copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

CHAPTER 23 -

The road looked like salvation to Kerry.  Gault hadn't
spoken to her since she'd asked the sheriff about Raymond. 
Gault didn't seem angry or jealous so much as worried.  He's worried about his damn organization, Kerry decided.  That would be just like him.  Doesn't care who his girl sleeps with as long as it doesn't jeopardize the cause.

Gault tried to remember the day at the laundromat.  He
had suspected Beck and he had been right about it, but now
that the truth was known, the reality made his hands shake
and his knees weak.  Thoughts of prison ran through Gault's
mind.  Was there someone in the mill?  Will they find a
body?  Should you have called and warned the
night-watchman?  Was there one?

Kerry felt uneasy at the way Gault swung his rifle.  The
sheriff and two others were ahead of them.  One false step
and the gun could go off.

"Armstrong," Kerry whispered.  Gault jumped.

"What?" his voice quivered.

The rifle pointed at Kerry's hip.  She carefully pushed
the weapon aside.

"Be careful with that," she told him.

Gault tried a smile at Kerry and a "thank-you."  Careful
to keep the weapon pointed at the ground, Gault marched
forward to keep up with the others.  Kerry followed.

The rifle is the answer, Gault thought to himself.  They
think these others did it.  When the shooting starts, Gault
decided, I'll make sure I hit Felton.  They'll be so busy
proving he did it after he's dead, they'll never suspect
you.

"Come on," Steadman called from the front to Kerry and
Gault.  "Don't lag behind.  People get lost in these woods."



Tenner didn't look like he knew where he was.  Scott and
Yula stared at his sweaty face, hoping they were wrong.

"I know, I know," Tenner hissed.  "It's right around
here."

Scott and Yula shot each other a look.  Tenner struck out
up the hill, where there was no trail.  Scott and Yula
followed.

The noise seemed deafening to Scott.  Every footfall
crunched leaves, every shrub rustled against their clothes. 
Scott realized how ridiculous it was, but he considered
taking off his shoes.

If we can just make it over the ridge.  Scott thought he
heard the distant sound of cars and pickup trucks.  Then
Scott saw their lights through the trees.

"Look!" Scott whispered.

They stopped.  Yula gasped for breath, Tenner clutched his stomach.  Pairs of lights switched off, about a mile away.  Distant doors slammed.  Are those voices?

"We gotta run," Scott whispered to Yula.  He pointed up
the hill to the top of the ridge.  She looked at Tenner,
thinking the same thing as Scott.  They would never make
it.  Tenner collapsed to the ground, confirming their
suspicions.  He looked white, even in the dim moonlight. 
He'll be the first to die, Scott decided.

Scott knelt next to Tenner.

"You stay here," Scott said to him.

"No!" Tenner shot back.

"Quiet!" Yula ordered.

"It's our only chance," Scott hissed.  "Yula and I will
run over the ridge.  With any luck they'll follow us and
you'll be safe.  When you're sure, go back to the cabin. 
Help Xavier with the machine.  It's our only chance."

Tenner looked at Yula.  Tears glistened in the corners of
his eyes.  Yula thought she saw the reflection of the moon
there.  He was losing her--not just for now--and he knew
it.  Scott was afraid Tenner was going to scream.  Yula put
her hand to his cheek in a gesture of farewell.  Tenner
shook her hand away and looked at Scott.  Tenner nodded. 
Scott stood.  He considered the shotgun in his hand.  He
handed it to Tenner.

"Here," Scott said.  He grabbed Yula's hand before he had
a chance to change his mind.  They ran, up the steep hill,
dodging trees and bushes.
 
Scott heard their pursuers coming along the top of the
ridge from the west.  There were still trees up there, for
awhile, before the mountain would go bald from the cut.  The trees would slow the trackers down some.  Yula's strong legs kept up with Scott's.  His ached terribly.  Wonder if hers do too.  Don't push her.  What have we done?  Burned the mill.  That's what they think.  They'll shoot first and ask questions later.  Scott wished he hadn't given Tenner the shotgun.

