[tags]Brenda H, novel, sci-fi, science-fiction, thriller, excerpt[/tags]
copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

CHAPTER 22 -

They had made it several yards into the brush when Scott
glanced back through the trees to see Steadman come out the
trail into the clearing in front of the cabin.

“Mr. Felton!” Steadman called.

Scott turned into the wilderness. He, Yula and Tenner
continued west.

Xavier sat stock-still under the cabin, his legs crossed,
his mind focused on every sound.

Outside, Steadman also listened. They could be hiding,
waiting in ambush. No, Scott isn’t dangerous, not in that
sense. The others–Steadman wasn’t sure. The deputy
sheriff unbuckled his revolver and placed his hand on the
handle. He’d never used the gun in all his years in law
enforcement and hoped he wouldn’t have to now.

A little trickle of cough came up Xavier’s esophagus and
lodged in the back of his throat. He shivered and tried to
control himself. Mind over matter, he ordered himself. You will not cough. The paper bag with the cough medicine was almost in reach.

There’s something here, Steadman thought to himself. You
can feel it.

“Mr. Felton!” Steadman called again and the impact of the
sound almost made Xavier cough. Xavier heard heavy
workshoes on the wood steps of the cabin.

Steadman knocked on the door.

“Mr. Felton, it’s me–Sheriff Steadman.”

It was all a charade, Steadman suddenly realized. Scott
would have heard the car. He can see the road from here.
Steadman turned and looked back down the mountain. The
patrol car was parked right behind Scott’s Jeep. Steadman
looked further down the road. They were well-hidden, the
other men, behind a grove of trees, around a bend in the
road, but still visible to someone looking. Steadman turned back to the cabin door.

He knows I’m here, Xavier realized, catching a thought from thin air. But he doesn’t know where.

Steadman knocked on the door again. When there was no
answer, he reached for the doorknob. No warrant, Steadman
said to himself. It’s a remote area and a man living
alone. The law has to be sure there isn’t someone hurt
inside. Steadman released the knob. Another bomb. Could
be wired to the door. Steadman stepped back, remember the
heat from the sawmill fire. He walked to the window.

Xavier realized he’d been holding his breath. He
released it slowly, silently, hoping the cough wouldn’t come with it.

Steadman cupped his hands against the window and peeked
in. The place looked empty, but Steadman knew not to trust
to his eyes only. He craned his neck to look at the other
side of the door. Nothing unusual. No bomb, but then what
would it look like and could you see it from this angle?

Xavier’s fingers inched to the bag that held the cough
medicine. The paper bag will make a horrible noise. The
lawman will charge in, guns blazing.

Steadman decided to chance it. But tell the others
first. If you blow up, at least they’ll know how it
happened. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and clicked it
on.

“Don’t speak,” Steadman said into the device. “I’m going
into the cabin now.”

At the bottom of the hill, newly-deputized Harvey Leonard
heard the walkie-talkie click off. He leaned against his
pickup truck and looked at the other five men with him, also deputized for the occasion. They had dogs, six of them, restlessly awaiting the hunt they seemed to know was
coming. Okay Steadman, Leonard thought, do it alone.
Leonard looked over at the other two.

Kerry shivered in the cold. She wore her white stocking
cap. Gault stood next to her. Leonard shook his head. The unlikeliest posse members he’d ever seen. Kerry stuck her hands in her pocket, uncomfortable under Leonard’s gaze. She felt her room key. You walked back to the motel before. You can do it again.

Up at the cabin, Steadman placed his hand back on the
doorknob. Turn it slowly. Slower than you’ve ever turned a doorknob. If there’s a bomb attached, maybe you’ll hear the click in time to dive for your life. The knob turned with a merciful silence.

Xavier heard the door open.

“Mr. Felton?” Steadman called into the cabin. No
response. Steadman stepped inside. The place was empty.
Scott was gone. He must have planned it, to clear out so
quickly. Steadman stepped back out onto the porch.

“Harvey?” Steadman said into the walkie-talkie.

“Right here.”

“Bring the men up.”

“Roger. We’re coming.”

“And bring the dogs.”

“Roger.”

Deputy Harvey Leonard and his men locked the doors of
their pickups and started up the road.

Xavier left his hand near the paper bag. He wouldn’t
cough now–the feeling had passed.

“We’ll head for that ridge,” Tenner whispered back to
Scott and Yula as they ran through the dark. Scott looked
up the mountain. Are they there? The FBI men? Right now?
“We’ll try and get over it before they get here. They’ll
want to surround us, so getting away quickly is important.”

Scott nodded agreement. Tenner had brought them this
far.

