Sandbagged: A Theo Ramage Thriller (Book 2) by Edward J. McFadden III

Author:Edward J. McFadden III [McFadden III, Edward J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trident Media
Published: 2021-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Ramage stuck out his tongue, letting powder-like snowflakes settle there, their icy sweetness moistening his mouth. Snow swirled in the wind, and stuck to the ground, the hardpan a dirt-covered block of ice, the sun a distant memory. The dried leaves clinging to the desert willows rattled in the wind, a never ending clicking and tapping and snapping, and beneath it, the faint rumble of voices.

With a dusting of snow covering every vertical surface, keeping his path hidden would be impossible. If he moved, Rolly would find his tracks and he’d lose the element of surprise. He settled in under the boughs of an evergreen tree, its limbs dipping to the ground. He peered through a gap in the tree, using the binoculars, darkness pressing in around him. He couldn’t see Rolly, but Ramage heard him and his posse steadily making their way into the foothills.

His mind drifted, the snow covering him in a familiar blanket. His father had taken him bow hunting when he was a boy, and though Ramage hadn’t been a big fan of shooting defenseless animals, he enjoyed every other part of the outings. The preparation with his dad the night before. The hikes into the woods to scout locations and setup tree stands. Then the hours upon hours of just sitting with his father, sometimes talking, but usually just hunting in silence. That was the best part. Ramage and his dad had been able to sit and not talk. Not an easy thing for a parent and a kid. He missed his dad, who’d been dead going on fifteen years. Ramage liked his mother’s boyfriend, David, but they’d never frozen their asses off on Thanksgiving morning together, trying to catch a turkey that they wouldn’t have eaten even if they’d been successful, which he and dad never were.

Sitting beneath the boughs of the tree, snow coating the world, he was reminded of Pennsylvania, where he’d grown up. The trees looked different, the ground, everything, but there was a peace, a serenity that can only be found in the woods, away from civilization, and it made the place feel familiar. Ramage thought he might want to come back out this way someday, when there wasn’t a pack of human coyotes hunting him.

A branch snapped to his right, and Ramage swung the binoculars around. Two men worked their way up the hillside, moving in a zigzag pattern between boulders and thickets of underbrush. If he stayed where he was, the guys would pass by him and Ramage could come in behind them.

The ground was slippery, but tracking the men would be easy with the coating of snow. Several minutes slid by, but the guys didn’t change course and they passed thirty feet from where Ramage lay hidden.

He gave the goons a three-minute head start, then crept northeast, falling in behind them. He hadn’t smelled Rolly’s cologne, and Shelly would be rearguard. Both losers were probably waiting by the mouth of the canyon, sending in soldiers while they sat back.

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