Xavier crept along the ground under the cabin.  There was
a small opening on the west side.  Xavier peeked through. 
Lou Berenson was all the way at the edge of the forest,
watching the cabin.  He'd see Xavier's flashlight if he
switched it on.  Xavier crawled back to the gizmo.  He'd
just have to work in the dark.

Xavier rolled off a thin wire from a small roll.  He
measured and clipped off six inches with his wire-cutters. 
He scraped off the blue insulation from the two ends of the
wire and placed the strand inside the machine next to the
burnt-out one.  Deciding it would fit, Xavier pulled the
other wire out.  Without electricity to run a soldering
iron, Xavier was forced to use the little gas-jet device
Scott had bought at the electronics store.  As small as it
was, it was still too big.

Xavier turned his back to the west to hide the tiny
flame.  Xavier started to cough.  He crawled to the
backpack, the one he was supposed to take with him when he
went with the others.  He fumbled with the straps and got it open.  Xavier pulled out a bottle of water and drank.  The cough subsided.  Is there more water in the cabin?  Xavier didn't remember.  This is impossible.  Xavier checked the pack again.  Two more bottles of cough syrup.  He hoped it would be enough.  A wave of fear made Xavier shudder.  What if they don't come back?

Xavier felt tired.  And something else.  What is it? 
Something he hadn't felt since graduate school.  Drunk.  I'm drunk, Xavier giggled to himself, then threw his hand over his mouth.  Xavier laid down on the hard dirt.  He pulled the backpack under his head and stared up at the underside of the cabin.  He soon caught himself dreaming of home, something he hadn't done in years.  It wasn't his current home, in the future, but his childhood home, also in the future but not so far.  Xavier chuckled at the irony of it--he was closer to being a child now.




Tenner moved east, parallel to the ridge, about a quarter
mile from the top.  The brush was thick and it was slow-
going.  He already felt lonely without Yula.  He'd spent
almost three years with her, non-stop, almost twenty-four
hours a day.  And now she'd abandoned him.  His animal
instincts told him to fight for her.  The way they used to. 
The way they did in this time, so far as he knew.  But how
can you?  She loved Scott--it was all over her face.

They won't make it over the ridge, Tenner knew.  But he
had another plan he was certain would work.

Steadman moved slowly up the hill.  Even from the
distance he had seen the lights of the vehicles on the
ridge.  Just make it a hike, Steadman told himself.  Don't
move too fast.  Steadman hated having Gault behind him with
that rifle of his.  But the plan was working.  The fugitives were in front of him, moving up the hill to the ridge, where the others would arrest them.

Kerry wondered why they were moving so slowly.  She
wondered if Steadman really wanted to catch Scott.  She knew Gault did.  He searched the black forest with nervous eyes, looking for a target.  He looks so ridiculous.  Suddenly, Kerry wondered if she would turn out like Leigh, hating men for every little stupid thing they did.




Beck and Johannsen took turns looking through the
infrared telescope.  Beck had to admit it was delightful
toy.  They spotted Lou Berenson in the woods guarding the
cabin and snickered at the idea the young man could be of
any use.  It occurred to the FBI men that the older man
Scott had called Xavier might still be in the cabin.  Even
in a structure as simple as that there could be crawlspaces, loose floorboards, secret compartments.  Beck and Johannsen had absolutely no faith a thorough search had been made.




Gault took in deep breaths of air.  The steepness of the
hill had little to do with it; the adrenaline coursing
through his veins would propel him up Everest.  He longed
for the release of gunfire.  It would make it all right.  It would make him safe.


Scott led Yula carefully up toward the ridge.  There were
trees here, old trees, that had been there a thousand
years.  It didn't make Scott feel any better that hundreds
of generations had lived and died since they were saplings. 
He would be just one more dead man, not noticed or recorded
by Nature's indifference.

