He crept to the cabin, sidestepping the pools of light from the windows. There were loud bangs and crashes from inside, and a few cries of pain. A single shot rang out -- louder and more alarming than Freedy expected. Then it was strangely silent for a moment.
Freedy crawled under a window and held his breath. What was going on?
"Enough," he heard the voice of Alex, the guy he'd met on the mountain. "I've got a revolver, and my brothers have a machete and a bowie knife. You boys got, what? -- plastic sporks? Give it up. We only want Charlie."
"Bullshit," Bob said. "You'll cut our throats the minute you get the chance."
"Really, no," Alex said, and Freedy thought he heard truth in his voice. "We get Charlie -- alive -- and we get a big reward. Killing you boys doesn't do a thing for us -- except maybe get us the death penalty. Now be reasonable, and let us tie you up."
"It's six against three," Billy said, backing his twin. "You may get one or two of us, but we'd get you in the end."
"You sure about that?" Alex said, and there was a loud re-cocking of his gun to make the point.
Freedy heard a short spirited discussion. Billy and Bob were prepared to fight to the death, Jay and Jim wanted to surrender, and Sam and Steve where somewhere in-between. Freedy took the moment to poke his head over the window sill.
Billy was looking right at him, and his eyes widened in surprise. "You know what? I think we have to surrender," he suddenly said.
The others fell silent at this unexpected reversal.
"Well, it's about time." Alex said, back to his cocky self. "Tie them up boys."
The two other men were obviously relatives. They had the same wiry strength and quick movements. One of them was nearly a boy, maybe seventeen or so. The other looked much older than Alex, and whatever it was they were taking to give them such energy was showing on his gaunt, pockmarked face.
Once the six miners were hogtied, they were lined up sitting down against the wall. Alex grabbed a chair and straddled it, facing them.
"Where's Charlie?"
He was met with stony silence. He sprang up and tossed the chair to one side. He nearly jumped at Bob and grabbed his head, moving in upward until it had to hurt. He put out his other hand, and waggled it at his brother. "Cary, give me the Bowie."
His younger brother put it into his hand as if not quite sure this was something he wanted to get involved with.
"Now...I was telling you the truth when I said I wasn't going to kill you. But that don't mean I won't hurt you if you don't tell me what I want." He took a pinch of Bob's cheek, and sliced it off.
Bob howled, quickly followed by the howls of the others, including Alex's two sibling who shouted in surprise.
"Where's Charlie?" Alex said again calmly when the shouting died down.
"Fuck you."
Freedy dropped down, unwilling to watch again. His butt hit the ground as the screaming began again.
Someone had to do something!
Where the hell was Garland? Wasn't this his job?
How unfair, Freedy thought -- he was just a little thief -- hired to, you know, to steal something. He wasn't supposed to be an action hero.
The screams from inside were getting louder. He had to try something.
He ran to the storage shed, at first just remembering the big bell he'd seen. What would happen if he rang it? He almost tripped over the siren, and then an idea bloomed in his mind. A crazy, probably wouldn't work idea, but what choice did he have?
Another shriek decided him. With a big gulp of air, he reached down to the bell handle. Once started, his little pretense would have to be played out for all it was worth.
He rang the bell, at first tentatively, and then louder and louder. It whacked his eardrums with more impact than he expected. What the bell was supposed to represent, he didn't have a clue. But he needed to do something to stop the apparent mayhem inside the cabin.
There was sudden silence as the bell tones echoed away.
He rang the bell a few more times for good measure, then he ran over to the siren and grabbed the crank. It was stuck! It wouldn't budge. He leaned one way on it and then another, and then just took solid hold with both hands and dropped his body weight toward the ground and hung on. The crank made a snapping noise, which almost drowned out the more fleshy sounding snap Freedy imagined he heard in his arms. But once moving the lever kept moving.
Though at first only a squeak came out."Rrrrr!" it said, like a tired alarm clock.
He pulled the crank up and put his weight down on it again with a loud grunt.
"RURRRRooooRRRRRuuuuRRRR!" Piercingly loud and satisfying. "RRRRRRRRRRR!!!!"
He let the machine cry reverberate and ran to the P.T. Cruiser and reached inside and turned on the headlamps. Only one of them came on, and it was a little dim -- but it looked strong enough that anyone afraid it was a searchlight might be fooled into thinking it was a searchlight. He climbed up onto the hood of the car, and felt the metal crumble under him. In as loud a voice as he could summon from his fear, he bellowed.
