Ancient Echoes

CHAPTER 60



“UNTIL WE COME up with a way to protect ourselves,” Michael said when the group gathered after a restless night, “we're sitting ducks if they come after us.”

“Sam Black and Arnie Tieg had rifles when they first picked us up,” Melisse said, “and they had ammo clips. One day they headed northeast from the village with the rifles, and when they returned they no longer carried them. I saw some caves out that way when Rachel and I were picking tubers. I’d look there.”

“Give me directions to find the spot,” Michael said.

“I'll join you,” Jake added.

“We should all go,” Charlotte suggested. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up.”

“No,” Jake told her a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. “It’s going back near the compound, back to danger. You, Lionel, and Quade need to put your heads together with that book and the philosopher’s stones and look for any hint on getting us out of here.” He looked hard at Quade, as if to say he knew Quade had a lot more information than he shared so far.

“I told you I can’t help,” Lionel complained. “It’s not my area.”

“You’d rather return to the village with us and look for guns?” Jake asked.

Lionel blanched and fell silent.

“I should go with you, Sheriff,” Melisse offered.

“Michael and I can handle it,” Jake said. “I'd rather you stay and protect the others. If this camp is attacked, you'll be most useful here.”

“I know what you're doing, Sheriff.” Melisse held her head high. “Don't cut me out. It's my job to go into danger.”

“I understand that,” Jake said. “But you may be needed right here.”

He didn't know how prophetic his words would be.

o0o

By late afternoon, Michael and Jake still hadn’t found the cave with a stash of guns. They hadn’t found any cave at all.

“Should we give up?” Jake asked. “I’m worried about leaving the others alone all this time.”

“There’s only about an hour more of daylight,” Michael said. “We should take advantage of it. In any case, it’ll be dark before we get back to them.”

“You’re right,” Jake said. “If we can only find those rifles, we’ll be a credible fighting force.”

“Bring 'em on,” Michael said with heavy irony.

“Careful what you wish for.”

“That's the story of my life, damn it.”

Dusk fell as they continued their slow, cautious search. Jake glanced back to tell Michael it was time to give up. A red laser spot danced on Michael's chest—a high beam rifle scope had him in its sight.

Jake lunged and knocked Michael off his feet as the high piercing sound of a rifle shot whizzed by. A rock Michael had been standing in front of shattered.

A half second later, multiple rounds of rifle fire sounded.

Dirt and debris exploded around them. Jake groaned as he and Michael scrambled for cover.

“You're hit!” Michael stared at the gaping wound on the sheriff’s thigh. Jake had seemed invulnerable to him.

They dropped to their stomachs and rolled into a dry creek bed offering a slight depression in the contour of the land. There, Michael fired back with the Remington, while Jake used his knife to cut and tear off material from his shirt to make a tourniquet for his thigh. The bullet had missed his femoral artery or he would have quickly bled out.

Gunfire stopped altogether for few moments. Then shots came at them from three new positions.

Jake drew his Smith and Wesson. With dizzying agony he balanced on his good knee, his wounded leg outstretched. Waves of blackness swept over him as he fired blindly at the enemy. As he struggled against passing out, each wave became more difficult to fight. “I don't know how much longer I can hold on,” he murmured.

“Don't give up now, Sheriff!” Michael gripped his shoulder, his words harsh. “Concentrate on all who need you. Charlotte, Melisse, Lionel, Rachel, Brandi,”—he saw movement and shot at it—“even Quade and me. Hang on!”

Jake nodded, determined. More gunfire sounded and the two began to work their way backwards, away from the heavy assault, finally making a labored run to a more secure position behind a cluster of jutting rocks.

Jake reached shelter, but the effort cost him. The adrenaline rush that propelled him to safety abandoned him, and he slumped over.

Michael aimed his weapon in the direction of the attackers' oncoming sounds and fired wherever he detected sound or movement, desperate to hold their position.

Volleys of gunfire came at him with such force and frequency that he found himself pinned down, unable to leave the security of the rock face to return fire. Not that it mattered. He had so little ammunition left, the fight would soon be over.