Chapter 13: Mike and Julia

Julia, Mike, and the Tomahawk

Periodically checking on Julia, Mike kept his pace down the trail at an easy pace. All her focus was on him, not their surroundings, but that was okay. She was ready for him to duck off the trail or give a quick order. He was sure he’d been on this same path after the ambush ten years ago. Some of the terrain looked the same as he remembered, but there was no way he could be a hundred percent certain. It was dark, and ten years was a long time.

If this was the trail, up ahead, a little up the hillside, would be a hut they could hide in. Speed was their best option. Accordingly, he picked up the pace. They had to get off the trail and away from any other patrols.

He glanced into the valley. The downward side of the hill became more of a cliff. There was no way to get down that, but it jogged his memory. They were close. Beyond the next bend or two on the narrow dirt path, they would make their way uphill.

He slowed as the path turned left. He brought his weapon up just in case.

The way was clear.

Julia came up behind him. “What are we going to do?”

“I think I have a place we can hole up.” He slowed his pace to a fast walk, his eyes searching uphill. “There’s an old wooden hut up there that overlooks the path. Illegal loggers used it the last time I was here.”

“It’s about two hundred meters above the trail. Once we're there, we should be able to see anyone coming, and it has a clear field of fire if they come up.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s a break in the trees on this hill.”

“No, it doesn’t. Let’s keep going.”

Julia followed close behind him. Near the next bend in the trail, he smelled smoke. He stopped in the middle of the path, trying to gauge where it was coming from.

Julia looked down into the valley. “I smell smoke.”

“Me too.” He looked into the hills for the light of a campfire but didn’t see anything. “It’s more like little whiffs than a constant smell. Let’s keep moving.” He didn't like not knowing where the smoke came from, but they had to get off the trail.

The trees started to pull back off the trail. They stopped and looked uphill.

Julia lifted her arm and pointed at a wooden structure partially hidden in shadow and moonlight. “Is that it?”

Mike looked uphill. “Good eye.” He turned. “Let’s move off the trail.”

They climbed into the trees, attempting to keep the pine trees between them and the shack.

The hill was steep, not bad enough to need to use the trees as handrails, but not easygoing either. The dark hut filtered in and out of sight several times. It looked as desolate as the last time he’d seen it. Memory and what he could see gave him a good idea of what was up there. A small wooden structure dug into the side of the hill. On the downhill side was a single door and no windows. Made for daytime naps and staying out of the weather, the shack was as good as they would get. It had seen better days, but it was better than nothing.

Halfway up, he stopped and looked again.