Suddenly she felt a presence behind him. The shock made him jump, but the laughter that followed his reaction eased his anxiety. It was Guide who was searching him aided by his night vision device, and Decoy was at his side, wearing the one that belonged to him.
Even though he could not see them he greeted:
“I am glad you have found me. This darkness was not in our plans.
“What has delayed you?” asked Decoy. “You are one day late. We thought you had been caught.”
“We were forced to alter the original program, but everything went well.”
“Take off the night sight and turn on your flashlight,” Guide ordered Decoy.
The light illuminating the scene comforted the lost agent. He could finally see where he was standing.
“Give him your remote access unit. He must get going at once because he has turned on the light,” Guide said, now addressing Mole.
He obeyed without hesitation. Then they took their way after a simple goodbye. They walked about 300 yards to get at the place where their horses were waiting. The equipment was all packed and ready to start the way back.
Mole could not help thinking that he only had been a few minutes short from reaching his goal. The short distance between where they had met and the horses could have made the difference between life and death, and all because a simple clouded sky. Fortunately his mate had come to the rescue.
His reunion with 28 and its joyful demonstration let him know that he was developing a bond with this kind animal; and this had come to be a two way street. The trust that the horse demonstrated him when blindly letting him ride in the midst of absolute darkness seemed an unusual attribute. He had never been fond of animals; he had not even had a permanent pet throughout his life. Therefore, he was finding amusing the affection now developing between him and his horse. He was going to miss this animal after the trip had come to its end.
The stage they had ahead promised to be long, so they set off immediately. Rain had begun to fall again, hindering their progress and making the ground slippery, which would keep the riders constantly strained; but on the other hand, the weather would reduce the risk of being detected since the strong electric fields of the clouds and their alteration when thunderbolts struck would entangle the readings obtained from surveillance satellites. This would be an advantage as they still were within the high risk area.
Bad weather persisted all night. Shortly after sunrise they were still riding, now covered by a thick blanket of fog. Guide intended to reach the same place where they had spent the night two days before, but the slow pace they had been forced to keep for most of the journey had them still more than two hours away from this place. However, while the fog kept covering them they could go on without the risk of being seen.
This stage turned out particularly slow. They kept moving well into the morning, until they finally got to destiny; the exact same point where they had camped three days before. They hurriedly set up and went to bed. They really needed to rest.
28
They had been for almost six hours in the hollow when Mole felt a strong jolt that brought him out of his sleep. Guide was pushing him by the shoulder with one hand while holding his other hand’s index finger to his lips telling him to keep quiet. This sudden awakening made his heart quicken. He stood watching his companion with eyes wide open while trying to understand what was happening.
Then he obeyed his sign inviting him to follow as he crawled to the top edge of the depression they were in. When they reached the top they saw that at the lower end of the slope, about half a mile away, two rangers were coming, slowly following their trail riding alpine motorcycles.
“We are being followed,” said Guide with a whispering voice. “I guess they believe that we are poachers. If they catch us they will realize that we belong to the opposite side; then our lives will be at stake.”
“What do we do?” asked Mole nervous.
“Run away immediately. We cannot let them catch us, especially you, or everything we have done will become useless.”
Now the adrenaline flooding their systems was making them move hurriedly as they raised the camp. It barely took them one minute to be ready to flee.
“They do not know yet that we are very close, and they must not get to know. We will walk the horses to the thicket. Don’t go into a gallop, they could hear us and start persecution.”
Mole nodded while gently pressing the heels of his boots on 28’s flanks to make it start behind Guide’s footsteps.
Their strategy to slow their pursuers’ pace was to get away from the trails, where the rangers’ motorcycles could move easily, and walk over the uneven terrain covered by the thicket, where horses would be in advantage.
Guide did not know how many hours could the tracking go on, or how determined to catch them their pursuers could be, but he was aware that as soon as night had fallen the night viewers would bring them a huge advantage, so he was guessing they would only have to endure until then to make them abandon the chase.
Progress through the rugged terrain had become painful. At each step they had to separate the branches of the trees that crossed their path. The dense vegetation covering the ground did not let them see the stones and holes that abounded in the area, making the horses to trip once and again.
Every now and then they were making brief stops along the way to try to locate their pursuers, but uselessly. The same vegetation that now was protecting them was restraining their eyesight to a few yards, and the sounds of the forest, rising above any other, were impeding the low noise of the motorcycles to reach them.
After two hours withstanding the roughness of the thicket they finally came out into the open. The long valley that stretched ahead was promising a less strenuous ride. Mole was relieved at the prospect of moving in a more relaxed way, but Guide took care of his hope to get some rest. As his horse stepped on a flat surface he forced it into hasty gallop while shouting:
“We must increase our lead! Don’t slow your pace!”
Their mad race would go for over ten minutes, until reaching the far end of the plain, where weeds and slope would became the rule once more.
