Johannsen thought it was funny. Beck considered Scott’s butt an affront to the dignity of The Bureau. But then it had been Beck’s eye on the telescope.

"Okay, so he knows we’re up here," Johannsen said philosophically.

"So he won’t try anything," Beck spat out.

"Hey, that’s okay with me," Johannsen said.

"We’re here to arrest people," Beck reminded Johannsen.

"We’re here to limit their activities," Johannsen corrected.

Beck shrugged. He didn’t know why the hell they were there. Fifteen years with the service and he still didn’t know. Seemed like they were always sent on the wild ones. They’d yet to work on a single kidnapping or drug bust. It’s always these rinky-dinks, political groups, radicals, Klanners, foreigners.

Johannsen stood.

"If there’s a bomb down there, they aren’t going to show it to us," Johannsen said.

"Maybe we should just watch the road," Beck suggested.

"The environmentalists," Johannsen said.

Beck shrugged. He didn’t care. He thought about the girl. Kerry. She’d been nice. He’d like to see her again. Sleep with her again. The enemy. It was odd for him, liking a woman. She’d told him an incredible story. Beck hadn’t even related it to Johannsen, it was so unbelievable. He hadn’t even played the tape for him. Beck chuckled to himself. He’d slept with her. Again and again. The girl Scott seemed to like. That was something. Some compensation for the butt he’d showed them.

Until she’d said no.

"Okay," Beck said bitterly. "The environmentalists."

They walked over the ridge to their unmarked car. On the way back to town, they reviewed the evidence.

"Okay, this guy Scott’s an electrical engineer with a company that does a bunch of defense work and a bundle of aerospace," Beck began. "Knows a pile of secrets."

"So he suddenly quits his job," Johannsen continued. "He comes out here for an unknown purpose and hooks up with these unknown people."

"He makes contact with the environmentalists and makes a bunch of crazy reports to the sheriff," Beck went on.

"Deputy sheriff," Johannsen corrected.

"Then he buys a gas-can and fills it."

"Two days in a row," Johannsen said.

"What’s he up to?" Beck mused. "Who’s he with?"

"We have evidence of association with radical environmental causes," Johannsen reminded Beck.

"That stuff," Beck snickered. "Sierra Club, Friends of the Earth, Greenpeace."

"I say we stake out the motel," Johannsen suggested, ignoring Beck’s slur.

Beck shrugged. He really didn’t care anymore. All life was garbage as far as he was concerned. He’d watch the girl.

Xavier was still up when Scott woke. He’d worked frantically through the night on his gadget.

Scott took a cup of coffee to Xavier out behind the cabin.

"Got another list?" Scott asked.

Xavier handed it to Scott without comment.

Down to specific transistors and switches.

"Are they still asleep?" Xavier asked.

"Yes," Scott said. Yula and Tenner were a foot apart on the floor of the cabin. Scott had felt a twinge of jealousy seeing them that close together.

Xavier coughed and dropped a screwdriver. His hand shook.

"Take a break," Scott suggested, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

Xavier rocked back and sat. He breathed a great, congested sigh.

"Drink the coffee." Scott suggested. Xavier shook his head.

"How can you drink that stuff?" he asked.

"It’s good," Scott chuckled. "Keeps you awake."

Xavier canted his head–he hadn’t known. He tried to drink some of it.

"So how does this thing work?" Scott asked, sitting next to Xavier, pointing at the gizmo. Xavier considered for a long moment, finding a way to explain.

"You have lighting devices?" Xavier said with a certain condescension.

Scott pointed to the kerosene lamp. It was still lit, though the sun was fully up.

Xavier shook his head.

"No. Light bulbs. Tom Edison bulbs. Incan…?"

"Incandescence."

"Right. A great deal of amperage through a small conductor. Like a slow-burning fuse."

"Okay," Scott nodded.

"We do the same with time," Xavier announced.

Scott’s brow scrunched up in doubt. Xavier laughed.

"Trust me on this," Xavier said.

Scott chuckled.

"I will," he said.

Scott stopped at the drugstore and bought antihistamines, decongestants, something for vomiting and cough medicine. He considered a vaporizer, but rejected the idea–they’d have to run the generator all night to use it.

"Is there a doctor you can recommend?" Scott asked the drug clerk. "A general practitioner?"

"Have to go down the mountain," the woman said, shaking her head. "There’s a whole medical center right on the edge of Gunniston. Can’t miss it on the right."

Scott nodded. Never talk them into it. Still, in an emergency…

Scott stepped out into the sun. There was a pay-phone right outside the drugstore. Should get some numbers. Of doctors. Down the mountain. Scott stepped up to the phone and dialed.

"Hello," Kathy said in her little six-year-old voice.

"Hi. It’s Daddy."

He could barely hear her. Kathy could be painfully shy when the excitement of the moment overwhelmed her. There was so much Scott wanted to tell her, and do for her, so many things to protect her from. Scott’s heart ached against his ribs. Tears flowed from his eyes in a river of loss. He tasted them and remembered the way Kathy would wipe her tears with one little finger and immediately deposit them in her mouth, as if one drop of her sorrow was too precious to waste.

Kathy was talking quickly, about starting first grade, about one of her friends, about what Mommy wouldn’t let her do, about the mean things boys did.

"Do you want to talk to Mommy?" Kathy asked after it all.

"Yes," Scott choked.

"Mommy!" Scott heard Kathy shout.

"Kathy," Scott said.

"Yes."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy."

copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

[tags]sci-fi, science-fiction, fiction, thriller, ecology, environment[/tags]