Chapter 10 Three in Pursuit

I found a secure, if not comfortable site, for the night. I picked up the fugitive's trail about 2 miles in but lost precious time by avoiding the meadow.

I was moving at first light. Knowing Ranger and Ben would come through the meadow meant they could catch me if I waited for them. Both probably had a good hearty meal and could just double time it. But I wasn't waiting for them. This was nearly rainy season when afternoon showers were common, foot prints could disappear. As it is, I'd have to mark trail for Ben and Manoso.

The fugitive had switched from moving westward which would have eventually taken him to the area around Steamboat Springs. He was now moving northwest down into a drainage to find water. Initially I found blood; perhaps from where the drone parts cut into his arm. The blood trail had stopped.

He was running, like a cross country runner. I found several places where he stopped to check back, several places where he was unsure which direction to take, but mostly he was in an even run. I ran track at West Point but this guy was far above me in ability. Plus I had to stop and mark trail. I was hard pressed to keep up let alone over take.

Ben and Ranger moved quickly and easily. Ben reminded Ranger of Tank, big but surprisingly agile and in excellent condition. He didn't speak, but watched for trail signs. He caught a few Ranger missed.

The two stopped for water. Ben began to speak, "How did you serve with her in Iraq? I don't remember you."

Ranger thought about not telling Ben, but went ahead, "She and I were involved in the arms mess. I was to go with her up north to talk to a tribal chieftain who was coming in from Afghanistan."

"What happened?"

"Someone set us up; dropped us down in the desert down south. We got as far the Kuwait border. Fire fight with raiders. I was buried in a rock fall; she got too close to an RPG. Kuwaitis told us each other had died."

"They told us she died when her transport exploded," Ben offered.

"Did they say where?"

"No, they didn't. They just said some time after takeoff."

"Kuwaitis were trying to keep her alive as they knew about the arms mess and didn't trust the US Army. She needed to testify."

I told her I gave her records to a Kuwaiti Intel officer. She seemed pleased."

Ranger said nothing.

"She must not have been badly hurt to be out on this trail."

"She was a patient for 9 months, I've seen some of the scars. She was badly hurt, but she has…..grit."

Ben already knew that, but suspected she had more than Manoso realized.

I came to the bottom of the drainage and found where the fugitive had paused to drink. I shuddered, "If I don't stop him giardiasis will." There was no telling what microbes were living in that small seep. Speaking of water, I'd need to find a source myself and soon, but I was hoping to find a spring.

The fugitive stayed in the drainage for a while. Common sense would say continuing downhill, eventually you'll come to something bigger and maybe a town or settlement. No, our boy needed to see where he was going and went back up hill. When I got to the top, I stopped to check my phone. I had one bar and quickly sent a signal to Rangeman. As soon as they sent me a confirmation, I switched the phone off. Night was coming and I needed to find someplace secure. It was the second night on the trail, 6th night on this mission.

Early the next morning I was again moving and I realized I was gaining on Mr. Fleet Feet, my nickname for the fugitive. He was getting tired, maybe his wound, maybe lack of water and food. About half way down the hill I heard a truck. There was a road ahead. I could not let the fugitive get to the road and flag down a ride.

As I broke from the trees high on a cut bank, the fugitive was in the middle of a dirt road down below, rifle raised at an oncoming timber truck. The driver started breaking. There was no time, I raised my rifle and fired, hitting the fugitive's rifle knocking it out of his hands. He spun around and glared at me then spun around facing the truck he pulled a handgun from his back. The driver was no longer slowing; he was accelerating. At the last minute the fugitive had to decide if he was going to fire or get out of the way of the truck. He chose to move, firing at the truck as it passed just inches from him.

Moving down the cut back as the truck passed me I gave a "keep moving" sign used by Army MPs and then saluted as the truck passed. The trucker pulled the cord on his horn as he passed.

I kept my eye on the truck it to see if the fugitive had jumped aboard, apparently not. That was confirmed when a bullet slammed into the ground about ten feet from me and shortly after the sound of a hand gun firing. I raised my rifle and fired where I thought he might be as he headed into the forest again. If successful, it would have been a miraculous shot. I was settling for pissing him off.

Carefully moving down the road side, I kept close to the timber for safety but also looked for the rifle near the road. I was relived to find it with the stock broken and firing mechanism jammed. "Good shot, too bad I was aiming for his chest," I chastised myself. On a hunch I pulled out the cell phone and had one bar, time to call Trenton again.

"Tank, we've got another message from Colorado. Castillo is on a logging road NW of prior location," said the Rangeman in Trenton monitoring the phone and GPS information.

Tank was on the phone to Bob in Colorado who immediately sent his men to the location. Ranger's satellite phone vibrated. It was Trenton informing him of Cathy's new coordinates. Bob's team arrived first and positioned themselves up and down the logging road looking for boot prints and watching for the fugitive or Cathy to cross. Several wanted to take up the pursuit but were told to stand down. Ranger and Ben arrived about 40 minutes later, water and food were waiting.

"Ranger, look," Ben said pointing to a trail mark on a tree. Nobody else had noticed it.

They investigated and found the broken rifle.

"It's not her's." Ben said with relief.

Ranger examined the rifle, "Heck of a shot." He had been in the gun battle with her in Kuwait and remembered her taking out a dune buggy at some absurd distance so really wasn't surprised.

