The stream meandered through a shallow valley with steep mountains rising on either side. It was warm in the shade of the pines now, but nights would be cold. Warmth was her first priority.
A geologist had shown them how to start a fire with flint and a rock rich in iron pyrite. She searched the stream bed for signs of either and ended up stepping on a sharp stone.
"Shit!" No blood, it just hurt. She stood in the sun as she analyzed her problem. Standard Army tactics called for one squad to advance while another provided covering fire.
She would watch where she was going while moving to a new observation point, then stand to study the stream bed. This would slow her, but not nearly as much as a badly cut foot or a broken leg. An hour of this provided her a hand sized piece of granite, richly speckled with fool's gold. As far as she was concerned, it was worth more than the real stuff.
An hour later the sun was sinking toward the mountain tops when she spotted what looked like flint. Stepping into the stream, she crouched and began feeling among the rocks for the dark stone.
Sun light sparkled on the water. The wind blew soft and warm on her skin. The sighing of the trees as the wind jostled them mixed with birds calls. Smells of earth, water and warmth assailed her. The dry lectures of Old Europeans feeling one with nature flooded her, taking on form and substance.
She was living them.
Her hands found what she had been looking for, a hard, sharp-edged black rock. Next to it lay two more. Retrieving all three, she stepped gingerly from the water. As she tested her finds, sparks flew. Now all she needed was some dry moss.
She started moving down stream in earnest.
When the sun sank below the mountains, the warmth of the day gave way to a soft coolness. These were the hours Launa loved the most – normally.
Bare to the air, she wondered how long her affection for this time of the day would last. She started thinking about making camp.
A fully equipped trooper could have pushed on for another hour. Now she knew why ancient armies settled for ten or twelve miles a day. Making camp meant starting from scratch.
She spotted a fallen log that offered good shelter. Through the trees was a clearing. As a kid at Fort Lewis, she had loved parks in the evening when rabbits sneaked into clearings to browse. Was there a rabbit tonight willing to accept her invitation to dinner?
How to persuade cousin rabbit to give itself over to her needs. Launa smiled at the way her thoughts slipped into the mindset of a Neolithic hunter. The rabbit was not a Big Mac to be ordered on drive through. It was a creature to be sought, praised and thanked.
Okay, Launa's logical mind interjected, how do we seek it?
She had no sling. Throwing rocks did not sound all that effective. How about a snare? Some of the grasses and shrubs looked like the types Maria had shown her how to braid into twine and rope.
She set the rocks and moss down beside her dead fall, collected what she hoped were the right materials and started twisting it. In an hour she had what looked like three passable snares and headed for the clearing.
There was plenty of grass for the rabbits. She located a slight depression down wind and laid her snares along runs in front of it. Settling in, she prayed for patience, rabbits, and that her stomach rumblings would not scare off dinner.
Thirty minutes later her first snare broke and a rather cute little bunny departed for points unknown with half of her noose draped around its shoulder.
Twenty minutes later, its cousin was not so lucky. The next trap held just long enough for Launa to get her hands on a hind leg and swiftly snap its neck.
Collecting her third trap, Launa headed home for supper.
The fire was harder to start than she expected, but as light failed, her dinner roasted on a spit. She scoured the area for firewood and edible roots. Fluffing her bed of pine needles, she added a coverlet of ferns.
All in all, she told herself as she settled down to munch cousin rabbit, she had done well.
The sharper flint skinned the rabbit reasonably clean. In the morning she would cut it into strips and see what kind of sling she could make. With luck, she would knock off tomorrow's supper rather than wait patiently for it.
As she snuggled into her den, the fire's embers casting warmth but little smoke into her nook, she heard the thump thump of a helicopter. It could be any transient. Then again, it could be someone checking on her.
By all rights she should let the son of a bitch stew in his own juices. Still, her temper bore part of the blame for her situation. She took a hand of pine needles and tossed them on the coals. They caught, burned brightly and then flared away to nothing.
Launa pulled her hand back under the fern cover, hugging her body's warmth to herself. She had done her good deed for the day.
* * *
Overhead, Jack saw the flare and waved the pilot to take them back. He had caught holy hell from Judith and Brent for what he had done. Officially this trip was to assuage their concern. He had known that Launa would do just fine. Now that she had a fire, they would relax.
And so could he.
All afternoon he stewed over what he would do if Launa got in trouble. God damn it, why had that woman thrown her clothes at him as well as her sandals?
Why had he asked for her sandals in the first place? This whole drill was not coming down as one of his better ideas. Launa was right. He was wrong. It was that simple.
He fidgeted in his harness. How could he back out of this gracefully?
Jack tossed and turned most of the night. Wherever Launa was sleeping, he hoped she was doing it more soundly than he.
Interlude Three
Each time Bakuza Qwabes approached the Leader, it was easier. Each time he left the presence of the Leader he felt more empowered, as if breathing the very air around the Leader was a drug that strengthen his muscles, make him walk bolder, more sure of himself.
