Page 38 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

Chapter Nine

It didn’t take Abbylong to toss some clothing into a duffel bag along with her Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition first aid kit. No point in leaving civilization unprepared. Especially if some ghost with murder on his mind was after her.

For a gold mine that had been covered up by a mountain then drowned by a lake almost a hundred years ago, it sure was causing a lot of trouble. Maybe there was gold still in it, maybe there wasn’t. Either way, no one living was going to get to put their hands on it.

She came out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Smitty was on his cell phone again telling someone that they were going to disappear until this nut job was caught.

“Who are you talking to?”

Smitty pulled the phone away from his ear. “Sheriff. He doesn’t know anyone who served in Nam and did any long range patrols.”

“Well, either JD made it up or someone’s hiding something.”

“Or maybe JD is nuts.”

“That too.”

“Okay,” Smitty said into the phone. “I’ll keep in touch. Let me know if ballistics can help figure out what kind of rifle our ghost is using.” He ended the call and turned to her. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. We’d better get going if we’re going to get there before dark.”

“Is there a road?”

“That depends on your definition of road. Personally, I think it’s more of a goat track. How are the shocks on your Jeep?”

“Brand new. It looks like a rust bucket, but I take good care of my equipment.”

“You sound like you’re back in Syria again.”

“Heh, I’m your personal army of one.”

“I’m a doctor. Doctors don’t have armies.”

“What do you call those medical groups that go to disaster areas or refugee camps to do war on disease and injury if not an army of doctors?”

“Those are volunteer groups who go with nothing more than a humanitarian mission to keep people alive, not kill them.”

“I volunteered and my humanitarian mission is to keep you alive. I hope I won’t have to kill anyone to do it, but I’m prepared to do what’s necessary. Doesn’t sound much different to me.”

She stopped to stare at him. “I wish it seemed so black and white to me.”

“You think too much,” he said grabbing his duffel bag. “Come on, let’s go.”

He preceded her out the front door and threw his gear into the back of his Jeep. She stepped outside, closed and locked the door, then took a step toward the vehicle. The door jam behind her head exploded in a hail of splinters.

Heart pounding like a car piston at its top gear, she ducked behind the Jeep.

Smitty was yelling and it took her a moment for his words to register. “...are you all right? Abby, answer me!”

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. What do we do?”

“We get the hell out of town before that crazy bastard kills something other than doors. Can you crawl in through the back?”

“Yes.” And proved it by sliding her bag and her body into the Jeep from the rear hatch, keeping the bag in front of her to hide her from view.

Smitty jumped into the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and gunned the motor, shooting them out of her driveway and down the street. “Keep your head down and call the Sheriff.”

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