Steadman’s map was covered with marks. He would station
men at the top of the ridge before going up alone, from the
road, like the last visit. The strangers would go into the
woods and Scott would stay to talk. Steadman knew he could
easily arrest Scott. That would only leave the others. The ridge men would know which way they were headed–most likely to the west, where there was more cover. There was too much clear-cutting on the east side–no place to hide. But Steadman would have men on that side too. He’d station the chasers with the dogs down the road. When he had Scott, men and dogs would head up the trail from the cabin, pushing the strangers to the west, where the others would catch them when they stepped onto the road.

It might work, even if Scott saw it coming. Don’t
underestimate him, Steadman told himself. Still, Steadman
didn’t see what Scott could do about it. Unless he wants to use his shotgun.

Steadman sighed and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t
know why he was doing this. Because they have a bomb up
there, he told himself. That’s what the FBI says. Where
are they anyway? Steadman hadn’t seen them in three days.
Maybe they’re tapping a phone, or on surveillance. Down at
the motel, most likely. Steadman picked up his hat, put it
on and walked out the door.

He strolled down the street, pretending nothing was
wrong, greeting his friends and fellow townspeople along the way. Steadman felt old. He’d lived here all his life and was getting tired of it. He knew everybody. It had once been a nice feeling, now he felt stifled. Steadman turned into the motel parking lot. There they were, at the end of the lot, partially hidden by a tree, in their dark green unmarked car.

“What’s he doing?” Beck asked, looking at Steadman
standing at the end of the drive.

“I think he’s stretching,” Johannsen laughed.

Steadman raised his arms in a physical yawn, then used
his left one to adjust his hat. His right hand came down
and pointed in the direction of his office. As casually as
he could make it, Steadman turned and headed back.

Beck and Johannsen broke up in laughter. Finally, Beck
started the car. They passed Steadman and gave him a honk.

Steadman showed the FBI men the map.

“It looks fine,” Johannsen said. “But what do we do when
we get them?”

“Hopefully, we’ll find that bomb,” Steadman replied.

Beck and Johannsen looked at each other. They walked to
the other end of the office to discuss it among themselves.
With a flash of regret, Steadman thought maybe he shouldn’t
have included the FBI men. But why go out on a limb alone?
Steadman glanced back at the two men. Their little
conference was breaking up.

The two FBI men and Steadman went outside. All three
stood on the curb looking at nothing in particular.
Steadman shifted from one foot to the other, regretting it,
knowing it made him look nervous. What are they waiting
for? Dramatic pause.

“Okay,” Beck finally said. “We’ll do it. Your plan.
When the time comes.”

Scott waited until late in the day. Xavier always added
things to the list anyway. Scott didn’t want to drive to
town too many times. There was always the chance Steadman
or the FBI would arrest him, and Scott didn’t know what
would happen to his friends from the future then. It
occurred to Scott more than once that Xavier sent Scott to
town to get him out of the way.

Scott considered going back into Gunniston for the things
on Xavier’s list, but in the end he decided to return to the electronics store in Hafton before it closed. He knew the store and it would be quicker.

Kerry Inglesol stepped out from a group of protesters
when she saw Scott’s Jeep enter town. She waved and Scott
slowed.

The last thing you need. Public conference in the middle
of the street.

“I need to talk to you,” Kerry said urgently.

She’s scared. Even more scared than you. Scott was
aware of the other protesters staring. He looked in his
rear-view mirror, expecting to see Johannsen and Beck, but
they weren’t there.

“Okay,” Scott agreed. “Where can we go?”

“The motel?”

Scott swallowed and nodded.

“Get in,” he said.

Kerry climbed into the passenger’s seat. The protesters
talked among themselves. Despite the coolness of the coming fall, Scott felt a trickle of sweat crawl down behind his ear to his neck.

Johannsen and Beck drank late afternoon coffee in their
patrol car and looked out at the Redwood Inn parking lot
through sleepy eyes. Beck had spent most of the day handing out leaflets before using an excuse to get back to the motel. Gault was still in his room, Johannsen told him. He hadn’t left all day.

Scott’s Jeep pulled in and parked. Johannsen and Beck
suddenly looked wide awake. Johannsen grabbed his camera
and clicked off photographs of Scott and Kerry together.

“There’s something I have to ask you before I tell you
anything,” Kerry began when they were in her room.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you an FBI agent?” Kerry asked.

Scott shook his head. Kerry looked relieved.

