Solitude on The Tundra

Chapter 5

Franklin lightly caressed the grip of the Ruger, turned and run up the beach. Without a second of hesitation, he grabbed the dry bag full of gear and as he sprinted toward the trees he swung his arms through the shoulder straps and was swallowed up by the forest. He ran as close to due west as possible, away from the lake. As he ran he tried to sort things out. It was obvious that these men had bad intentions. If they didn't, they would have called back to him and paddled closer. What could they possibly be doing, way out here. Whatever it was, Sailor had made up his mind that they didn't want anyone to know about it and he wasn't going to stick around to discuss it with them. If he could put some distance between them he would be safe for the time being.

They had no supplies at hand and wouldn't abandon the canoe or the other man for long. If they were to continue the pursuit, they would have to return to their camp for supplies and perhaps help.

The woods were dense and covered with hidden obstacles beneath the thick blanket of moss. As he moved quickly among the fallen trees and footfalls he would often trip and be flung headlong onto the soft soaking moss bed. He had to be more cautious. An injury here would be a death sentence. When he had run for perhaps a mile, he stopped to catch his breath. He was now very happy for the five mile runs that he took every morning. He hated to run and thought about quitting almost every day. Little did he know while suffering those daybreak jogs that he would now be running for a much loftier reason, his life. He strained his ears for any sound out of place. A piliated woodpecker let go with it's load rap,rap, rap, rap! It was close by and it startled him. He put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath, laughing at himself for allowing the sound to startle him. Then it came. The bark from the birch behind him exploded, showering him with pieces of bark. The shot was deafening-the bullet too close. Now he knew for sure. They, whoever they were, wanted him dead. As he dove for cover he silently thanked the woodpecker for saving his life. If he hadn't bent down to mock himself at that exact moment the bullet would have found him. Sailor slid down an embankment and into a small watercourse. He headed north and staying in the shallows, ran for all he was worth. After a couple of hundred yards the creek narrowed and dropped abruptly. To his right was a high bank. To his left a wide open forest. He knew that exposure in the open trees was a very bad and risky idea. He scrambled up the embankment. As he topped the rim he reached for a clump of grass to pull himself up.
“Need a hand?”a deep voice said.
Sailor looked up and a huge man was knelt on the precipice with a Smith & Wesson in his left hand and his right hand extended.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Oh, you always have a choice mister.” The man grabbed Sailor by the wrist and picked him up like a killer whale grabs up a seal pup, but not quite as gentle. He deposited him in a heap about ten feet away. Sailor started to his feet but the big man was surprisingly fast. Sailor never saw the barrel of the revolver coming as it crashed into the side of his skull. He grabbed at the air to keep from falling into the dark swirling tunnel but there was nothing to get hold of. Lights out!