Wisdom Spring (26 page)

He passed it out to me. It was beautiful. I
did
feel like Jimmy Stewart.

“Joe, I assume you have some shady military background.” Jess and I looked at each other. “Did it involve any sniper duty.”

“Some.” He left it at that.

“How about this?” Scott handed Joe a high-powered rifle with a scope.

“Perfect,” said Joe. He looked at it admiringly.

“Something about your past you want to tell us?” I asked.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t always a PI and leave it at that.”

“And Santa gives himself some presents.” Scott emerged from the storage room with two more items. “A Kimber 1911 .45 semi-auto, and a 12-gauge shotgun. You just can’t miss with a shotgun.”

“Where in the world did you come up with all these?” I asked.

“Ha, this is nothing. You should see the collections of some of my friends. What can I tell you? I live in Alaska.”

He continued. “You still have any of that money left, Jon? Because we have to buy a shitload of ammunition.”

“I do. I’ve gotta say that we’re going to feel pretty foolish if we arrive in Wisdom Spring and find an abandoned shell of a town with no guards.”

“You’re getting pretty bloodthirsty all of a sudden,” said Scott.

I felt embarrassed. “Well, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

Scott smacked me on the arm. “I know, bro. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He looked at his watch. “The gun store is still open. I’ll head down there with Joe. You guys want to make dinner? After we eat, we can come up with a plan. We can leave tomorrow, if you want.”

I was glad Scott asked Joe to go with him. Jess had suddenly gone quiet and I wanted a few minutes alone with her. Knowing Scott, he saw that, which is why he invited Joe.

I gave Scott a few hundred dollars and they went out the door. I said to Jess, “Let’s sit.”

We went over to the couch and I put my arm around her as she snuggled into me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I guess I just needed a moment to step back from all this,” she answered. “I’m a normal person. I’ve always done normal things. How did all this happen? In the last month I’ve been accused of murder and have half the police in the country looking for me; I’ve killed a man; I’ve snuck across the border … twice; I’ve stolen a car; I have my dead father talking to me. What else? And now we’re talking about going to a ghost town looking for information on a man who supposedly killed a lot of people here, and is now running for president. And, we’re going up heavily armed with the possibility of blowing away some guards. Have I covered everything?”

“You forgot the part about falling in love with your knight in shining armor—a guy whose life had fallen apart and was contemplating suicide before he met you.”

“Yeah,” she snuggled in closer. “There’s that, too.”

“All we can do Jess, is follow this through. It’s possible that we are the only people in the world able to stop Hillstrom, and whoever might control him. If that’s the case, we have a responsibility to stop him.”

“I know.” We sat in silence for a while. Finally she said, “Jon, I listed all of the things I’ve gone through, but I didn’t take into account all that you’ve had to endure, starting with the death of Karen, then the breakup of your marriage and the loss of your job. You’ve had to deal with a lot, as well. I can tell that you hurt so much about Karen, but you try not to show it.”

“Sometimes it’s really hard. It hasn’t been that long since she died, but it’s getting a little easier and having you in my life has been a lifesaver. Losing my wife and my job were blessings. Frankly, my life was going nowhere. All of this stuff—the hiding, the killing—has brought out a side of me I didn’t know existed. It makes me realize that I could never go back to even a semblance of my old life. When this is all over—assuming, again, that we make it through—I have no idea what I’m going to do. I just know that it will be different. It’ll be a conscious life. Never again will I be a drone. I have a feeling that the same applies to you.”

“It does. Together we can be truly alive. Assuming, of course, that we’re not dead.”

We were ready for this mission to get on its way. We went into the kitchen and prepared dinner, and an hour later Scott and Joe showed up with ammunition for all. After dinner, we sorted through the boxes. Scott had bought some extra magazines for all of the pistols, so we didn’t have to worry about reloading as often.

We spent a couple of hours discussing the plan, which was fairly loose. Only two of us would actually drive into the town. We decided on Jess and me. If they recognized Jess, all the better. At least we’d know we’d come to the right place. We would drop Scott and Joe off on the outskirts of town. It would give them the opportunity to observe from a different angle and to use them as cavalry in case we ran into trouble.

“I’m hoping that the first time through we can just get an idea of how many guards they have,” I said. “The eventual goal is to capture the guards.”

