“At least it’s the offseason,” Deuce whispered.
“How many people come up this far, anyway?” Zane asked in disbelief.
“Not many,” Deuce muttered.
“Picking up litter on the mountain gets you killed,” Ty whispered in disgust. He reached up and carefully pulled a few dried leaves out of his mouth and made a face as he spit out some of the twigs and dirt he’d practically inhaled when he’d landed. He was careful not to raise his head above the log, though. And he was relieved to see the damp woods around him rather than dry sand.
“Wait a damn minute. Are you saying we run?” Earl asked as he kept his face in the wet leaves on the ground too. Ty knew they both were dealing with memories of past battles, and Deuce and Zane followed their example.
“Yes, Dad, we run,” Ty hissed in annoyance as he glanced sideways at Earl.
“The hell you say,” Earl growled back at Ty. “The four of us is more than capable of taking on some pissant little backwoods pot growers, even if they do know how to lay trap. We know the signs, what to look for. Hell, we’d probably be back up here helping the search as soon as we report it!”
“Yeah, with guns and bomb-sniffing dogs and a lot of people who are carrying first aid kits and food,” Ty argued.
“Someone could get hurt up here while we run off with our tails between our legs,” Earl argued in outrage. “You remember those missing hikers the ranger told us about? God knows how many people already been hurt.”
“Dad,” Ty said in frustration. “We have two weapons with minimum ammunition, we’re on unfamiliar ground, and we have very little supplies. If one of us gets hurt bad, we’ll never make it off the mountain in time. And you’re not twenty-five anymore!” he grated out, trying to keep his voice down.
“I may be an old man, Beaumont, but at least I ain’t a coward,” Earl growled.
The harsh words landed with force, knocking the breath from Ty’s chest and wiping away any argument he’d been about to put forth. He blinked at Earl in shock before forcing himself to look away, resting his forehead against the ground again to make certain Earl wouldn’t see the crushing impact the implication of the words had on him.
“That’s enough, Earl,” Zane hissed.
“No,” Ty muttered as he raised his head again. He reached up and plucked off a leaf that had stuck to his forehead, looking at it dejectedly. “He’s right,” he told Zane as he dropped the leaf to the ground.
“You’re damn straight I am,” Earl told him angrily. “You and I both got enough deaths on the conscience. We can’t afford anymore.”
“There’s four lives here to take care of,” Zane snapped as he motioned among them with one hand. “That ought to register loud and clear on your conscience.”
Ty pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded, not speaking in response to either statement. He began to move, pulling himself toward Deuce while still staying below the level of the log. He reached for Deuce’s pack and gave him a shake of the head when Deuce opened his mouth to speak. Deuce snapped his mouth closed and glanced at the others. Then he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the ground. Ty knew what Deuce was thinking. He was just as stunned as Ty was. They both loved and respected their father a great deal. He’d always been strict and expected the very best from his sons, but Earl had never been mean, and he’d never resorted to saying things that cut painfully deep in order to get his way.
Ty tried to let it slide. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. He shook his head as he snagged Deuce’s pack, taking care to stay behind the fallen log as he pulled it close. Whoever came up with that stupid-ass rhyme deserved a few sticks and stones to the head.
He unzipped the outer pocket and extracted the small case that carried Deuce’s extra set of contacts. He flipped it open and carefully lifted it, using the tiny mirror inside to peer at their back trail.
“Anything?” Earl asked.
Ty shook his head. “It appears to be an unmanned deterrent system,” he reported in a low voice. He was surprised to find speaking difficult, and he cleared his throat quietly. “Early warning system, maybe. That’s why it was so damn big. If there’s anybody up here, they know we’re here now,” he decided grimly as he snapped the contact case shut and slid it back into Deuce’s pack.
“Whether we’re going or not,” Zane growled, “we need to figure out what the hell to do next. Sitting here is not safe. We need a defensible position.”
“If they’re coming, they’ll be coming soon,” Earl agreed. He raised up slightly and peered over the log. “Be nice to see who we’re up against from a safe distance.”
Ty made his decision. “I may have an idea.”
Chapter 9
TY LAY in the underbrush, unmoving, watching the trail. He and Earl had made a makeshift ghillie suit out of a few branches and the wet, dead leaves that littered the forest floor. He’d had nothing to cover his face with but dirt and debris, but it worked if he didn’t move. Even blinking risked the cover as he lay near the edge of the clearing in hopes of hearing or seeing whoever came to check on the explosion.
It had been a long time since Ty had done this properly. And God, was he getting twitchy. It had only been fifteen or so minutes of lying there, and he already wanted to move. His biggest hurdle had always been the incessant rocking he did when he was tense or nervous or bored. Even lying alone in bed at night sometimes, he had to rock just to keep himself from going crazy. It wasn’t nearly as bad when he was with Zane, if for no other reason than Ty forced himself to remain still so as not to disturb him. Zane slept precious little as it was, and he tended to jab Ty in the ribs when he rocked.
Luckily, he didn’t have to wait much longer. A twig broke in the underbrush just yards away from where he lay. Ty resisted the urge to turn his head and check the positions of the others. He’d already made certain none of them could be seen; they were further away. Ty was only this close so he could hear.
Suddenly, two men moved through the overgrown foliage to his right. Ty could just barely see them out of the corner of his eye. They were both dressed in heavy, camouflage Carhartt jackets. The bigger of the two wore a hunting cap with earflaps, which were pinned up so they made him look a little like a moose in the woods. They both carried shotguns slung over their forearms and held in the crooks of their arms. Earflaps gave a low whistle as he peered out into the clearing at the crater the explosion had produced.