by Jason Frost
"Hey, Ryan," Fallows yelled. "Get your ass out to the south perimeter and relieve Jose. Son of a bitch is likely to stay there all day."
"Right, Colonel," Ryan half-saluted with his M-16 and jogged off into the woods. Fallows was right about the big Mexican. He wouldn't budge unless Fallows told him to. He was a couple inches past six feet, used to fight as a heavyweight in Vegas and Atlantic City. Pounded the shit out of a couple contenders for a few rounds, but could never go the distance. Had white man's legs, they'd said, no endurance. But he was loyal to Fallows. Too dumb to be anything else.
"Jose." No answer. "Hey, Martinez." Ryan saw the huge bulk sitting up in the tree, his camouflage hat pulled low over his face, his carbine cradled in his arms. He didn't stir. "Asshole," Ryan muttered. He picked up a stone from the ground and hurled it at Jose. The rock popped off the trunk a foot from the Mexican.
"When I tell Fallows you was sleeping, man, he's gonna stuff your burrito, partner."
No reply.
Ryan walked up to the tree, slung the M-16 over his shoulder, and hung on one of the low branches, letting his weight shake the tree.
The big man in the tree stirred. "Hey, man?"
Ryan dropped from the branch and looked up. "Hey, man, your ass. Time for you to get back to camp, amigo."
But Jose just waved a hand at him, jamming his hat even further down on his face. That wasn't like Jose. Camp meant food to Jose, and no one in his right mind stood between Jose and food.
Ryan started to unsling his M-16, felt a stinging at the back of his neck, looked down in time to watch something slick with blood burst through his throat, and yank his whole body forward a few inches where the arrow stuck into the trunk of the pine tree, pinning his neck to the tree. Ryan tried to talk, but that only forced the air through the hole in his neck. Pink bubbles foamed around the arrow shaft and his throat. With what little strength he had left, he tried to pull his neck free from the arrow. He couldn't. The life drained from his legs, arms, chest. Everything turned heavy, petrified. He passed out and the weight of his body pulled the arrow out of the tree as he fell. He died seven seconds later.
Steve Connors removed Jose's cap and climbed out of the tree. Paige appeared from behind a tree where she wiped the blade of her knife with a leaf. She left Jose's body behind the tree with the throat slit. Well, she'd been able to kill a man after all.
Eric approached from behind another tree, his crossbow loaded again. "That should get their attention."
"Then what, hotshot?" Steve said.
"Then they either split up, one group following us and the other continuing on to the shuttle…"
"Or?" Paige asked.
"Or they all follow us. Either way, that gives the shuttle a chance to still be there when we get back."
"If they haven't caught us."
"At least we'll be able to move," Eric said. "And they don't know where we're going. That plane can't go anywhere. And neither can the people in it. Not for another forty hours."
Paige nodded. They'd been through this before. She didn't like it, but she had to admit it was the best plan they had. This Ravensmith knew what he was doing. Jesus, that's odd, her hands were beginning to shake. She felt funny, tingly, a little faint.
"You OK, Paige?" Steve asked, putting an arm around her.
She shook it off. "Fine, Captain Connors. Let's go." Thing was, though, her feet felt cold, numb.
"You ever kill before, Dr. Lyons?" Eric asked.
She didn't answer. There hadn't been a choice at the time. Ravensmith had gone ahead to scout while she and Steve had taken the south approach. They'd been creeping along quietly when they'd spotted the Mexican climbing down the tree. Steve had signaled for her to wait behind for him and she hadn't argued. The Mexican stretched his legs out, pissed on the side of the tree, and started to climb up again.
Steve sneaked up to the tree, clamping his knife in his teeth like some boyish pirate. Paige thought he looked silly, but realized they couldn't afford to have a gun go off and warn the rest of Fallows's men. Not just yet.
When the Mexican had one leg on the lowest branch, Steve sprung out at him, thrusting the knife straight at the Mexican's barrel chest. But Jose twisted away in time and the knife only managed to slice through his left arm. The carbine dropped from Jose's hand to the ground below.
