Hunting Indians - Chapter 14

Chapter One can be Found here: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-one

Chapter 13 Can be found: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-13

1. Chapter 14

"Finding her password was a lot easier than it should've been." Jessie the geek said. He was a five foot seven ultra skinny guy in glasses. He was given Indian Agent status to have access to top clearance items but not any of the authority behind the title. "Way too easy for a computer with this many sensitive files on it."
"What did you find?" Ryan asked. He and Mark were standing behind Jessie in his office. Actually, it was barely an office as it was filled with computers all hooked into servers up against the back wall. Some of the computers were his to use while others were his to break into, and at the moment he had Beth's computer.
"She lost a kid seven years ago named Edward and used his name as a password. Kind of obvious if you ask me." Jessie said.
"On the computer, what did you find on the computer?" Mark asked. He was over tired and had very little patience right now. Jessie didn't come in until the sun was almost up but because of his unique abilities he couldn't be reprimanded.
"He was definitely looking for something." Jessie pulled up a page that gave him a list of all the pages that Kevin went through.
"But did he find it?" Ryan asked.
"Maybe. I'll have to go through them all."
"Or find the last page he opened, when he stopped looking." Mark remarked.
"I could do that." Jessie hit a button over the top of the screen adjusting the list. He went to the top one and clicked it open. "Yeah, this one. He also sent it to the printer."
"What am I looking at here?" Ryan asked.
"Us." Jessie said. "It's Beth's contact file for her phone, it's us. All of the Indian Agents."
"Son of a bitch..." Mark stood up straight, "He has our numbers. He has our addresses."
"What's he going to do with that?" Ryan asked.
"Kill us with it." Mark pulled his phone out. "Get that info to Barry. Make sure everybody knows there's a killer gunning for us and he knows where we live."
"What are you going to do?" Ryan asked as Mark left the room dialing.
"My wife is at home." Mark put the phone to his ear and paced as he listened to it ring.
Jessie pulled out his own phone to get started as Ryan watched his partner. Mark hung up and started for the door.
"Where you going?" Ryan said.
"Where do you think?"

Peter felt the pain throughout his body as he curled up on the bottom of the boat, moving in and out of sleep. He found himself drifting off but a sharp pain or deep ache would bring him back to reality.
Each time he came back the darkness became lighter, turned to twilight and now he figured it was almost six or seven. The sun was up enough that it might as well be noon. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
A gunshot in the distance startled Peter awake and he sat up to look around. A second shot and he looked over to see there was a bridge two football fields away crossing the river, fifty meters above the water. A third shot was fired, it had no chance of hitting but Peter assumed they were just after the sport right now.
Peter saw that he was still a good distance from the shoreline and there was no way his boat would move that way before the bridge and with his leg he wouldn't be able to swim over. To his horror he also realized that the water seemed to be speeding up, as the river got narrower as it headed toward the canyons on the other side of the bend.
"Okay, that's not exactly fair." Peter said.
A round hit the water a meter from the boat. It sent up a small string of water. The next whizzed past overhead. Once Damien and the others realized that Peter was in range they opened fire.
Peter dropped down as a round hit the side of the boat and arcs off into the air, not that staying low would be any help the closer he got to the bridge. He grabbed the shotgun and considered firing back but the slugs would have to fight gravity. It was useless.
A round put a hole in the wall of the boat. The other rounds continued to get closer as the wind and gravity had less affect on them. Peter moved to the middle of the boat and put his hands on the rim. He pushed with his feet on the other side and started rocking. He arced it twice and then put all his energy into the third.
The side of the boat lifted up and he grabbed onto the bench as the boat dropped back into the water upside down. Peter dropped into the cold water but managed to hold onto the bench with his hands, they slipped to just the tip of his fingers. When the boat settled he took a better grip and pulled himself up enough to breath.
The shotgun disappeared below the surface.
The firing above stopped for a moment as the Militiamen and women wondered what just happened.
"Did he just kill himself?" Sandy asked, holding the leashes of his three bloodhounds.
"That was the strangest thing I've ever seen." Clark looked to Damien.
"Sink the boat." Damien replied and the people around him resumed firing.
Down below Peter lowered himself a bit as holes started appearing above him through the metal. A few rounds came through but were stopped by the bench just above his head. The firing stopped so he assumed that he was passing underneath the bridge and they'd have to go to the other side to resume.
A moment later the firing started again but less accurate as the water continued to gain momentum. Peter gripped the bench tighter, and when the rounds stopped hitting the boat he wrapped his forearm over the seat and tried to bring his good leg out of the water. He pushed his foot onto the other bench and held it there.
Damien watched with frustration as the boat headed for the Canyon, where the water started to turn a frothy white between rock cliffs going up from either side.
"If he ain't dead now, he'll be soon." Clark said, putting his hand on the other’s shoulder.
"I want to meet it on the other side, where can we do that?" Damien said back.
Peter tensed as the boat jarred from hitting the canyon wall and spun in the water. Peter realized where he was and remembered his father with a few uncles bringing him here when he was ten to see where and how his ancestors fished for thousands of years. His father climbed out onto one of the many rocks with a spear that he used to jab a fish. The end of the spear detached but was connected by string to Peter’s wrist so he could pull it in.
"Don't fall in," His father had said when it was Peter’s turn to try, "It's a long ride, and nobody survives."
"I could." Peter was mouthy and overly brave back then. He just wished he wasn't given this opportunity to prove it. "Besides, you're always saying the ancestors are looking out for me. Shouldn't they save me?"
"They'll be too busy laughing."
Peter smirked to himself as the boat continued to pick up speed and smashed against the cliff walls. He didn't know if the sound he heard was the sound of the water swishing against the boat or his ancestors laughing.