Yula stared at the motion of Scott's backpack ahead of
her.  She no longer listened to Scott's thoughts; it was
difficult enough to hear her own.  Suddenly, the catalog of
complaints she'd had against Tenner had disappeared and she
tried to remember why she didn't love him anymore.  A sneeze worked its way to the back of her nose and threatened to burst out.  Yula stumbled to the ground and put one finger under her nostrils like she'd seen in an old movie.

"What's the matter?" Scott whispered, coming back to her.

Yula's mouth opened.  She inhaled, trying to bypass her
nose.

"Relax," Scott ordered.  "Relax."

They waited, two adults in the dark, for a sneeze to come
and reveal their location.  This is so silly.  Don't laugh,
Scott.  This is serious business.

Yula started giggling.  She tried to hold it back but it
all burst out, a spitting blast of laughter.

Scott's eyes frantically darted left and right, searching
the darkness for the enemies of laughter.




Xavier took a long swig of cough syrup.  He'd held
responsibility for so long, the alcoholic liquid felt like
freedom rolling down his throat.  It would make him dream,
he felt, something he hadn't done in years.  It would help
him forget the misery of his own existence and the effort
necessary to maintain that existence.  Forget the
contraption, he told himself, we're dead anyway.




Tenner knew he'd made it to the right place.  He took a
couple of deep breaths and held his stomach.  It felt okay. 
He'd be able to run.  Tenner raised the shotgun and aimed it at the top of a high tree some hundred yards off.  He squeezed the trigger.  It seemed like he waited forever for
the blast.  When it came, the tree branches shook with the
shot, and the night came alive.




"There!  Down there!" the men on the ridge shouted.

Beck stood to his full height and looked to the east. 
Johannsen grabbed Beck's coat and pulled Beck to the ground.

"Get down!" Johannsen screamed.  His service revolver was
already in his hand.

Steadman tried to work his walkie-talkie but he got no
answer.  The men on the ridge were already moving down the
slope, though they weren't certain in which direction they
should go.

Tenner pointed the shotgun to another tree.  He pulled
the trigger and this blast seemed even louder than the last.

The men on the ridge saw the flash and started running.

Scott pulled Yula behind a group of trees and they sat
there, watching the ridge men charge down the hill.

"Damn him," Yula hissed.  "I should have known."

She loves him.  She still does.

"Damn him," Scott repeated.  He's being a hero.  That
isn't fair.  We're supposed to draw the fire.

Still, Scott was relieved at the sight of the lumbermen
passing them by.  He and Yula were safe.  There was a whole
world out there where they could be safe.

Gault charged through the trees, his rifle blasting a
path ahead of him.

Kerry ran after, screaming, but Gault's ears wouldn't
admit the sound.

"Stop!  Both of you!  Cease fire!" Steadman yelled at a
run.

Beck and Johannsen made their way across the ridge.  They
were parallel with the gunfire, heading east.

"Damn!" Beck screamed, his weapon aimed down the
mountain.

This wasn't the way The Bureau did things--shootouts in
the hills.  Not since Bonnie and Clyde anyway.

Hot tears streamed down Kerry's face, but her legs were
strong.  She would stay an even distance with Gault, even if she didn't catch him.  Steadman and the others were behind her, but losing ground.  Go back to the road, go back to town, go back to San Francisco, she told herself.  You're too young for any of this.

Gault saw he was losing ground.  The man was getting away
and what was just as bad, the sheriff and his men were
keeping up.  Get a lead.  Shoot him.  Self-defense.  Out of
their sight.

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.

copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved.

CHAPTER 21 -

It could have been anyone.  Steadman wouldn't put it past
Ranson to sabotage his own factory.  The lumber business was a dead-end proposition, anyone could tell that.  Logging would end, whether the environmentalists won or the
companies eliminated all the trees.  The insurance would put Ranson in a position to start some other business elsewhere.

The environmentalists seemed capable of burning it down
too.  Would they actually do it?  Sure, what with the
dioxins in the river and Lord knows what else.