Guide went a few yards into the vegetation and dismounted for a moment, sweaty and agitated. His companion did the same while trying to recover from the strenuous exercise.
“It seems that we are not being followed anymore,” Guide said finally. Probably they gave up the chase when we went into the thicket, but we must not lower our guard.
“What to do then?”
“We will assume that we are still being chased. Our strategy will not change.”
“But night is falling. This will complicate things.”
“We must not become confident.”
“Let’s at least take a break. The horses are exhausted and so am I.”
“15 minutes,” was his laconic reply.
They took the opportunity to have the rations that their earlier hasty departure had made them skip. Then they watered the horses.
During this time they did not stop watching the opposite end of the valley, looking for the headlights of their pursuers’ motorcycles that by this time should already be on, but nothing.
“It seems they let us go.”
“I hope so,” said Mole.
“Let’s move. There is no time to loose. This new route will delay us.”
The faint light of dawn let see the two riders who had slowed their pace and come back to the trail four hours before, confident of not being followed anymore. This way the physical stress of their hurried cross-country ride now had eased.
They were crossing a region regarded as nobody’s zone, precisely in the boundaries of both parties’ territories. They were already looking forward to the end of their risky mission.
They had finally recovered their calm and now were confident in getting back home safely to rest their troubled muscles, which were on the verge of exhaustion. Once relieved from the threat of being pursued, they wer
e chatting once more as the horses kept along the path by themselves.
Suddenly the air was filled with the uproarious sound from the blades of a huge helicopter approaching.
They turned to the sky to find that the machine was coming from the territory they had just abandoned, which was a harbinger of trouble. It seemed that the rangers had not given up and now were coming back better equipped to hunt them.
The agents exchanged glances and without a word started a frantic gallop. They had to reach safe ground as soon as possible.
The ship landed some 200 yards behind them and opened its back gate, from which two motorcyclists emerged, this time wearing the uniform of the security forces.
Obviously, the route they had taken had led the rangers to understand that they were not regular poachers but staff moving between the two territories without their permission, suggesting that they either could be defectors or enemy agents. In any case, they had given notice to the Internal Security Central of some corporation and this had decided to catch them at all costs, so they had not hesitated to assign whatever resources were needed to do it.
“Let’s split!” Guide ordered while pulling the reins to get his horse from smooth terrain.
Mole did the same but to the opposite side while turning his head to locate the swift pursuers that kept approaching.
The motorcyclists split in the same manner, taking each one of them the chase of one of the riders. The rifle hanging on the back of the man behind him made Mole’s nervousness escalate. Firearms were not commonly seen in this ordered world, where people bragged not using them anymore if not for recreational purposes. To feel hunted by gunmen had brought him a panic fit.
“Calm down” he ordered himself, “and think clearly! You must put as many obstacles as possible between you and this fellow. Go through places he cannot cross riding his bike. Make him swerve to gain time.”
A few yards ahead he saw a log lying across the entrance to a trail running along a ravine. He headed there at full speed.
“I have never before jumped on horseback. I hope not to kill me trying.”
He slightly reined his mount, driving it into a light trot as the obstacle was coming closer. Then, when they were just two strides away from it, he strongly spurred it. 28 set off the ground, jumped over the log that was about 30 inches high, and landed cantering on the opposite side.
The rider was relieved after succeeding in this small feat. He had seen others do it before, but never had tried and did not know if his horse was trained to do it. He knew he had been lucky.
He turned back again. His chaser had been forced to stop and now was veering to find a parallel path along one of the slopes that formed this canyon.
Soon he saw that the motorcyclist had managed to get even with him, but 50 yards to his left and halfway up the mountain. He had to avoid at all costs that he passed him or he would surely ambush him.
Suddenly he found out that the ravine forked ahead, giving him the opportunity to deviate. So he did. He took to his right and continued his crazy race. His chaser stopped at once, if only to start the descent of the steep wall skidding his bike sideways until he reach the same level at which he was standing. Now he was closer. He needed to find a way to stop him.
He decided to go up the opposite side, hoping that the motorcycle had more trouble climbing than it had had going down to the bottom.
Indeed, this 100 yards ascent gave him a new lead and let him start to gallop behind the mountain. Now he was almost 30 seconds ahead.
28 was puffing constantly. Its snout was covered with white froth. He could not guess how long this kind beast would endure when it had been carrying him already for nearly 14hours, but he was hoping they would make it.
The flat land came to an end a few hundred yards ahead, changing into a steep slope leading down to a stream that ran plentiful from recent rains.
There was no other way. The bike had reached the summit already and was approaching dangerously, so he dismounted and led his horse by the reins to the edge of the field, where he stood for a moment trying to decide whether to undertake the dangerous descent.
The memory of that steep descent that left him paralyzed halfway when fleeing was still fresh in his memory; however, this time he was certain to make it.
