Once in a lifetime(Darrell Case) Dick Cavite parked his pickup at the trailhead, locked it, and stashed the keys in his jeans. At this time of the morning, there didn’t appear to be anyone nearby. He filled his lungs with the refreshing scent of the woods. The sun just peeking over the horizon. He smiled. Frist day of his two-week vacation. He planned to camp at Dead Man’s Lake three hours away. Fish then catch his dinner and set up his tent. Just him and nature, no phones, no cars and no people. He had his frying pan, and it was hungry for trout. He double checked his pack. His tent sleeping bag cooking supplies were there, along with his first aid kit. Soon the sun would be high in the sky, turning hot.

He felt good, eager to get started. He shouldered his pack. His old boots well broken in. He knew better than to wear new boots on a hiking trail. Did that one time and had to give up before he reached his destination. An extra pair of pants, a shirt and two pairs of socks. He sprayed his boots the night before with water proofing. His fire-starting material. Water purifying kit. Okay, that should be all he needed for a pleasant time in the woods. The office seemed a million miles away.

He took off down the trail. The birds welcomed him with their songs. Squirrels chattered as he passed. A half hour in, he slowed, seeing movement ahead. Trying not to make a sound, he crept forward. A deer and her fawn drank from a fast-flowing brook. The fawn its legs spread dipped it’s face in the stream. Water ran up its nose. It snorted, shaking its head. He suppressed a laugh. Still, the doe heard him and stomped a warning.

“Good morning to you.” He said, smiling. Her tail flicked in the air, showing white. She loped away, the fawn following. He resumed his walk, relishing the quietness of the surrounding forest.  

Five miles away, Harly Unger turned on his light bar. His ten years with the sheriff’s department just past. He yawned. Their new baby boy kept them up most of the night. His first stop of the day. A broken taillight on a beat-up pickup.

“Poor thing must be a hundred years old.” He grinned. “I’ll just give him a warning and let him go.” He called it in. “Unit 15 stopping a green pickup on State Road 455. License number 395841.”“Unit 15 8:16 AM.

Carl Wiggens’ heart beat in his chest. He pulled the pickup to the side of the road. Sweat popped out on his forehead. If they caught him with this much dope, they would send him away for life. Last time he did three years in the state pen. With his slight built he didn’t think he would survive. His hands clammy, he grasps the door handle with his left. The Glock fully loaded held 12 shots. If he could down this cop before he pulled his pistol, he could get away. He would have to ditch the pickup. He had no choice.

Harly had just opened the door on his patrol car when his radio squawked. “Unit 15, be advised pickup is reported stolen.”

Harly, his heart speeding up, unsnapped his pistol. On the Unit’s PA, he shouted. “Driver, exit your vehicle with your hands up.”Carl thought about it for two seconds. If he let this cop put the cuffs on him, it was all over. He stuffed the Glock into the back waistband of his pants. He must be faster than this cop.

The driver got out of the pickup, his hands in the air. Maybe this would be an easy arrest. Harley aimed his pistol down. “On the ground now.” Harley shouted.

A blue Toyota approached from the opposite direction. Seeing the interaction, it slowed, then stopped. Carl, seeing the cop’s eyes dart to the Toyota, pulled the pistol from the waistband of his pants. Harley’s eyes widened. He saw the danger a second before Carl fired. He threw himself to the right. The bullet clipped his left arm. It felt as if someone had touched it with a red-hot iron. Harley couldn’t fire the blue car was in the way. The driver of the pickup, seeing his hesitation, kept pulling the trigger. Bullets slammed into the door of the patrol car. One went through Harley’s left arm. The Toyota sped backwards. Harley opened up, hitting the driver of the pickup in the thigh. Carl fell back into the truck and sped off.

Laying his pistol on the seat of his vehicle, Harley keyed his shoulder mic. He said the words every police officer dreads to hear. “Officer down. Officer down. Suspect headed south on State Road 455.”In the blue Toyota, Betty Downs, muttering to herself, headed for the store. She had gotten up and forgot she was out of coffee. Distracted, she saw the sheriff’s deputy, his pistol pointed to the ground. She slowed to a stop. Betty saw the other man’s hand dart to the pistol in his pants. The officer shielded by the door didn’t shoot. She suddenly realized she was in his line of fire. Her hands trembling, she put her car in reverse. Everything seemed to happen at once. The deputy returned fire. Getting in to the pickup, the man sped by her. She looked him full in the face.

“Unit 15 wounded, but in pursuit. Headed south on State Road 455.” Harley felt weak he was losing blood. It ran down his left arm. Jamming the accelerator to the floor, he flew by the blue Toyota. A hundred yards ahead, Carl glanced into his rearview mirror. He cursed. At the Keniry Forest Preserve, he turned on a road which quickly became a lane. Ramming the pickup into some bushes, he jumped out and hobbled into the woods. The boss wouldn’t be happy, but right now that was the least of his worries.

Coming up to the entrance to the forest preserve, Harley blocked to road. He set back and tried to stop the bleeding or at least slow it down. He must have blacked out. The next thing he remembered was being in a hospital bed with his wife gently touching him. He smiled up into her tear-filled eyes, just grateful to be alive.

Carl, his leg on fire, drug it a quarter of a mile before he stopped. The bullet had entered just above the knee and exited the back of his thigh, missing the bone. He dropped his pants and checked the wound. Blood still ran down his leg and into his boot. It wouldn’t kill him, but it hurt like blazes. If he could make it out of the woods, he would be home free. He heard sirens.

Within minutes, the woods were full of law enforcement officers. Yet they couldn’t find Carl. They surrounded the truck, to no avail. Searching, they found the blocks of cocaine.

