Hunted in Alaska, page 5
Suddenly, the cabin door flung open, accompanied by a shout. Reflex drew Hayley’s finger taut around the trigger. A sudden burst chattered from the weapon in her hands, sending her heart rate into the stratosphere. The yelling from the cabin turned into a yelp, and the door slammed shut. Lungs heaving, Hayley blinked rapidly against darkness edging her vision and pressed the trigger again. Her bullets smacked into the porch.
Gunfire erupted through chinks in the boards across the cabin’s broken picture window. Dull thunks signaled bullets hitting the workshop’s outer walls. Nearby windows shattered in a hail of glass falling like sparkling crystals around Hayley’s shoulders. A squeak left her tight throat and she instinctively changed position, even as she pressed the trigger again and again.
Gunfire from the cabin ceased. She must have successfully driven the smugglers into taking cover. Exactly the result desired. But how long could she keep these well-armed crooks at bay? And how close was Sean to completing his assignment?
Never mind. She needed to concentrate on keeping the coast clear for him to blow up that plane.
Please, God, help him do what he must and get back here safely.
Then what? Run like startled deer? But where would they go? No time to ponder the next steps. Here and now needed all her concentration.
At a flash of movement from the cabin door, Hayley sent another trio of bullets into the porch. Whoever had been there withdrew once more. She inhaled a stuttering breath. Did military combat feel like this—hope and terror roiling the gut, clarity and confusion battling in the mind? This small taste was more than enough for her to appreciate afresh the brave men and women who served on the front lines.
A burst of fire from the cabin sent a round of bullets thudding into the side of the workshop, but no more broken glass. The gunmen had to be firing blind through any window opening. The shooting seemed aimless. More to rattle her and draw her attention than hit her. To what purpose?
Abruptly, a spate of gunfire erupted from another location in the cabin. The bullets seemed to be flying from one of the second-floor windows on the side facing the lake, probably from her bedroom. The big negative to the smuggler’s position was her inability to respond to the attack because the shooter was out of sight and protected by thick cabin walls. The big positive was the oblique angle for the gunman to attempt hitting Sean running on a straight path between the dock and the workshop. Not that they wouldn’t try though, and once the ATF agent left the dock, there would be a few yards when he would be quite exposed to that angle of fire.
Too bad Hayley had no way of knowing where in the sabotage process Sean was, and when he would be the most vulnerable. She clenched her jaw. Nothing for it but to create the most nuisance and racket she could.
Hayley continued pressing the trigger, sending round after round through the empty picture window and into the cabin walls. Not that the latter would penetrate, but the smack of the bullets had to be unnerving for the crooks in the cabin. All at once, the press of her finger brought only a hollow click. Out of ammo. How had Sean shown her to switch out the clip? Hayley’s mind scrambled as she fumbled to reload.
A cacophony of fire from the cabin ripped bullets into the workshop walls and sent glass flying. With a high-pitched shriek, Hayley ducked behind the workbench.
Steady, girl, she ordered herself.
Hauling in deep, regular breaths, she brought her trembling under control and at last seated the fresh clip into her weapon. At a lull in firing from the cabin, Hayley popped up and returned fire. This back and forth couldn’t continue much longer. She was rapidly using up the last of the ammo for the automatic.
A familiar, throaty blast sent a shiver through Hayley. Her rifle. Sean must be returning fire on whoever was shooting from the second floor. Did that mean he was on his way back to the workshop? Had he succeeded in the sabotage plan? How frustrating in this life-or-death situation to know nothing for sure.
Heart hammering against her ribs, Hayley resumed the repetitive pressure on her weapon’s trigger. Then that hollow click sounded again, and her lungs went vacant. She was out of ammo. Nothing more she could do.
A barrage of gunfire slammed into the workshop, and Hayley sought cover once again behind the workbench. Curled into a tight ball, heat from her gun’s barrel radiated against her cheek.
How could she endure one more second of this horror? What choice did she have?
Gunfire drizzled away. Silence rang in Hayley’s ears. She held her breath.