“Or kill them,” added Joe.

“Or kill them,” I agreed. “Then we would have free rein to search the town.”

“If these people are as sophisticated as you say,” warned Scott, “they might have cameras surrounding the town. We have to be aware of that. “What do we expect to find?”

“Expect?” I said. “I really don’t know. I hope we’ll find something that will explain all this. It’s possible that this is all a wild goose chase.”

“If they have guards,” said Joe, “then there is something there. It might be small and hard to find, but there is something they don’t want us to discover.”

We packed the car that night in anticipation of an early departure. Scott figured out how far behind us he’d have to leave, and the plan was in place. Max was going to go with Scott and Joe, and Slob—as was the custom—would stay and guard the place. Scott called one of his girlfriends to stop over and feed Slob while he was away.

Jess and I left at six the next morning. It was early-summer, and the air was crisp. Neither of us had slept much, but we weren’t tired as we pulled out of Scott’s driveway.

For the first time since this ordeal began, we weren’t running or hiding. We were bringing it right to them, and hopefully it would be the last thing they would ever expect.

Chapter 30

We headed north out of Homer, taking the same route, in reverse, that we had taken the previous week, and once again were completely overwhelmed by our surroundings. It was tempting to pull off the road and just sit for hours listening to the sounds of nature, but we couldn’t. We had a job to do. If we were successful, maybe we could come back this way and take our time.

But while it was spectacular country, I wasn’t sure I could see myself living there. It had worked out beautifully for Scott. His enthusiasm for his lifestyle made me happy for my brother. However, it was just a bit too remote for me. I was in no way a city person—I had hated working in downtown Boston—but neither was I ready to give up the conveniences of civilization to live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Jess and I discussed it for a while and, while we acknowledged the romance in the idea of chucking it all for wilderness living, she seemed to be of the same mind about it. And yet, at the same time, this whole experience had soured us on civilization. The need for privacy—especially now—was strong in us. Would we come around to the idea of living someplace so remote? Could we find a happy medium? Seeing as how we first had to live through this, I knew it might all be moot.

We took turns driving. Luckily we didn’t have to worry about getting to Delta Junction after dark, as there was almost no dark this time of year. Scott said he was going to find a motel online and call ahead and reserve two rooms.

Every once in a while Jess would lapse into one of her quiet periods. After the third one I asked if she was in contact with her father.

“No,” she answered. “I wish. But I have been thinking about him. I was thinking about his communication with Clyde. As strong as it is, I wonder if I could actually use Clyde as a channel. When this is all over, do you think I could have a conversation with my father through Clyde?”

She wanted so badly for her parents not to be dead—the same feeling I had about Karen—that she was soaking in this communication with her father. My fear was that it was eventually going to eat her up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” I said, trying to remain as neutral as I could. “But I wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up. Already you’ve had more contact with a deceased loved-one than almost anybody. Try to appreciate that.” She nodded in agreement, a tear in the corner of her eye slowly forming enough to finally escape down her cheek. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to talk to Karen. But I’m not so lucky. You have to think of Clyde, too. He’s over ninety years old and tires easily. Trying to channel your father might just be too much for him. It’s one thing for Clyde to dream about him and converse that way. But fully awake? I’m not so sure.”

“You’re right. I should appreciate what I have. It’s just that I’ve been given a taste and I want more. Is that so bad?”

The last part of that she wasn’t really asking of me, so I didn’t answer.

We occasionally stopped for breaks and finally rolled into Delta Junction a little after eight. Scott and Joe had arrived about two hours earlier and were waiting for us at the motel.

It wasn’t a bad place. It was clean, comfortable, and had a small family restaurant across the parking lot. Scott and Joe had already eaten, but Jess and I were famished, so they sat with us as we ate.

But we were all too tired to talk much about the next day, so we agreed to meet at nine the next morning. There was a tenseness to go along with our weariness. We all felt it, and when Jess and I were settled in bed, we made love with a frenetic energy. There was a desperate quality to it, as if we both sensed that it could be our last. Finally spent, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning was dreary with a light mist in the air, and it had gotten much cooler. We all met in the restaurant, a little on edge, barely touching our food. We were anxious to get on our way, but at the same time, were stalling. There wasn’t much to talk about concerning the course of action. All the planning had been done at Scott’s house.

