(It's) Always There - Ch. 15

He should check if they were near enough. For that, Hane aligned his long rifle's scope with the horizon then rigidly stayed it below that and away from the setting sun - he'd seen men without caution go blind like that. And as he assumed, their goal was in view... though not how he would have liked. While at eye-level the area was more sparse and partway desert in appearance, seen at moderate elevation much of the structures were hidden by treetops in and around, its size limited and layout flat to the extent their little hill couldn't properly get a vantage on the place. Of what could be seen, it was wholly normal for a Texan town which barely crossed into counting as a city.

Instantly Navy's voice quieted when shushed. His nod to the shed not far away told her to be silent, and that the question she'd of course ask would be answered soon.

It was known already they'd get there too late to safely approach. In the morning there'd be enough layers of thin trees and shrubs to get closer and see if anyone had been there recently, and, whether those who made them were dead or not, it would be bright enough to avoid pits, alarms, or other perimeter defense - nowhere towns were especially prone to that. As well, the sun would be in the east, behind them, discouraging anyone from looking their way.

They would circle Ballinger carefully and slowly, taking more than a day if needed... But until then the three of them should sleep somewhere.

Hane signed to them both, "Ready." He got to a crouched position while switching rifles, the girl drew her weapon, and Case awaited further instruction. "One, lead. Two, follow. Three," the commander pointed to a bush she could sneak out from under of but he could keep an eye on, and ordered, "hold."

The first two let her get out of view... in acceptable quiet.

It was an old, one story, decrepit yet standing shack with no openings facing them and undoubtedly no way any entrances could move without sound. Their steps over and down the hill were set delicately to not loosen soil or break one of the many, many dry bits of plant. Yards between it and them closed faster once they were level, positions taken unevenly on either side of the door. No mechanism to keep its door shut was present, so Hane swung it open, only the hinges' creak alerting anyone they were present. He peeked. He entered, and swept to either side of the only room, not more than a low dresser and old tools inside.

... No one was there. He could say it was clear, and they could leave. But when he tried, the stranger slipped from his beam overtop - soundless as though he didn't exist - with his barrel never untrained from Hane, and he signed in clear American alphabet, letter by letter, "Don't."

In what little of his face could be made out, Hane saw age, and intent. He wasn't dead for a reason. "Bomb." The stranger pointed to a wire leading from his arm to the ceiling. "Switch. I sign, you say, all live."

Hane read him. He was in the dark... and so was the stranger.

Another point showed exactly where Case was behind the wall. "Lives. One chance."

... The Shepherd nodded.

His elder dictated in short, "Clear normal. Guns down. All in door."

Double-whistled with a click, Hane told Case, "Left, standing, fire." To make it look realistic he stood by the entrance, sight part on the hound and part to pretend greet-

For the thousandth time his skin would turn blackish, not the fastest draw he'd seen but one quick as it had to be to go unnoticed and set off a flash and nulled explosion, something hitting but not carving a hole in his side. While he was made to kneel, Hane's weapon remained in hand.

"GUNS DOWN! NEXT ONE'S LIVE AND GOES IN HIS HEAD!" the stranger growled, altering his mouth, position, and height so he couldn't be pinpointed through the wall. It may have been true that this man was outnumbered, and maybe had no more than a couple handmade munitions, but his gun stayed square on Hane, sure to hit even through the repositioning. And Hane knew the quivering, locked pain in his abdomen was the least a bullet made of rubber could do.

If he launched into a roll sideways, getting Hane in the face would be unlikely, and he could-

Case's shadow covered much of the open light, him now the target. Hane would have to wait.

Following unspoken demands, the wolf had entered with nothing lethal in his grip. "Disarm," was told, then done without hesitation, each of his weapons tossed towards the room's opposing end. With his eyes only, the man pointed where Case should be, and told again, "Disarm," this time to Hane.

The gun was on him.

Strain put on his body prepared it to move, if only for a couple seconds, like he wasn't shot - like his muscles would feel no weight or agony even as they compressed on smashed organs or almost tore apart themselves. He'd move like he was twenty.

Spring-loads in his joints stayed for their chance as the unknown dog pointed out, "You know the bomb's fake." That was blatant and lessened neither of their positions at the moment. Never changing the target of his eyes or weapon - not so much as a flick or gesture - he warned, "What's in here isn't a lie. And I can prove it, if that's what you want."

... Moving was out of the question. Every thought spent still armed risked his life or a wound he couldn't recover from.

... Hane would get one chance, and no more.

---

A blank idea walked through Navy's conscious. It was similar to thinking, had all the feelings of it and the sense of filing away a completed thing in her brain... but it was empty, with no substance.