Where was Sean? Was he okay? Or was he lying forever still on the moist Alaskan earth?
Behind her, Mack erupted in a flurry of sharp barks. His heavy body began slamming repeatedly against the closet door panel. What did he hear or smell that she couldn’t? Maybe Sean was back from his mission. Catching her breath, Hayley turned her head toward the workshop’s front door.
A mighty slam sent a shiver through Hayley’s body. Then her insides froze.
Not the front door. The back.
She swiveled on her heels and switched the direction she faced. A burly man stood framed in the open doorway. Not Sean and not one of the men from the cabin. The dark-clad figure had to be one of the smugglers who’d been hunting Sean and her in the forest. They’d known those guys would return to the homestead as soon as they heard gunfire, and they must have hustled to be here so quickly. At least this guy did. Was his partner close behind?
A death’s-head grin bloomed on the man’s face as he raised his gun toward Hayley. Rivers of ice flowed through her core. A splintering crash sounded from the direction of the closet, and a massive bullet of fur and fangs burst toward the gunman. The smuggler shouted something unintelligible and began to swivel his gun barrel toward the canine attacker.
“No!” Hayley shrieked and instinctively propelled herself upright in a lunge toward the threat to her dog.
Not that their efforts mattered. There was no way either Mack or she were going to reach the gunman before bullets swept the room, ending them both.
* * *
Charging through the workshop’s front door, Sean had no time to aim the rifle. Just shoot before that deadly auto in the enemy’s hands went off. The rifle blast echoed through the cavernous room even as the bullet struck the smuggler Sean knew as Clete Seaton. The man staggered backward. His spray of automatic fire peppered the metal ceiling like a clatter of hailstones. A second shooter, Arlen Bates, appeared behind the first, scowling like thunder and brandishing his weapon.
“Get down!” Sean shouted.
But Hayley’s momentum carried her into a waist-high tackle that slammed Clete to the floor with her on top. The dog ignored the pileup and, with a mighty snarl, leaped over the struggling pair and into the face of the second gunman. Arlen went down under an eighty-pound mass of snarling canine.
Sean pounded across the room, dodging the spread wings of the carved eagle. Hayley struggled on the floor with the first gunman. Both pairs of hands gripped the automatic weapon in a quest for control. Sean was certain his bullet had struck the man, but it couldn’t have done much damage because Clete didn’t seem to be bleeding and he was about to win the battle for the gun. Mack was well in control of the tussle with Arlen, gripping the man’s arm securely in his teeth as Arlen thrashed, letting out high-pitched screams.
For the moment, Sean ignored that struggle and skidded to a halt beside Hayley and Clete. The smuggler rolled, pinning Hayley to the floor. Sean seized the opportunity to smash the butt of the rifle into the back of Clete’s head. The smuggler went limp, and Sean flung the man’s bulky body away from the brave woman who’d taken him on without hesitation.
Sean stared down into Hayley’s wide eyes. Her chest heaved for breath as she tried to sit up. He put out his hand and helped her rise to her feet.
“Get his gun.” Sean motioned toward Clete, then moved immediately onward to address the struggle between Arlen and Mack.
Not much of a struggle. Arlen lay on his back, covering his face and neck with his arms as the dog continued to savage him. Sean scooped up the automatic weapon Arlen had dropped when the malamute barreled into him.
“Easy, Mack.” Hayley’s voice came from behind Sean.
The dog released his jaws from his prey but remained atop the man, continuing a deep belly-growl. Arlen whimpered and curled into a fetal ball, redness soaking the arm of his jacket.
“The fire didn’t work to blow up the plane?” Hayley asked.
Sean turned toward her. She gazed back at him, pale and shaking, but Clete’s gun hung from the crook of one elbow. The weapon was useless, however. Apparently, Sean’s bullet hadn’t hit the smuggler, but struck the gun, distorting the barrel.