"You In There! You're Surrounded!" The temptation to putting a Cagney burr in his voice was almost irresistible. He managed to keep his tone flat, what he imagined was authoritarian.
It sounded kind of weak. Damn! What was he thinking? He jumped down off the Cruiser and ran over to the shed, where in the side peripheral light of the car he could see the tin sheeting he'd seen on his way to bathe in the stream. He grabbed a smaller sheet and wound in into a makeshift bullhorn.
But first, he cranked up the siren for a few more revolutions.
"RURRRURRRR!" Man, he could do this all night! He really shouldn't be enjoying himself so much. The vision of the slice of flesh coming off Bobby's cheek sobered him up, and he almost quailed in his turning.
He climbed back up on the hood of the Cruiser.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" he shouted into the curled tin sheet. Yes! That was satisfyingly loud. 'Except -- something warned him in the back of his mind -- what if they did what he asked? What then?
He'd run off into the dark and hope the others got away.
"Who are you?" He heard a frightened demand, and he was pretty sure it was Alex, the guy up on the mountain.
"CALIFORNIA STATE POLICE! he shouted, again enjoying himself more than he should despite the danger.
"I don't believe you," Alex was trying to sound confident, but his voice cracked at the end.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
"We've got hostages!"
That was more like it, Freedy thought. Hostages -- they could be here all evening negotiating about hostages, and by midnight Charlie will have returned, hopefully armed to the teeth.
"OUR HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR HASN'T ARRIVED."
"Then shut up!"
Yeah, well there was that. What would a police negotiator say to that?
"IN GOOD FAITH, RELEASE ONE OF THE HOSTAGES SO THAT WE KNOW THEY'RE UNHARMED!"
"Come and get them!"
Freedy cranked the siren, and rang the bell a couple of times for good measure. Let them try to figure that out, he thought.
The headlamp of the P.T. Cruiser was growing dim and he ran over and turned it off. Let them wonder. Anything to keep them occupied. Make them think we are planning an assault. Let them believe we're almost on top of them.
Wait. There was no we...he was getting fooled by his own con. He was still helpless, still with nothing to offer but a bluff.
Sure enough, the sudden darkness seemed to freak them out.
"Don't come near! We'll kill them!"
"CALM DOWN! YOU HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING SERIOUS YET! WE CAN STILL TALK THIS OUT!"
By now, Alex figured the three sets of brothers inside the house would have recognized his voice and they'd know that the cavalry hadn't really arrived and hopefully they'd be making plans themselves. Anything to keep the enemy occupied until Charlie returned.
He'd said midnight, and dusk had been -- what, 7:00 or so? It probably wasn't even close to midnight, he thought despairingly.
"How come I don't hear anything? What the hell are you ringing a bell for?"
"THE HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR IS ON HIS WAY!"
"Forget that! I want to talk to someone else! Anyone else? I'm beginning to think you're all alone out there!"
"DON'T PRESS YOUR LUCK! WE DON'T WANT TO SHOOT YOU IF WE DON'T HAVE TO!"
"Bullshit, you're that guy I met up on the mountain. I got to admit, I never would've thought you had it in you. Now go away."
The jig is up, Freedy thought. What else could he do? He could stay in the darkness and threaten to be a witness. Maybe they'd stop torturing if they knew there was someone who could testify against them. He threw down the rolled tinfoil, which rattled so loud they could probably hear it in the cabin.
He cupped his mouth, ready to use the 'witness' threat before the torture started again. But before he could speak, he heard a blast of a horn from the other side of the cabin.
"CAPTAIN!"
It was loud and impressive. This was what a real bullhorn sounded like, Freedy realized. His tinfoil con had probably sounded pretty pathetic.
"WE'RE IN POSITION. THE CABIN IS SURROUNDED. THE SNIPERS CAN TAKE THEM OUT AT ANY TIME."
Freedy jumped down and snagged up the tinfoil again and put a full-throated shout into the metal.
"VERY WELL. HOLD POSITION. I REPEAT, HOLD POSITION."
"WE ARE IN POSITION TO ATTACK, SIR. IF THE HOSTAGES ARE HURT FURTHER."
"I'M SURE THAT WON'T BE NECESSARY, LIEUTENANT! THE HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR IS ONLY MINUTES AWAY. STICK TO PROTOCOL."
"YES, SIR!"
Freedy almost giggled at the resentful tone Garland managed to put into those two words.
Garland was here -- everything would turn out all right.
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