“We made it past the first step,” Tenner went on. “The
sheriff’s plan, to make a quick arrest before we knew what was happening.”

They kept running, Tenner in the lead with Yula right
behind and Scott taking up the rear. Scott noticed Tenner
knew exactly the way to go. Small marks had been placed on
the trees at eye-level. That’s what he was doing! Yula had the same thought. But what if Steadman sees the marks too? Suddenly, the marks no longer appeared. Tenner had switched to some other system. He’s smart–don’t underestimate him. Yula pointed and Scott saw the little twigs along the ground, broken in two, pointing toward the road. The road!

“Stop,” Scott hissed.

“What’s wrong?” Yula said, turning. Scott saw the fear
on her face.

“Nothing. Only we don’t want to reach the road,” Scott
said.

Tenner nodded and grinned. Yula and Scott crept up
beside Tenner, who pointed through the trees. The black
asphalt of the road could be clearly seen.

“We’ll turn north, parallel to the road,” Tenner said,
signaling that direction. The three of them turned and
headed up the mountain.

Yula felt the pride swelling in Tenner’s chest. She’d
been right to bring him along. Even though this wasn’t the
real reason. They continued, slowing their pace slightly up the steep incline.

Steadman waited. It was all working now as he planned.
Then why do you have this uneasy feeling? Because someone
else is here, that’s why. But where? Steadman again put
his hand to his pistol, holstered the walkie-talkie and
stepped off the porch. He walked away from the cabin a good fifteen yards, then angled to the corner. He peered around the edge. Nothing. Two more corners to go. Steadman stepped even further from the cabin. If they’re going to ambush you, make sure they have to be damn good shots.

When he’d made it completely around the cabin without
finding anyone, Steadman’s hand moved away from his
revolver.
“What’s wrong?” Leonard asked Steadman when Leonard and
his men reached the cabin.

Steadman, standing like a statue, hissed “Quiet!”

They stood that way for a long moment, Steadman
practically sniffing the air, the others staring at him.
The dogs were restless, but they smelled nothing. Leonard
sighed. He’d always thought Steadman too eccentric to be a
sheriff.

Xavier’s fingers reached for the paper bag. The movement
made the tickle at his throat all the stronger. Xavier’s
fingers touched brown paper.

“Nobody’s in here!” Gault called, stepping out of the
cabin.

Steadman almost screamed at the man. Of course there’s
nobody in there, he almost shouted. I already looked,
didn’t I? The feeling Steadman had, whatever it was, was
lost now.

Now, Xavier told himself and seized the bag, the noise
covered by boots on the wood steps of the cabin. Xavier
drank quickly, almost half the bottle.

Steadman clicked on his walkie-talkie.

“Come in Bravo,” he said.

“Real slick,” he heard Beck call back.

At the top of the ridge, FBI agents Beck and Johannsen
sat on the ground, an infrared telescope between them,
sticking through a bush.

“Where are you?” Steadman asked.

“At the the top of the ridge,” Beck said back. “Watching
you stumble around in the dark.”

Gault canted his head. Even through the static of the
walkie-talkie, he thought he could discern the owner of the
voice.

Kerry held her hand over her mouth in shock. It was
Raymond Beck, she was certain.

“Where’d they go?” Steadman asked.

“West,” Beck told him.

“That way?” Steadman asked and pointed.

Johannsen put his eye to the telescope. Steadman stood
like a scarecrow, one arm pointed to the woods. Johannsen
laughed and nodded to Beck.

“That’s right,” Beck said into his walkie-talkie.

“All of them?” Steadman asked.

“The girl, Felton and one other man.”

“Young or old?”

“Young.”

Steadman shook his head. It wasn’t what he wanted to
hear. Where’s the older man, the one they called Xavier?

“No sign of the old guy,” Beck said into the
walkie-talkie, answering Steadman’s question.

“Okay,” Steadman sighed. “We’ll keep the channel open.”

Steadman turned to the men around him.

“Let’s go,” he told them. “Slow.”

They walked from the cabin to the edge of the woods.

Steadman stopped and looked back at the cabin. He spoke to
the FBI men on the ridge.

“Keep watching, in case he comes back,” Steadman said.

Beck and Johannsen rolled their eyes. Of course they’d
watch–that’s what they were there for, besides swatting
flies and mosquitoes.

Steadman looked at the men at his disposal. He picked
Harry Berenson’s son, Lou, a halfback on the football team.

“You stay here,” he said to the young man.

Lou Berenson nodded.

“If you see the older man, just keep an eye on him,”
Steadman said. “If you need help, fire your rifle twice.”