Steve thrust again. Jose caught Steve's wrist and yanked it hard. The knife plopped next to the carbine. Jose jumped from the tree, his hand still crushing Steve's wrist. With his left fist, Jose punched Steve's jaw twice. Steve fell to the ground, stunned. Jose was angry, too angry to worry about the gun or knife on the ground. He just wanted to show this bastard what he used to do with his kind in the ring. He straddled Steve's chest and began pounding the smaller man with lefts and rights. His wounded arm didn't even hurt anymore. He didn't notice the woman until too late.
Not until she'd already grabbed a handful of his thick black hair, jerked his head back, and slid the knife across his neck. That didn't hurt either and he thought maybe she'd been too squeamish to actually cut him and he would teach her a lesson next, the whore. But then he found he couldn't get up and something was running down his neck like hot soup. She was pulling him off the other man and he was letting her. Fallows would be mad, he thought, dead before he even realized he was dying.
Eric had come back then and set up the scenario. She'd waited behind the tree while they'd finished off the other guy, amazed at how cool and composed she felt. Nonplused was a good word. But now. The shaking, the cold. Christ.
"Let's get moving," Eric said, a tenderness in his voice she hadn't expected. Steve was being soothing but not tender. He didn't know the difference. "You'll feel better if you keep active." Eric grinned at her. "Not that we have any choice. When one of them doesn't return to camp in the next few minutes, they'll come after him."
Paige nodded. "Then after us."
"Right." He hooked his hand under her arm to steady her.
"I've got her, Ravensmith," Steve Connors barked, grabbing Paige's other arm.
Paige shook them both free. "Nobody's 'got' me. Now let's get out of here."
They marched through the woods, through a clearing that arced up a hill. From the top of the hill they could see the rim of the forest where it bordered the fields. They'd also be able to see Fallows's men when they emerged.
"There they are," Paige said, counting the men as they sifted through the trees into the clearing. Seventeen. More than she'd expected. They huddled in a circle around one tall man with white hair. Next to the man was a boy. Ravensmith's son, she realized. "What are they doing?"
"Deciding how many to send after me and how many after your shuttle."
"What do you think they'll do?"
"Depends," Eric said.
"On what?"
"On how badly Fallows wants me."
All seventeen men started through the clearing following the tracks Eric left for them.
"Well," Paige said, "I guess that answers that."
14.
Dr. Paige Lyons wrapped her arms around the skinny tree to keep from falling on her face. She bent over, expecting to vomit, but she was too tired even for that.
Next to her, Capt. Steve Connors hugged his stomach with one hand and pressed against his heart with the other, as if fearing it would burst through his chest. His mouth was open as he gasped for air.
"I thought astronauts were supposed to be in good shape," Eric said innocently.
"We… are," Steve said. "I've… run…" He started coughing.
"He's run… marathons," Paige said.
Steve nodded, held up two fingers. "Twice."
Paige pointed at herself. "Jog… every day."
"Gee," Eric said, "we've only run about eight miles. Hardly anything to a pair of sports like you."
Steve straightened up, his face glowing red. "Eight miles up and down goddamn hills. In the goddamn dark. Shit."
Paige slid to the ground, her back propped against
the tree, her legs splayed straight out. "Well, you wanted them following us. Congratulations."
"Thanks." Eric tipped his canteen back and drank. "We're still a good forty minutes ahead of them. Pretty soon they'll stop for the rest of the night."
"Thank God," Paige said. "I'd sell my soul for a couple hours sleep."
"I said they'd stop for the rest of the night. Not us."
Steve Connors pointed an angry finger at Eric. "Listen, pal, we've been going along with you so far. But now you're starting to bug me. What's the point in all this running, anyway? We're leaving tracks even Little Red Riding Hood could follow."
"He's right, Ravensmith. We're not even trying to cover our trail."
