Chapter 1
The alarm sounded as Jack Barker ran out the front door of First City Bank, with a bag of cash in one hand and a 9mm in his other. He moved faster than he had ever moved, trying to make it to his rust-bucket 1993 Mustang GT. Still, he wasn’t quick enough as he heard the sounds of the Sandy Police Department blaring while they tore down the street to his location.
Making it to his car, he put his gun in his waistband and fumbled with his keys. He was so nervous from hearing the sirens closing in on him that he dropped his keys, bent over to retrieve them, and then dropped the cash too. Shaking uncontrollably, Jack finally regained his composure, grabbed the cash, and jumped into his car.
Forcing the key in the ignition, he cranked it repeatedly as the old V8 seemed like it did not want to wake up. Then, with a look in his rearview mirror, he saw the blue lights racing in his direction, right as the engine sprung to life. With a nervous smile, he dropped the gear-shifter into drive and floored it, taking off in a cloud of burnt rubber and smoke.
With the Cops after him, he raced up Highway 26 towards Mount Hood. The getaway car may have been a Mustang in name, but it had long since passed its prime. The engine struggled to make it up the mountain with the locals, and now the County Sheriffs, in hot pursuit. The vehicle coughed and sputtered as it passed the city limits and the numerous Suburas, whose drivers were more clueless than Jack in his getaway.
At Zig Zag, the fuel light came on as Jack looked down and realized he had forgotten to fuel up before the robbery. Not the smartest man, he did not plan out or even think about knocking over the bank until he drove past it. But, needing money and needing it fast, and with no education or real job skills, he felt a surefire way to get rich quick was a good old-fashion bank robbery.
Besides, he had seen it work on TV, and these silly masks everyone was wearing would hide his identity. So why not get some money fast? It’s not like the bank needed it. Right? He thought to himself.
Looking in the rearview, he saw six police cars tailgating him so close it looked like he was towing them up the mountain road. He thought that if he could only make it passed the Timberline Lodge turn, he would hit the downhill stretch and coast down to the desert. No, all he needed was the California sightseers to get out of his way.
Passing Mt. Hood Village and closing in on Rhododendron, his car gave up the ghost and ran out of fuel. Before the cops could do anything, Jack grabbed the money, jumped from his car, ran across the road, and took off into the forest. Deeper into the brush, he ran as he heard the deputies getting further away. He knew he had escaped. Now the money was mine, he thought.
After about twenty minutes, he hopped over a small creek and made it to Forest Road 19. But once there, he heard the sirens of more deputies come from his right. So, he turned to his left and started running as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the sounds were getting louder as his heart was pounding faster. Running so fast that when he saw a sign for the Castle Canyon Trailhead, he damn near broke an arm when he fell trying to stop.
Getting back up and grabbing his cash, he tore down the trail at lightning speed. Moving through the overgrowth of ferns and fallen dead trees, he ran with his shoes barely sticking to the muddy floor. His breathing erratic and his veins about to pop, he continued up the side of the mountain. Not a hiker like most in the area, he was a Portland boy who preferred concrete under his feet, but he still moved with seasoned skill.
The further into the brush he got, the more nervous he became about finding his way back out. Yet, he knew it would be easier to make it back to civilization after the cops had given up on him. So, with that in mind, he just ran deeper into the unknown.
Then, he heard it, the sound of dogs. Shit, he thought, they brought those damn German Shepherds. Now how am I going to get away? They could smell crack on the other side of the airport, so they will surely smell my sweaty ass, he believed.
But, all those fears did was power his feet to move faster, causing him to become sloppy in his movements. Then, about another thousand yards up, he slipped on a rock that was protruding through the wet earth, causing him to fall and slide down through the ferns. Further, he slid down the hill, hoping not to come across a sheer cliff. Because if that was the case, not only would his escape end, but so would his life.
Sliding even further down, luckily not kissing a tree at 30 miles an hour, he finally stopped a couple of hundred yards from where he pulled a Gerald Ford. Getting up, he looked around and noticed that he was no longer on a trail but in the deep dark forest of Mount Hood. Still, he also realized that the barking dogs were so much further away than they were just a moment ago, which finally gave him a chance to stop and catch his breath.
Seeing a fallen pine, he took his seat, dropping his bag of cash by his left foot. Putting his head in his hands, Jack took a deep breath before turning his head to the hidden sky above and said aloud, “Jesus Christ, this is fucking nuts! What the hell did I just do… I must be out of my damn mind!”
Chapter 2
Back at the trailhead, Lieutenant Straub of the Clackamas County Sheriff’s Office finally arrived on the scene to take control of the situation. There he was met with five cruisers, whose sirens were still piercing the quiet forest, and Deputy Brookings. The Lieutenant Cringed as he turned and threw his gut out of his car seat and screamed at Brookings, “Turn off those fucking sirens… they’re giving me a headache, god damn-it!”
Brookings said, “sorry, LT,” before turning and racing to the other vehicles one by one, shutting off the lights and sirens. As Brookings leaned back out of the final Charger, he felt something bump his duty belt, causing him to quickly turn and see Straub’s years of overeating mid-section invading his personal space. Brookings then said, “Lt, we have the perp cornered somewhere down on the trail. The dogs have been deployed, so it shouldn’t be too long before he’s in custody.”
