Kerry was more confused than ever. She considered going down to Gault’s room. Or Raymond’s. That had been her answer to everything–find a man to hold her. What does Leigh do when she’s confused? Is Leigh ever confused? She seethes, that’s what she does.

Kerry watched Leigh pick up the phone and dial Gault’s room. She vaguely listened to a conversation about the stranger who’d come to call. Leigh’s face lit up and she seemed happy for a moment and Kerry realized Leigh was a beautiful woman when she didn’t try so hard to be otherwise.

Kerry slipped under the covers and stared at the ceiling. They were talking about what Scott had said. Kerry thought about how he said it. He was scared, that was clear, but not cowardly. And he hadn’t told them the whole story.

Kerry trusted Scott. She felt that like her, he was more interested in people than things, ideas, or causes.

Kerry reached to the nightstand for the map Scott had drawn. Small, precise capital letters said his cabin was three miles up the road out of town to the north, around the bend of the road at the foot of the mountain. Kerry wished she had a car. She would drive up and they’d talk all night, the way she’d once done with Gault.

“He wants to talk to you,” Kerry heard Leigh say. Kerry took the phone.

“Hello,” Kerry said tentatively, having forgotten who was on the other end.

“So what do you think?” Gault asked.

“About what?” Kerry asked.

“About this guy,” Gault said testily.

“He seems nice enough.”

“Is he on the level? What’s his angle?” Gault asked.

Kerry sighed. It was always tough talking with Gault. Everybody had an angle, everyone had a secret agenda. What’s Gault’s? Kerry suddenly wondered.

“There’s somebody pulling up trees in the woods and it scares him, that’s all,” Kerry told him.

“Okay,” Gault said quickly.

Kerry could tell Gault had already decided, no matter what happened at the policy council. He’d use Scott, the way he’d used her.

Kerry considered borrowing Raymond’s Jeep. Confide in Raymond–that would be the right thing to do.

“Would you like to come over?” Gault asked.

“Ah…no…I don’t think so,” Kerry stuttered, aware of Leigh’s eyes on her.

“Okay,” Gault said, and Kelly heard anger even in that short word.

“Good-night,” Kerry said and lowered the phone before Gault had a chance to answer.

“What did he say?” Leigh asked as soon as the phone was down.

“Oh, you know Armstrong,” Kerry said. But Kelly knew Leigh didn’t. Like Kerry, Leigh didn’t know people at all, least of all herself.

Scott put a pan of rice on the camp-stove, rinsed an apple with bottled water and took a big bite. The darkness on the porch was total except for a half-moon illumination. Scott sat and put his feet on the railing. He glanced at his watch. He planned to sleep and dream of magnificent wilderness somewhere in the Canadian Rockies, living off the land, trapping fur to trade.

He considered Kerry. It was too soon for emotional involvement, no matter how attracted he was. There was also Kerry’s roommate and her environmental friends. It was silly to involve them in this, whatever it was. He knew from the first it was something he had to handle alone.

Suddenly, Scott sensed them out there. They’re responsible, the footprint people. How do they stand the storm? Are they blind and deaf? Then how do they find their way through the woods? Will they make the first move? Scott swung his boots from the hitching rail, picked up his shotgun, checked it was loaded, stepped down the porch and took the familiar path to the road.

The moon reflected off the black surface. Scott stood by his Jeep and peered into the woods beyond the road. He thought he heard the sound of leaves under foot, branches pushed aside and the low murmur of conversation. Scott’s stomach tightened. He had a shotgun but they’d be armed too. Scott looked for a place to hide. Be a man, Scott! He listened to silence and stared at the road. There was nothing to do but cross it.

Kerry took the stocking cap from her pocket when she reached the end of town. Bright white, it would show in the headlights of anyone coming down the mountain road. Kerry clung to highway hazard to avoid thinking about what other dangers might lurk in the woods.

She wished Raymond had come along. He would know what to do. Kerry hadn’t been able to find him after she’d made the decision. In fact she hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. Kerry worried that he’d gone back to San Francisco.

Scott needed help and Kerry liked him. She would climb up to his cabin and knock on the door. That was the neighborly thing to do, after all. Despite the cold and dark, Kerry felt better on the road than in the stuffy motel room with Leigh.

The footprints weren’t visible in the darkness, but Scott had followed the trail enough times to make his way. He veered off the trail, climbed the hill and reached the craters.

