The light
from above flickered on and off, or it at least appeared to. Lawson lay flat on his back. He had no way to account for the passage of time. He had been in and out of consciousness the entire time. Could’ve been an hour. Could’ve been a week. He had no idea. He recalled the past day of his life in bite-sized chunks, like binge watching a series but only getting to see select scenes. Four of them replayed in Lawson's mind on a perpetual loop every time his eyes closed, which was happening more frequently now, and for longer periods of time. The ability to open his eyes again took more and more effort. He feared the point was fast approaching where they would not open again. Worse, he began to welcome that moment.
As the back of his eyelids became the movie screen, the looped cycle of recent memory began its replay from the beginning. It started with the fight with his wife, one that never would have happened if he had only listened to her wants and needs. Then the gunfight that left his partner Hicks, a father of seven, dead. He saw everything they did wrong. It shouldn’t have gone down that way. Next came the severing of his right ear. The camera had been turned on him and he witnessed it in excruciating detail. And lastly, the belt buckle beating. He found it strange that all hope rested with an ex-con who'd not only saved him from certain death at the hands of Lankowski, but then went on to tend to his wounds.
MacIntosh didn't speak as he set about his task. Not that Lawson could offer much in the way of conversation even if he had. Ever since receiving the blow from the belt buckle, and having a bandage wrapped tightly around it, Lawson hadn’t been able to move his jaw. The sting had subsided, and now was nothing more than a tingle.
Lawson had little feeling anywhere in his body now, just enough to feel the vibration rolling across the floorboards. Lawson knew this was no quake. He wished it was, though, because this was something much worse.
"What the hell happened in here?" Grizzly's voice boomed as he slammed something against the floor.
Lawson caught a glimpse of the enormous man, his stature more amplified from Lawson's supine position.
"Lank," MacIntosh muttered. "That boy went wild. Bashed Lawson’s face in with that stupid belt buckle of his."
That comment earned a chuckle from Winslow.
MacIntosh continued. "He would've killed him if I didn't jump in."
Grizzly moved closer. He now stood directly beneath the hole in the ceiling from the single shot fired during MacIntosh's struggle with Lank. "Is he still alive?"
"Hanging on by a thread. You understand that means our window of opportunity to get the hell off this ice cube is quickly closing."
"Don't matter anyway. The proof of life was never sent." Winslow was pacing behind Grizzly. Both sides of his mismatched face bore the same murderous rage. "Never seen nothin' like it in my entire life. One minute Buck was taking Deputy Dipshit's ear to the camp's welcome sign, the next they're gone."
It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.
"Gone?" MacIntosh was standing somewhere close on the left side but out of view.
"I mean G-O-N-E gone. Friggin' ice just split. Didn't ever hear them scream. Never heard them hit the bottom."
"We're down two.” Grizzly's voice rumbled like Harley on the open road. “Ain't gonna be draggin' this piece of shit around with us. Time to cut our losses."
MacIntosh offered a protest. "I thought you agreed he's worth more to us alive than dead."
"Change of plans. He's dead weight." Grizzly looked around the room. "Speaking of dead weight, where's Lank?"
"Got pissed off after I put a stop to his bullshit." MacIntosh was a good liar. The words rolled off his tongue as though he weren’t concocting the story on the fly. "Probably went off to get high. Damn junkie."
A low growl rumbled from the throat of the giant as he glanced around the room, noting the extent of the struggle that had occurred there.
"Listen,” MacIntosh said. “I've already got my ATV ready to strap him in. He won't slow me down. If he dies, I'll dump him. To do so sooner would be idiotic. Might as well use him while we can. I'll shoulder the burden." MacIntosh was once again serving as Lawson’s defense council.
Grizz narrowed his eyes at the man. "You seem to have taken a real shine to our law dog."
"Not at all. I'd prefer to put a bullet in his head, but like I said before, keeping him alive might be the only reason this compound isn't flooded with federal agents. You can be sure they're coming, though."
"You don't need leverage in war. You need violence. I'm real good at violence. The boys ever tell you how I earned my mark?" Grizz allowed no time for MacIntosh to respond. "Choked the life right out of the guy with my bare hands. I felt the crunch of his neck when I snapped it."
"What'd he do to deserve it?"
"Cheated me in a poker game." Grizz shrugged.
"Tell him the best part." Winslow popped into view.
"Turns out the little douchebag didn't cheat. He'd played a fair hand. I was high as a kite. I guess I got things confused. It was the other kid at the table who'd been cheating." Smile lines formed and Grizz offered a shrug. "Mistakes happen. But I clean up after myself. That little shit, the one who'd cheated, tried to protect himself by turning state's witness for the case. They still haven't found him. Mathers and Kirkland ain't the first two people I've seen disappear into a crevasse.”
MacIntosh squared up to Grizz. “Please don't tell me your plan is to choke a swarm of heavily armed and well-trained federal agents?”
Grizz did not laugh. Lawson felt the vibration as Grizz stepped forward. The two men were chest to chin. "You best not be pokin' the bear, boy."
"Not trying to." MacIntosh went back into defense council mode. "I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of dying for no reason."
Winslow interjected. "Are you saying dyin' for our cause ain’t no reason? There's two good men resting in an ice-covered grave that would argue otherwise." He was reaching a fever pitch.
MacIntosh didn’t take his eyes off Grizz. "No, that’s not my point. I'm saying let's live to fight another day. And let's fight a battle we can win."
"I've got a plan.” Grizz took a step back and put his hand on Winslow’s back. “Winslow's gonna pack up any of the finished product. We’re gonna need it. Then we're gonna burn this place to the ground. The fire will hold them on the camp while we disappear."
"There'll be a fleet of cops waiting at the bottom of that road."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn't matter. Road is impassable."
"If there's no way up here, then there's no way down," MacIntosh argued.
"There is, if you know your way around this neck of the woods. And I do. Know it better than just about anybody." Grizz bent his face close to Lawson's. "That means no need to keep this government whore alive any longer."
Lawson tried to meet his executioner's gaze with his one functional eye. Grizz dismissed his efforts with a snort and then rose back up to his full height.
"When Lank gets back, put a bullet in his head." Grizz cracked his knuckles. "Unless you'd like me to handle things for you?"
Lawson didn't hear MacIntosh's answer. The pulsing in his head intensified, continuing to resonate from its source, the empty hole where his right ear used to be. Lawson closed his eyes, fearing this time he would never open them again. He brought forward the memory of the fight he had with his wife before starting his day. Lawson paused it at the exact moment after the pickle jar shattered.
He looked deep into her hazel eyes. Beyond the anger and sadness, Lawson saw love. He held on to the freeze-framed image of his wife as he said his final goodbye.
He couldn't tell whether time had leapt forward or come to a screeching halt, but somewhere outside came a noise. Lawson heard a siren pierce the encroaching silence accompanying the slowing of his heartbeat. It became clearer, and his hopes faded as he realized it wasn’t a siren at all.
It was a scream.