C. Box - Nowhere to Run

Joe said, “Start from the beginning, Dave. How did you get from the other side of the mountain to here?”

“They kidnapped me,” Farkus said. “The men from Michigan, I mean. I drove up on them at my elk camp, and they took me along with them because I know the mountains. They were tracking those damned brothers, but everything went bad for them. The brothers ambushed us and I was the only one left alive. Them brothers, they ain’t human, I tell you. They ain’t. You guys should turn around and get the hell out of here while you have the chance.”

Joe said, “What are they if they aren’t human?”

“Wendigos. Monsters. They can move through the trees like phantoms or something, and they can just appear wherever they want. I told you back at the trailhead, remember?”

“I remember,” Joe said.

“So how did you get away from them?” Nate asked with a smirk. “Did you hold a cross up and just walk away?”

“I waited until they were gone,” Farkus said, “and I managed to get untied. They’ve completely left the mountains for somewhere else. They ain’t around no more. They had me tied up in a cave, I mean a cabin.”

Nate drew his arm back as if he were going to backhand Farkus, and the man flinched and grimaced, raising his arms to cover his face, ready for a blow.

“Nate,” Joe said.

When Farkus lowered his arms, Nate slapped him hard across his face.

“Why’d you do that?” Farkus protested. “I haven’t done nothing.”

Nate said, “You scared us, that’s what. And now you’re speaking gibberish. I hate gibberish. Nobody confuses a cabin with a cave. So you’d better start telling us the truth about what’s really going on up here, or you won’t see morning come.”

Joe nodded. “Your story doesn’t jibe, Dave. Like maybe you’re making it up as you go along.” He kept his flashlight on Farkus’s face and noted how the man averted his eyes and blinked rapidly as he spoke-two signs of a lying witness. “Somebody set a trap that could have killed either one of us and later rolled a boulder down the mountain that could have taken us out. The brothers were seen clearly this afternoon by a sheriff at the trailhead where they were in the process of burning your truck. No one else would match that description.

“Plus,” Joe said, lowering the beam of the flashlight to Farkus’s hands in his lap, “I don’t see any marks on your wrists from rope or wire. Which says to me you weren’t tied up at all. Now, I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them. If I think you’re lying again, I’m going to get up and walk away and leave you with Mr. Romanowski.”

He nodded toward Nate. “And whatever happens, happens. Got that?”

Farkus said, “Yes.”

“Good. Let’s start with the men from Michigan. We found three of them back on the trail. Who were they?”

“I told you. They were here to find the brothers and kill them.”

“Why?”

“They wouldn’t explain it all to me outright,” Farkus said. “Every time I asked what they were doing up here, they basically told me to shut up. But from what I could get from what they said to each other, it had to do with something that happened back in Michigan, where all of them were from. They were taking orders from this guy named McCue. He was at my elk camp with them, but he didn’t come along with us-”

“McCue?” Joe broke in. “Did I hear you right? Bobby McCue? Skinny guy? Older, kind of weary-looking?”

“That’s him,” Farkus said.

Joe took a deep breath.

Farkus continued, “The guys I was with knew the brothers, or knew enough about them, anyway. I got the feeling they might have clashed at one time or other.”

“It was personal, then?” Nate said.

“Not really. I think they knew of the brothers, like I said. But I’m sure it wasn’t personal. They were hired and outfitted by someone with plenty of money.”

“Did you hear any names besides McCue?”

“None that meant anything.”

“Try to remember,” Joe said, his head spinning.

Farkus scrunched up his eyes and mouth. He said, “McGinty. I think that was it. And Sugar.”

Joe felt a jolt. He said, “Senator McKinty and Brent Shober?”

“Could be right,” Farkus said.

Nate’s upper lip curled into a snarl.

Joe said to Nate: “What’s going on?”

Nate said, “It’s worse than we thought.”

Then Joe said to Farkus, “And all of you rode into a trap of some kind?”

“At the last cirque,” Farkus said, nodding. “We rode down the trail to the water and the lead guy, Parnell, rode through some rocks. He tripped a wire and a spike mounted on a green tree took him out.”

“We’re familiar with the trap,” Joe said. “Go on.”

“The brothers were on us like ugly on an ape,” Farkus said. “The horses blew up and started rearing and everybody got bucked off. The brothers finished off the wounded except for me.”

“Why’d they spare you?”

Farkus shook his head. “I don’t know, Joe. I just don’t know.”

“So they took you to their cabin. Or was it a cave?”

“It was a cabin.”

“Why did you say cave earlier?”

“You might have noticed there’s a big guy with a big gun right next to me. I was nervous and probably misspoke.”

“Ah,” Joe said, as if he was happy with the explanation. “And then the brothers just left?”

“Yes. They packed up and left me to die. They are completely out of this county by now. Maybe even out of the state.”

“Interesting you’re sticking with that,” Joe said. “So the rock that was rolled at us a while back was just a natural occurrence?”

“I don’t know anything about a rock,” Farkus said, his eyes blinking as if he he’d got dust blown into them. “All I know is there’s no point in you guys going after them anymore. They’re gone.”

“Were the brothers alone?”

“What do you mean?” When he asked, Farkus looked away and blinked his eyes.

“Was there a woman with them?” Joe asked softly.

“A woman?” Farkus said. “Up here?”

“Terri Wade or Diane Shober. I’m sure you’ve heard of at least one of them.”

Farkus shook his head.

Joe said to Nate, “We’re done here,” and stood up. “Should we dig a hole for the body, or let the wolves scatter his bones?”

Nate said, “I say we put his head on a pike. That kind of thing spooks Wendigos, I believe. Sends ’em running back to Canada, where they belong.”

Farkus looked from Nate to Joe, his eyes huge and his mouth hanging open.

“I’ve got no use for liars,” Nate said.

Joe turned to say something to Nate, but his friend was gone. He was about to call after him, but didn’t. Nate’s stride as he walked away contained purpose. And when Joe listened, he realized how utterly silent it had become in the forest surrounding them. No sounds of night insects or squirrels or wildlife.

He quickly closed the gap with Farkus and shoved the muzzle of his shotgun into the man’s chest. He whispered, “They’re here, aren’t they?”

Farkus gave an unwitting tell by shooting a glance into the trees to his left.

Joe said, “They sent you down here to distract us and pin us to one place while they moved in,” Joe said, his voice as low as he could make it.

Farkus didn’t deny the accusation, but looked at the shotgun barrel just below his chin.

“Hold it,” Farkus stammered, his voice cracking. “Hold it. You’re law enforcement. You can’t do this.”

Joe eased the safety off with a solid click.

“Really, please, oh, Jesus,” Farkus whispered. Then he raised his voice, “Don’t do this to me, please. You can’t do this. ”