“Good… good! Who’s down there tracking that asshole?”
“Sergeant Marks, Deputy Johnson, and Deputy Carothers and Flanders with their k9s.”
“That works. I’ve got Mitchell and his rookie Couch on the way after they tow that shitbox Mustang.”
Brookings looked to the trailhead, “Sir, do you want me to head in there and see if I can assist in the search?”
“No, wait here and keep me company until Mitchell gets here, then you guys can give Couch some real training if Barker is still on the loose.”
“Copy that, sir!”
With a smile, Straub turned to the trailhead and said, “Luckily, that dumbass Governor of ours has closed down most of the hiking trails, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find one asshole trying to hide amongst a bunch of day-hikers dressed like there hiking up the side of Mount Everest. I mean, shit, when my son was six, he hiked most of these trails in his flip-flops carrying a GI Joe. There's no freaking need for all that gear.”
“No, sir… it shouldn’t.”
Right as Brookings finished his response, the sound of tires crushing the gravel came from behind them. Turning, they saw Mitchell’s Explorer slowly rolling up. Straub then gave the approaching vehicle a half-hearted salute as it pulled in behind his black unmarked one.
Hopping from the vehicle, Mitchell and Couch approached Straub and Brookings. Mitchell asked, “What do you need from us now, LT?”
“The car’s been towed?”
“Yes, sir, it has.”
“Good, then grab your jackets because we’re going to carry our happy asses up the trail and help find Barker… since apparently, Sergeant Marks ain’t having any luck.”
Then turning from his deputies, Straub looked down the trailhead and said, “This asshole isn’t getting away on my watch! So, let's find him before it gets too dark?’
Mitchell laughed, “You afraid of the dark LT... you worried bigfoot will get you!”
With a chuckle, “No, you asshole, I’m on a diet, and I have to eat by 2000 to keep my blood sugar balanced right.”
Chapter 3
Heading further from the marked trail, Jack continued with his attempted getaway. Looking to the sky, he noticed that it was starting to lose the light, which only added to his fear. What if a cougar popped out of the brush, or something even worse? His mind just wandered the backstreets of dread.
But, he fought through the fear and pushed on into the twilight. Not knowing where he was going, he just wanted to get away from the sounds of the dogs, whose barking seemed to be growing fainter with every step he took.
After another half hour or so, the sun seemed to have set as the canopy of trees grew too dark to see. Luckily, there must have been a full moon on the clear autumn night because there was just enough light to see a few feet in front, but not enough to see beyond that.
Then, Jack noticed something glowing off in the distance. It was faint, but there was definitely a light source. What was it, he thought? Was it a campfire? Did someone actually break the rules and set up camp on a closed trail? And if so, who?
It did not matter, the air was growing colder, and Jack did not have a jacket to keep him warm. Again, he thought, why had I not planned this better. I’m way too impulsive. So, whoever or whatever the light source was, he had to make his way there because it had to be better than his current location.
Trekking through the overgrowth, he ventured closer, where he could finally make out a campfire. No tent, no shelter whatsoever, he thought what is this, just a hiker who was lost like himself? Maybe they could help each other out since it seemed the cops were no longer a threat at this time.
Rounding a pine and then hopping over a fallen one, he saw a man sitting next to the flames through the giant ferns. Looking closer, the man was dressed in raggedy black clothes, with a long thick beard and messy dark hair. Smelling like showering was a foreign concept, he almost appeared to be a transient or homeless man who must have gotten lost on his way to one of the countless downtown Portland homeless camps.
Good, Jack thought, if he were homeless, well then, he probably wouldn’t ask questions about why he was hiking in a dark forest in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a black undershirt. Hell, he might not even inquire about what was in the bag. No, this is great, he could play it off, and the stranger won’t be the wiser.
Finally, Jack approached the man from out of the darkness. But what seemed strange was the man didn’t jump or have any reaction whatsoever as Jack stumbled into his camp. It almost seemed as if he was expecting him.
With a smile, Jack said, “Hello, friend. Do you mind if I join you around your fire?”
The stranger looked up at him, smiled, exposing a mouth full of rotten teeth, “No. Come on over and sit and warm yourself.”
“Thanks… I appreciate that.”
“It’s not a problem. It’s way too cold to be out here without a jacket.”
With a bit of a shiver, Jack responded, “No shit! I got lost when my car broke down. So, I wasn’t expecting to be stuck out here in the woods tonight.”
“Your car broke down, you say?”
“Yup… my car broke down.”
With a bit of a curious look, the stranger replied, “Funny that you would head into the woods instead of just sticking to the road. You don’t have to lie to me. You’re on the run, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’m a bit of a fugitive myself… so you’re safe here.”
“You are? What are you on the run from?”
Turning to Jack with a grin, “Well, what seems like a couple thousand years ago now, my father kicked me out because I wouldn’t obey his stupid rules. Then, everything just went south from there.”
Copyright © 2024 joshuatwhaley.com - All Rights Reserved.
Powered by GoDaddy
We use cookies to analyze website traffic and optimize your website experience. By accepting our use of cookies, your data will be aggregated with all other user data.