Steadman knew it would all come out.  The truth.  But
would it be in time?  They could wait for the fire marshal
to make an assessment of the cause.  They could question the obvious suspects and follow the leads.  But Steadman knew deep in his brain who was really behind the fire.  He'd been blinded by his hatred for the FBI.  They told you who it was: Scott Felton and his friends--Yula, Tenner and Xavier, building a bomb practically in front of your eyes.  And now you don't even have their names.

They'd be long-gone, maybe even now.  He'd liked Scott
and hated to think this of him, but here it was.  You've 
been wrong about people before, Steadman admitted to
himself.  Standing there, lit by the glow of the massive
fire, heated by the flames, Steadman felt profoundly stupid, alone, old and tired.  He wished desperately that Susan was waiting at home, he wanted to throw the football around with Jim.  Will you ever do that again? Steadman wondered.

"Ranson!" Steadman called to the executive.  "Could I
talk to you a minute?"

Maybe it was the smoke or maybe it was the emotion of
seeing a large part of his life-long business burn to the
ground, but Steadman thought he detected a tear in the
corner of Ranson's eye as he turned and walked toward the
lawman.  Instantly, Steadman regretted everything he had
thought about the man.  So he kills the trees, Steadman told himself.  That doesn't make him a bad man.

To Scott's surprise, Tenner had their escape all
planned.  When Scott arrived, after roaring up the road and
running up the trail, Tenner had already packed what he
thought they could carry easily in the four large backpacks
Scott had bought earlier on Tenner's insistence.  Yula
filled canteens with water.

"Help us," Tenner said to Scott, signalling him to follow
outside.  "We can't take the device, but we can hide it for
when we can slip back," Tenner explained as they walked
around the cabin to where Xavier put his equipment and the
gizmo into one large pile.  Tenner poked the edge of the
cabin near the ground.  Weeds grew several feet along the
side.

What the hell's he doing?

Amazingly, Tenner disappeared.  With a puzzled look on
his face, Scott wondered if Tenner hadn't fled off to some
other time or dimension.  Tenner stepped into view again and gently held back the weeds.  There was an opening to a
four-foot high crawlspace under the entire cabin.

"In here," Tenner ordered Scott.

Tenner amazed Scott.  Scott knew he'd misjudged the boy. 
It was jealousy, on both their parts, that clouded their
perceptions of each other.  If Yula wasn't between you, you
could be friends, Scott realized.

"Good, good," Scott said sincerely as he scrambled to the
device.  He and Xavier moved the machine to the cabin. 
Tenner and Scott pushed it underneath.

Xavier peeked through the brush at the space, then
crawled in.

Scott and Tenner scrambled to pick up all of Xavier's
equipment and put it in with him.

Yula dumped the four backpacks on the ground, canteens
tied to each one.  She signaled Scott and the two of them
walked around the cabin to be sure there was was no way to
see under.  When they reached the opening, they pushed the
tall grass aside.  Xavier sat in the darkness, in the lotus
position.  The contraption and all the parts fit nicely. 
The generator could go under too.  Xavier had found his new
workshop.

"I'll stay here and finish this," Xavier shouted out. 

"They won't see me."

Tenner closed his eyes, summoning the patience of the
gods.  Yula shivered and bit her lower lip, trying to figure out what to do.

He's a stubborn old fool, Scott read in Yula's mind.

Scott took charge.  "You have to come with us!" he
ordered into the crawl-space.

"I'm almost finished," Xavier croaked.  His cough had
spread, the infection now wrapped his throat in pain.

"How long?" Scott shot back, knowing the answer wouldn't
be satisfactory.

"One or two hours," Xavier squeaked.

"Really?" Scott asked in surprise.  Xavier wouldn't
underestimate--it wasn't in him.

Yula shot Scott a look of betrayal.

"That's all," Xavier insisted.

Scott considered.  No good.  They're coming now.  Scott
shook his head, Yula's accusatory eyes on him.

"It won't work," Scott said.  The dismay on Xavier's face
nearly broke Scott in two.  "They're coming now.  I'm sure
of it."

