John Gilstrap - At all costs

“Shit!” Jake hissed. What do we do now? If push came to shove, he was a good enough shot to drop the cop at this distance, but that didn’t seem like much of an option. Killing a police officer would render the rest of this exercise moot. If he murdered a cop, no one would give a damn that he hadn’t killed the others.

By all appearances, the encounter had played itself to a standoff, as each player tried to figure out how to communicate with the other. For a shamefully long moment, Jake considered just leaving Nick there.

Family first, everything else second.

If Jake just guided Carolyn and Travis around the near side of the mound closest to them, they’d be able to make it all the way back to the Cadillac without the cop seeing or hearing a thing. Once at the car, they’d have a decent shot at getting out alive.

And forever after, he’d have to live with the burden of having sold out a friend. Suddenly, this had all become too complicated. He pushed himself up from the ground and moved to circle around the mound when the characteristic sound of ripping fabric momentarily diverted his attention back toward the creek bed. Carolyn was cutting herself out of her suit, with Travis’s able, if somewhat hesitant, assistance. The boy was having a hard time getting much done with one hand covering his genitalia.

Jake had work to do. He darted out of sight as quietly as possible, hoping to double back and come in behind the cop. “Just don’t shoot yet,” he mumbled, an indirect prayer for Nick’s safety.

Once around to the front of the magazine opposite the exclusion zone, Jake ran full speed down the road to get to the other side of the mound. Last time he saw the cop, he was halfway down the other side of the berm, carefully avoiding the line where life stopped and contamination began. Jake’s best approach, then, would be directly over the top. Judging from the displaced leaves and broken branches, it was the same route the cop had followed just moments before.

Jake scaled the hill easily, holstering the Glock until his footing was secure. Once near the top, he drew the weapon again and peeked over the crest, trying his best to stay hidden in the undergrowth. As he rose up to look, he realized with a rush that this was the exact spot where the sniper had made his perch fourteen years before. For the millionth time since that awful day, Jake’s mind replayed the image of the man in camouflage, blasting at them randomly as they struggled to get out of the way of the giant smoke plume.

Without standing all the way up and exposing himself fully, all he could see of the cop at this angle was the back of the deputy’s head and his shoulders. An easy kill shot, but he still didn’t want to go there.

Honest, Judge, I had to blast him while he wasn’t looking. Not likely.

If he tried to rush the cop, he’d no doubt hear the approach, and even though they were separated by only twenty feet, that was plenty of time for the cop to turn and fire. Similarly, if Jake just yelled for him to drop his weapon, he’d probably turn and draw down anyway, sparking a lethal exchange of gunfire, which, under the circumstances, Jake would probably win, but the result would once again be a dead cop. Back to square one.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Then he got an idea.

“Federal officers!” Jake yelled, invoking the words and tone he’d heard in the body shop just three days before. “Don’t move!”

The cop jumped at the sound of the voice and started to turn.

Jake fired a shot in the air. “I said don’t move, goddammit! Now, drop your weapon!”

“But I’m a cop!” Sherman protested, once again starting to turn.

“And I’m the fucking tooth fairy!” Jake screamed. “Now, drop that weapon or I’ll blow your head off!”

“But I’m-”

“Now!!”

Sherman’s shoulders sagged, and he shook his head as he opened his hand and let the pistol fall to the ground.

“That’s a good boy,” Jake coaxed, hoping he wasn’t laying it on too thick. “Okay, now put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers.”

Sherman complied but bitched like an old rooster. “I’m a cop, goddammit! The bad guy’s down there-”

“Shut up and listen,” Jake interrupted. “I want you to step away from the weapon, back up the hill toward me.” Again, the cop did as he was told, at which point, Jake was lost. He had no idea what he was going to do next. He truly didn’t want to hurt the guy, but he didn’t know what else…

“I’ve got him, Jake. You go ahead and cuff him.” Carolyn’s voice came from behind him and to his left, and she had her. 380 in her trembling hand.

Sherman cocked his head at the sound of the new voice. “Jake?” he gasped. His shoulders sagged even further. “Jesus Christ.”

Jake smiled as he holstered the Glock and moved cautiously toward the neutralized threat. “I’m afraid so, Deputy,” he said. “You’ve been had. Now, the good news is, you’re alive. Do what I tell you, and you’ll remain that way. Just don’t screw with me, okay?” The cop had no way of knowing that Carolyn could no more shoot a man than she could flap her arms and fly.

Sherman was a beaten man. He followed directions, but with his head bowed in shame. “How could I be so stupid?” he chided himself.

Jake didn’t say anything as he pulled the handcuffs out of their holster in Sherman’s belt. Gripping the cop’s interlaced fingers tightly in his own hand, Jake led his prisoner backward to a sturdy young sapling and instructed him to sit down. Fifteen seconds later Sherman’s hands were cuffed behind his back, the sapling preventing him from going anywhere.

“You’ll never know how much I wanted to nail you, Donovan,” Sherman growled, his fear masked by anger and embarrassment.

Jake said nothing. Instead, he took the cop’s portable radio out of his belt and smashed it against a larger tree, thus putting the finishing touch on the worst crime of his life. Thank you, God.

“Come on up here, Jake,” Carolyn urged. Her voice sounded a little shaky. “It’s dangerous down there.”

“I’m okay,” Jake replied. She was right, of course; at least in absolute terms. The inverse square rule applied here-halving the distance quadrupled the hazard. In relative terms, though, Jake didn’t think he was in too much trouble. He needed to tell Nick that everything was okay, but when he turned to wave the all-clear, the other man was gone.

“Where’d Nick go?” Jake asked, glancing back to Carolyn over his shoulder.

“No idea,” she said. “But come on up here. I don’t want you down that close.”

“I’ll be there in a second.” He stooped down to speak man-to-man with the cop.

“There he is!” Carolyn announced.

Jake looked up to see Nick dragging the remains of one of their old coworkers outside. “What’s he doing?” Jake wondered aloud, watching as Nick went back inside again.

“The right thing,” Carolyn answered. Her tone was one of total approval. “They’ll have to bury them now. With the bodies visible to the news choppers, they’ll have no choice.”

Jake watched for a moment, then turned back to his captive, kneeling until they were eye-to-eye. “Look, Deputy, uh…” He glanced at the name tag. “Quill. My name is Jake Donovan. You know the name, I gather?”

Sherman glared and said nothing.

Jake smiled. “Look, I want you to deliver a message for me when whoever sent you comes to find you.”

“I’m not delivering anything.”

Jake sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Okay, fine, Deputy. Don’t deliver anything. Remember something, then. I could have killed you this afternoon, and you never would have known a thing. But I didn’t, did I?”