suppose there's anything left after that explosion?"
"Don't know. Flames everywhere," he said.
"I've got to call for help."
He began crawling out of the brush toward the embankment. "Let's get back to Claudie's and the truck."
Chapter 4
A mighty warrior's thoughts are more deadly than his arrows.
—Tilok proverb
O ut of nowhere a man appeared, initially just a shadow in the dull light, moving steadily toward the plane. His clothes were the color of the snow. Jessie and Kier had walked halfway back from the plane by a circuitous route to avoid the heavy brush. They had turned down a very wet swale, as evidenced by the sword fern spread through the oaks. They saw him before he saw them.
Across his chest the shadow man held an automatic rifle. The oversize banana clip told Kier it was military, no hunting rifle. Kier motioned Jessie down behind a big, snow-covered log. As they dived in the snow, they caught glimpses of two more men, one to the right, one to the left, both apparently in a rough line moving through the trees.
The first man would soon cross the pair's original path from the Donahue ranch. Should Kier jump the man bearing down on them and ask questions later? he wondered. The jet had crashed a little more than an hour ago. How did men dressed for combat arrive here this soon? How could anyone know in advance where a plane would crash?
"What the hell?" Jessie whispered.
"I'll be damned," Kier agreed in astonishment.
The first man was still coming directly for them, walking slowly, and looking side to side, now just thirty feet off. They flattened behind the log, burrowing into the snow. Jessie fished out her gun.
"It looks like the army's arrived," she breathed in his ear.
"We'll know soon enough."
But Kier had a sense. When these men moved through the forest, they studied the ground and the landscape, their heads constantly turning. They often stopped to watch. This was no exercise. These weren't just soldiers: they were hunters.
Crunching snow told Kier the man was upon them.
Like a swooping bird, the rifle's barrel came, then passed from view. Kier sucked in his gut until it hurt. He put his finger to his lips and pointed up. The ghost man was standing just above them atop their log. In the dense snowfall and rough ground, the footprints that memorialized their passing were not so easily seen.
In an instant, Kier reached around the log, finding the white boots of the big man, and yanked with tremendous force, sprawling the soldier across the log. Obviously surprised and disoriented, the soldier flailed and started to call out. Kier rose above him, delivering a sharp blow with his right elbow to his solar plexus.
Faster than Kier could comprehend, Jessie thrust her gun in the man's face.
"Shut up," she half whispered.
Together, Kier and Jessie pulled the man into the deep snow behind the log, and under a hemlock with branches low to the ground. Jessie had ahold of the soldier's hair, with her gun still to his head, but he either didn't see it or didn't care. He began to scream.
Kier delivered a moderate two-knuckled karate punch to the man's solar plexus, and the scream turned to a grunt almost as soon as it began. Kier crossed his hands, grabbing the man's jacket on either side of his neck using the long bones of his forearms in a viselike grip, cutting off the blood flow through the carotid arteries. What was left of the groan was choked to a loud whisper. Still the man struggled, kicking out at Jessie. From the corner of his eye, Kier saw a blur, and Jessie's pistol butt cracked the side of the man's jaw. The head lolled for a second.
"Damn it," Kier whispered, "don't do that again." Quickly they peered out from their hiding place under the tree. Apparently the wind and the falling snow had drowned the man's cry. No one seemed to be coming.
The soldier shook, still conscious. Kier moved around his adversary and caught his
"Don't know. Flames everywhere," he said.
"I've got to call for help."
He began crawling out of the brush toward the embankment. "Let's get back to Claudie's and the truck."
Chapter 4
A mighty warrior's thoughts are more deadly than his arrows.
—Tilok proverb
O ut of nowhere a man appeared, initially just a shadow in the dull light, moving steadily toward the plane. His clothes were the color of the snow. Jessie and Kier had walked halfway back from the plane by a circuitous route to avoid the heavy brush. They had turned down a very wet swale, as evidenced by the sword fern spread through the oaks. They saw him before he saw them.
Across his chest the shadow man held an automatic rifle. The oversize banana clip told Kier it was military, no hunting rifle. Kier motioned Jessie down behind a big, snow-covered log. As they dived in the snow, they caught glimpses of two more men, one to the right, one to the left, both apparently in a rough line moving through the trees.
The first man would soon cross the pair's original path from the Donahue ranch. Should Kier jump the man bearing down on them and ask questions later? he wondered. The jet had crashed a little more than an hour ago. How did men dressed for combat arrive here this soon? How could anyone know in advance where a plane would crash?
"What the hell?" Jessie whispered.
"I'll be damned," Kier agreed in astonishment.
The first man was still coming directly for them, walking slowly, and looking side to side, now just thirty feet off. They flattened behind the log, burrowing into the snow. Jessie fished out her gun.
"It looks like the army's arrived," she breathed in his ear.
"We'll know soon enough."
But Kier had a sense. When these men moved through the forest, they studied the ground and the landscape, their heads constantly turning. They often stopped to watch. This was no exercise. These weren't just soldiers: they were hunters.
Crunching snow told Kier the man was upon them.
Like a swooping bird, the rifle's barrel came, then passed from view. Kier sucked in his gut until it hurt. He put his finger to his lips and pointed up. The ghost man was standing just above them atop their log. In the dense snowfall and rough ground, the footprints that memorialized their passing were not so easily seen.
In an instant, Kier reached around the log, finding the white boots of the big man, and yanked with tremendous force, sprawling the soldier across the log. Obviously surprised and disoriented, the soldier flailed and started to call out. Kier rose above him, delivering a sharp blow with his right elbow to his solar plexus.
Faster than Kier could comprehend, Jessie thrust her gun in the man's face.
"Shut up," she half whispered.
Together, Kier and Jessie pulled the man into the deep snow behind the log, and under a hemlock with branches low to the ground. Jessie had ahold of the soldier's hair, with her gun still to his head, but he either didn't see it or didn't care. He began to scream.
Kier delivered a moderate two-knuckled karate punch to the man's solar plexus, and the scream turned to a grunt almost as soon as it began. Kier crossed his hands, grabbing the man's jacket on either side of his neck using the long bones of his forearms in a viselike grip, cutting off the blood flow through the carotid arteries. What was left of the groan was choked to a loud whisper. Still the man struggled, kicking out at Jessie. From the corner of his eye, Kier saw a blur, and Jessie's pistol butt cracked the side of the man's jaw. The head lolled for a second.
"Damn it," Kier whispered, "don't do that again." Quickly they peered out from their hiding place under the tree. Apparently the wind and the falling snow had drowned the man's cry. No one seemed to be coming.
The soldier shook, still conscious. Kier moved around his adversary and caught his
Similar Books