Once again Lou nodded. Steadman hated giving this
responsibility to the young man, but he needed the rest of
them. Steadman wished he had more walkie-talkies. They
were using every one Hafton had to offer.

Harry Berenson patted his son on the shoulder, told him
“Don’t shoot anybody” and headed into the woods. The others followed.

The trail was easy to follow. The three fugitives had
made no effort to disguise their steps and in a few minutes
Steadman noticed little notches in the trees to guide the
way.

“Don’t count on those,” Steadman warned his men. “Could
be a trick.”

Steadman knew it was a trick. Scott was too smart for
this.

Tenner held his stomach in pain. They were reaching the
steepest part of their path and Scott worried Tenner
wouldn’t make it.

“Tenner,” Scott called ahead to him. “Let’s rest.”

Tenner fell to the ground. He hasn’t eaten. Yula sat
next to him and opened her backpack.

“No,” Tenner told her. “I can’t eat anything.”

Yula left the pack open.

“Water then,” she said.

Tenner shook his head.

Stubborn bastard. Got to be macho to the end.

“My stomach won’t take it,” Tenner said bitterly to
Scott. “Who the hell are you to tell me?”

“Easy, Tenner,” Yula warned. She knew him. He had a
longer fuse than anyone suspected, but at the end of it was
an atomic bomb.

Scott knew better than to say anything. He tried not to
think anything either. He listened to the distant sound of
dogs yapping on a trail.

“Slow down,” Steadman ordered. It isn’t going right.
We’re moving too quickly. Our job is to get them to the
road, that’s all. “Stop,” Steadman said. The dogs strained against the leashes.

Steadman opened his map and pulled out a flashlight. He
traced a line from the cabin to the road. The fugitives had never reached the road. They could go north, where the trees were clear-cut, but the FBI would spot them. Are the
loggers up there yet? Will Beck and Johannsen recognize
them or just shoot them? Steadman clicked on his
walkie-talkie again.

“Bravo?” Steadman asked.

“Still here,” Beck replied.

Kerry listened closely this time. She wasn’t as sure it
was Raymond now.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Quiet!” Steadman admonished.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Beck said sarcastically.

“Not you,” Steadman said. “Listen, you got a gang of
loggers coming up to reinforce you on the ridge there.”

“We’ll let you know when we see ‘em stumbling around in
the dark,” Beck told the deputy sheriff. “Hope they don’t
hurt themselves.”

Steadman clicked off the walkie-talkie.

“Who is that?” Kerry insisted.

Steadman looked at her face. It was clear to him Kerry
had mistaken Beck for an environmentalist. He’d been
undercover with her, Steadman could tell. Pain and anger
seared into the back of Steadman’s skull.

“I…I can’t tell you,” Steadman said. “It’s…”

Kerry turned away to hide her tears.

“It’s kind of a secret,” Steadman finished. He folded
the map viciously. “Let’s go.”

Steadman commanded himself to concentrate on the
fugitives. They could go south, but his men were closing in there. Steadman had them. Then why aren’t you sure? You’re always questioning. Have some confidence. Steadman
clicked on the walkie-talkie again.

“Come in, Charlie,” Steadman said into the walkie-talkie.

“Right here, Jack,” came the answer from Charlie Bennett,
stationed with eleven others across the road.

“Any sign?” Steadman asked.

“Nope, not yet.”

“Okay.”

Steadman clicked off the walkie-talkie. They should have
made it to the road by now. Something isn’t right. The
older man should be with them. It should all be over by
now. Steadman marched over to a tree. He fingered the
little, eye-level notch someone had made in the bark.

The dogs yelped, anxious to continue down the path.

Steadman looked at the ground and followed the
footprints. The night was moist and the steps were easily
deciphered.

Tenner staggered to a cluster of rocks and fished around
under one of them. He pulled out three bottles of water.
He handed one to Yula and one to Scott. They drank. Scott
kept his eyes on Tenner.

Isn’t going to make it.

“That’s all right with you isn’t it!?” Tenner snapped
angrily. “That way you get her!”

Tenner stood. He’s going to kill you now.

“Stop it, Tenner!” Yula shouted.

“Shut up, woman!” Tenner shot back.

Yula stood and faced him. Tenner looked as if he was
going to hit her.

“Someone might say go ahead,” Yula hissed. “One could
mention that would be perfect, wouldn’t it?”

Tenner’s jaw quivered. He’s going to cry.

“Am not,” Tenner said to Scott. Tenner turned and tried
to hide the hand that grabbed his stomach. “Let’s go,” he
groaned.