July 24, 1984
10:40 am
Deer Park, WA
“Yes, ma’am.” Jim tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke with the dispatcher. “We have six boys from the camp with us at this location. None of them is physically injured, but our lead counselor has been shot, and the person who shot him is tracking us.”
Dan listened to Jim’s half of the conversation with one ear, keeping his eyes nervously peeled for any sign of Bill Murdock. It had taken an extra few minutes to reach the phone, since their ears were permanently attuned to the sound of the quad. The boys and Ted were tucked safely inside the garage bay, but he and Jim were out here in the open, in plain view.
“Ma’am,” Jim’s voice was beginning to show the strain of the last fifteen hours. “Please just send us some help. Please. I’ve given you the address. Yes, ma’am, I know that the fire has you all spread thin, but we need help! Yes...”
“Down!” Dan shouted, dragging Jim to the ground as a bullet tore into the metal siding of the garage. “He’s off the side of the outbuilding,” Dan whispered to Jim. “And I don’t think that was the pistol he had before. What do we do now?”
“Create a diversion?” Jim asked, as they both belly crawled around the corner of the garage, taking cover behind the trash bin. “We have to keep him away from the others, until help gets here.”
“Is help coming?” Dan asked.
“I hope so.” Jim scanned the area, looking for anything that would spark a plan. “Dan?” he asked. “How about we make a run for the woods? Maybe we can draw him off, keep the kids safe.”
“As long as they don’t open the door, they should be fine.” Dan peered around the bin. “Do you think we can lose him in the trees?”
“We’re sitting ducks out here,” Jim said grimly. “Eventually he’s going to get us. If we go separate ways, maybe meet in the middle...”
“Are you sure I’m still talking to Jim?” Dan asked incredulously. “Mr. Cautious and Reliable? I feel like I’m talking to Trixie.”
Jim grinned weakly. “Maybe I’m channeling her,” he joked.
“You know what they say, don’t you?” Dan asked with a bitter grin.
“What?”
“Live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse.”
“Who says that?” Jim demanded.
“I don’t know. I saw it on a t-shirt. We look pretty bad, though. I guess we should clean up before we die.” Dan looked around the corner again. “If I head right, and you head left...?”
“We might draw him off.” Jim sighed. “Next time I start ragging on Trixie for doing something stupid, remind me to shut the hell up.”
“You’ve got it.” Dan held out his hand. Jim shook it, solemnly. “Stay low. Move fast.”
Jim countered. “Cover to cover. Zigzag. And don’t get shot.”
“I wonder how many bullets he has.” Dan pulled himself up into a crouching position.
“More than we do,” Jim said, readying himself. “On three. One, two, three...”
They burst out from behind the dumpster in near unison. Jim went left, Dan to the right. Ducking and dodging, each made his way from cover spot to cover spot. Murdock fired twice, once at each, but missed.
“Give it up, Richie and Cowboy,” Murdock taunted. “I’ve got plenty of ammo and all the time in the world.”
“I’d run if I were you, Billy-Boy,” Dan called back from his hiding place behind the tow truck. “The cops are on their way.”
“Sure they are. Throw me my key, Cowboy. Maybe I’ll let you and Rich Boy live a little longer.”
“We don’t have your key,” Jim hollered from his place behind the price sign. “Leave us alone.”
Murdock fired again, and Dan saw the bullet kick up dust off to his left. The crazy man was closing in on him. “Go!” he yelled to Jim, and sprinted into the trees. Jim started his dash at the same time, and they nearly collided at the base of a Western Hemlock.
“That worked better than I expected,” Jim said, slightly out of breath. He tilted his head. “Do you hear something?”
Dan leaned his forehead against the tree with relief. “Sirens?” he asked hopefully. Jim nodded.
Their moment was shattered by another gunshot. The bullet tore through the tree trunk, spraying both boys with shards of wood. As they dove for cover, a stern voice was heard yelling, “Drop it!”
As the sounds of police subduing Bill Murdock, came crashing into the wooded area, Jim sat up. Pulling a two inch splinter out of his arm, he said, “Thank God for the Calvary.”
“I hope they brought an ambulance,” Dan replied tightly. Jim looked at his friend. Blood was bubbling quickly from a hole in the upper left leg of Dan’s blue jeans, staining the fabric nearly black. As Jim turned his green gaze from the blood to Dan’s pain filled eyes, Dan said. “I guess I zagged when I should have zigged.”
Jim looked numbly from Dan’s white face, to the rapidly spreading bloodstain. “Think!” he told himself. Snatching off his t-shirt, he wadded it up and placed it over the bullet hole. Dan groaned slightly as Jim put his full weight on the injured leg. Then, to Jim’s horror, Dan’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell back, unconsciousness. Shifting his weight slightly to increase pressure, Jim began shouting, “Over here! Help! Over here!”
