Day 19-2
There is absolutely no way to describe the expression on Jimmy's face when Micheals walks in. Best I can put it—not much short of a deadly glare.
Evidently Cut noticed as well, because he mumbles, "What the hell?", under his breath.
Micheals is grinning at me, however, ignoring the others. "Well, well, well! Sergeant Riggin," he sneers. "Thought you were pretty smart, didn't you? Game's over asshole! I'm going to finish it right here. You and your buddies..."
Only now he cuts himself off, because he looks around and sees Chief. His eyes widen, and a contemptuous grin spreads across his face. "Now looky here! If it isn't Geronimo." He steps over. "Didn't expect to find you here. What a nice fucking surprise!" He is drooling with scorn.
A quick glance at Cut tells me, he is just as surprised as I am, that they seem to know each other.
"So what are you up to this time, eh?" Micheals continues. "Still meddling around in other peoples' business I suppose. Man, you sure caused me a lot of headaches. Won't happen again though."
Chief doesn't show the slightest reaction, just stares straight into Micheals' face.
"Hey, Micheals," I call over in the hope to diffuse the situation. Without success.
He snaps back, "Shut the fuck up, Riggin!", never taking an eye off Jimmy. "So, Geronimo," he then continues, "guess I owe you one for turning me in. Well, let's see..." He pulls his pistol—looks like a Smith &Wesson 4046—from the shoulder-holster, and sticks it against Chief's temple.
Jimmy never even flinches, only his fists clench behind his back.
"Now," Micheals starts again, "first of all, you won't need that anymore," he sneers and yanks the bear-claws off Jimmy's neck.
"Oh, shit!" Cut hisses between his teeth, and I exhale a sharp breath, watching Chief's jawline tighten noticeably.
Figure if he could, he'd rip out Micheals' heart right here and now.
But his hands are tied behind his back, and there is nothing he can do.
"Always did have an eye for that thing." Micheals slips the necklace into his pocket. "How much is it worth? Two, two and a half maybe?" he asks, and Chief looks like he is about to say something.
Oh, God, man! Keep your mouth shut. This son-of-a-bitch is likely to blow your head off.
Cut can't stand it anymore. "Damn it, Micheals, leave him alone!"
"Shut the fuck up! I'll deal with you later. First I got a little score to settle," Micheals scowls, getting real close into Jimmy's face. Then he screams, because Chief head-butts him full blast, right between the eyes.
The answer comes immediately, and I cringe when Micheals hauls off and slams the gun-barrel across Jimmy's face, splitting his cheek wide open.
I can hear Chief grind his teeth. He turns his head back around slowly, and spits a mouthful of blood at Micheals. The agent lets out a roar, backs up slightly, and points the S&W at Jimmy's forehead.
"That's enough, George!" Harless suddenly yells, grabbing his arm, and Cut breathes a sigh of relief when Micheals really lowers the barrel. "Jesus Christ, man! Have you lost your mind?" Harless snaps at him. "What is the matter with you?"
"Stay out of it, Dan," Micheals hisses back. "That fucking red-skinned bastard cost me three years of my life."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"What are you talking about, George?" Harless shakes his head, and I exchange a curious look with Cut.
Apparently we ain't the only ones, not knowing what's goin' on.
"None of your goddamn business. Just stay out of it."
"I can't do that, man," Harless replies calmly. "We came up here to bring them back. Alive, not dead. So cool it will you? Whatever it is, that's between you and him, I'm sure we can work it out."
Micheals starts laughing like a lunatic, and Harless casts him a doubtful frown.
"Jesus Christ, Chase," Cut whispers, "we gotta do somethin'. I don't know what's goin' on, but that idiot is gonna lose it any minute."
"No, shit!...Micheals!" Another try to draw his attention away from Jimmy. "Come over here a minute. I wanna talk to you."
"Got nothing to say to you, Riggin," he sneers back.
"Oh, cool it, George." Harless makes another attempt. "We have to wrap this thing up here, and get off the mountain before dark."
"I'll wrap it up all right!" Micheals barks, and Harless has no chance to stop him when he slams the gun into Jimmy's face a second time.