Eric squatted next to Paige and Steve quickly sat on her other side, giving Eric a possessive sneer. Eric sighed. "We're leaving the trail so they will have something to follow. We've been leading them away from the Columbia for the past few hours, giving us a little more room to maneuver. By tomorrow, we'll reach the beach and follow it north to where your father's cabin is supposed to be. By the time Fallows reaches the beach, our prints will be washed away and he won't know if we went north or south. There's a good chance he'll split his men up then. That will give us better odds if we have to confront them." He paused. "And it will give me a better chance to get Tim back."
"I understand your feelings about your son, Ravensmith," Paige said. "But we can't help you. We have our own mission to complete. You'll be on your own."
"On my own, huh?" Eric smiled grimly. "That'll be new."
Paige started to say something, changed her mind. It was for the best, anyway. The guy didn't have a chance of getting his son back. He'd probably be killed trying. And that would be convenient all the way around.
Steve picked up a yellow flyer from the ground, began slowly tearing it like a destructive child. "I don't like it, Paige. His plan is too risky. I think we should try to lose them now. Do some backtracking or something. That'll give us a bigger lead."
"We don't want a bigger lead, Captain," Eric explained. "As long as Fallows knows about where we are, he'll keep the pace bearable. Once he thinks we're bolting, he'll come at us full force. I don't think we can outlast seventeen trained troops, do you?"
Steve shrugged, continued tearing paper.
"Well," Eric said, "I think I'll do a little looking around while you rest. We leave in five minutes." He ducked into the woods, moving silently away.
"Stop brooding, Steve," Paige said when they were alone. "Ravensmith is right. They push us any harder and we'll be crawling. We may be behind on points, but we're controlling the center of the court."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that we're goddamn lucky he came along or that maniac Fallows would have killed us all by now."
"Hey, thanks for all the faith."
She shook her head. "Give me a break, Steve. It has nothing to do with you. This Ravensmith character just happens to be better trained than you. Than any of us. He knows what he's doing. Hell, put him on the tennis court and you'd probably slaughter him."
"That supposed to be funny?"
"Christ, grow up." She took a deep breath. "Listen, Steve, we have a mission. Find my father and/or his papers. My dad and I haven't been that close the last few years, but I still want to find him. Bring him home. Family reunion and all that. But we only have another thirty-eight hours. After that the shuttle takes off. I intend to be aboard with or without my father or his papers. A couple of hours in this slime pit has convinced me of that much."
Steve crumbled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. "OK, I'm just saying I don't think this Ravensmith is as hot as you think. I've had survival training too, you know. I'm saying that we should backtrack now that we've got them going in this direction, circle behind them, and head off in the direction we want. Fallows will just keep going straight ahead, hoping to pick up the trail."
Paige said, "Makes sense."
"Sure it does. The only reason Ravensmith is doing it this way is to split up Fallows's group so he can get his son back. That's his problem, not ours."
"I don't know, Steve." Paige thought about it. Steve sounded so sure of himself. And he was probably right about Ravensmith's motives. Still, she felt a lot more confident with Ravensmith than with Steve. He'd done well so far. "Let's just stick it out a little longer."
"What for?" Steve frowned. "So you can get in his pants?"
"Jesus, Steve."
"I know you, Paige." He wagged his finger accusingly in her face, his own face turning red again. "You're looking for a quick fuck from the tough mountain man. Something different, a little kinky, to tell the folks back in D.C."
"Calm down, Captain!" Paige ordered.
"Fuck you, Doctor." Steve sprang to his feet and stared down at her, his lips twisted into a cruel grin. "I'm doing this my way. I'll get your father or his goddamn secret blueprints or both and meet you back at the shuttle. Then you explain to the boys back home how your pussy got in the way of this mission."
"Captain Connors," Paige said, rising to her feet. "You are under my command on this mission. I am ordering you to stay here."
Steve chuckled. "Blow it out your ass, wifey." He grabbed his SPAS shotgun and started to leave.