He stared into the first hole. Suddenly Scott felt like he was part of some early Christian experience. Is this what the disciples felt when they saw Him arisen? Scott half expected Saint Paul to appear at the bottom of the hole. No. Druid Gods. Ancient and mysterious.

He knelt to once again test the dirt in his hands. Even the trees, normally busy with the sound of leaves, kept their peace. What are you thinking? A romantic. Dawn of a New Age.

Scott checked the sky. Shouldn’t stay here. One lightning bolt.

Scott stepped past the missing anthill to the other crater. Scott scanned the top of the ridge, faintly outlined by the moonlight.

Scott froze. Something? He squinted. A shape ahead, moving. A man–tall and lean–touched a tree half-way up the hill. Scott leaned against his own tree. Leaves crinkled under his feet. Scott watched to be sure the man hadn’t spotted him. A flash of white eyeball would tell him he had. No flash.

Oblivious to any danger, the man tied something around the tree. Then the man was gone. Scott listened to his footsteps fade in the darkness.

When Scott was certain the man was gone, he crept to the tree. A wide orange ribbon was tied around the trunk. Scott touched it. Nothing unusual here. Nearby, another tree was marked the same way.

Loggers, marking the trees for extinction. Or environmentalists. Maybe these are spiked. No–there’d been no hammering. This is a lumberman. An outlaw, working for himself. Maybe with the tacit blessing of Growth Lumber. But why a mile from any road, any stream, any means of transportation? A tingling sensation crept up the back of Scott’s neck. Helicopter–it had to be–how else?

Scott moved off a little distance. Wait. All night if necessary. You will stop this man and his friends.

Scott slumped to the ground next to a giant redwood. It would stop any bullet. They don’t know you’re here. Surprise is on your side. But they know the woods–or seem to. Scott listened. The strange quiet began to disappear. An owl hooted in the distance. Or is it a signal? The trees rustled in a light breeze.

Don’t scare yourself. There’s plenty to be scared of already. Scott stared at the orange-marked trees. They seemed to move in the darkness, inching toward each other. Optical effect. Relax. Stay loose. That’s the way you’re going to win this thing. Scott felt the muscles in his legs cramp with tension.

Relax your toes…relax your feet…relax your thighs. That’s the way they did it before Kathy was born. Every day, a half hour at least, Scott touching Lorraine’s toes and coaching her. Relax…relax. That was the best time. It was all trust and companionship and a project they shared. Breathe, he had coached her. Inhale…exhale. She was beautiful, filled with the tiny life that would soon be Kathy. Just thinking about it loosened Scott’s muscles. He could almost remember the feeling, though he couldn’t recreate it. He had been connected. He wondered if all expectant fathers felt like that. He guessed they did–the best and the worst of men.

That was before they broke his heart–both of them. They killed you–loved ones and children. That too was part of it. Don’t think about that. Not now.

Footsteps. Scott jumped to his feet. The sound stopped. Someone in the darkness tried not to breathe.

“Who’s there?!” a panicked voice demanded.

“Who are you?!” Scott shouted back.

“Go away! You’ll ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?!”

“Mind your own business!” the man shouted. “Stay away from me or suffer the consequences!”

“Don’t threaten me!” Scott shouted, his voice betraying his fear. “I have a gun.”

There was no reply to that. Scott thought he heard a sigh, but it might have been the breeze. Press your advantage. Scott stepped out from behind the tree. He raised the shotgun, stepped forward like a lawman and approached the orange-ribboned trees. Footsteps–running footsteps!

Scott gave chase, with only the sound of soles on leaves to guide him.

Scott saw a silhouette. The man was thin and fast. Scott considered calling out. No–he threatened you. He’s scared–even more than you. Slowing. Tired maybe. Not as young as you thought. Is he leading you into an ambush? Scott slowed too. Where are the others? There were two sets of footprints. The shotgun gave Scott confidence. It would make noise, scare, kill. That was something.

Scott carefully made his way up the mountain. He kept the tall man in his sight, staying behind trees himself in case the man turned. Scott watched each step, careful not to trip on the vines, roots, saplings and loose wood that covered the forest floor. Hunting accident, the newspapers would say when they found his body.

Let him go. No. In for a penny, in for a pound. See this through. For once in your goddamn life!

“Stop!” Scott yelled out. The tall man stopped and turned, the moon at his back.

Old gunslinger trick. Going to draw on you. Okay, that’s fair.

“What are you doing here?!” Scott challenged. “What do you want?!”