Yula sneezed and Xavier coughed under the cabin.

Will he make it?  Will any of them?  The odds were
enormous.  Steadman would come with overwhelming force.  He
and his men knew the woods.  And they were healthy.

Isn't this the way it always happens?  In the movies? 
When the aliens come to warn the planet of impending danger, when they have a plan to save the Earth?  And the ignorant Earthlings shoot the little beasties right out of their shiny silver boots because they look funny?

"We aren't dead yet," Yula told Scott, aware of his eyes
on her.  "And we don't look funny."

"Just go," Xavier said.  "I'll be all right here.  I'm
almost done."

Scott looked at Yula.  She held up her hand to tell Scott
she'd take care of it.  She crawled under the cabin.  How
will she convince him?  He doesn't love her like you do.  Or does he?  How could anyone not love her? 

Scott wandered away and looked down the mountain.  He
could see the front fender of the sheriff's patrol car but
that was all.  How long had it been?  Too long.  Any
second.  We have to go.  Now.  Scott felt the presence of
Tenner beside him.  For once, Scott was the nervous one and
Tenner the picture of calm.

"We have another three minutes," Tenner assured Scott. 

Scott nodded and swallowed.  He'd never been alone with
the young man and now Scott felt uncomfortable.  Scott would have to rely on him out in the woods and he hardly knew him. But the young man had calculated--probably to the
second--how long it would take to march up from the road. 
He's probably counting off the seconds now.

There was a rustling behind the two men.  Yula emerged
alone from the tall grass covering the underside of the
cabin.

"One should say we should go," she said, picking up one
of the backpacks.

"But what about Xavier--" Scott started to protest.

"Come on," Tenner said gently, handing Scott his
backpack and throwing Xavier's through the opening under the cabin.

Scott could see it was no use.  Xavier would stay.

"Just a minute," Scott said and ran back into the cabin. 

He grabbed the shotgun from behind the door.  Should give it to Xavier.

"He can't use it," Yula told Scott when she saw the
indecision on his face.  "Probably wouldn't anyway."

Scott nodded.  Still, it might help.
Yula and Tenner were already headed for the woods.  Scott
scrambled to catch up.

"This is his project," Yula explained when they took
their first step into the brush.  "We are under his orders."




Kerry shuddered to think Gault was involved.  She rode in
Gault's car with him in the direction of the flames.  She
couldn't help wondering if he hadn't done it, with the help
of the mysterious Max.  And where is Raymond?  She wished
she was with him instead.

They could feel the heat from the flames long before they
arrived.  The volunteer fire department did its best but it
wasn't good enough.  There was a water pressure problem and
the big trucks from Gunniston would take an hour to drive up the mountain.  There was nothing to do but control the blaze so it wouldn't become a forest fire.

Steadman assembled a posse in front of the blazing pulp
mill.  But like every plan in Steadman's life, it wasn't
shaping up the way he'd envisioned.  He looked over to where Gault and his gang stood.

"We want to help," Gault said.

Kerry almost laughed.

Steadman considered calling the whole thing off.  He
didn't know enough.  This Gault character was certainly a
suspect.  And so was Ranson.

"Okay," Steadman said, to the consternation of some of
the loggers.  "You two."  Steadman pointed at Gault and
Kerry.  Kerry touched her heart in a question.  She almost
shook her head to refuse.  Go ahead, she told herself.  You
came for the adventure, didn't you?

"Wait a minute, deputy," Big Woody Kellogg spoke up.  "We
don't know these creeps weren't involved in this."

"I know they weren't," Steadman said.  He didn't want to
have to explain it all.  It involved Scott Felton and aliens and other nonsense.  The FBI boys--where were they? 

"They'll come with me," Steadman told Kellogg.  "You go this way."

Steadman spread the map on the pavement.  He pointed to
the road and drew a line past Scott's cabin to where the
road veered off away from the ridge.  "There's no road
there, so--"

"We know," Kellogg interrupted.  There was nothing about
the forest the loggers didn't know.

