The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum

SATURDAY cont...

"Grab him!"

I take several steps into the clearing, grasp the Wizard by the collar of his plaid shirt, and tug. As tugs go it's pretty impressive. An awesome tugjob, if I do say so myself.

Sam flies backwards, landing heavily in the leaf litter under the trees, the impact mostly absorbed by his backpack. To add insult to injury I press my boot against his chest to prevent him rising and causing more havoc.

John kneels beside him, voice remarkably restrained considering how close we came to disaster. "Listen, I know you're angry. I'm pretty mad myself. Thing is, there are soldiers in there with more firepower than three pistols and three ammo clips which is all we have. You need to calm down."

"Yes. I'm sorry. Let me up."

I glance at John who nods assent. I raise my boot.

The Wizard sits up and grimaces with pain,"My dear, it seems you're as freakishly strong as your sister."

Speaking of which, Cameron subprime returns from scouting the clearing and offers her report.

"The helicopter is unoccupied. The engine is giving off no heat signature suggesting it hasn't been flown for at least a day. The walls of the cabin are too thick to penetrate using infra red, therefore the number of occupants is unknown. There is no rear door, only a window. Grime prevents a clear view inside. A communications dish is fixed to the roof. It is too high up to disable without being discovered. There are signs of habitation near the east wall, mostly shredded black polythene and scraps of cardboard that most likely are discarded pizza boxes."

"Maybe this is nothing to do with us," Daniel suggests. "Maybe...maybe..."

"What? They just dropped in for a vacation? A little R & R? I don't think so."

"How did they know this is my cabin?" the Wizard ponders out loud. "It's not possible."

"I assume you didn't buy the place with Amex?"

"I course not! Do you think I'm a fool? The man I purchased it from never even knew my name, nor I his. I paid cash. There is no paperwork. No legal record. Nothing."

"There's one explanation. You're not gonna like it."

"Tell me."

"They drugged you. Either before or after interrogation. You'd never remember telling them. It 's their ace in the hole. If we ever did succeed in breaking you out of jail they knew we'd likely bring you here."

"A welcoming committee."

"Something like that. See that rectangle of dead grass out there? I think there was a tent there, for the troops to sleep in. There were probably more of them a month ago. At least a platoon. They expected us to arrive almost immediately."

"And when we didn't show up some of the men got reassigned."

"Yeah. That begs the question - how many are still here? And are they elite soldiers or not."

"How d'you mean?"

"Think about it. In a situation like this do you leave behind your best troops or a bunch of grunts?"

"It depends how likely they think it is we'd arrive after all this time."

"A month and counting? Not very likely. I think they're grunts. It explains the half-assed tripwire."

"Do we really have to stay and find out?" Daniel asks nervously. "Can't we just find the gold and go?"

"Where is it, Sam - in the cabin?"

"No. Buried under the latrine."

He raises a bony finger towards the small wooden shack standing near the western edge of the clearing.

"You buried gold under the latrine?"

"Last place people would think to look."

"You got that right."

"We can't dig it up without being observed," I point out. "Not unless we wait until nightfall."

John checks his watch. "It's noon. Won't get dark for another eight hours. I'm not spinning my wheels that long."

"A frontal assault," I suggest. "Catch them by surprise."

"Risky. If they use the radio to get a call out we'll be spending the rest of the day playing hide and seek in the forest. Not my idea of fun."

John stares at the clearing, at the cabin with its picture postcard facade, weighing options in his head. He is good at this. His ability to access a battlefield and instinctively choose the correct tactics for the situation is second to none. Of course, he is not that man yet. It is a learning curve. Mistakes can be made.

"Jan, go back to that tripwire and break it. Hide behind a tree. When a soldier comes to investigate take him out as gently as you can."

"You have a plan?" I ask as Cameron subprime departs.

"Sort of. Let's see how this goes."

A learning curve...

"Suppose they all come out at once?" Daniel asks, ever the voice of trepidation.

"I think wild animals probably trigger false alarms. It's an animal track after all. The soldiers are probably pretty complacent about it ."

"Man, I hope you're right.

