Intruders
This is the latest installment of The Cold Bite of Autumn, my serial fiction story. To get caught up, look to the right and find The Cold Bite of Autumn in my “Category” cloud, click on it, and read all the previous posts. Once you get caught up, jump on in!
Cheryl’s ears caught the faint echo of motors on the breezes that tripped lightly through the trees. She selected a mammoth rock-shaded alcove, shrugged off her backpack and sat. Back to the mountain wall she listened for the mechanical intrusion. Twenty minutes later, the distinct ‘whap-whap-whap’ of helicopter blades made themselves more apparent.
Even though the tree cover should be enough to keep her location unknown, she pulled all her belongings further into the alcove. Another half hour passed before the searchers whisked by. Since they took so long to come by, surveillance drones most likely did not spot her earlier in the day.
The sophisticated equipment on board these aircraft would surely locate her and Daniel unless they kept their wits and their ears on high alert. That is if Daniel even got out of the cabin. Most likely he left shortly after she did. No telling about that man.
She munched on a peanut bar for energy while she waited for the air posse to run along. While she could wait out the ignorant government folk, she knew Daniel would most likely be on her trail and tail before long. The thought of pairing up with Daniel tickled the back of her brain.
Cheryl shrugged the thought off. No more blood on my conscience. The tranquil sounds of the forest returned. She slung her gear back on her shoulders and took off down the steepest rock face she could find. Once they analyzed their ‘search data’, the government boys would be convinced no one would attempt to climb down the more exposed and dangerous route.
The men who would know what she would do all died in the car crash. Unless the government had stepped out of character and hired a ‘real’ thinker, she could rest in the fact they would not look for her there. What she lost in ground cover she made up for in reducing altitude. Some of the trek wound its way easy through the forest. Other times she bloodied her hands on weather-grizzled rock-faces.
Sometimes the mountain forced a more traditional route. Rope would not help anyway. All something like rope would do would be to call attention to her location. The less these folk knew of that, the better her chances. Once they put boots on the ground, if she could not gain the mountain base, both her and Daniel faced unpleasant ends.
Discovery
This is the latest installment of The Cold Bite of Autumn, my serial fiction story. To get caught up, look to the right and find The Cold Bite of Autumn in my “Category” cloud, click on it, and read all the previous posts. Once you get caught up, jump on in! This story will be updated every Saturday morning at 9:00am EST.
“Damn. What a fucking idiot.”
Daniel worked with purpose as he placed supplies in his backpack. He laid out three weapons, his 357, a scoped sniper rifle, and a hunting knife. He shut everything down and cut the power at the main box. The electricity bill would surely tip off various people who wanted Cheryl as well as himself. Her running probably saved them from a nasty shootout, at least temporarily.
He laced up his boots, jerking on the strings with each new lace level. He then strolled to the table, secured the knife and pistol, slipped the rifle into its sleeve on the backpack, and loaded the backpack to his shoulders. At the door, he allowed himself a moment to visually sweep the room for anything out of place.
She had to have at least a six hour head start. Daniel hoped she would not be as adept at hiding her trail as he in following one. These mountains offered loads of seclusion as well as the opportunity to avoid detection. A sharp person could live up here for years and never see another human if they so chose.
He spent nearly a half hour checking footprints, broken twigs on the ground, and any other sign that might tell him which way she hiked. Once satisfied he had chosen the most likely evidence to follow, he set out at a jog. Daniel’s eyes surveyed everything in his path, and noted any minor detail that lent credence to his choice of paths. An hour into his jog he heard the distant thrum of military helicopters.
Company had arrived at last. Now he had to watch his back as well as where he was headed…
On the Run…
This is the latest installment of The Cold Bite of Autumn, my serial fiction story. To get caught up, look to the right and find The Cold Bite of Autumn in my “Category” cloud, click on it, and read all the previous posts. Once you get caught up, jump on in! This story will be updated every Saturday morning at 9:00am EST.
She glanced over the puff of blankets that separated them. Daniel snored softly, oblivious to her gaze. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Sex complicates everything. She mulled over the passions of the night. He liked to put the woman first in lovemaking. This did not surprise her, but his intensity did. She welcomed the brief moment where she realized she could still feel something for a man. Too bad the moment had to be so fleeting.
She slipped her feet to the arctic floor and danced a manic tiptoe Viennese Waltz to her clothes and hiking boots. Dressed in minutes, she slipped on her down jacket, pulled a loaded backpack from under the kitchen counter, then carried the boots and herself out the front door with its newly oiled hinges.
Once on the porch, the boots on and laced in moments, she stood and looked back at the cabin. The brief, wistful look served as goodbye. Damn, I hate feeling. She pulled out breakfast from her backpack before slipping it to her back. A couple biscuits and some beef jerky followed by twenty ounces of water. She ate while she jogged the familiar path she spent weeks mapping out in her mind. Yesterday she took some provisions two hours from the cabin.
Daniel never attempted to keep her prisoner. She knew she could stay with him without any danger to herself. The issue came in the danger to him. She also decided she should nail the bastards she knew to be traitors. No sense in allowing them to continue operating free of obstruction.
Suicide missions fed some basic need within her. Is it death? Am I that curious about dying that I have to invite its possibility into my life? Trees and rocks drifted by as the pace of her jog downhill picked up. Nothing like healthy muscles and fresh air. For the second time in weeks the notion she could get used to living up here crept into her mind.