We finally took off at ten, travelling about a half an hour on Route 2 before seeing the turnoff for Wisdom Spring. There was no sign—I’m sure there had been one once—but I knew from the map that this was the road. It was a dirt road, as I expected, but not in too bad shape, and the Armada had no problems with it. Although the road was overgrown to an extent, I sensed that it had enough occasional traffic to keep it from vanishing completely. Once we were out of sight of the highway, we pulled off to the side and armed ourselves.

According to the map, Wisdom Spring was almost ten miles from the highway. We drove it slowly, constantly on the lookout for cameras. We didn’t expect any armed guards to be this far from the town, but surveillance cameras were a real worry. For that reason, Scott and Joe stayed hidden in the back seat. When I figured we were less than a quarter of a mile from the town, I pulled over. Jess and I looked carefully for electronics of some kind. Seeing none, Joe opened the rear passenger door, and he and Scott slipped out and disappeared into the woods, with Max close behind. From behind a tree, Scott gave me a thumbs up.

“Here we go,” I said to Jess. I had my Sig next to me on the seat and Jess was holding the .22 under a sweater on her lap. Her .380 was tucked in her belt. I put the SUV in gear and we crept down the road. After a couple of minutes the trees parted and we found ourselves overlooking a valley. We stopped to survey the scene.

A hundred years ago, the valley—without the signs of civilization—must have been spectacular. At the far end, a couple of miles away, and at the base of a mountain, was a pristine lake, fed most likely by snow run-off. To our left was a massive forest a few miles wide and deep, butting up against more mountains. We were entering on the right-hand side of the valley—more mountains to our immediate right, and a clearing below us. Part of the clearing was natural, but it had been expanded at different points in the town’s history. The edge of the forest had an unnatural look, the result of man’s interference. Acres of forest had been clear-cut to make room for the buildings. The wood from the trees probably made up most of the buildings. Below us lay the town. It was ugly, ugly the way I would have imagined a mining town. None of the roads were paved, but it had a real downtown, of sorts. It was a block long and had a half a dozen brick buildings. The edge of both sides of the street was a raised wooden sidewalk. Surrounding the downtown were several short streets with cheaply-made houses. The yards were overgrown and some of the roofs had begun to collapse. But at one time the houses, though cheap, were probably decent. Comfortable, at least.

The outskirts of the town were a different story. For a half a mile beyond the end of the downtown, scattered on the hilly landscape, were shacks—three dozen or more. Originally, there were roads connecting the shacks, but they were almost unrecognizable now. Many of the shacks had fallen in on themselves, but there were still a few standing. This was the town that Carl Jenkins remembered as a child—a real mining town. When he went back years after the mine had closed, it was the newer part of the town he encountered. Now it was all dead.

Well, not completely. There were three black Jeeps parked in front of one of the buildings. Obviously, nobody had been alerted to our presence. Maybe our fears of surveillance cameras were unfounded, otherwise they would have intercepted us by now. But if I had any questions about whether or not this was the correct town, the identical Jeeps clinched it. There was something quasi-military about their presence.

The only thing missing from the town was the mine. It wasn’t anywhere in sight. The right-hand cliffs curved around a bend at one point, so I had to assume the mine was there.

I gave Jess a look and started the SUV down the hill. It wasn’t steep, but it was long, and its gradual grade had put us fairly high over the valley. I drove slowly, partly to give Scott and Joe time to catch up, partly to look like tourists, and partly to not give the owners of the Jeeps too much warning. In my rearview mirror, I saw Scott and Joe emerge from the woods. Joe went straight down the hill on our right, which consisted of large rocks that would give him cover and offer him a good view of the street in case he had to do some long-distance shooting. Scott headed off to our left to try to get down in back of the buildings—closer for his shotgun. I was a little worried about Scott. He was hefty these days and I didn’t want him taxing himself too much. But I had to give him credit, he was looking pretty nimble. Max followed close behind. I gave thanks that Max wasn’t a barker. I had wondered about the wisdom of Scott bringing Max along, but as I saw them heading down the hill, I could see the dog’s enthusiasm and the way they worked together. Maybe a police dog would come in handy.