A minute passes. Then the door of the cabin opens and a single soldier emerges. He's dressed in fatigue pants and an army issue khaki tee shirt. There's a M-16 slung casually over his shoulder. For a moment he pauses in the doorway, enjoying a last drag on a cigarette before discarding it and walking into the forest.

"Didn't seem in a hurry," Daniel whispers.

"Like I said, routine makes you complacent."

We wait. No one else emerges from the cabin.

"Maybe he's all there is? The last sentinel. The final man standing."

"No. There's more."

"Burst my bubble, why don't you."

The undergrowth rustles. Cameron subprimes arrives with the soldier draped unconscious over her shoulder. She sets him down gently on the forest floor.

"Didn't hit him too hard?"

"Just a tap."

The Wizard says, "How is this possible? Even with the element of surprise he's still twice her size."

"She's a ninja!" Daniel blurts. "She - uh - did ninja training in Japan."

"Is this true, my dear?"

"Yes, I'm a ninja," Cameron subprime concurs in fluent japanese.

We're ninjas now? Cool.

John searches the soldier's pockets revealing a cigarette packet, a Zippo lighter and a folding knife with a pearl handle. He unzips one of our backpacks and extracts a cotton bedsheet that we bought in town. He hands the sheet and the lighter to me. "Sneak over to the helicopter. Stuff the sheet in the fuel tank then pull most of it out and set it alight."

Daniel says, "You're gonna blow up the chopper?"

"That only happens in movies. Fuel tanks are tough to explode. I want to coax the others out into the open."

I stay under the tree canopy until the bulk of the Chinook is between me and the cabin, then step out into the clearing and cross briskly to the fuselage. The fuel cap is torn off and I stuff the sheet inside then pull it partially out again. The smell of aviation fuel is very strong. I thumb the Zippo and set the sheet on fire.

By the time I rejoin the others flames are licking the side of the helicopter. Black smoke billows upwards.

"Okay, everyone get ready. We only have one chance at this."

The cabin door opens and four soldiers spill out, dressed the same as their compadre. For a moment all is confusion, each yelling and taking short steps that take them nowhere. Then one of them spots the burning sheet and kicks it clear, stomping the flames out with his boots.

"Okay. Showtime..."

We step from under the trees, guns pointing. "Nice day for a barbecue," John quips. "Everyone stand still. No sudden moves."

The soldier nearest the edge of the clearing disobeys, making a dash for the treeline. I aim my pistol. The man's fleeing back is an unmissable target.

"No! Go after him!"

The soldier has an headstart and knows the terrain around the cabin better than I do. No matter. This is what I was designed to do: hunt humans. Behind me I hear footsteps. Surely John isn't careless enough to let another escape? No. It's Cameron subprime. "John sent me to help you. He says it's imperative the man doesn't get away."

"He won't. He's heading for the stream. Cross to the other bank so we outflank him."

"A pincer movement? Yes, a sound tactic. Do you recall the time we teamed up with the T-800?"

I do. Another place. Another time. Literally. Another Cameron, feral and capable of taking human lives without mercy or remorse. The T-800 and I used pincer tactics to corner and kill seventeen resistance fighters. I still have the memory stored within me. I don't access it often. It would be like observing a wild animal through the bars of a cage.

The soldier is trying to be silent as he runs but is failing bigtime. With my audio maxxed out his footfalls sound like drumrolls. He might as well be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, like a character from a nursery rhyme.

A sudden splash. A muffled curse. He's found the stream.

I emerge at the top of the slope. He's halfway across. The water is up to his chest and he struggles to make headway.

Cameron subprime appears on the opposite bank.

The soldier spots her and turns around only to find me staring down at him. It's like we're stereo and he's mono. Humans have an expression for his predicament: up shit creek without a poodle. Though why anyone would desire the company of an exotic breed of dog when surrounded by excrement is beyond me.

"Do you want to say it or shall I?" I shout across.

"Why don't we say it together."

"Very well. On three. One. Two. Three..."

"Come with me if you want to live."