Laying among the reeds in the shallow part of the lake, Carl pinched his nostrils shut and breathed through a hollow reed. After two hours, he dared to move. Carrying the reed with him, he moved slowly to another shallow area of the lake. If they found him, they would kill him. Of that, he was sure.

All day he moved from one place to another in the lake. As the sun went down, he was water logged and his thigh had not improved. The bleeding had stopped, but his movement out of the water brought a trickle. Law enforcement had abandoned searching the land around Dead Man’s Lake and set up a perimeter several miles out. Cautiously, Carl slowly made his way back to where he crashed the pickup.

It was gone. No surprise there. His cellphone useless. Soaked. He was sure that his face was all over the news. Have you seen this cop killer? Well, it is what it is. His heart failing him, he navigated the forest.

Dick was within a mile of the lake when an officer, his hand on his sidearm, stopped him. Dick stopped and put his hands up.

“This trail is closed, sir.” The officer said, coming up. “Can I see some ID, please?”

“Sorry I didn’t know.” Dick said, “Sure.” He cautiously reached for his billfold in his back pocket. He took out his driver’s license and handed it to the officer.

After checking it and calling it in, the officer handed back his license.

“Have you encountered anyone on the trail? Seen any movement in the forest?” He asks.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone.”“We will be searching the area. I would advise you to camp in another direction. Possibly down by the river.” The officer said. “Please be careful. He’s very dangerous. He wounded one of our officers.”

“Is the officer going to be, ok?” Dick said, concern in his voice.

“Yes, he just took a bullet in his left arm.” The officer said. “If you see anything please let us know.”

“I will. Thank you, officer. I hope you catch him.” Dick said.

The encounter with the officer left Dick shaken. However, he was determined to enjoy himself. After all, he had planned this vacation all year. He turned and hiked several miles to the bend in the Dunndy river.

He set up camp on a bluff overlooking the water. “Better spot anyway.” He said to himself. It only took him a few minutes to land a rainbow trout. The aroma of the frying fish made him hungrier. He ate it with gusto and drank purified water from a running stream. Spreading out a blanket, he lay back against a huge log. He breathed deeply. Man, this was the life not cooped up in an office.  

Dick smiled at the antics of the squirrels. He was tired, but it was a good tired. The water cascaded over the rocks with a quiet roar. The melody of the birds, in the trees overhead. Maybe he would just stay here for the rest of his life. The golden hue of the sun almost touching the western edge of the world. The trout he consumed superb. Surely the guy that shot the officer was miles away. Maybe even in the next state. Dick closed his eyes, content with the world.

He must have drifted off. He felt a poke in his back. The voice was low and menacing. “Move and you die.”
“What…what …huh.” Waking up, Dick said. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He stood to his feet. The man poked him again.

“You know who I am. Now put your hands behind your back.” Carl poked Dick with the stick again, hoping the man didn’t turn around. He possibly outweighed Carl by Seventy-five to a hundred pounds.

Hesitantly, Dick put his hands behind his back. Maybe he could talk this man out of doing something rash. If he cooperated and tensed his arms. With just a little wiggle room, maybe he could get out of the restraints. He put his hands behind his back. Laying the stick down, Carl picked up a rope Dick used for climbing. He grasps Dick’s hands in both of his. Realizing the weapon was not in Carl’s hands, Dick whirled and hit Carl in the jaw.

Not seeing a pistol, Dick hit Carl a second time. Carl reeled backward. Falling, he stuck his head on a rock.

A half hour later Carl came too. He attempted to move and realized that he was bound to a tree. A camp fire burned ten feet away. His hands and legs were bound.

Dick looked him in the face. “Well, you’re no worse for wear except for that bullet hole in your leg.”

Carl’s heart thumped. Sweat popped out on his forehead. Maybe, just maybe, this man didn’t know who he was. Dick’s next words dashed all his hopes.

“You the fellow they been looking for all day? The one shot the deputy.”

“He shot me for no reason. I didn’t do nothing wrong.” Carl said.

“Those dry pants and shirt are compliments of me. I get them back when you go to jail. And I dressed your wound. Had some first aid training.” Dick said.

Several times during the night, Dick checked on Carl’s bonds. Carl, his heart failing him, tried each time to beg Dick to set him free. As the sky lightened, Dick checked Carl’s bonds once more.

“Please let me go. I’ll leave the state. I won’t cause you any trouble.” Tears misted Carl’s eyes. This was his last chance. If they brought him to trial, he faced the death penalty or life in prison.

Dick put his canteen close to Carl’s side. “I’d drink sparingly. I’ll be back in a few hours.”With that, Dick walked down the trail.  45 minutes later, he saw a man in camouflage.

He raised his hands in the air and shouted. “Officer.” The man turned and keyed the mic on his shoulder. Dick stood stock still, his hands in the air. Within minutes, other police officers surrounded him.

Carl kept working on the one knot in his back. If he could just get that one, maybe, just maybe, it would loosen him enough to get the others. Concentrating, he wished he could see behind his back. His fingers ached. His nails broke. Yet he kept going. Just one more minute, just one more minute, he told himself.

He felt a thrill as the rope loosened. For the next half hour, he worked on the other knots. Finally, he stood to his feet. Pins and needles pricked his legs. He hobbled around the campsite, looking for anything useful. He went through Dick’s backpack and looked in his tent.  The voice startled him.

“On the ground now.” Carl looked for a way to escape. There was none. He froze. Rifles pointed at him from all directions. Tears leaking from his eyes, Carl stretched out on the ground. He felt rough hands jerk his arms behind his back. The cold steel cuffs clamped on his wrists. What Carl didn’t know was with the information from the pickup, they had already jailed his boss and several associates.

Dick returned to his camp and packed everything up. He hiked back to where he parked the pickup. He had had enough excitement to last a lifetime. 

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