“We’ll know any second,” Sean answered Hayley. “It takes time for the gas fumes, the gasoline and the flame to interact into an explosion. Right now, we need to get out of here. Ditch that gun.” He pointed to Clete’s ruined weapon. “But grab the extra ammo from him and get your pack.” Hayley scurried to comply as Sean acquired extra clips from Arlen and kept the man’s gun. They were going to need all the firepower they could get.
As Sean bent over him, the agonized man glared up at him. “We’re going to kill you,” he snarled.
“You can try, but we don’t plan to let you.” Sean turned toward Hayley. “Let’s go!”
He pointed toward the wall of forest. Hayley took off, Mack at her heels. Sean followed, his feet barely on the move when bullets strafed toward them from the cabin. Dirt puffed up from the ground too near their fleeing figures for comfort. Then the trees enveloped them.
No explosion yet. Sean’s chest tightened. Had he run the gauntlet to the dock in vain?
The next moment, a great whoosh seemed to suck the oxygen from around them, and then a crump of explosive energy swept a wall of air toward them like a tsunami. If the workshop building had not shielded them, they might have been thrown off their feet despite the tree cover.
Sean stumbled but kept on going, a grim smile tilting his lips. There would be no illegal weapons sale today. They’d won that fight but the battle to stay alive continued.
Patterson was a vengeful man. He and his crew wouldn’t simply head home with their tails between their legs...even if they could get one of the other planes into the air, which might not be possible after an explosion like the one he and Hayley had engineered. The boom had been bigger than he’d anticipated. It was possible, but not guaranteed, that all the aerial transport was now inoperable.
Too bad they couldn’t have stuck around to assess the damage and possibly access one of the aircraft radios at least. Now they were fleeing without means of communication with the outside world, an advantage that belonged solely to Patterson. Would the guy call in reinforcements? Almost certainly. Their little trio—man, woman and dog—needed to put as much distance between the smuggling crew and themselves as they possibly could. Hopefully, investigating the results of the explosion would slow their adversaries down.
Sean hustled to come level with Hayley. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No,” she puffed out. “You?”
“Good to go.”
“Then we’d better get to gittin’.” Her word choice flirted with humor, but her tense expression let him know she was aware of the likelihood they would be hunted.
Sean spared her a smile. “Great work back there.”
“You, too.” A grin flickered across her lips.
“Any ideas on which direction we should head?”
“We’re moving on the straightest path toward the nearest settlement.”
“Over a hundred miles away.”
“Yup.”
Nothing more needed to be said. She’d explained the difficulties of the journey facing them. With armed bad guys nipping at their heels, they would have to face and overcome those difficulties one obstacle at a time.
FIVE
Hayley stumbled over a tree root, righted herself and hurried onward, forcing her feet and legs to keep a swift pace. The adrenaline shakes were on the ebb, leaving her thoughts sluggish and her limbs weighted. If only she could collapse onto the soft, mossy ground and take a long nap. Maybe she would wake up to discover the violence and turmoil of the past sixteen hours had been nothing more than a bad dream.
She let out a snort under her breath. Denial was an exercise in futility. Keeping her mind focused on the next actions for wilderness survival was the only way forward now.
Mack trotted easily along beside her, his panting breaths soft but clear in the morning stillness. Sean’s footfalls behind her were steady if still a bit forest-newbie with snapped twigs and grunts when he clumsily navigated a branch in his way. Good thing they weren’t out on a hunt. But in time he’d learn to move quietly. He’d have to. They were the hunted, not the hunters. A chill quivered through Hayley.
“We should stop soon and hydrate,” Sean said.
“Agreed, but I’m out of bottled water. I have a canteen, but it’s empty. Normally, when heading into the forest I would have had time to fill it at the house. That wasn’t an option this time.” She shrugged, and the heavy pack dragged against the movement. “There’s a stream about a mile from here. We can stop then.”
“Sounds good. Let me carry the rucksack. You’ve hauled it long enough.”
Hayley wasn’t about to protest that suggestion. They stopped and she handed over the pack. Loss of the extra weight afforded her a second wind as they hurried onward. Her perked ears caught no telltale sounds of pursuit.