"You're looking for three men and a woman," Steadman told
them.  "She's young and good-looking.  One of the men is
tall and young.  The other's about thirty-five and the third one's sixty."

"Ranson," Steadman went on, "you and your men park here. 
Leave one man with the cars.  You have walkie-talkies?"  Two were produced.  "Good.  Leave one with the cars.  The rest of you fan out over the ridge.  You can spot any activity down by the cabin.  If they got past, you can spot them on the other side."

The mill workers took off for their pickups.  They were
angry, ready to explode at the unfairness of it.  They were
angry at the environmentalists, the lumber companies, the
Japanese and the Canadians.  And they were angry as hell at
the federal government.  Steadman watched them roar off. 
Would they blow up the mill?  Destroy their own livelihood? 
Out of spite...maybe.

Steadman turned his attention to the environmentalists.
Amazingly, Gault was pulling a rifle from the back of his
car.

Oh God, Kerry thought.  He's going to kill somebody. 
That would be just like him.

"Where's Max?" Kerry asked him bitingly.

Gault's look made Kerry shiver.  He's going to kill me.

Steadman drove the patrol car.  Gault sat in the
passenger's seat, Kerry was in the back.  Steadman glanced
in the rear-view mirror.  A line of six cars followed. 
Steadman didn't want it this way.  He prayed no one would
die.  It was possible, this many in the woods at night, but he wouldn't have Scott and his friends getting away.  Not if they bombed the mill.  Where was the FBI when he needed it?

Forgive the monkey chatter but it's the only way I can get it down fast enough.  When the brain won't say what it has to say, when I can't stand the humiliation of the truth I put the words down anyway--it's what I have to do. 

The night I met Brad I screwed him every which way I could think of, not that he didn't have a few ideas of his own on that score.  So he used mine and I used his and that's all it was supposed to be anyway and of course it didn't turn out that way but you never saw that coming, did you?  I saw him coming, and he saw me coming.  Hardeehar.  Some day, I'll tell you about that first night.  Blow by blow, all puns intended.  Hoppityhop, hoppityhop.  He was my bear-man.  Not too hard, not too soft.  Not too cold, not too hot.  Jist rite.

The first rehearsal for the movie's tonight.  That's right, I'm an actress.  Surprised, right?  I'll bet.  Whoops.  Whoa.  I know what you're thinking.  Just to get that straight, the Brad I'm talking about is not that Brad, okay.  Phony name.  'Course, this is Hollywood--everything's phony.  From now on Sarcasm will be in bold.  I'm nervous, like throwing up nervous, and not "Time to lose some weight" throwing up either.  I'm also really tired.  You don't get rehearsal time on movies ever anymore and it's a real treat, even though I had to insist on it and make my agent put it in the contract.   But I'm on an emotional roller-coaster.  Things couldn't be better and things couldn't be worse.  I just hope it's good.  Get the laughs and move on.  Community theatre.  Big fucking deal.  Clean up the house, take another nap.  Get a little fresh air and exercise.  Stop the mind.  Stop the mind.

BH

When I was ten years old the cool kids in my neighborhood back in Minnesota were Sally, Becky and Jane, who called themselves the Three Musket Ears, which they thought was very clever.  One day in the Spring they were going out to the woods to spy on Becky's older brother Sam who was a real-life teenager with a real-life teenage girlfriend.  To my surprise, the Three Musket Ears invited me along.  I was overjoyed!  To be included in an adventure with the coolest girls, to be let into their inner sanctum--well you can imagine the honor for someone like me, who didn't have any friends and wasn't considered special in any way.  I didn't even care that my mother forbid me to go into the woods.  She would never understand the importance.