No reply. Slowly, Scott moved forward, up the hillside.

He no longer worried what was under his feet. Scott squinted, looking for some sign in the man’s face. Nothing there. Go slow. Don’t chase him off again.

“My name’s Scott Felton!” Scott called.

Still no reply.

Doesn’t even give his name. Probably a rental agent.

“Who are you?!” Scott tried.

The man turned to run again.

“No! Stop!” Scott cried out. “I’ll shoot!”

The man stayed still. Scott aimed. It was a hundred yards or more, uphill, but in Scott’s mind, the man was already dead in his sights.

The stranger stepped away.

“No!” Scott yelled. The shotgun blast drowned the word. Scott’s back hit hard earth. Smoke hovered over his face. The shotgun flew back over Scott’s head. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed.

Scott jumped to his feet and looked up the hill. The man was gone.

“Oh, my God!” Scott screamed and scrambled forward. He remembered the shotgun. A wounded animal is the most dangerous. Scott retrieved the gun and ran up the hill. He reached the crest, out of breath, the pain knifing into his side. It made him feel better. You’re suffering too. The man made you suffer. It’s self-defense after all.

The man had disappeared. Scott looked for blood-stains. Broken branches? No. On the ground, the man’s footprints stopped and went no further. Scott recognized the pattern of the soles.

“Hello?” Scott called out. Funny thing to say to a man you just shot. “Anybody there?”

Scott scanned the surrounding area. Trees and bushes Scott didn’t know the names of. A thousand places to hide. Should survey the area. Should have brought a flashlight.

Kerry stood frozen next to Scott’s Jeep. She’d been breathing heavily, her breath visible in the night air, until the gunshots. Now she stood still, unable to inhale or exhale, her ears waiting for more explosions, her head light from lack of oxygen. Slowly, she reached to her pocket. She pulled out the map Scott had drawn. His cabin was to the right. Kerry could make out the trail. But the gunshots had come from the left, up toward Mount Harris. Kerry breathed again. She removed the white stocking cap from her head and stuffed it in her pocket. She crossed the road and found the trail.

Scott felt them again. They were there, the tall man and two others–Scott could count them. Invisible, but there, watching him. Gauging his every move, a look of concern on their faces. No, not concern. The stern faces of retribution. Suffer the consequences–that’s what the man said. At any second Scott knew he’d feel those consequences. Scott jumped out from behind a tree, expecting violence, but there was nothing. He hurried along the ridge. He scouted down the hillside on both sides, searching for some sign. Where the hell is he?

Can’t think. Stop and think. Scott found a couple of thick redwoods and scurried between them. He would wait until morning if he had too.

Kerry fingered the hat in her pocket. Hunters looked for the white tail of the dear, she’d heard. She jogged along the trail. Whatever was going to happen, she wanted it to occur quickly.

The cold cramped Scott’s legs. He couldn’t sit there another second, let alone all night. Don’t run back down the trail. They’ll expect that.

Scott stumbled up an embankment. There was a dip in the terrain and then another ridge, a series of ridges, all the way up the mountain. Scott’s eyes turned upward. There he is!

Scott’s shotgun rose. Flame flashed from the barrel and the explosion was deafening. I’m shooting! Scott shoved two more shells into the weapon and angrily charged up the hill. This isn’t what you had in mind. Stop!

But still Scott charged, firing as he ran. But the tall man stood his ground, seemingly unaware of the madman charging him.

Run, damnit! Get away! Suddenly Scott felt very tired.

He leaned against a tree and fixed his eyes on the tall silhouette at the top of the hill.

Scott reached in his pocket for two more shells. When he looked up, the tall man was gone.

“I warned you,” the voice came from behind Scott.

Scott turned, his shotgun at the ready.

“How…?” Scott started to say, but by the dark look in the tall man’s eyes, Scott knew he should ask no questions. He’s evil. He must be destroyed.

“You can’t hurt me,” the tall man said. “And you won’t be harmed.”

Lightning flashed, illuminating the tall man’s face. He seemed sincere, in that moment, and terrifying. Old Testament God.

“I’m human, like you,” the man said. “Though not like you.”

Lightning flashed again and the man’s face looked even more monstrous than before. Scott stepped down the hill a few feet to keep him in his sights.

“What are you doing?” Scott demanded.

“Lightning, that’s all,” the tall man said. “Are you afraid of lightning?”

Scott nodded. Afraid if someone is causing it.