Could she hope the smugglers would give up on them now that their big weapons deal was thwarted? Hayley firmed her jaw. She was being delusional again. Sean and she were witnesses to illegal activity. From the way Sean talked about this Patterson guy, the smuggling kingpin didn’t sound like someone who would tolerate liabilities.
The terrain began to dip mildly and then severely, slowing their pace as they picked their way carefully. The loamy ground was slick with fallen leaves and needles, so they frequently steadied themselves with their hands against tree trunks. Soon, the shush of slow-flowing water reached Hayley’s ears. A few steps later the ground leveled off, and they stepped out of the trees onto the bank of a small creek. The water was shallow and glassy clear, revealing a stony bottom. The far bank lay only a few yards distant.
Mack crouched by the flowing water and lapped eagerly. Sean stepped ahead of her and squatted at the edge of the creek. He scooped a handful of sparkling liquid into his palm.
“Ouch. Cold,” he said, carrying the water toward his mouth.
“Don’t drink it.” Hayley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
Sean gazed up at her with lifted brows. “The water’s not pure out here? I don’t see how that can be.”
She stifled a grin. “It’s as pure as nature makes surface water, I suppose, but it still contains all sorts of rotted vegetation, debris and bacteria that our civilized stomachs aren’t equipped to handle.”
“Yuck.” Sean dumped the water back into the stream.
Hayley chuckled. “I’ll fill the canteen and put a purification tablet inside. We should be able to drink it in about a half hour. It’ll taste pretty awful, but it will be safe. When we make camp tonight, we can boil water, or if we can’t risk starting a fire, I have a micro-filter and charcoal purifier we can use. Those options will taste better.”
Sean stood up and wrinkled his nose. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Give me the backpack, please.”
He handed it over, and she knelt at the creek-side. The process of finding the needed items, filling the canteen and adding the purification tablet took only a couple of minutes.
Hayley stood, gripping the full canteen, and gazed solemnly into Sean’s dark eyes. “How serious will that gang be in pursuit of us?”
“A heart attack would be less serious.”
“I’d already come to that conclusion.” She sighed. “But you know these guys better than I do.” She compressed her lips and dropped her gaze. “I had hoped...” She let her voice trail away.
“Hang on to hope.” Sean laid a sturdy hand on her arm. His warmth comforted if his words didn’t. “We’ve survived thus far, and none of those guys have wilderness smarts like you do.”
“My brother’s traitorous friend, State Trooper Glenn Cauley, does. He’s an expert tracker and a dead shot. I should know. Craig and I have gone hunting with him.”
Sean released a long, whistling breath. “We’d better get going, then.”
Hayley jerked a nod, turned and led the way into the shallow creek. At first, the water swirled only a few inches up her thick hiking boots, the waterproofed leather holding the moisture at bay. A few steps later, she reached a deeper stretch about a yard wide and took a leap beyond the portion that would have topped her boots and soaked her feet. The cold water splashed onto her jeans, chilling her legs, but hiking would soon warm her and dry the moisture.
They stepped up onto the far bank and reentered the tree cover. Now that they’d put several miles of distance between them and their enemies, and with the morning only half-gone and a long day’s walk ahead of them, she moderated their pace to a brisk walk.
“This trooper friend of your brother’s has got to be really sweating the situation,” Sean said. “If Patterson insists on him acting as a tracker for his crew, he won’t be able to return to his station. Questions will be asked.”
“How could he return to his station with his plane disabled?”
Sean stepped up to walk nearly level with her. “Neither of us got to see the results of that explosion. I have no doubt the plane carrying the stolen drone was toasted and sunk. Your plane that was tied up on the other side of the dock almost certainly took some damage. But there wasn’t room for a third plane at the dock. When Trooper Glenn landed, he drove his floats up onto the beach and threw out an anchor. From our perspective in the forest behind the workshop, we weren’t able to watch him do that. I didn’t know it until I left the workshop, but that’s why I think it’s possible his aircraft is operational.”
