Hunters

by Chet Williamson

  But what was done was done, and if these were the same crazies who were killing people all around, they wouldn't give a good hoot in hell what he said.

  Ned went back into the diner and bought another bagful of breakfast and coffee. When Sue Ellen remarked that he ate the first bag awfully fast, he smiled. "I'm just a clumsy so-and-so. Dropped it all." She told him she hated to charge him again, but he waved it away. She wouldn't accept another tip, though.

  On his way back to Larry Moxon's, he checked several times to make sure nobody was following him. He had already decided not to tell Larry or Megan about the close call with the jeep. Since they had already decided to leave, there was no point in worrying them further.

  Her heart had nearly stopped in the diner. The men had called out Craig, and then Ned, and then she saw him, so damn tall and ruddy and leathery looking, like a forest ranger out of central casting.

  He had looked at her, the son of a bitch had actually paused and looked at her, at the woman whose man he had killed. And not because he suspected her of anything, but because she was an attractive woman. He was like all of the men around this stupid, hunters' town. To them, animals were meant to be killed and women to be screwed, and those concepts were as high as their feeble brains could reach. If people like that didn't deserve to die, then Jean Catlett didn't know who did.

  She had kept walking, past him and out the door, then into the jeep, without showing any emotion. But when she was alone, she started to tremble so violently that she would have dropped the coffee and muffin now on the seat beside her. Her teeth chattered, but not from the vicious cold, and she thought about getting the rifle from the back seat and shooting the bastard as he came walking out the front door.

  She watched the diner through the windshield, waiting for him to come out, not yet knowing what she would do. It took only a few minutes before he came through the door, a big bag in his arms. When he stepped off the curb, she had the engine running, and by the time he was in the street, the jeep was moving, thundering toward him, and for a moment it had seemed that he could not escape, that he was as frozen in her headlights as were the deer that he scorned. Then, suddenly, he was gone, and she had come up against the curb.

  There was no point in trying again, and she revved the jeep, switched off the lights, and pulled away. There would be another time, but he was warned now. Though he was stupid, he could not be so idiotic as not to realize that someone had wanted to hit him.

  And as stupid as he was, she had been more foolish to try and take him on impulse. It should have been planned, as everything else had been. Instead she had gotten reckless, the same way that Andrew and Timothy must have, the same way that any of them could if they didn't stop and think.

  Good Christ, she couldn't believe how fucking dumb she had been, trying to run him down in front of a public place. She was lucky she didn't have half a hundred hunters in pickups tearing after her right now. She didn't think that he had been able to get her plate number before she turned off her lights, but he might have. Sonofabitch might have eyes like an Indian.

  No. Besides the risk, a car wasn't the right way to do it in an aesthetic sense. A bullet, maybe. After all, it should be an execution. He had killed one of her soldiers, and when he died he should know the reason why.

  She smiled as the thought of hanging Ned Craig came into her mind. That would be perfect. A real execution, with the condemned man's last words. She imagined him whining and begging for forgiveness, but then realized that the image didn't jibe with the hunka hunka burnin' outdoor man she had just seen. No, Ned Craig would probably snarl at them as they strung him up, and face his death like a man. He was probably just that stubborn, but maybe he would fool her. Whatever else happened, she was determined to find out.

  But it wouldn't be kneejerk next time. Ned Craig's demise would be as carefully planned as the operation today. That was what she had to concentrate on. Today's operation and nothing more. It was too important to the cause to let personal vendettas distract her. She had to put Ned Craig out of her mind right now, and deal with him later.

  What was that old saying? They had to hang together, or they would all hang separately. And then she wouldn't get any chance at all to hang Ned Craig.

  When Ned pulled up next to Larry Moxon's carport, both Larry and Megan came outside, concerned looks on their faces. "Where the hell have you been?" Larry said.

  "Went for breakfast." He held up the bag to show them.

  "Don't run off like that without letting somebody know where you're going."

  "We were worried," Megan added, and gave him a hug.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I'd be back before you were awake."

  "Well, why weren't you?" Larry asked. "And what's in the bag?"

  Ned chuckled. "Number one, I got talking to the guys at Sally's, and number two, donuts, muffins, and coffee." His face sobered. "The news is out."

  "We heard on the radio," Megan said as they walked into the house. "I just hope it doesn't make people trigger happy."

  "They're gonna be a bit wary of strangers, I bet," said Larry, opening up the bag and doling out the food. "I'm going to head into town. I'll call Harrisburg at nine, and when I find out where we can stick you two for a while, I'll give you a call and let you know. In the meantime, just stay here and don't go out. Ah, jelly. I like jelly..."

  After Larry left, Ned nearly told Megan about the jeep, but bit it back. There was enough to worry about, and the knowledge of one more attack wasn't going to make her any more cautious than she already was. Besides, in another few hours they'd be the hell and away from St. Mary's. Best just to shut up and enjoy the day together.

  Megan and Ned started to watch the Today show, sitting together on the couch, but their proximity and the novelty of being alone together in a strange house led to kisses, caresses, and eventually lovemaking on the floor in front of the fireplace. The curtains were wide open, but, to Megan, that made it even more fun. Besides, there were no houses near Larry's.