Mark flew through two red lights to get to the highway and used the HOV lane all the way to the suburbs where he ignored all stop signs. Along the way he texted his wife and tried phoning her several times but she didn't answer.
He pulled the car up to the front of his house but parked at the curb. Amanda's car was parked in the driveway and not in the garage where she usually kept it. He wondered if maybe she was leaving but was stopped, he hoped that maybe she just went inside to find something she forgot.
Mark drew his weapon and walked quickly for the house, having to use his key to get through the front door. He took a second to decide whether to call her name or keep to himself to keep somewhat an element of surprise. In that moment he heard the shower running.
Mark had a moment of relief and hoped that it wasn't a false sense of security set up by Kevin, if he was even here. Mark wondered if he was over reacting due to his lack of sleep. His wife may be in danger, as was everybody else on that list but would it be so soon?
Mark went to clear the kitchen and every other room on the first floor then he moved to the staircase where he took the steps quickly and silently. He cleared the rooms fast as he moved for the master bedroom then as he stepped through the door his stomach dropped.
Ian was stretched out on the bed with the blanket covering everything below the waist. He was a five foot ten tall man with short dark hair. He was about fifteen pounds over his ideal weight but it wasn't enough to make him unappealing. The rest of the sheets were bundled up in that way only intense sex could create. Their clothes were spread out on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Mark slowed his breathing down to keep himself from anger or panic. He listened to the sound of the shower and then walked to the side of the bed. He waited a moment before he put the barrel of his Beretta to Ian's forehead. He continued to slow his breathing with deep breaths. Unlike many men before him, he considered the ramifications of pulling the trigger.
Ian opened his eyes slowly. When he realized what was happening they shot open. "Oh my god...no! No! No! No!"
Mark put his free hand on top of Ian's mouth hard, shutting the man up. "Don't talk. Don't move."
Ian nodded, his eyes betrayed panic.
"She tell you who I am?" Mark asked and Ian nodded again. "She tell you I kill people for a living?"
Ian stared, then nodded.
"And you still thought this would be a good idea?" Mark said. He didn't expect an answer. He was only talking to calm himself down. He listened as the shower turned off. "That was stupid. That was very stupid."
Mark took a breath as the room felt like it was spinning. He knew it was just the extra oxygen in his blood from his sped up breathing but knowing what it was didn't help him control it. He let Ian's mouth go and stood up but kept the gun pointed at him.
"I'm sorry..."
"Don't talk. Talking will get you killed." Mark said and looked over as Amanda came out of the master bathroom in a towel with wet hair. She stopped, panic froze her in place.
"Mark?" She said softly.
"In my house? In my bed?" Mark was calm, but she could see he was holding back. "You tell me why?"
"I don't know." She shrugged.
Mark yelled, "Tell me why?"
Amanda tensed and waited, "Please let him go. It's not his fault."
"I don't want to let him go. I want to kill him."
"That's not you. It's not."
"Isn't it?" Mark looked down the gun sights at the man. Ian tensed up to wait for the shot.
Mark played it out in his head. There would be satisfaction in pulling the trigger and sending the bullet through this mans' skull. The hollow point tip would scoop and splatter his brains all over the pillow beneath him. It would make the world right again. It would then bring police and an investigation, and prison, and the end to his life.
"Leave." Mark lowered the gun. "Leave!"
Ian raced to the end of the bed and grabbed what clothes he could as he darted out the door. He dressed downstairs and realized he'd forgotten a shoe and house keys but decided both could be replaced.
Amanda didn't know where to begin as Mark stared at the bed where Ian had been. He calmly put his weapon back in the holster.
"Mark?"
"You have to leave." Mark didn't look over. "You have to go."
"I'm sorry..."
"No, no." Mark said and waved her off, "There's a man coming. He wants us dead and he knows where we live. If you stay here I don't know what he'll do to you. So you leave, you go to your mom’s place, or you get a hotel and you stay there until we get him."
"Why?"
"Get dressed and pack one bag. I'll be downstairs until you're ready to go." Mark moved out the door as she stood there.
She was overwhelmed with regret.