Chief's head snaps around and he is out cold. Damn! Cut lets out a whole series of cuss words, but Micheals just glares at him with a nutcase grin.
Harless is suddenly pale as a ghost, and the other agents don't seem all too comfortable either.
One of the guys who caught Cut steps beside Micheals. "With all due respect, Sir, but..."
"Shut up, Sawyer! What the fuck is everyone's problem around here? These guys are just a bunch of AWOL..."
"First of all, Micheals," I break in, loud enough to cut him off, "those two are civilians, and second, if you got something to say then you say it to me."
"Oh, I can do that, Riggin, you son-of-a-bitch!" He steps over at last. "Guess you're real surprised that I know your Injun-buddy there, eh? Well, let me tell you something... he isn't going to make it, and neither are you."
"George!" Harless yells at him, now drawing his own gun. "I'm going to see to it, that these guys get a fair trial."
"Oh, yeah?" Micheals sneers. "And just how the fuck are you going to do that, Dan?"
"Simple! Give me your gun. You are suspended indefinitely."
Micheals laughs like crazy again and swings the S&W around at Harless. Then his voice turns hard. "Come and get it, Dan. That is, if you got the guts!"
Harless hesitates, and there is so much tension in the cabin, you could cut it with a knife.
I glance over at Jimmy, thinking that there is nothing I can do if Micheals decides to go over the edge completely. Damn plastic zip-ties! I can't loosen them up, and the more I try the deeper they cut into my wrists. Shit! Only one good thing...the little dummy who tied me gotta be a rookie. Otherwise he would have tied my thumbs together, instead of my wrists. That's usually the first lesson those guys learn. He must've skipped that class. Now, if I'n just somehow get to that Zippo in my back pocket...
"Sir," the other agent—Micheals had addressed him as Sawyer—breaks in again, "I would advise you to follow the order you have been given." He brings his H&K up against Micheals' back.
"Damn, Chase!" Cut mumbles, but I pay him no attention because Jimmy moves his head, staring at Micheals—with one eye anyway, the other is already swollen shut.
"Well, good morning, Geronimo! How was the nap?" Micheals scorns, ignoring the gun-barrel in his back.
Jimmy doesn't react, and I seriously doubt that he can even see straight.
"George, I'm going to tell you one more time," Harless says cold, apparently noticing the twitch in Micheals' trigger-finger.
"Oh, calm down, Dan!" He suddenly relaxes, for some unexplainable reason. "I'm not going to shoot him. At least not just yet," he grins and returns the S&W to the holster.
There are several simultaneous sighs of relief, Cut's and mine the most heartfelt ones.
"Come on, George," Harless also lowers his gun, "go outside for a while and cool off. Here, have a beer." He hands him one of our last cans and urges him out the door.
"Lord God the Almighty! What was all that about, Sir?" Sawyer comes back at him when Micheals is gone.
"Be honest, I have not the slightest idea," Harless shrugs. "Riggin, what is going on?"
"How the fuck should I know?" I snap at him. "Damn it, Harless, you gotta cut us loose before he comes back."
"I can't do that, Sergeant. You disobeyed strict orders, and I have..."
"So take it up with me, man. Those two got nothing to do with it."
"They are with you," he answers, bending to a knee beside Chief. "Are you all right?"
"He can't hear you, Harless," I inform him, because Jimmy has his eyes closed.
"What do you mean?" Harless frowns confused.
"Thought that was pretty clear," Cut barks furiously. "He can't hear you means he's deaf, got it? He can understand what's being said as long as he reads your lips, but that's it!"
The expression on Harless' face isn't too bright. "Jesus! Does George know this?" he mutters.
"How should I know? I wasn't even aware they knew each other, until he started all this shit," I answer him.
"So, you have no idea what all this was about?"
"None whatsoever! Look, Harless, we just stumbled across this shit up here by accident. There was never..."
"Wait a minute, Riggin," he cuts me off, "what are you talking about? What shit?"
Cut and I exchange a look of sudden understanding as it dawns on us. He doesn't know! Oh my God, he doesn't know!
"Looks like he's in for quite a surprise, huh, Chase?" Cut laughs ruefully.