  So they made love looking through the picture window at the dark sky and the glowering trees, seeing the cold outside, but feeling the warmth of the fire on their naked skin. When they were finished, neither one fell asleep. Megan lay on her back, still watching the gray-white sky, thick with the threat of snow. Ned was on his side, his face nestled in the hollow of her neck, his arm across her body.

  Even though they had lain like that hundreds of times before, she felt as though she should say something, and whispered "I love you." It was true, but it was not what was foremost in her mind. She wanted to ask Ned if he was scared, and if he thought they would be all right. But to do so would be permitting something into the room that was now, at least, banished. Their lovemaking had put the fear at bay.

  "I love you," he answered, but in a detached way that told her his mind was elsewhere as well. She closed her eyes and stroked his hair, tightening her other hand on his shoulder. She did love him, and had known it almost from the moment she met him. There was a solidity and a permanence about him that was the antithesis of everything Butch had been. Ned was like the walls of rock that she had learned to climb and to love, but far more accessible. His heart was open to her, and with her love for him came trust and the kind of dependence that only true friends share. Their desires, likes, and dislikes were so similar that she felt, for the first time in her life, that she and another were one person. They loved the same kind of music and movies and people and food and restaurants. And they loved each other. The only thing he would not and did not dare share with her was her passion for the rocks.

  During the first year they were together, she had tried to persuade him to climb with her, telling him that with the proper equipment it was as safe as going up a ladder. But he could not. "I just don't like heights," he said, but it was not until several months later that he told her why.

  He awoke beside her one night pale and sweating, and told her then of the dream of Vietnam that he had had before and would have
many times again. When she heard how the dream reechoed grim reality, she asked him, "What if you made yourself face heights?"

  "I can't," he said. "Not great heights. Even a two story roof is more than I like. If I have something to hold onto, it's not too bad. But unsupported...I don't think I could do it to save my life."

  Despite his protests, she showed him the different pieces of gear that she used on her climbs, and how, with the proper checks, rock climbing could be very safe. In his effort to please her, he went so far as to allow her to teach him to rappel down a forty degree slope that he could easily enough have walked up. He handled the rope well, and almost seemed to enjoy the bouncing descents.

  But it was very different when she tried to get him to do the same down a rock face. Megan had chosen the spot carefully, an eighty degree, 50 foot drop. She had anchored to a thick maple tree a few feet from the edge, and carefully positioned her slings.

  The tops of old growth trees extended high above the forest floor below, so that the distance seemed less than it really was. The rock face was free of obstructions, and would be smooth under their rubber-soled climbing shoes as they descended. But it took Ned a long time just to come over and stand four feet away from the edge of the cliff.

  "Come on," she said. "It's okay, really." She showed him how sturdily the anchor was secured, then snapped a safety line, also secured to the tree, to Ned's harness. "See? Even if you let go, even if you pass out, you won't fall more than a few feet, okay?"

  He didn't answer. He was breathing heavily, and she saw sweat on his forehead, even though the autumn day was cool.

  "Just walk over here with me," she said. "Look out across the treetops. Don't look down. Come on. Just walk over here. Look out ahead, I won't let you go off..."

  He brought his eyes up then, looking above the trees to the blue sky, and shuffled forward toward the edge.

  "That's it...good. Now we're there. Just turn around. Turn around and you won't be able to look down. Okay, okay, now just stay like that." She double-checked his line, then checked her own. "You okay?"

  He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah," he said, the word sounding rough and dry.

  "Okay, grab your line, guide hand and brake hand, that's it...now let's just lean back, that's right...lean back until you feel yourself going into the side of the cliff, and then we'll step off. Just keep your brake hand tight on the line. Your feet can be against the rock the whole way down if you want. Just walk down the cliff. I'll go first."

  She stepped off, maintaining her balance with her guide hand on the line above and increasing her speed by easing off with her brake hand at her hip. She walked several feet down the face of the cliff, her rubber soles against the rock, then tightened her brake hand and stopped, looking up at him. "I'm right here. Want to join me?"

  She saw his body tense. His feet moved him backwards toward the edge, and one of them went over, into the air, seeking a foothold that would not be there until he gave himself to the cliff and stepped off.

  "Come on," she said. "Step off. Let yourself go. I'm right here with you."

  Then, to her amazement, he did. His knees bent, then straightened, and she heard his gasp as, instead of stepping, he leapt back. He fell several feet, and she watched him as his feet hit the cliff face, his knees locked, and he hung there like a sideways V, mouth open, pulling in air desperately, staring straight ahead at the rough, gray-brown rock.

  "Good!" she said. "All right! A little showy, but you're there. Let's keep going. A little slower, though." Megan moved down the cliff more quickly, hoping that Ned would follow automatically. Instead she found, when she looked up toward him, that he was about to do what she feared most. His gaze was slowly sliding down the rock face in her direction. "No, Ned," she cried. "Just keep watching the wall."

  But his head tilted inexorably toward her, and she saw his eyes widen as the abyss opened to his sight. The speed of his breathing increased until he was panting, and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before something happened.

