a step toward Dan and Billy, but halted when Bill pointed the pistol at him.
“You didn’t come for me, Dad. You never did.”
“Bill, we’ve been over this time and again. I didn’t know.” Ted took another step, hooking the radio on his belt, and raising his hands in the air. “You had good parents, and when you found me, I didn’t turn you away. I’ve been there for you as much as I could; let me help you now. Give me the gun.”
“Go to hell, Pop!” Dan eased a step or two away as Ted kept Billy’s attention diverted. “You don’t know anything about my parents.” Billy spat, waving the pistol wildly, his anger rolling in waves. “What did you ever give me? A stupid-ass summer job as your lackey? Sunday dinner with the disapproving wife and half-brats? Big deal. I can make more in a day than you do all year. I have! I have more money than you’ll ever see. I just need that key!”
“Bill, please, don’t do this.” Ted took a couple of steps closer, and Billy suddenly swung the gun toward Dan. “Vince confessed everything. It’s over, son, please. Please don’t make things worse.”
“Worse?” Billy laughed, a hollow and soulless bark. “Tell me how it gets worse? I am not going to jail, Pops. All I need is my key.”
“Why is the key so important, Bill?” Ted’s voice took on a soothing and conversational tone. “Tell me how I can help you find it.”
Billy hesitated. His eyes narrowed, and he looked hard at Ted, searching for a trick. “It’s the key to my safe deposit box.” His plaintive tone was almost a whine. “Vince, the idiot, dropped it when he wrecked their engine. They have it, Cowboy and Richie Rich. They have it, and I want it back!”
“I can see why you would be frustrated, Bill.” Ted continued to speak in what Dan recognized as his counselor voice. “Why did Vince have the key?”
“Because I had to be back at camp,” Billy admitted. “Vince was supposed to get the money out of their car and take it to the box. Idiot!” His anger began to simmer again.
“Do you have Bill’s key, Dan?”
It took Dan a second to realize that Ted had addressed him. He shook his head. “No sir. I mean, yes, we found it, but I don’t have it right now.”
“He’s lying!” Billy was building up into a rage again, his eyes wild, his actions unpredictable.
Ted tried again to defuse the situation. Speaking softly, he asked, “Where is the key, right now, Dan?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Dan admitted. “It’s on the key ring. Jim has it, I think.”
“And where is Jim?”
“This is stupid!” Billy had had enough. He pointed the pistol at Dan and pulled the hammer back. “If you don’t have it, then you’re no use to me, are you?”
Later, after they had time to think, neither Jim nor Dan could fully describe the next ten seconds. As Billy’s finger began to squeeze the trigger, Dan ducked, throwing the radio handset he still held, toward the gunman’s head. At the same time, Jim hurled himself out of the brush, hitting Billy knee-high. Billy spun, firing the gun even as he tumbled backwards over the edge of the embankment.
Sprawled in the dirt, Jim asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Dan rolled over and crawled to the edge. “I can see him. He’s about fifty feet down, and I don’t think he’s moving.”
“We’ve got bigger problems,” Jim said tersely. “Ted’s been hit.”
They rushed to the camp director. Ted was flat on his back, nearly spread eagle. Blood was beginning to stain his right side, and his face was a twisted combination of shock and pain. “He...he shot me,” Ted gasped. “He shot me.”
Dan and Jim looked at each other. “I’ll get the first aid kit,” Jim said. “Maybe there’s something in there...?”
“Not for...this,” Ted managed to say. “Get off the hill, before...it’s too late.”
“We don’t leave people behind,” Dan told him, tugging open Ted’s shirt. Looking at Jim, he asked, “Suggestions?”
“Radio for help?”
“Not an option.” Dan held up the radio Ted had brought; it was broken, smashed on a rock when the man fell. “Billy shot the big one, and the portable was on him when he went over the edge.”
“Get the boys...out.”
Jim ignored Ted’s words. “I guess we pack him out, then. How far was that house we saw?”
“About five miles, give or take. I think I remember phone lines.” Dan fell silent, thinking. “Get me the first aid kit. Then get the boys and have them pack food and water. If we scrap the small tent...”
“We can make it into a stretcher.” Jim nodded his approval. “Ted,” he said to the fallen man. “You hold on. We’re all getting down the mountain.”
“Crazy,” Ted said weakly. “You’re both crazy.” But Jim had already gone, and Dan just grinned at him, and turned his attention to the hole in Ted’s chest.
“It doesn’t look too bad, Ted,” Dan said, trying to hide the shakiness of his hands with a cheery tone of voice. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Feels like...someone hit me...with a sledgehammer.”
“Is it hard to breathe?” Dan asked. The blood continued to ooze, but it was not spreading very fast. Dan thought that was a good sign, but his first aid class hadn’t really covered gunshot wounds.
“It hurts...to breathe, but...I have air.” Ted struggled to speak. “I think my ribs are broken.”
Dan winced sympathetically. “That happened to me once; I remember it hurt like he...anything.”
Jim rushed up with the big red first aid case, and two blankets. Kneeling beside Ted, he covered him with a blanket, and unlatched the kit. “The boys are packing,” he told Dan. “Do you need me here, or should I get the stretcher together?”
“I’m just going to cover it,” Dan answered. “There isn’t an exit hole in the back, so that’s all I can do. Get the stretcher ready, and probably flashlights. It’s going to be dark soon, and the air is getting heavy.” He lowered his voice. “Check our friend, too. See if he’s moved yet.” Jim nodded, his green eyes narrowing as he set off on his task.