Bakuza crossed the marbled floor quickly, enjoying the decisive sound of his clicking heels as they reverberated around the chamber.
The Leader looked up. "You have more word for me on the Americans."
"Yes, my Leader. They are so bold as to think they can make time flow in a trench they will dig for it. We will show them differently. The woman shares our belief that the Europeans must atone for what they have done. Her report has been corroborated." Bakuza Qwabes allowed himself a grin.
The Leader rewarded him with a smile.
"The woman told us the location of seven other targets. We have assigned teams to attack them. She is prepared to strike at her own group. However, something unexpected has arisen and she needs assistance."
"Send a warrior to her aid." The words were clipped, decisive, as if what they said was already so.
"Our best warriors are in the north, preparing to lead the people into Europe, My Leader. We have few assets left in America."
"There are enough killers in America, hire one." The Leader snarled, then began to smile. "You have done well my son. For a woman who attempts to run in the warrior's race, she has done well also."
The Leader paused. A frown began at the tip of his lips, then deepened and spread as he spoke softly, as if to himself. "These Europeans and Americans have no limits to their pride and arrogance. What might they do?"
For a moment Bakuza Qwabes stood transfixed as the Leader stared through him, into what?
The Leader burst from his chair. "Come with me."
Bakuza had to run every third step to keep up with the pace the Leader set. Qwabes had never seen him standing. Only now did he realize how tall and broad-shouldered the Leader was.
In a moment, they were through a rear entrance. The Leader snapped his fingers; a black Mercedes materialized before them with a squeal of brakes. Bakuza opened the door for the Leader, then joined him on the back seat.
"Drive." The Leader barely whispered the command. The driver accelerated with a force that drew Bakuza deep into the leather seats. In a moment they were past the basilica a
nd shooting down the wide road that now carried pilgrims of a different kind.
They were barely out of the inner compound when the car shook. Bakuza craned his neck to look back. The immense building disintegrated in a gigantic explosion. Huge slabs of marble and granite flew through the air. Chunks of stone rained on the speeding car like hail.
Bakuza turned in awe to his Leader. How had he known?
The Leader did not look back, but grinned, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Did they think they could kill me so easily? My destiny is not to be thwarted by little men. We will go to Nairobi and I will face them down myself."
As an afterthought, he turned to Bakuza Qwabes.
"Order our agents to destroy the American teams immediately."
8
Launa awoke as the sun peeked over the mountains to the east of her. She stretched and shivered. It was cold.
Tossing some pine needles on the embers of last night's fire, she was rewarded in a few minutes with smoke. Judicious huffing and puffing gave her a fire. Huddled around it for warmth, she munched roots left over from supper.
With the edge taken of her hunger, she quickly refashioned the snares into a pouch and belt to carry her flint, iron, moss and a few dried bones that would serve her as needles. With the sharper of the flints, she cut the rabbit skin into lengths. Tying them together gave her what she hoped would be a usable sling.
As the sun began to warm the morning, she headed downstream.
She picked up a pebble to test her new weapon system -- and paused. In the dirt beside the stone were fresh cougar tracks. She had slept through company last night.
A trooper in the field, or Marilyn, might carry enough firepower to kill a herd of elephants. This running around bare ass was dangerous. Her temper flared at the bastard who dumped her out here and she twirled her sling with enthusiasm, seeing Jack's face in her target bush.
She released at the wrong moment and the stone hit near a pine tree behind her.
"Damn that man!" She picked up another rock and began breathing exercises to calm her racing heart. She was not taking an assault rifle with her; she had better get used to facing claw and fang with her own two hands.
She missed the next target by a dozen feet.
She picked up a couple of rocks and added them to her pouch. The knots holding her sling together were coming undone. She tightened them. After several more shots, none of which got within several feet of the target, she was about ready to include this sling in the next disarmament treaty. It was nothing like the one she had made from elk hide.
She spotted a large level rock and stopped to scrape more fur off the skin. "We'll see if it holds together better than Jack's promises do."
Satisfied, she twirled the sling and nearly bounced the next rock off her skull. "Got to keep your mind on business, girl, when you're carrying a loaded weapon," she quoted the range master who had taught her to shoot at thirteen.
Every time she thought of Jack, she did something stupid. Next shot, she whirled the sling well above her head. The rock landed within inches of the sapling she had targeted – much better.
By the time she called a halt that evening, she was confident of her skills. In fifteen minutes she nailed two large rabbits. The rabbit grease felt good as she massaged it into the sun-dried skin of her shoulders and arms.
She studied the skins as she waited for dinner. Sore feet won out over modesty. She began sewing a miserable-looking pair of moccasins using the dried bones of yesterday's supper for needles.
She felt a rising sense of confidence as she settled into her nest of leaves and ferns that night.
Again she heard a chopper in the distance and turned her dying fire into a brief beacon. Let Jack measure the distance she had covered today. Tomorrow she would cover a lot of ground, maybe reach the shack.
* * *
Judith walked with Jack to the waiting helicopter. The Captain nervously swung his helmet and Judith gave him a gentle pat. "Don't worry, she's okay."
