Xavier rested his head on the backpack. He heard gunfire in the woods but didn’t care anymore. He’d fixed the contraption, or at least thought he had. In his cough syrup drunkenness, he couldn’t be sure. No time for tests. Not again. One blast and we’re gone.

A breeze blew under the cabin, but Xavier was fortified by alcohol against the chill. Sleep, Xavier. You have a long journey ahead.

Beck was getting tired of the chase. It seemed like they’d run for miles through thick forest without seeing anyone. The walkie-talkie was no help–they didn’t know the names of the landmarks Steadman used to describe his position. And when Johannsen started to look worried, Beck realized they were hopelessly lost.

Steadman gathered the men in a little clearing.

"We’ve lost them," Steadman told them. It wasn’t clear, even in Steadman’s mind, who they’d lost. Was it Gault, or the girl chasing him, or the man who’d shot the shotgun in the first place? The plan was dead, Steadman knew, and without a plan, he was lost.

"We’ll continue east to Route 17, then walk back to town."

Even the dogs, tongues hanging in exhaustion, nodded assent.

"Then we’ll come back in the daylight," Steadman said.

Gault finally stopped. Kerry caught up with him.

"What are you doing?!" she screamed.

Gault’s eyes caught the moonlight.

He’s crazy. Stark, raving mad.

"I’m trying to catch them!" Gault shouted with the urgency of death.

"Why?" Kerry asked, as calmly as she could make it, aware of the rifle in Gault’s hands.

"They burned down the mill," he told her.

If Gault wasn’t so scary, Kerry would have laughed.

"You wanted it shut down," she said.

Gault didn’t reply. Should tell her, he thought. Should give her the whole damn story. Shock her. That would be fun. Little Miss Perfect.

Kerry sat on a rock away from Gault. She looked up at the stars. Which is the north one? She didn’t know. We’re lost.

Tenner knew exactly where he was. All his planning had paid off. He’d constructed a labyrinth of pathways through the seemingly endless, markerless forest. That ought to show them who’s a muscle-brained Neanderthal! There was no need to fire the shotgun again. He was sure his pursuers had given up. Now there was only the task of circling back to the cabin. Xavier will have it finished. We’ll be home for breakfast. Thinking of food was a mistake. Do it slow, he warned himself. Remember your stomach.

Lou Berenson fired his rifle twice into the air. It was getting cold and he didn’t want to stay out in the woods all night. He’d kept his eye on the cabin but there’d been no activity. Lou wondered if putting him there wasn’t a ploy by his father and the other adults to keep him out of trouble. He’d heard gunfire, he was scared. He would wait a half-hour, then go back to the road.

Xavier stared out through wood slats at the teenager. Why doesn’t he go home? He’ll freeze out there. Xavier considered inviting the boy to join him under the cabin. He’d give him some of the cough medicine. It had made Xavier warm, maybe it would do the same for the boy. Xavier couldn’t stand to think Lou would stay there all night on his account.

Yula and Scott lay on their backs watching the stars. There was no reason to move–their pursuers were busy chasing Tenner. Returning to the cabin was folly. Scott cursed Tenner silently for not telling them the rest of his plan. They’d escaped into the woods, but they’d brought no blankets or sleeping bags. He didn’t expect us to be out all night.

Scott considered crossing the ridge–that’s certainly what Tenner had intended. But what’s on the other side? A road? A car? Scott wouldn’t put it past Tenner.

Yula sneezed and Scott was again aware of her beside him. They both knew this might be their last night together.

Xavier crawled back to the backpack and rested his head. The boy had walked down the path. Xavier hoped he’d get home okay.

Lou Berenson got into the pickup. He fished a key from his pocket, a gift from his sixteenth birthday. Lou started the truck. He wouldn’t wait any longer. People had died of exposure on warmer nights than this. Lou guided the pickup back into town.

Yula and Scott’s lips met. There would be no ban against kissing this night. Scott stroked Yula’s cheek and she held the back of Scott’s neck, pressing his lips into hers. Despite the cold, they undressed each other completely and made love on soft pine needles, slowly, effortlessly, each feeling the heat of the other’s body, each wishing they could be connected this way forever.

Tenner walked carefully through the woods. He saw his markings on the trees–the southern route. His pride was gone, replaced by loneliness. She’s cold. She never could stand cold. Should have brought sleeping bags. Didn’t plan well enough. Scott will take care of her. He loves her after all. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, for Yula to be loved? The pain of undesired martyrdom struck Tenner in the stomach. He detoured from the path, knelt by a thick tree and wretched violently. A thin stream of vomit flowed down the incline. Oh God, don’t let me die here!

Beck and Johannsen sat in front of a small fire. They’d surprised themselves by being able to build it from only six matches Johannsen had with him. It’s not so bad, Beck thought. People spend thousands of dollars to camp in the forest.

The men on the road listened. They heard the sound of a car horn before they saw the lights. They cheered at the face of Lou Berenson in the cab.

"Climb in," Lou grinned. The men jumped in the back. Harry Berenson sat next to his son and proudly ruffled the boy’s hair. Steadman squeezed in next to the door.

Scott and Yula stomped the ground and slapped their arms against their sides to keep warm. Fully-dressed now, invigorated by the cold of the night and the heat of their love, they danced a celebration to life and their part in it.

copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

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