-0-

John already has the other soldiers under control when we escort the bedraggled escapee into the cabin. The men have been ziptied to chairs positioned round a rough wooden table that has playing cards and poker chips strewn over it.

"Nice of you to join us, corporal," John says in a friendly tone as he zipties the newcomer to a chair. "You're a little damp, I see."

"He was attempting to ford the river," I explain.

"Ah right. I thought you might double back and go for the Chinook."

"He's not the pilot," one of the other soldiers states. He nods at the man Cameron subprime knocked unconscious. "He's the pilot."

"Never mind all that!" The Wizard blusters angrily. "You people have no right to be here! This is my property and you're all trespassing!"

"Easy, Sam. Why don't you go outside and dig up your gold? We'll handle this."

With the Wizard gone the tension eases somewhat. No one wants a crazyass six-six Gandalf mad at them.

The inside of the cabin isn't particularly large and seems even more cramped with nine of us jostling for space. Along one wall is army equipment, stacked high in wooden crates. In a corner is a huge pile of black garbage sacks reaching all the way to the ceiling. Daniel comments, "Why don't you put the garbage outside and give yourselves more room?"

"Because the animals come in the night and tear it apart."

The men all have their names and ranks sewn into their tee shirts. Captain Jenner. Corporal Landy. Corporal Rafferty. Corporal Maxwell, who's still dripping water on the floor. And the pilot Kowalski, unconscious, whose head lolls forward on his chest.

"Is this all of you?" John asks.

"We have two patrols out and due to report back any second. Another helo carrying supplies and a full complement of troops will land soon. Give yourselves up while you still can," replies Captain Jenner in a voice that suggests he's used to giving orders. And having them obeyed.

John looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I shake my head. All lies.

"Nice try, Captain. I think you're bluffing. This is all you've got."

"You're making a big mistake."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Or probably the last. But there's no one else out there and you know it."

"That man needs urgent medical attention."

"He'll be fine. Wake up soon with a headache, is all."

"It was just a tap," Cameron subprime adds.

On a table under the window is a laptop computer plugged into a cable that surely connects it to the dish on the roof. John yanks it free and smashes the laptop against the floor, rendering it broken and useless.

"That's government property you just destroyed."

"Tell your boss to put it on my tab."

"You're a cocky little punk, aren't you."

John whirls round and leans down until their faces are inches apart. There's no humor in his voice now.

"I'm not the clown playing cards when he knew hostiles might arrive at any time. You should've organised patrols round the clock. Put men up in the tree canopy, not rely on some dumb tripwire that wild animals probably trigger half a dozen times a day."

The Captain looks away first, tacitly conceding the truth in John's accusations.

"We had patrols in the begining, when we had more men."

"And no one can stay up in the canopy for very long," Corporal Landy adds. "The mosquitos just eat you alive."

"Tell me about it," Daniel concurs rubbing his neck.

"We had bears last week," Landy continues. He seems like a man relieved to be finally airing his grievences. "They came for the pizza boxes we left out. It was unbelievable. We couldn't sleep with the noise they made. Freaking bears, man! I'm from Phoenix, Arizona. We don't have bears in Arizona."

"Shut up, Landy," the Captain rebukes.

"You boys been here the whole month?"

"Feels more like a year. Worse assignment ever. I'd rather be in Iraq."

"Landy, goddammit!"

"So how did you know this was Sam's place?"

"Sam?"

"The old guy who wanted to tear you a new one."

"Our orders were to expect the arrival of target number one. Intercept, disable and apprehend. I don't know anything about this Sam person."

This time the Captain is telling the truth.

"Okay. So who's target number one - me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. She's target number one."

The Captain nods his head at me. I'm target number one? How flattering!

"The Colonel didn't know there were two of you. I think he's gonna be mighty interested to hear that."

"If you wish, you may call me target number sub-one," Cameron subprime deadpans.

"That's pretty funny if you knew the context," John chuckles.

There's a door in the rear wall. John opens it and peers inside. I catch a glimpse of more equipment crates and the end of a bed.

"Who sleeps in here?"

"Take a wild freaking guess," Corporal Landy replies.

