Hunters (15 page)

"God
damn
it," he muttered as he saw
the crushed Styrofoam cups and the splattered pastry that the jeep
had run over. "
Shit!
" He kicked at the shredded bag, and as
the chunks of pastry flew skyward, he felt a certain satisfaction,
as though it were the brains of his attackers instead. He stood in
the street looking in the direction the jeep had disappeared,
wishing that it would come back, that they could just have it out
once and for all, or that he could sit and explain to the maniacs
that it wasn't his fault what had happened, that he had never
wanted to kill anybody.

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.

H
er 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.

W
hen 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.

M
egan 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.