"I'm not worried about her out there. It's what she'll have to say to me tomorrow when I pick her up that's scary."
Judith could not suppress a sharp laugh. "You're right boy. You do have something to worry about."
They were interrupted as a cowhand raced up to them. "We got some hot dope coming in on the net, as well as CNN. Somebody just blew up a church in Africa."
Jack halted. "Church? Africa?
Judith fingered a message flimsy in her pocket. Not often a civilian got personal message traffic from the Chair of the Joint Chiefs.
Take care, old girl. Something is about to happen. You may be at the center of it.
"Oh damn, the Leader's using a church for his chancellery," Judith said putting the pieces together.
"Yeah. They call it that too," the messenger said with a shrug.
"Oh God, the fat's in the fire now." Jack said and dashed for the chopper.
He leaned in the window and shouted over the noise. "Something's come up. This may be a while. You better cut your motor."
Judith kept at Jack's elbow as he trotted after the CIA man to the com center. The helicopter rotors slowly wound down.
Which left her wondering. What else is coming down.
The com center was getting classified information from around the world. Still, a large screen in the front of the room showed Cable Network News. For once, even they were having problems following a story. Central Africa was not a hot news spot and their nearest reporter was in Tunis. For now, they were having to make do with the "official" news releases.
Hundreds were reported dead. The whereabouts of the Leader was not mentioned.
"Who the hell did it?" Jack asked no one in particular.
"Nobody's claiming credit. If they didn't get him, nobody's going to either," the gray-haired station manager said with a shrug. A veteran of Laos and too many points in between, the man had Judith's respect.
After a few minutes of being inundated with noise but no news, the CIA chief got down to business.
"We need to get everybody back on base and stand by for new orders. Samantha and Dick went to town an hour ago."
"I know Dick's haunts,” Marilyn said, arriving unwinded by her run to the center. "Give me a rig and I'll have them back in a half hour."
The chief tossed her keys. "Make it an hour. We don't want to lose anyone on the road."
Marilyn caught the keys one-handed and was gone.
"What about Launa?" Only the corners of Jack's eyes showed the tension that underlay the question.
The station chief turned to stare out the window at the deepening dusk. "It's a half hour flight out to where you left her."
"Yes."
The old spook shook his head. "These birds are ancient and none of my folks are qualified for any of that fancy night flying shit. We're going to have to pass on that, son. You can get her at first light," said the old warrior, trying to soften his command.
Jack nodded, shoulders drooping.
Judith looked away. She did not believe in kicking a dog when it was down and there was no way Jack could miss what she felt.
Judith had met few young women whose heart could see as far as Launa. She belonged here, not at risk out there.
Jack left.
Judith went looking for Brent. She had no time to waste agonizing over might have beens. The two of them better prioritize what was left to be done. They might not have much time left.
For the next three hours, snippets of news were passed from the com center as they came in. Rioting broke out in several African cities, but Nairobi was not one of them.
Near midnight, the station chief called them together. "Okay, boys and girls, nothing’s happening and you're losing sleep. If something comes up, you're going to miss that beauty rest. I'm doubling the watch here. If anything breaks, we'll be the first to know. Now I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same."
* * *
Launa slept well and came awake at first light. The fire was far
gone. She did not try to bring it back to life, the day would get hot soon enough. Grabbing her gear, she slipped into her make-shift moccasins and started south, letting the fast pace warm her.
With luck, she would make the pick-up point by mid-afternoon.
She noticed it almost immediately; the woods were quieter. She had gotten used to the small sounds of the forest. Insects always made some noise, so did birds. Launa thought she could hear the steps of deer as they passed through brush.
She was hearing none of those this morning.
On a whim she stopped, knelt, put every fiber of her being into listening. She heard something – then again. Then nothing.
Picking up a rock, she ambled on. Someone was following her. Jack?
Not likely, his wood skills were better than that. Casually she put the rock in her sling and shot at a tree. It bounced off. Make it look like practice, girl.
She stooped again.
Whoever it was following her quickly stopped this time, but not fast enough.
She picked up several rocks and, using target practice as an excuse, zig zagged through the woods.
A few times she seemed to catch sight of a shadow two or three hundred meters back. It was hard to tell; the trees were dense.
It was just as well they were – whoever was stalking her could not get a good shot at her either.
After fifteen minutes, Launa had had enough.
She found a spot on the river far enough away from falls that it would not affect her hearing and paused to wash her face and drink.
She heard rustling, then silence.
A moment later, the soft ratcheting of an arming handle told Launa all she needed to know. She considered how long it would take to draw a bead on a still target. Timing seemed about right.
She dropped.
Rapid automatic fire went over her head. She rolled into the river before the bad guy could correct his aim. She had picked this spot because the current ran fast and deep beside the rock.
Clutching her stones and sling, she dove deep, kicking for all she was worth as bullets sprayed the water.
Lost Dawns: A Short Prequel Novel to the Lost Millinnium Trilogy Page 8