"Landy, any more out of you and I'll see you're charged with insubordination."

"Where do the rest of you sleep?"

Landy wisely keeps quiet. Corporal Rafferty says, "We use hammocks. Except for me and Kowalski. We sleep in the helo. To get away from Landy's snoring."

"Screw you, Rafferty!"

"How long before they pull the plug on this whole operation and send you home?"

"That's classified."

"Not a place I'd care to spend winter. Or fall, for that matter."

Captain Jenner says, "You mind telling me why you didn't show up a month ago? The Colonel was adamant you'd be here."

"Funny story. The old guy? He injured his ankle. We had to postpone until it healed."

"So it was just our bad luck."

"Oh no, Captain, it was your good luck. You see these two girls? They might look like they're on their way to a hoedown, but they're dead-eyed killers the pair of them. They'd have hunted your men down one by one."

Cameron subprime and I exchange a look. Did John just describe us as dead-eyed killers?

He says the sweetest things!

The door bursts open and the Wizard re-enters. He's red in the face and his hands are covered in dirt. At least I hope it's dirt. He's cradling a small urn made of plastic.

"Found it! Right where I left it, under the latrine."

"That's our cue to leave. Nice meeting you, gentlemen."

"Wait. You can't leave us tied up like this. We'll starve to death."

"I doubt it. I think you make a daily report to HQ, probably around dusk. Tell them all the juicy deets of your day. When they don't hear from you they'll send another helicopter to investigate. And look at it this way - after today you'll never have to spend another moment in these woods."

"Amen to that!" Corporal Landy blurts out with feeling. And for once there's no reprimand from Captain Jenner.

-0-

The trek back goes less smoothly than the inward one. The Wizard, and to a lesser extent, Daniel, constantly lag behind and make us wait for them to catch up.

"Dammit, this isn't good enough," John chafes during our third stoppage. "I know they're tired, but at this rate we'll still be in the woods when it gets dark. You two are gonna have to carry them. I don't know how we'll explain away two girls being able to carry grown men without getting winded but I don't see we have much choice."

Daniel comes running up, panting and out of breath.

"Finally. Listen, man, I know it's been a long day-"

"It's Sam! He's collapsed!"

"How? What happened?"

"He was walking a few yards behind me. I heard him drop that urn thing. I turn around and he just toppled over."

We hurry down the trail.

"Sam, are you okay?"

No reply. The Wizard is lying on his back, eyes closed as if sleeping. John checks for a pulse.

"I'm getting something. Awfully faint. Could be his heart. Jan - was he taking any meds in Seattle?"

"He took tylenol for the pain in his ankle. And a multi-vitamin with meals."

"That's it? Could he have taken other meds without you seeing?"

"Possible but unlikely. Why would he hide it from me?"

"Yeah, makes no sense. If he had a heart condition he'd have told us. We could easily obtain what he needed on the black market."

"What do we do?"

"We need to get him to a hospital asap."

Daniel whips out his cellphone. "No bars! Suppose I climbed a tree - would I get a signal?"

"Doubt it. And what difference would it make? No way an ambulance can reach us here."

"They'd send an air ambulance with paramedics aboard. I've seen it on TV. They can go anywhere."

John turns to me, eyes wide with sudden inspiration. "The helicopter back in the clearing. Can you fly it?"

"I am programmed to operate all modes of transportation."

Daniel says, "We're gonna steal their helicopter?"

"It'll take hours on foot. He needs a doctor right now."

"Didn't we set it on fire?"

"Superficial damage. It'll still fly. Let's go. Grab his legs."

-0-

In the clearing we gently load the Wizard into the cargo hold of the Chinook. His eyes are closed and his skin pale.

"You two get strapped in," John orders. He grabs my hand. "Come with me."

We cross over to the cabin. The soldiers are right where we left them, tied to chairs around the table. Kowalski, the one Cameron subprime knocked unconscious is now awake. He and the others stare at us as we enter.

"Hey, guys, slight change of plan. We're gonna need to borrow your chopper. Oh - and your clothes."

-0-