C Box - Trophy hunt

Cleve Garrett's Airstream Trailer was still attached to his pickup and it was pulled into the fifth and last space in the campground. It looked like a big, slick metallic tube in the dark trees. Behind the trailer, through thick stands of willows, the river flowed wide and shallow. Joe cranked the wheel of his truck to block the road, and turned off the motor. Garrett could not drive out of his site now, and there were too many thick trees all around for him to use an overland escape route. The blinds were pulled down tight on all of the trailer windows, and Joe wondered if he had been either seen or heard by the occupants inside. Joe and Nate slid out of the cab. As they had planned, Nate pushed his way into the brush and vanished within it to take a position behind cover near the front of Garrett's pickup. This way, Nate could cover Joe as well as see if anyone inside tried to escape out the back of the trailer. Joe stood behind his pickup, keeping it between him and the trailer. He had switched his radio to PA and the mike cord stretched across the cab and out the open window. When he assumed Nate was in position, he keyed the mike. "Cleve Garrett, come out of that trailer now." He watched the windows carefully, saw one of them near the front shiver as someone looked out. "IF YOU HAVE ANY WEAPONS, LEAVE THEM INSIDE. OPEN THE DOOR AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, PALMS OUT." The front window blind shot up. Joe crouched down and raised the stock of the shotgun to his cheek. He put the bead on the front sight to the window. A face appeared, pressed against the glass. "Joseph?" Not Ike mouthed. "Joseph?" His words were silent on the outside. Not Ike looked confused but okay, Joe thought with a rush of relief. Garrett probably had a gun at Not Ike's head, shoving the big man's face into the glass. Not Ike was mouthing something through the glass. Joe could read it: Creepylike guys, Joseph. A louvered pane near Not Ike's head was being cranked open. Joe hoped Nate had a better angle on the window from where he was hidden in the brush. Maybe, Joe thought, Nate would be able to see Garrett inside and fire if Garrett lowered his gun or was distracted. "Joseph, that's you, isn't it?" Joe could now hear Not Ike. "It's me," Joe said, talking into the mike so that Garrett would be sure to hear him as well. "Plus about twenty officers more on the way. The trailer is surrounded." There was a beat and Not Ike's face was pulled from the window. Maybe Garrett would speak now, Joe hoped. Maybe Garrett would try to make a deal. "Nobody needs to get hurt," Joe said, willing confident gentleness into his voice. "No one needs to get hurt at all. Just leave any weapons inside and come out." There was movement inside the trailer, and it rocked slightly. With a metallic click, the door burst open. Joe swung the muzzle of his shotgun to it, saw the door slam against the outside of the trailer, saw the doorframe filled with Not Ike. Garrett was behind Not Ike with his forearm around the big man's throat and a pistol pressed into his ear. Because Garrett was much shorter, all Joe could see of him were his eyes over Not Ike's shoulder.

"We're coming out," Garrett shouted.

Not Ike stepped out of the trailer, Garrett pressed tightly behind him. Not Ike took several steps forward, grinning at Joe as if he didn't fully comprehend what was happening. Joe didn't lower his shotgun. For a brief, electrifying moment, Garrett's and Joe's eyes locked.

"Let him go," Joe said, close enough now not to need the microphone. "Lower the gun and drop it into the dirt."

Garrett looked furtively to his side.

"I don't see anybody else," Garrett said. "Where're your troops?"

"They're out there," Joe lied, thinking: Nate, where are you?

Garrett pushed Not Ike forward another few steps toward Joe. The pistol was jammed into Not Ike's ear, tilting his head slightly to the side. Joe could see that the hammer was cocked. Not Ike looked strangely serene, Joe thought. Somehow, it made the situation seem worse.

"We're going to walk right up to you," Garrett said, his voice gaining confidence. "And we're going to take your truck out of here. You are going to lower that shotgun and step aside."

Yes, I was, Joe thought. He had no other choice. Unless… Nate?

Then the door to the trailer filled with someone else, something else, something unspeakably horrible.

It was Cam Logue, with most of his face peeled aside. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood, and his head slumped forward, his arms limp. He was being held up from behind by a big, dark man with a beard, wearing a bloody camouflage jacket.

"Oh, my God," Joe heard himself whisper. Why is Cam here and what have they done to him?

The man behind Cam Logue moved out of the trailer. He appeared to be carrying Cam, keeping him vertical with one arm wrapped tightly around Logue's chest. In the other hand was a scalpel, which was pressed against Logue's throat.

"You din't fo'get about me, did you, Doc?" the man asked Garrett. His speech was garbled and slurred. The man's poor speech and the camo jacket clicked in Joe's mind. It was Nurse Bob, Joe realized.

"Of course not," Garrett said to Nurse Bob, not looking around. To Joe: "It's a messy business, this."

Joe was stunned, unable to process the horrific scene in front of him. Nothing made sense. BOOM.

The left half of Nurse Bob's head disappeared, blood and pieces of flesh splattering the side of the trailer with a sickening, wet sound, while his body toppled over backward like a felled tree. Cam Logue fell forward, released from the man's grip, landing facedown on the ground.

Instinctively, Joe straightened up and moved to his left behind the truck to get an angle on Garrett. Garrett had wheeled Not Ike around toward the sound of the shot, and Joe could see Garrett clearly now. But Garrett still had the pistol jammed into Not Ike's head.

"Who did that?" Garrett screamed, stealing a glance toward Cam's prone body.

"Drop the weapon!" Joe shouted.

But Garrett didn't. Instead, he began backpedaling, pulling Not Ike along with him. Garrett backed up until he was nearly at the trailer again, but veered toward the rear of it. Not Ike was starting to panic now, because he didn't know what was happening.

"Joseph!"

Garrett backed into the reedy brush behind the trailer, and before he was gone the last thing Joe saw were Not Ike's arms flailing.

Then he heard a splash.

Joe and Nate followed. "You didn't tell me there would be two of them," Nate said.

"Nobody told me there would be two of them either," Joe muttered. "Or that Cam would be with them."

Nate said nothing.

They found Not Ike in the river, sputtering but unharmed. Cleve Gar- rett was gone.

"I've got him," Nate said, leaving Joe and Not Ike in the river and wading toward the opposite bank.

For the next three hours, as night came and the campground filled with vehicles and men and the crime scene lights went up, Joe Pickett was in a kind of fog. He was lucid enough to recognize that he was in mild shock. He dully recounted the details of what they had found in the campsite to Portenson, Hersig, and Sheriff Barnum. As activity whirled around him, he stayed out of the way, observing things as if he had no connection to any of it.

Hersig came over to Joe at one point and told Joe that they'd found a duffel bag with some personal items in the trailer that confirmed that the man Nate shot was Robert Eckhardt, the army nurse accused of mutilations who had gone AWOL. The phone number of the cell phone in the man's bag matched the phone number Deputy Cook and Sheriff Harvey had pulled off their Caller ID. Hersig said they were going to run the man's prints through the computer to prove his identification. The extent of his injuries would make a visual ID impossible.