The boat was found tangled up in the roots of a tree that fell over years before. It's top twenty feet rested in the river. Several shots were fired into the metal before the Militia hooked it from the tree line and dragged it around to the gravel beach. Damien stood back as Clark flipped the boat over to show that it was empty.
"He in the tree?" Clark asked one of them near the tree. The guy looked around the roots for a body but shrugged. "Yeah, he's probably just a corpse now floating off down river."
"Yeah, are you sure about that?" Damien asked, looking up river where it twisted and turned. They were far enough along they couldn't see the canyon or rapids anymore.
"I'm pretty damn sure, yeah," Clark moved up next to Damien, "I've been out here twenty years. I've heard of a lot of people tip over into these rivers, nobody comes out this time of year alive. River’s too high, river’s too cold, and river’s moving too damn fast."
"Send five men that way till they get to the white wash, and tell them to watch that side of the river too. The rest of us, and the dogs, we'll be going west." Damien motioned west, "And there's a town up that way?"
"Yeah, small one for loggers."
"You call your friends there, anybody with a crest and a gun and you get them out here, on the water if they can. Anybody actually. I want everybody looking for this guy." Damien moved for the water’s edge where it became the tree line.
"Who is this guy?" Clark asked.
Damien stopped to consider it. He couldn't say Peter was an excuse for him to lose his career. "He's the leader of their rebellion. If this guy gets back to his people, he'll drum up support like you wouldn't believe. Well armed Indians out for blood. We don't let that happen. You see him, you kill him."

Peter actually wasn't far from where the boat was found. He lost his grip after the rapids when his core temperature dipped and he lost feeling in his hands again. He dropped into the water and scrambled back up to the surface but by the time he did the boat had floated over him and away. He finally had to take off the blanket holding his food to avoid sinking, kicking as hard as he could to stay afloat. The current took him a kilometer past where the boat got caught up in a river eddy, and he was deposited on a sand embankment.
This was where he was now trying to warm himself up under the hot sun. He was warm enough that he could see the steam rise off his jumpsuit. Peter allowed himself a moment to rest and enjoy the feeling as his muscles began to relax and thaw out then he heard the sound of barking dogs and tilted his head to look.
"These people are relentless." Peter rolled over to his front. He had to push up to one leg to stand. He checked the wound to see that it was still seeping but the cold water slowed the bleeding down enough to clot. Still hurt like a son of a bitch though.
He started for the tree line, which he hoped he could follow far enough to get him into the nearby town.
Ten minutes later Sandy and his dogs led Damien to this area on the beach, where the bloodhounds took an interest in one particular spot. They pushed each other out of the way to sniff the ground.
"They got something, oh they definitely got something," Sandy got excited and looked closer. "Looks like blood. Holy shit, the chug made it."
"Good for him. Which way did he go?" Damien asked.
"Let's find out. Come on girls, where'd it go? Where did it go?" Sandy talked to the dogs. They knew their cue to follow the scent and led the group of men after Peter.

Mark waited in the corner of the room where he had a clear view of the front door and kitchen. His hand was rested on his weapon. Training and years of experience put him in this corner but his mind wasn't on being safe. He was thinking about his years of marriage to Amanda and how he had been positive that she was completely provided for.
This house and everything in it, the neighbourhood where it was located, vacations and gifts, it was all provided for her to make her happy and content. He remembered when they first met. Their first year dating in university they talked about their dreams and how they would accomplish it. Now here they were with almost everything on their list. What was she missing that she would throw it all away for that guy?
He came out of his thoughts when he heard Amanda coming down the stairs in jeans and a blouse. She held a small suitcase that she didn't let go of when she reached the bottom to just stare at him.
"You're ready?" Mark walked to her.
"No."
"Tough." He grabbed the suitcase from her and moved to the door but she stayed put and waited until he turned back. "Let's go."
"Are you coming with me?" She asked.
"No, I'm going to work." Mark answered and there was silence between them.
"Say something." She said. "Don't just pretend nothing happened, say something."
"He's killed two agents. He tried to kill me once already. He knows where I live, and he wants us dead for killing his girl. Right now, right this minute you want to have this conversation?" Mark’s voice built as he talked. "Because this would be the worst time, the worst possible time to have it out. And right now, even if your life wasn't at stake I wouldn't be talking to you about this right now, I'd say fuck you and I'd be out that door. So...no, right now you get in your car and you drive away. I go back to work."
"Okay." Amanda agreed.
"I open the door and we walk to your car. No stopping to talk or smell the flowers." Mark drew his weapon and put it by his leg as he waited for her nod, which she did.
Mark escorted her to her car and held the door open as she climbed in. He slammed it shut and put the suitcase in the back seat. Mark didn't look back as he moved to his own car.
Amanda pulled out of the driveway and headed up the road, disappearing around the corner as Mark watched through his rearview mirror.
He changed his mind though. If this Indian was coming for him maybe he should go back inside and wait for him.

Chapter 15 can be found at: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-15