“You’re not a policeman of any kind?” Kerry wanted to
know.

Scott shook his head no again.

“Then why were you talking with the sheriff?” Kerry
asked.

Beck considered getting out of the car and going up to
the balcony of the motel. It was risky, listening in at the door, but he could make some excuse. Beck sipped coffee and tried to think of one.

“What’s going on here?!” Kerry blurted out.

She’s nice. And she’s in over her head. Like you. If
it wasn’t for Yula…

“Are you from San Francisco?” Scott asked.

“I used to go to school in Berkeley,” Kerry replied.

“You should go back,” Scott told her. “As soon as
possible.”

“Everybody’s telling me that!” Kerry protested.

“It’s the best thing for you to do,” Scott insisted.

“Why does everyone want to get rid of me?” Kerry asked.

She’s so young. And innocent. How can you tell her?
How can you describe to her decades of experience and years
of disappointment? Scott felt like holding her, like a
daddy, the way he’d held Kathy the times she’d been reminded that life wasn’t all playgrounds and ice-cream cones. Scott thought about Yula. That’s what she feels with you, Scott suddenly realized. She knows the future and can’t communicate it. You’re a big baby and it breaks her heart to tell you the truth about it.

Scott looked at his watch. He only had a few minutes to
make it to the electronics store before it closed. He
cursed himself for waiting so long.

“I have to go,” Scott said simply. “I wish I could help
you, but I can’t. You’re right–there are things going on
here. Things I really don’t understand either.”

“I saw you shoot that man,” Kerry said.

Scott’s eyes opened wide.

“What man?” Scott tried.

“In the woods. That night. I saw you.”

Did she? What does she know about this? Be careful of
traps. The FBI wouldn’t be beyond baiting a trap with
someone like her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott
protested, but he could see it didn’t work. Scott sighed
and looked around the room for listening devices, though he
knew they would be invisible.

“He’s fine,” Scott whispered to Kerry. “I didn’t shoot
him.”

“I saw you.”

“I missed him.”

Kerry could tell he was lying. And Scott knew she could
tell.

“Listen,” Scott tried. “That’s all over with. I didn’t
hurt anybody and I don’t intend to. I have to go.”

Scott rushed to the door. He wouldn’t confide in her.
He had to get to the electronics store and back to the
cabin. Every time he left the cabin, something bad
happened. Yula and Tenner and Xavier was his reality now.
As long as he was in their world, he was fine. Becoming a
recluse. That was the original plan wasn’t it? You got
what you wanted. Beware of what you want–you just might
get it.

The dusk was cold, the air was thick. Scott closed
Kerry’s door behind him and considered the motel parking
lot. It was filled. Which car is theirs? Had to be big
and American. There were three that qualified. But mist
covered every windshield. Are they inside one of those
cars, headphones on, listening in? Hope not.

Freddy Weinstock kept the electronics store open after
hours to complete Scott’s list. No longer in a rush, Scott
spoke casually to Freddy, who reminded Scott of himself when he was that age. Fascinated with things electronic and mechanical, Freddy was dying to know what Scott was working on, but that secret Scott could not reveal.

Maybe you should. Young people understand this stuff.
They believe it. They’ve seen the movies.

Scott waved good-bye to Freddy as he pulled out of the
parking lot. Freddy was about Kerry’s age. The idea of
Freddy and Kerry together made Scott laugh as he drove back
down Main Street.

Scott looked for the protesters but they’d disappeared
with the sun. Scott pressed down the gas for the long climb up the road.

The flash lit up the whole mountain. It’s working!
Xavier got it working! Then, a second later an enormous
concussion shook the whole county. It was all Scott could
do to keep the jeep on the road.

The paper mill at the end of the lake was fully engulfed
in flames. That’s not Xavier’s work!

For a moment, the two FBI men thought they were dead.
The blast shook them down to the tires on their unmarked
car. When they blinked, through pink and blue dots, they
saw the motel was still intact, and so were they.

Gault came out of his room tentatively and looked out.
Others stepped out cautiously from their rooms.

“There!” Gault shouted and pointed. All eyes went to the
bright orange fireball across the lake.

“Oh, my God!” Kerry exclaimed.

“Let’s go!” Johannsen screamed, turning on the ignition,
slamming the car in gear, screeching from the parking lot.

copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

[tags]Brenda H, sci-fi, novel, thriller, ecology, environmental, environment[/tags]