  "Close your eyes!" she shouted. "I'm coming." She had no time to properly tie prusik knots to ascend, so instead she held her brake hand on the line and reached up and grasped the rope with her other hand. Then she did the same with her brake hand and made her way up the rope toward Ned, hand over hand.

  For a second her terrible afternoon on another rock with Butch entered her mind, and she thought, with a spasm of terror, that maybe this was payback time, that the man who truly deserved her love might die in the same way, and she struggled upward, determined to reach Ned before his brake hand lost its grip.

  She was too late. Five feet beneath him, she saw his eyes roll up so that only the whites showed, saw his hands release the line and his legs buckle. It was as if someone had just pulled his plug. He fell, as she had known he would. The safety line caught and held him, but before it did, his limp body had plunged into her, and a bony knee struck her in the face.

  Her world exploded in white light, and before she knew what was happening, she was sliding down the cliff face, the rope slipping away, hissing through the figure-eight mechanism. Megan clutched at it with her right hand, her palm burning as it slid along it until finally her grip closed. By the time she slowed to a stop, she was only ten feet from the bottom.

  Above her Ned was dangling helplessly, his hands and head moving in little starts and jerks. Now she did what she knew she should have done before. She tied two prusik knots, one above and one to a sling in which she cinched her feet. By pulling up her legs and sliding up the knots as she went, she slowly ascended the face on the rappel rope.

  It was a slow process, but the sight of Ned dangling far above her made it seem even slower. She kept thinking, Don't fall, don't be Butch, don't be Butch...oh God, please don't fall...

  By the time she reached him, he had regained consciousness. His eyes were pressed tightly shut, and he had curled into a ball that somehow still tried to hug the face of the cliff.

  She crooned to him as she approached him, telling him that everything would be all right, that soon she would be at the top and she would haul him up after her. That was exactly what happened.

  When she had pulled him to the top, he had scarcely been able to help her get him on solid ground. She had had to drag him over. It was not until she had pulled him several yards away from the edge that he was finally able to sit up, look around him, and feel shame for what he had done.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I am so damned sorry. I shouldn't have even tried it. I could've gotten us both killed."

  "It's all right. It's okay, I'm glad you at least tried."

  "I knew I couldn't, I knew something would happen. Oh Jesus, Megan..."

  He embraced her, and she felt terrible, not because of what he had done, but because of the way she had put him in a situation that he could not handle. She had not meant to hurt him, but to help him. The scenario had seemed like some TV movie, where a woman's guidance and wisdom and strength could overcome her lover's fears and make him a stronger man. But there were some things, she now realized, that even love could not cure, and she had been wrong to try and make Ned any stronger than he already was.

  He never tried climbing again, nor did Megan ever attempt to talk him into it. Sometimes he would watch her climb, but always from the bottom of whatever face she challenged. Ned could handle towers well enough. When they vacationed for several days in Gettysburg, he had climbed the observation towers handily, but Megan noticed that he always held the railings and looked straight ahead when they climbed down again, rather than look through the grated metal steps to the ground far below. And when they took the glass-fronted elevator to the top of the National Tower, Ned was very careful not to look out until they had reached the top.

  It was all right, though. She thought no less of him for his weakness. In fact, it endeared him to her all the more. And it was their secret, something that they alone shared. It didn't mean that Ned was a coward. She had never thought that of him, and what he h
ad done in the past two days dispelled any thoughts of cowardice anyone else might have had.

  She felt safe with him, as she always did after making love. When she wasn't with him, and especially during hunting season, she worried about him, and now more than ever. But she still felt safe when he was with her. It didn't matter who was after him, or even after the both of them. She knew they would be all right whatever happened.

  They put together a decent lunch from Larry Moxon's pantry, then sat down and started to watch a rental video that Larry had out from the St. Mary's Video Superstore. It was about a bus with a bomb on it, and although Megan thought she might have enjoyed it under other circumstances, the crazy terrorist, played by Dennis Hopper, reminded her too much of the faceless band who were, for whatever reason, killing hunters in the woods. So she kissed Ned and retired to the kitchen, where she made some instant coffee and chose an Elmore Leonard paperback from a small stack of books wedged among the canisters.

  By 2:00 the video was over, and Ned was getting edgy, wondering when Larry would call. Megan suggested he call Larry in town, but when he did he got a busy signal. After three more tries, Larry picked up, and Ned asked him if he had any news.

  "They're still working on it. Game Commission at Harrisburg is going nuts. They haven't been able to notify all the victims' families yet, so they can't give out all the names. Every damn hunter's wife in the state is calling in, asking if one of the victims was her husband. They're working on finding you a place, and Bill Whitson promised he'd get back before the end of the day with a temporary reassignment."

  "Hell, Larry, why don't we just forget it?" Ned said.

  "Fat chance. I told Bill it was a matter of life or death. You're getting out of here, buddy. It's no big deal, they can do this. It's just a matter of finding the time to check. Now just watch another movie or read a book. You'll probably have to spend the night again with me, though, then get a start in the morning."

  "Anything else happening?"