They’ll be showing up on his doorstep any day. Hopefully he will have the good sense to leave. He would be executed immediately upon being discovered in her company. She could not abide any more blood on her hands – at least, innocent blood…
Mind Wheels
This story is one of many to come. My goal in 2012 is to write a minimum of two short stories a month. With last month’s post of “These Dying Days” and this post, I now have January covered. Tonight I will work on the first February story, leaving me a week to get totally caught up. In fact, I believe I will work at writing a weekly short fiction piece. I will commit to Fiction Fridays. Please feel free to comment…
Her words slapped him like windshield wipers on high.
“You have to stop calling me so much. I get sick of trying to juggle everything. I don’t need you making life more complicated. You also need to check with me first on things like this.”
Nick stood in the doorway, face taut and eyes welling up. Each word felt like a glass shard that pierced his chest.
“What do you want me to say? Nothing you’ve said is true. You know its not true.” Nick averted his eyes.
“Just because I didn’t say no doesn’t mean I wanted to participate you know.”
“No, I don’t know. How would I? If you don’t tell me, then how the hell am I supposed to know?”
“Don’t be twisting things around on me, Nick. You always do that.” Vicky slipped her feet off the bed onto the oak wood floor. The ends of her blond hair, soft as silk and straight as uncooked spaghetti, came to rest on her breasts just above her nipples.
“What are you doing now?”
“Getting dressed. What does it look like to you?”
“C’mon, Vick. Why do you have to get like this?”
She pulled a sports bra over her head and plumped up her breasts with both hands. “Look, I wasn’t the one who manipulated this sordid meeting. All I am to you is a piece of meat. You use me, then I wait a couple weeks to hear from you.”
“How can you say that? Vicky, you’re the one who’s married. You’re the one who can’t get away for weeks at a time. You’re the one who won’t answer my calls.” Nick straightened a bit taller and puffed out his chest. “I’ve done everything I can short of making a major scene.”
“Oh, yeah, you like that don’t you.” She pulled a tight turquoise sweater over her head and smoothed it down her body. Her curves stood out tantalizingly apparent. The combination of the sweater combined with skin-hugging leggings dragged his eyes up and down her torso. She sat back on the bed and laced the leather straps of her high heels around her ankles up to the bottom of the leggings. “You get to play the martyr because you have little control over when you get to screw around.”
“Well, I don’t have any control, do I? I just have to sit around and wait. That gets old, you know?” He glanced around the bedroom. He eyed her keys on the nightstand and inched his way that direction while she primped in the dresser mirror.
“You want to know what gets old? Listening to you complain after I put out like this.” She pulled out a pink lipstick tube and touched up her lips.
He slipped the keys into the pocket of his pants hanging on the bedpost with a slow deliberate motion. “Is there something wrong with me wanting you to stay?” He inched his way back to his previous position beside the door.
Vicky spun around and searched all the flat surfaces in the room. “You just going to stand there naked all night? Help me find my keys.” She knelt to the floor, on hands and knees, to look under the bed.
“Look, if you’ll just hang out fifteen more minutes, I’m sure we’ll both be better off in the long run.” He bent over, plucked his boxers off the floor, turned them right-side-out and put them on. “After all, you don’t have to be home for another hour by your own admission.”
Her head popped up from the other side of the bed. “Look, Nick. While the sex is good and all, you’re not quite the conversationalist I prefer.”
“Ouch. I thought you liked me.” His chin crept closer to his chest. His vacant stare led directly to the air conditioner return vent on the floor.
Vicky stood, fell face first onto the bed, then propped herself up on her elbows, hands under chin. “Aw, Nick. Why do this? You’re a great lover. We’ve talked about this. I’m not going to leave Caleb.”
Nick shifted his weight from his left foot to the right and back again. “You know I love you, Vicky. I want you to stay. He doesn’t even treat you right. You said so yourself. What does he have that I don’t?”
“Money.”
“Ok, so he’s rich.”
“Our children.”
“You’d get custody and you know it.”
“Partial custody. I don’t love you Nick. I never said I love you.” She stood up, walked out the door, down the hall to the kitchen and turned on the light. “Where did I leave my keys?”
Nick followed, snuggled up behind her and cupped her breasts. As he nibbled her left ear he whispered, “One more go. C’mon Vick.”
She whirled around, kissed him and pushed away. “What’s going on here, Nick. I see the wheels spinning behind those blue eyes. You’ve got something planned, don’t you. You hid my keys.”
Nick glanced away, a sheepish look on his face. “You got me. She’s coming over any minute.”
“Now I get it. Now, where’s my keys?”
“She’s really sexy.” He shot a look back her way.
Vicky let out a deep sigh. “Nick, I think you and your internal mind-wheels misjudged the situation. I may be open to a lot of things in bed, but another woman…we never discussed anything like that. I’m not interested.” Her right hand jut out his direction and she placed her left on her hip. “My keys. Now.”
Nick let an exasperated breath out, then took a sullen stroll back to the bedroom. He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew the keys with a metallic tinkle. “I had hoped…”
“I get it Nick. At least the two of you can have some fun.” She strode up to him, kissed his cheek and walked to the front door.
The doorbell rang. “That’ll be her. Would you let her in as you leave?”
“Sure, Nick. She better be foxy,” she finished with a wink his way.
She opened the door.
“Vicky?”
“Caleb! I can explain…”
Fiction's Footsteps 