About 30 minutes later the timber truck driver encountered a road block on the main highway and had an amazing story about nearly being hijacked but an Army MP shot the rifle from the hijacker's hands. The cops thought it a fairy tale. Bob talked to him," Tell me about the attempted hijacking."

"I was coming up steep grade and suddenly a man step out with a scoped rifle into the middle of the road and pointed it at me. I start slowing down. Hate to do that on a grade that steep. Suddenly the rifle flew from his hands; he spun around to look at someone then turned around and pulled a .45 from behind his back. By then I was not going to slow down, I was gonna squash him. He jumped aside and I kept going. I was looking in my mirrors to see if he jumped on the trailer when I noticed someone in camo moving down a cut bank. As I passed he gave me the 'keeping going signal' used by MPs...I was in the motor division in the Army. Figured he was an MP so tooted my horn thanking him for saving my life."

Mr. Fleet Feet turned north. Rangeman had indicated there was nothing for the next 60 miles but national forest and logging roads. Suddenly I heard a gunshot ahead. I dare not rush least it be a trap. The body of a badger lay partially cut up. "Wonder if badger is halal?" I figured it wasn't. Mr. Fleet Feet and Allah will have something to discuss. Dirty water, raw badger, made me shiver in disgust. Pepto Bismol won't solve his gut problems.

Ranger and Ben happened upon the carcass about 90 minutes later. "Note the boot prints, she didn't partake of the delicacy," Ranger said.

"What is she eating?" Ben asked.

"Probably nothing. She can go several days at this pace as long as she has water." Taking out his satellite phone he contacted Trenton.

"Talk" Tank answered.

"What's up ahead? Any obvious destination?"

"She asked same question. Nothing, just forest roads and a few cattle ranches. If he's looking for a major highway he's headed the wrong direction. At his rate and direction he'll hit Interstate 80 in 60 to 70 miles. Only guess is he's looking for a vehicle to steal."

As the trail dropped in elevation I caught sight of a change in vegetation. There must be a spring or creek nearby. The fugitive was in the area. I found human vomit; the badger meat didn't last long. The vomit wasn't fresh but recent. I did a brief survey and found a spring and foot prints. The fugitive had been here, but moved on. Darkness was falling, I retreated and found an area to bed down….again. I was hungry and ready for this to end.

The next morning at sunrise I moved out of my shelter and went to the spring and began filling my water bottles. I set my rifle against a rock near my foot and was leaning towards the spring when something jumped onto my back. At first I thought it was the fugitive until I heard the low growl and felt the claws grab my back and shoulders. A cougar weighing about 70 pounds had thrown me into the rock wall. If it had attacked from the side, I'd be the ground and in a whole lot of trouble. The hot breath blew across my face as the animal tried to bit my head and neck. I kept my head tilted and let him gnaw on my helmet as I wondered of a mountain lion could crush a Kevlar helmet.

The animal had his claws in my right upper arm preventing me from grabbing my handgun but I could get to my KBar knife with my left hand. Somehow I'd have to get enough leverage to stab the animal. The rock face in front of me might help. I smashed my side against the wall forcing the animal more around one side and reaching back I was able to find the animal's inner rear leg. I slashed. Blood sprung forth from a cut artery, but the animal still was clawing and wanting my neck.

My next move was to stab the knife into the cat's abdomen sinking the blade up to my hand. With all my strength I slashed the blade sideways back and forth. But my arm was still bent at an odd angle so my slashes were not long,. I hoped I was getting something important. We both were weakening quickly. We fell together and rolled. With quickly fading energy I found myself face to face with the animal. My right hand I held the cat's head up and I pulled the blade in the gut back the other way. Perhaps not realizing the full extent of its injuries but knowing defeat the animal disengaged and began crawling away leaving copious quantities of blood behind. I was sick; sick with adrenaline wearing down, sick with fear, and sick I had to injure or kill such a lovely animal. It was a younger cat; I doubted I could have handled a full grown male. I started heaving but with an empty stomach they were dry heaves.

As the adrenaline wore off, fatigue set in. I crawled over the rocks to get back to my rifle and water bottles. The nearby stream provided a place to wash my wounds. I rolled in. The water was freezing cold. The shock was what I needed to stay conscious. Warm water would have been my undoing. My jacket and pants were in shreds, my undergarments were being field tested for its ability to resist tears and still keep the body warm or cool. It was torn and blood oozed from underneath; apparently it wasn't cougar proof. I pushed back the pain, I still had a fugitive to capture.

Ranger and Ben came upon the gruesome scene less than an hour later. There was blood everywhere; from the spring to the ground near a drop off. Ranger found a section of intestine.

"Damn" was all he could say.

Ben came over, "It may not be her's. He slit open the intestine section, "This isn't empty, I don't think she's been eating rabbit including the bones."

Silently they searched for a body, human or mountain lion. Ben found the place where something had gone over the cliff and called over Ranger. They found no other tracks leaving the killing field and thought perhaps Cathy and the cat went over together. Ranger turned towards the spring and noted blood smears facing him as if someone had crawled back to the spring. They followed the stream. After 20 yards they found a hand and boot print from where I left the water after washing off.

"Thank God" was Ben's only comment.

Ranger shook his head, "Exhaustion, hypothermia from the stream, no food, cougar and she keeps going."