"All right, Riggin, enough of the games. What is going on?" Harless inquires dead serious.
"Well, Sir, seems your friend George has a little side-business going up here that you're not aware of."
"What kind of business, Sergeant?"
"Does the term chemical warfare mean anything to you?"
"Damn it, Riggin, quit beating around the bush."
He is either an excellent liar, or I am right, assuming he has no idea. Doesn't matter either way, we got nothing to lose.
"Look, Harless," Cut gets impatient too, "there are enough chemical agents up here to put away half the population of the United States."
"Chemical...oh my God!" Harless' mouth drops open, and there are some real uneasy looks from the other agents in the room.
"Yeah, man," Cut continues. "Looks like he's got you all blindfolded..."
"Hold on a second…Sawyer, go see where he went," Harless instructs low, then turns back to us. "So what you are saying is, someone is dumping chemical agents in this area without permission?"
"Somethin' like that," I confirm. "Look, Sir, we found the men we were looking for. All of 'em...They are in a safe place," I continue quickly, before he can ask. "We also found what we wasn't supposed to, and there is a message on the way to inform the proper authorities."
"Good Lord, Riggin! Why didn't you say so before?"
"Well, Sir, to be honest, we thought you were in on it, too..."
"Hell no, I'm not," he breaks in. "But I can't believe George has anything to do with it either."
"Why'nt you just ask 'im? See how he reacts," Cut suggests cold.
"Not a good idea," I caution. "He's pretty much on the edge. No telling what he'll do."
"Shoot you!"
We all turn our heads in surprise at Jimmy's mumbled words.
"Gees, man," Cut exhales sharply, "you mind tellin' us what the hell is going on?"
Chief doesn't answer, just looks up at Harless with an unreadable expression, then back over at us.
"Jimmy, what did you turn him in for?" I narrow down the question.
Still no reply.
Harless steps closer to him and touches his arm.
Chief turns his head up, squinting at him.
"Pay attention!" Harless says along with signs—now I definitely feel stupid. "Does this by any chance have something to do with Reservation land down in Oklahoma?"
No answer from Jimmy, Harless frowns in frustration, and Cut cusses between his teeth.
Then Harless walks around behind the chair, cutting the ties on Chief's wrists. "Darrel," he snaps at one of the other agents, "cut the other two loose."
"No, Sir!"
"What?"
"You heard me," the guy named Darrel replies hard, and brings his gun up in Harless' face. "Sir, sit down. Sawyer, you too. Give up your piece. Terry, tie 'em."
"What the...?" Harless turns white again, and I don't think Cut and I look much better.
Jimmy is still sitting down, showing no reaction, though his hands are free.
Sure hope he's smart enough not to try it. He ain't got a snowball's chance in hell.
"Damn, Jimmy, don't do it," Cut mumbles low, knowing full well Chief doesn't get what he says because he is staring at the door.
God, I have to get out of them ties. Just please don't drop that lighter, Chase.
Damn, this is gonna hurt like hell. It is a good thing that Harless has a shouting-match going with Darrel, and everyone is watching them. I am not listening, just working feverishly to position the Zippo lighter between my hands, so the flame can reach the plastic tie. A click when the lid pops open. Anyone notice? No! A scraping sound—Ouch! Shit! I have to strike the flint a second time, the lighter slips, and I just barely recover my hold on it. Then the flame stays on, and burns into my wrists more than anything else.
I can smell singed hair, but no one seems to pay attention. COME ON! I flex my wrists as much as possible without moving the position of the flame. Then suddenly the plastic starts to give, and I am able to pull a hand free. Suffocating the flame with my palm, and leaving the Zippo open to avoid the metallic sound of the lid, I return it to my pocket. A suppressed sigh of relief. Okay, now what? I gotta be able to reach a gun, and make sure Cut and Jimmy don't get hurt, all at the same time.
Cut glances over, and I show him for a split second that I am free. No reaction. Man, he's good! Hell of a poker face. Damn, Jimmy, just don't screw this up for me. I ain't ready yet. My hands are tingling like crazy, the blood is starting to circulate again. Between that and the burning pain of scorched skin—I couldn't even hold on to myself right now. Gotta wait till it lets off a little.