Without further thought he pulled 28 and started guiding it by the rein. Feet and legs were sliding out of control, removing the dry leaves that made the ground even more slippery. Pebbles were coming off to fall tumbling into the water.
They had almost reached the bottom when the man chasing him, still on his vehicle, leaned out on the upper edge. He stood watching the scene for a moment, assessing his options, and finally decided to get off, gun in hand, ready to stop his prey with a sharp shot.
The sound of the first shot and the hum of the bullet that passed near his head made him hasten his descent. A new blast and the sound of a second missile hitting the tree right behind him made him think he would not make it.
He reached the bottom and ran pulling firmly his horse, and then sheltered behind a huge rock on the opposite bank of the river just when a third projectile had impacted on top of the stone to bounce and fly away whistling.
He took care of hiding his horse from the bullets. Then he leaned out to try to locate the agent of the corporation. He noted that he had got thoughtful for a moment; then he mounted again on his motorcycle and drove away. Mole knew he had not given up yet. He had already proved to be a reckless man, so he was guessing he would try to ambush him later.
As he became sure that he would not be shot anymore he mounted and started climbing the opposite slope, which was less steep and could be ascended following a diagonal.
Upon reaching the top he found a short plateau, crowded with low bushes, which ended on a downward slope; a part of the same ground accident that had led him to the farmer’s house on his first trip. He guessed at once that safe territory would be at the end of this descent and an optimistic smile enlightened his stained and sweaty face.
He goaded 28 to go across the bushes, watching for any sign of his persecutor while he was savoring in advance the relief of meeting his goal.
When he got to the end of the leveled ground he was surprised by the view of an immense valley dotted with farms and cultivated fields, a sign that he was a few steps away from success. He paused for a moment.
But the sound of dry leaves breaking under the wheels of the skidding alpine bike brought him out of his rapture. It was just a hundred yards away and coming fast. He did not have to think it to launch into a downhill ride, hasty and dangerous, that would demand his horse a renewed effort. He had to beat his pursuer once more.
The path was long and steep, and the motorcyclist was skillfully descending it, taking diagonal cuts that kicked up large amounts of soil and coming near after every second.
Now he could feel him just a few feet away. He realized that he was about to fall into his hands and he still was half way to reach the valley.
“This is the end,” he thought, “only a stroke of luck can save me.”
The sound of the rotor of a helicopter coming from ahead was heard. He thought it was the same ship that had dropped his pursuer, who had now joined the hunt. He looked up to find it; then he noticed that it was still in the air, just above his head. He felt lost. There was no way out of this situation.
To his amazement, his pursuer unexpectedly stopped and turned around while the fire from the helicopter’s weapons hit the ground behind the motorcycle, forming a trail that marked the route of his escape.
It was a friendly ship that had come to intercept the one that had transported the agents of the corporation, and whose pilot had immediately understood what the situation was, so he had not hesitated to protect the agent of his own side. The fluke had happened.
He reined in asking 28 to restrain the stride, but it simply did not obey. He pulled again, this time stronger, but the horse would not come out from its wild gallop and went on its unbri
dled race ignoring its rider.
Mole had to hold tightly not to fall from the back of the uncontrollable animal, until the slope finished. But if he had been hoping that once on flat ground tiredness would make it stop, this simply did not happen; ahead were endless fields, up to the horizon, and the horse seemed to be intending to reach the last one.
The mad run of the uncontrollable beast went on crossing field after field, leaving in its path a trail of destruction on the farmed ground while its confused rider merely grasped from its mane. The race could not last much longer. The exhaustion that the hard day had caused to this valuable ally finally became obvious as it began to shorten its stride until having changed it into short and shaky step. The magnificent animal began to stumble until collapsing a few steps forward amid a field of cabbages.
The rider landed on the loose soil. He lay beside the horse, covered with dust that was turning into mud on his sweaty face as the silence that marked the end of the adventure framed the scene.
He stood up heavily and immediately went to check on his faithful companion. 28 was not breathing, it was lying inert, calm at last, having given its live to save that of its master. Mole circled its huge head with his arms and remained so for a moment, unable to suppress the furtive tear that rolled down his cheek.
The fellow that just two days before had received him with demonstrations of affection was no longer with him. Now he was deeply feeling his loss.
29
The helicopter raised a thick cloud of dust as it slowed down to land gently on the cabbage field. Once on firm ground, the copilot came out and walked to the agent, who was hopelessly trying to get rid of the filth covering him by patting and rubbing hands on his clothes.
He approached and greeted him joyously:
“Well, you did a good race. The rider missed you by little. Luckily we arrived just in time. Are you alright?”
“I’m OK,” he calmly replied. Who sent you?”
“We detected a ship heading this way and went into interception. While we were flying in this direction we received an alert about the possible presence of intelligence agents trying to get back to our territory. As soon as we spotted you it was easy to guess what was happening. You were close this time.”
2085 Page 20