CHAPTER 2

As far back as he could remember, Gage Martin could not recall a time when he wasn't interested in nature. Growing up in the north woods of Minnesota, it was hard not to become entangled in the magical beauty of the quiet woodlands. A large part of his outdoor legacy was passed onto him by his father, who was an avid outdoorsman. Gage was always included in his father's hunting and fishing expeditions as soon as he was old enough to walk.

These trips weren't just about hunting and fishing. His father also taught him many things about nature and surviving in the wild. How you could use paper cups to boil water. The kinds of plants that were edible or otherwise useful, and of course the ones that were harmful. How to always be aware of your surroundings. Many times he would stop and ask questions about a bird that had just flown overhead or what was the right direction back to the truck. Above all, he taught him to respect nature and the game he hunted. To only take what he needed and waste nothing he didn't have to.

When he was twelve, Gage's father had given him his first shotgun.

"This is not a toy. This is a tool. It's a very dangerous tool. I am giving you this because I trust you to act responsibly," his father had told him. "If, at any time, I feel you aren't being responsible with your gun you will return it to me until you can prove that you have learned your lesson."

There was more than one occasion in the first couple of years when Gage found himself walking back to his father's pickup truck without his firearm. Times when he had been careless about what direction the muzzle was pointing or when he wasn't quick enough to re-safe the weapon after firing.

His father also impressed on him the necessity of taking care of his possessions. Never was one of his rifles or shotguns put away, after being used, that they weren't fastidiously cleaned. The same applied to his hunting knife and fishing equipment.

"If you don't care enough to take care of it, you don't deserve to have it," his father would tell him.

As Gage grew older, he took it upon himself to learn even more than his dad had taught him. He read every hunting and fishing article he could get his hands on. He quickly went through the local library's small collection of books on survival.

He joined the Boy Scouts of America as soon as age permitted. The outdoors was his passion and he was set on learning everything he could about it.

By the time he was a senior in high school, he had achieved the rank of Eagle Scout. He was also a member of the school's football and wrestling teams.

It was during his final year in school that he decided he wanted to join the Army. His father was proud and supportive of his decision. His mother worried but was no less supportive of her son.

Six weeks after graduation he left for basic training. Not only had he signed up for the infantry, he had gotten a guaranteed chance at Ranger training.

The months at Fort Benning's infantry training center were tough, but not much worse than what he had put himself through during the football and wrestling seasons. Just longer and more varied.

He qualified as expert during rifle marksmanship. But it was during the field training exercises that Gage really stood out above the rest of the trainees. His drill sergeants couldn't believe how expertly he moved when in the field.

His parents came to see his graduation from infantry training. He was given a two week leave and then had to report for Ranger Training.

Nothing he had ever experienced had prepared him for what he had to endure during Ranger School. Dozens of times he wanted to quit and dozens of times he just kept on pushing when he thought he had nothing left to give.

When it was finally over, Gage's instructor had given him his Ranger Scroll, shook his hand, and told him, "Congratulations son, you've just become a Ranger. You'll never have to prove anything to anybody again."

He spent six years in the army. He received a minor wound during action in Afghanistan. After he recovered, he returned to his unit and was wounded again in an ambush set up by the Taliban. When his enlistment term ended, he was still recovering from the shrapnel wound in his right leg. Figuring he had used up about all the luck he was entitled to, he decided not to reenlist.

After he finished recovering, Gage moved to Denver and became head of security for a military contractor. He was paid well and quickly saved up enough money for a down payment on a comfortable, yet not extravagant, home in the mountains.

He also met Alexis Stevenson, a receptionist with the same company he worked for. It was a whirlwind romance and they were married nine months later.