So we went in.  Jane's little brother, who was a year younger, came along too, which made it seem less special for me to have been invited, I have to admit.  When we came to a certain spot, Becky put her finger to her lips, knelt down and hid behind a tree.  When we peeked out we could see Becky's brother in the distance, laying on the ground with his girlfriend.  Sally, who the most mature of us, said they were "necking" but it didn't look like anything except kissing to me.  They did it forever, their lips stuck together for so long I thought they'd gone to sleep.  Then Becky's brother started touching his girlfriend and I felt like this was something we shouldn't be watching, but I didn't say anything.  The other three girls giggled, but Jane's little brother laid down in disgust and closed his eyes to take a nap.

"Look!" Sally hissed.  Sure enough, Becky's brother had slipped his hand under the teenage girl's blouse.  "He's touching her ta-tas!"  I'm not kidding, that's what she called them.  We looked on in amazement, then...the girl put her hand on Sam's stomach and slid her hand into his pants!  "She's touching his peener!" Sally cooed.  Yes, that's what she called it.

We were amazed and fascinated and watched for what seemed like hours, but it was probably just a minute or two.

"I want to kiss a boy!" Sally said, and Jane's brother's eyes popped open wide.  "And touch me a peener!"  Her eyes turned to Jane's little brother, who jumped to his feet and ran!  And before we knew it, Sally charged into the woods after him.

"No don't!" Jane yelled.  "Sally!"  "She's going to get me in trouble with Mom," Jane muttered and tramped off after Sally and her brother.  Becky and I followed.  When we went a little ways, we heard Jane's brother screaming and yelling bloody murder, and then we came across Sally sitting alone on a fallen log, laughing like crazy. 

"I kissed him and touched his peener," she told us with glee.  "Then I kissed it."   

Becky gasped.  "You kissed it?"

Sally nodded, and grinned from ear to ear.

I heard sobbing a little ways away.  I went past Sally and found Jane's little brother sitting on the ground crying.  Jane was next to him, but she didn't dare touch him.  Becky and Sally came up behind me and we all watched Jane's brother cry.  When he realized we were all watching, his grief turned to anger. 

"I'm going to tell Mom!" he screamed.  "Then you're all going to get it!"  With that, he stood up and marched into the woods in the direction of our houses.

"No, please, no!" Jane screamed after him.  "We're sorry!  Don't tell!"  But there was no reply, just the tramp of his footsteps going away from us.

"I'll take care of it," Sally vowed.  She picked up a big stick and ran after Jane's brother into the woods.

"Uh oh," Jane muttered, and the three of us tried to catch up with them.  A minute later we heard Jane's brother screaming again, then there was a huge THUD like a watermelon being squashed with a sledge-hammer.  We slowed up a little, scared to death, and when we found Sally she was standing with that stick, frozen-like, standing over Jane's brother, who was stock-still on the ground...dead.

Nobody screamed.  There wasn't a sound in those woods.  I never heard such silence.

"We have to bury him," Jane said finally.  "We have to bury him so nobody can find him."

I looked at the other girls and none of them said otherwise.  I realized I didn't know them that well.  Not well enough for something like this.

"Otherwise, Mom's going to kill me."

"We need a shovel," Becky said, the most practical of us, I think.

"Her house is closest," Sally said, a finger pointed right at me.

"Do you have a shovel?" Jane asked. 

I nodded.  Out in the shed.  I could get a shovel.  They needed me.  The Musket Ears needed me.  I ran faster than I'd ever run before.  Through the woods, jumping over logs, diving through brambles, my heart beating like a scared chicken.  When I got to my house, I snuck around to the backyard, careful to make sure my mother wasn't at the window washing dishes or cooking dinner, which was a miracle, because the sun was going down and suppertime would be soon.

I grabbed the shovel and ran back through the woods as fast as I could go.  It was another miracle that I didn't get lost, since it was definitely dark by now and this was exactly the second time I'd gone into those woods, the first time being only an hour before.

When I got there I found Sally, Jane and Becky sitting on a couple of boulders, all panic gone from their faces, replaced by a dull sadness and gloom.  I displayed the shovel proudly.

"We couldn't wait," Becky said.  "We buried him with our hands."

"You buried him?" I managed to stammer.

