Fugitive

Chapter 11

I slammed my foot on the accelerator at the same time the other car swerved out of the way going behind me. As they passed I got a look at the drivers. They looked about mid-twenties. My age really. Sometimes I feel older than what I really am. Which makes it easy to judge people my age and call them irresponsible. They had beers in hand. One with a beard that would make him a terrorist suspect. Their windows were down, music blaring. The car was an older model. Red. They had four people squeezed into the back seat They kept driving running a red light on the next intersection. I wanted to get out of my car and scream at the top of my lungs at them. They were going to get someone killed. Or themselves. Which really wouldn't be a bad thing would it. A few less idiotic drivers on the road wouldn't hurt. Even as I thought it I realized how inhuman that sounded and took it back. If you can take back a thought. I saw an all night store and pulled into the lot. If the police were tracking my phone because of the call I made to the police station I would need a new sim card. At the back, there was a shelf full of them. I grabbed the cheapest model and headed out of the dead store after paying. Before long I was pulling onto a dirt road that headed inland, through the mountains. Dust built up in clouds behind me. A long time passed. The dirt had had faded giving way to asphalt. I wasn't sure how long exactly but it had to be at least an hour since I'd left. Driving was relaxing. Even as a teenager being behind the wheel was something I've always appreciated and loved. That feeling of control, the rush when you get to that speed you know you shouldn't. Street races were one of my favorite pass times for a bit. It was a phase. We all have them right? Either way I sucked at racing. After I lost a few races I gave up and started showing up for the girls. Every minute took me further away from town. A good thing. Nearly two hours later a sign came into view. 'Cape Fear River Trail Park'. A little way past that, there was the turn off. I pulled to the right violently. A spontaneous decision. There were no other cars on the road for me to worry about. Gravel marked the parking area. I stopped the car but left the headlights on, it was dark and I didn't have a torch. The headlights illuminated a sign that pointed to the track entrance. This was also a bit of a picnic ground. There was a toilet block to my left. Unoccupied. It's not a popular spot. It used to be. It probably is during summer, but not now. There's another camping spot a little further up the road. That's the one everyone stops at. Outside the car seemed like a whole different world. Senses had changed. The smell itself was so pure I almost forgot. Forgot everything. It was a kind of peace I never thought I'd have again. So quiet. Here would do. For now. Some things just happen like that. You get a feeling. I tend to go with it. Most of the night I spent in the car resting. Paranoia set in and I wasn't able to sleep for ages. Too afraid someone would find me there and lock me up before I had a chance to figure out what Bratva had to do with this. In the end, I climbed over into the back of the car and lay several old rugs over my body. The concealment wasn't great but it was good enough that if someone were to come along in the middle of the night they wouldn't notice anything. Rain woke me up the next morning. It was pissing down. The sky was grey in all directions and fog lowered to the ground, wrapping itself around the trees. The spot was down a road with no exit so there were no cars that ever came past. Eventually I had to start the car. It was getting cold and condensation was hiding my view of my surroundings. Heater cranked and food in hand I was ready for work. It was awkward moving around in the car, especially with my shoulder, which was still aching, the pain just not really disappearing from a dull throb. I moved the passenger seat as far forward as it could go and put all my gear in the very back. My legs got stuck and I had to twist my body at awkward angles to get onto the back seat. The coke was still in my pocket. Carefully I opened the packet and took a pinch in my fingertips. Rubbing them together I felt out the texture. Hard to describe. It was powder I guess. Nothing more really. Either way I was confident the corn starch and baby powder would work. As long as the ratio was right. For the cash I need I'm going to have to sell a lot of cocaine. Which is fine. I'll find a gang on the street somewhere and sell it to them in a huge batch. I spent a good part of the morning mixing together corn starch and baby powder trying to get a perfect consistency. By 11am nature was calling but it was still pissing down and was not stopping in a hurry. I finally gave in and opened the car door making a run for the toilet block. For some reason the door wouldn't open. Were they kidding? Who locks a toilet block for a trail? Instead I bolted for the trees. Right in by the trunks of the trees was sheltered the most, thought I could still feel the water dripping down the back of my neck and flopping my hair down, sticking it to my head. After doing my business I raced back to the car. My patience was wearing thin. Boredom took over quickly. Despite the task at hand, which was definitely important, I felt like I was wasting time. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle now. Blue sky could be seen in the distance. Eventually, I decided to do something. I put a few essentials in my bag and slung it over my shoulders. There was a river right ahead. I veered off the original track and much further into the trees. Lots of bush and undergrowth for cover. Hunting isn't something I do. I've never been one of those guys to go out hunting with his dad, like a few of the locals around here did. I wasn't one of those guys whose profile picture on Tinder was a picture of them holding the dead, bloody head of a deer, or likewise. Not that I have Tinder anyway... You get my point. Killing animals seemed inhuman to me. That may be a bit of a stretch. Hunting is fine, when it's necessary. Like to lower the population so the area doesn't get overpopulated. Or killing an animal that has been terrorising neighbourhoods. But not for sport. Not just so that you can get that profile picture for Tinder. Odd since I ended up killing humans for a living. I guess it's like posing in front of a dead body for your Tinder profile. That would be my alternative. The thought alone made me shudder a little bit. I was okay with dead bodies, always have been, but I've come to understand that a lot of people aren't. If anything, else I didn't want to get too comfortable with the sight of dead bodies. Getting comfortable somehow made me less human or less sympathetic. Something. Or I thought it would anyway. I never got to that point. If the marines have taught me anything, it's how to survive alone in the middle of nowhere. Being that a desert, forest, swamp, whatever. We're prepared for pretty much anything. My boots slid on the muddy, uneven surface. I followed it for a good hundred metres before heading closer to the river. My rifle was slung over one shoulder. The clothes I had were less than ideal, but I could make it work. Trees got even closer together. They made good handholds. Drizzles of rain still fell in patches. One minutes it was fine and the sun almost looked like it would come out from behind the clouds, and the next it would be dark and drizzling. Miserable. Stupid temperamental weather. Even so I reached a spot I believed would make a good stake out area. I set up my rifle, adjusted the scope and waited. I scanned the area, which was large due to my vantage point, first with my eyes. There was movement not far to my left. I lifted the rifle and peered down the scope. There were a few rabbits ducking in and out of rabbit holes. I got ready to shoot one of them but then I decided there was little point. As far as I know, rabbit doesn't taste that good. I would need something to eat eventually. But not rabbit. Not right now anyway. It was just a little more interesting sitting in the bush watching my surroundings than sitting in a car. By late afternoon the slightest spots of rain had long past and the sky was a magnificent shade of blue. Slowly it got darker as the sun sank lower. It was warm now. Humid even. A soft wind had picked up and whistled as it travelled down the river. I had found my way back to the car easily enough. My own footprints weren't hard to follow in the deep mud. I had managed to get my hands on a wild turkey. An easy shot. There was a small group not far from where I was positioned. A short walk was all it took to pick up the dead bird. I was grateful my shot had been accurate or I would have had to snap its neck. My least favourite part. Snapping their necks is so hands on. Which is why I'm a sniper I guess. Can't handle the nitty gritty, up close and personal stuff. I'd perfected the fake coke that afternoon. My evening was spent plucking the turkey and gutting it ready to cook. I lit a small fire under a picnic table. It was the only spot that was dry. I'd dug in the undergrowth and at the base of trees for any small twigs. The notebook I'd packed in the bottom of my bag had come in handy. Multiple pages were used to help get the fire started. The turkey took a long time to cook, even just little bits at a time. So, there I was, crouched under a picnic table with a fire, eating turkey. My boots trampled out the fire nicely and I slept in the back covered with blankets once more. The next morning was dedicated to making traps. A small wire coil became quite useful. I spent the whole week out in the bush like that. Sleeping in the car every night. I'd managed to set up a little camp where I could light a proper fire without worrying about burning down a picnic table. No one visited the trail. Plenty of cars drove past the main road, but none even slowed to turn down here except for maybe three different cars. They all came down and then left not long later. They didn't stop at the track, instead continuing to the building at the end of the road. Staplcotn. I was pretty sure it was a brand but I didn't know. Either way it didn't become a problem. The traps caught rabbits mostly. It was then I decided I didn't like rabbit meat, as I'd first thought. Either way it was good to have meat, instead of cold rice or McDonalds. On Saturday, completely out of the blue, the disposable phone I had rang.