“Get out of here! Run!” the man commanded. But Scott stood his ground. The man approached. It’s now or never. Don’t wimp out. Not this time. He deserves it.

The shotgun leapt in Scott’s hand. The flame blinded him for a second. Scott squeezed the second trigger. Another blast.

The tall man disintegrated into a shower of sparks. Scott squinted, trying to watch, but the explosion was just too bright. The man didn’t fall, he didn’t bleed, he wasn’t cut into bits of flesh. He disappeared, like a rocket in the sky on the Fourth of July.

Scott staggered forward. A little hole in the ground–two holes actually, one for each foot–was all that was left of the man.

Scott touched the two oblong shapes. Like the anthill, like the tree holes, they were charred but not burnt. Scott sat down hard on his haunches.

Glad you didn’t kill him. Throw this shotgun away. You can’t go around shooting at people. Was he a man? Like you and me, he said, but not like you and me. What kind of gobbledy-goop is that? Not Christ, after all–the Buddha. Laugh, sucker, before you die.

Scott didn’t notice Kerry step out from behind a nearby tree and slip back down the trail. She’d seen the whole thing. Hadn’t understood, but seen.

Scott turned, held the shotgun tight, and ran down the mountain, ignoring the trail. Vines whipped his face, rocks knifed his feet, his ankles ached under uncertain footing. Ahead, a thousand shapes threatened torturous death.

Scott reached the road. The Jeep looked good–a familiar possession. Get the hell out. To where? Back to L.A.? Scott crossed the road. Up the path and Scott was home again. The cabin in the woods. He would stay. He had passed one more test. He’d used the gun and could use it again.

Wish Kerry was here. Like to talk to her about this. She would understand. She wouldn’t think you were crazy. Why are you endowing her with all this wisdom? The way she looks. You’ve been wrong on that score before, pal.

Sleep was out of the question. Scott reconstructed the night’s events. The event and what’s behind the event.

Tomorrow. That was a question in Scott’s mind. The warning from the tall man was clear. Scott pictured his face. Not a kindly face. Quit judging on appearances. Quit judging period–that’s Lorraine’s thing.

As the night wore on, Scott concluded he should leave. He didn’t know where he would go yet; he would decide that later. Going back to Los Angeles was out of the question; Scott couldn’t stand the embarrassment. Maybe further north. Will they be there, too? Watching you, tormenting you. Is it you they’re after?

It was downhill and the moon lit the road, but still Kerry was scared. She stayed close to the edge of the dirt. If she heard a car, she would jump into the woods, no matter what was in there. She hadn’t signed on for this. She wanted to save the trees, that was all. As simple as that. For her children and her children’s children. It wasn’t fair that one generation of people could destroy it all for all the other generations.

All that seemed distant to her now. Had she been naive? Relax, Kerry told herself. Nobody out here. Only Nature. Nature is kind and beneficial. That’s what you are fighting for.

An owl screeched and Kerry shivered. She quickened her pace, almost running now. She slowed. A mountain lion will chase something running. A bear will too.

Kerry thought about Scott. He was interested in her. Not like all the other clowns she knew. But he shot that man! Or so Kerry thought. But the man wasn’t hurt. He just disappeared. In a shower o f sparks. What could that have been? Kerry shook her head.

The lights of the town glowed ahead as Kerry rounded a bend in the road. The dirt became gravel. It made Kerry feel better. She could see the motel below. She could run that far if she had to. The room-key in her pocket felt good. She could use it as a weapon.

The lights were on in almost all the rooms of the motel. Weary but relieved, Kerry walked across the parking lot. The sound of a car startled her. Raymond Beck, sitting high in the front seat, maneuvered his Jeep into the lot.

Kerry smiled.

“Hi, Kerry,” Beck greeted her as he pulled up next to her. “Where’ve you been?”

Kerry wished Raymond had been with her in the woods. He would have protected her. She wouldn’t have been so scared.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Kerry sighed heavily.

“Wow, you look pretty shook up,” Beck told her.

“It’s been a rough evening,” Kerry said.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Beck suggested, waving vaguely in the direction of the restaurant.

Kerry blushed.

“I…I’m not old enough,” Kerry told him.

“Oh, of course,” Beck replied. “No problem. I’ve got something in my room.”

Copyright 2007, Brenda H. All rights reserved.

[tags]Brenda H, sci-fi, science fiction, fiction, thriller, scary, horror, future, environment, ecology[/tags]