"Steve, goddamn it, stay here."
Capt. Steve Connors spun back and slapped Paige hard across the cheek, knocking her into the tree. "I wanted to do that the whole time we were married. If I'd known how good it felt, I'd have done it long ago." He grinned at her. "That's one thing the ERA ain't never gonna stop. A right cross to the chops." Clutching his shotgun, he jogged off into the woods the same way they'd come.
Eric returned a few minutes later. "Looks clear ahead. No bandits waiting for us that I can see." At first he had assumed that Steve had gone off to take care of bodily functions. But now as Paige turned her face toward him and he saw the red splotch of a hand imprint on her cheek, he knew what had happened. "You OK?"
She nodded. "He'd never hit me before."
"Yeah, well, this island changes people. Even a few hours exposure. Brings out something in people, the things they've managed to hide in civilized society."
She glared at him. "You saying Steve was a latent woman-beater?"
"No, just that you stick someone, anyone, in a savage land, take away all the rules, all the peer pressure, and they're bound to change. Ever drive in your car and have someone cut you off and you wished, right at that moment, you had a gun so you could kill them?"
"Sure, everybody has."
"Only you don't kill them. You think about the morality, the consequences and all that. Besides, you don't usually have a gun in your car. But out here, somebody looks at you funny and you can blow him away, no questions asked."
"That's horrible."
"Yeah, but also kind of freeing. Freedom of choice is heady stuff, especially when no two people are playing by the same rules. You'd better remember that while you're here."
"What rules are you playing by, Ravensmith?"
Eric smiled at her. "Same as you. For now."
Paige said, "Steve intends to beat us to the cabin and then back to the shuttle. He thinks it's some kind of macho game."
"Does he know where the cabin is?"
"Pretty much. I gave him directions as best as I could remember. It's not that hard to find."
"Damn," Eric said, handing her his HK 93. "You hang onto this. I'll move faster without it." He checked the bolt in his bow.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to track down your friend."
"And kill him?"
"Will he come back voluntarily?"
She thought about it a moment. "No."
"Then I'll kill him."
"That's crazy. I won't let you."
"Listen, Doctor. He knows where we're going. What happens if Fallows gets hold of him? He'll know exactly where we're going and why."
"He won't talk."
"Sure he will. I would."
/>
She shook her head. "You don't know Steve."
"You don't know Dirk Fallows. Anybody'd talk. If they were smart, they'd talk before he does anything to them. At least then he might kill you quickly. Otherwise…" He shrugged.
"God, sometimes I hate men."
"Me too," Eric said. "We're a pompous bunch all right. But that doesn't change our situation. Captain Connors has got to die." He took a few steps in the direction Steve Connors had gone before he heard the safety flick off.
"You know I'll use this, Ravensmith."
Eric turned, looked into her eyes. Her blond hair was pulled tight into a pony tail. The gun was gripped firmly in both hands. "Yeah." He nodded. "I think you would."
"Then let's push ahead. Steve's got a plan of his own. Maybe he'll make it. He deserves the chance."
"Not when it risks our lives. And my son's."
She patted the metal stock of the HK 93. "You don't really have a choice."
Capt. Steve Connors remembered his jungle survival training well. All the pilots had extensive training back when planes were going down into the Vietnam jungles with the regularity of the sun rising. Three of his pilot buddies were still listed MIA. Right.
Steve had been lucky. A couple close calls, but he never went down. The Connors Charm, they'd called it back then. He'd always been lucky, though. Born into a wealthy family, he'd lettered at prep school in football, basketball, swimming and wrestling. He'd dated the principal's daughter, then at West Point he'd dated General Heinz's daughter, Melanie. Always the best of everything. The Connors Charm.
The only thing he'd wanted he hadn't got was Paige. OK, he had married her for a while. But he'd never really gotten her. She'd always been on her own, living her own life. Maybe even a little stronger than he was at times. Now he wanted her more than ever.