...

The dirt was dry, and kind of loud when she was that close. *Ffffsh* each time a movement made it through paralysis. It sounded like the ocean sometimes. Wave in; wave out.

Over the crest of the hill she couldn't see past, a familiar voice met her instead of the other. "You can come out, Navy. He's dead."

It pondered into Navy as she wrangled out of the brush that she would much rather spend the night out stargazing than in a cramped room where someone died, whatever the method was... Since wondering why they wouldn't allow that was sure to not solve the problem - she knew this was crude to say - the tiger hoped it wasn't bloody, and that Case and Hane would move whoever it was out before they made camp. She had no control over it, as much of a shame as it was. He was dead, and that's the way of things.

Come to meet them by instruction...

... An older man pointed something at her, and another at Hane, both from where he crouched in the dark. The others were on their knees. She eyed between them, then, because it felt like her only option, slowly undid her holster and let it fall.

He looked to be a terrier of some kind, dark brown fur on his head, a longish down-slanted muzzle, and trimmed but longer fur that bearded the end of his snout suggesting Airedale, or a type close to it.

... Navy waited for the *tchk*. Her focus dared to change, but their captor's hadn't left Hane since she disarmed - like he was just watching, rather than controlling.

After a bit, he sighed and ordered, "Drop it." Apparently it slipped through perception that Hane was still armed, though he did as told and made them defenseless. Not like he had any choice, really.

"One at a time, left to right: slowly take off everything over your shirt and pants, turn out your pockets, take your shoes off, and spin so I can see, in that order. Do anything I don't like and, if I'm generous, none of you walk again."

Case started like was said, undoing his backpack, vest, utility belt with a holster, and the knife on his leg. Pockets inverted without too much in them, boots went to the room's middle with everything else, and he spun slowly around once.

Hane did the same.

When Navy did as well, the sling went out as easily as her other things, a catch in her tongue not willing to ask if she could keep it instead and an unpleasant stiffness in her elbow making her just willing enough to cradle it as opposed to joining the others with hands on their heads. The stranger didn't mention it.

Two lines of black plastic were tossed before each of them. Oh... "In front, both at the wrists, tight as they'll go." They did, except with hers up to the chest. She sucked in air against the pain.

"Back out, facing me, and line up ten feet from the door and one foot from each other - like you are now."

They did. Hane wasn't sure the goal other than going... somewhere.

"You'll turn around and go where I say, never breaking this formation. Act like you're armed and I'll treat you that way." He directed, "North. Walk."

---

This stranger was more scared of them than anyone else.

As the final exposed plain ended, they approached foliage that couldn't be walked around quickly, either to the northeast or opposite toward the river, likely ending on its other side past city limits. They had to go through. Their captor had no choice but to take them through if they were to get wherever, everywhere's strong tint of dusk telling that night would fall very soon, and the destination would arrive just sooner. The forced route and narrow time-limit proved why Hane thought there were no blindfolds.

He'd slowed the pace as much as he could without communication or alert and wouldn't have the chance or reason to push for more.

The commander imagined how he'd do it. No option was good, acting or not. What environment he had to use was poor and without opportunity, unhelpful both ways as it had only thin cover which could hide and stop next to nothing but was packed so thoroughly that sprinting or seeing clean in any direction would require very particular attention and decisions. It was wholly unbelievable Navy could manage it, Hane had few methods to signal Case, and even if both went well - after dark, and no earlier - then someone would still die.

If the right time presented itself, Hane could heel-turn mid step, crouch in the direction of his weight, take a full stride weaving up and the other direction, then take another at the older man and bludgeon their skulls together. If he did it right, he wouldn't be shot anywhere important. They were only an hour away from their things.

"One more on your left. Five steps right," they were guided.

Exactly as he said, it was the last trap. A road appeared some distance ahead. Where he took them was near. The sun hadn't set.

A number of paces from the street, he ordered, "Stop."

There was nothing around to stop for. They obeyed. The stranger proceeded, "We're going forward to the road, then left on it to a bridge. On this bridge I've seen people jump, thinking it's their last chance to live. Every one of them I've shot before they hit the water. They die, or they drown. If you happen to do neither, I intend to wait, and shoot the moment you come up for air; so don't try anything."

Again, he said, "Walk."

... This stranger had lied before. On this, at least things' physical locations, he told the truth. As for the rest... his point remained. Soon they traveled in the open again. Soon, water from a deep, wide, brownish river flowed under them. In fifteen seconds it would be crossed... and after three of them, a noise the commander hadn't heard in forever grabbed him again. One after the other in sequence, he saw the next floodlight hum alive.