Jane reached back and pulled a tree-branch away and I saw a short mound of fresh dirt. 

"The ground's soft here," Becky explaimed.  "We just used our hands."

Jane replaced the branch and the three of them didn't say anything for a long time.  I wanted to talk, to ask them if they did this sort of thing all the time, what Jane's brother's name was 'cause I never knew, what would happen when he was missed, would there be a search party in the woods, with hound-dogs and everything...what would we say to the police?

"I better be getting back," Sally said, standing.  "Supper'll be ready soon.  Mom doesn't like me late for supper."

"Yeah," Becky said, standing too.

"Okay," Jane agreed, leaving her brother behind.

I followed them back to the road.  I was now completely lost, with no idea where I was in the darkness.  I no longer felt any part of them: girls who could kill somebody and bury him and not be late for supper.

"See ya," they said and waved as they split off near my house, to go to their own houses.

"See ya," I replied, but my heart wasn't in it. 

I turned toward my house when suddenly...Jane's brother leaped out from behind a car, completely alive (the little jerk) his face and hands painted a ghostly white.  He quivered and shook and pretended to be a zombie, wailing: "You kissed my lips and molested my pee-pee!  You buried me in the cold, cold ground!"  He went on like that, jumping at me, then jumping back, trying to scare me, while the girls grabbed their sides and bent over laughing at the trick they'd played on me.  It had all been planned.  A big joke on yours truly.  They didn't want me for a friend.  I wasn't a Musket Ear and never would be.  Even Jane's brother, a boy, a whole year younger than us, had been in on it.  I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl into it...and that reminded me about the shovel in my hand.  So I swung it, and butchered them all, slicing it across their heads and torsos, using it as an ax on their necks, bashing their skulls in, knee-capping them, crushing their bones and internal organs, killing all three bitches and Jane's brother right then and there in front of my house, so all that was left were four big clumps of bloody protoplasm.  Then Mom ran out of the house and held me, and told me it would be all right, and called the police, who gave me cookies and milk and let me go when I agreed to counseling, since I was a minor and not responsible and since they'd deserved it, having done such a terrible thing to me.

Okay, that last part didn't happen.  I made that up.  But everything else is true.  After I realized it was a big joke, I just walked away and put the shovel back in the shed.  I went in and ate supper and held that pain and anger and embarrassment deep in my stomach for years, and didn't tell anybody till now, when I just told you.

BH

Okay, that's the thing--stopped raining finally.  Kind of cold but that's okay.  Massive lonely attack.  Pint of ice-cream does nothing.  No more ice-cream.  Risky, risky, risky.  Can't stop thinking of him and refuse to call the bastard.  Okay, now's the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party.  I've never been.  Never be.  Don't even think about it.  Or him.  Get something done today.  Surfing tomorrow?  See about it.  Get some sleep.  He'd be wasted about now.  Totally toasted.  Watching the game.  Okay, now is the time for all good men to come to the aid.  Get it in gear.  Fine fine fine.  What's the expectation?  Better off without him.  Can't even say his name.  His name's Brad.  There, you said it.  Stupid name for a stupid stupid.  No expectation.  Nothing happening right now.  Nothing.  Who am I?  Whoa, mama.  What's the deal?  Everything's the deal.  Don't waste time today.  Get it going.  Go through it, I tell you.  Love's alway been a game.  I can't help it.  A lot of fresh air blowing through here.  A lot.  Can I make it?  I can make it.  Need to have a fall-back.  That's funny.  Brad was my go-to fall-back.  Ha ha.  Something.  Not to belabor the point.  So much struggle.  Fix my hair.  Show you some highlights.  Of the game.  Of me.  Okay, is there a plan?  Slowly turn my life over to the Iraqis, that's the plan.  You bet.  See what I can do.  Can I?  Is there?  Collecting bottles and cans.  That's what I'll end up doing if I'm not careful.  See what I can see.  Is it gonna rain again?  Maybe.  Maybe.  Maybe. 

 BH