Recon

by David McCaleb

  She did, then climbed to his shoulder, head, and finally up the tree. He gazed after her, marveling at how effortlessly she moved. Ballet had lost appeal. Gymnastics classes had held her interest—and Red’s charge card—for the last several years. He never would’ve guessed she’d be putting those skills to work at age ten, climbing a tree to recon for her injured father in the middle of Rocky Mountain National Forest while evading—he shook his head. Who the hell were they evading, after all?

  If he could just get a signal to the Det—any sort of distress call. A Special Forces Group was billeted at Fort Carson. Which one? Didn’t matter—the Det could have boots on the ground within an hour, if he could just get a call out.

  He’d followed the squatty little psychiatrist’s orders, though. He didn’t bring his work phone. And his tag, a passive tracking device the size of a postage stamp implanted deep within the buttock of every Det operator, was useless in a few areas in the world, the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains being one of them. Something about minerals in the soil that reflected the same narrow slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, making tracking impossible. Which, Red had to admit, was one of the reasons a vacation to the spot had been so attractive. He’d relished the thought of being completely off the grid, no one watching. But now? Not so much.

  As Penny climbed higher, he thought through standard distress calls. Smoke or noise would attract their pursuers as much as it would help. A rush of relief flooded his chest as he recalled how he’d flashed his US Marshals creds before the shootout. The visitor center had CCTVs for certain, to watch for shoplifters. He must’ve been caught on video. They’d wire his image to US Marshals Headquarters in Richmond to ID him. If the footage was high enough quality, they could run it through facial recognition and find him. Only a cover file, of course, set up as condition of the US Marshals being a cooperative agency in the Det.

  But his smile faded as he thought through a plausible timeline. His file was classified, so the proper authorities would need to be notified. Days could pass before the Det ever found out he was involved.

  He rubbed his forehead with chapped knuckles. No matter which angle he took, the toolbox was empty. He had a bullet in his ass. And a wet team chasing him. And his only daughter to protect. Who was in a tree, forty feet overhead. Still, he had to play his advantages, few that they were. Rocky Mountain National Forest was a great place to disappear. The farther they got from the peak, the better. As long as he and Penny stayed out of sight, they’d be safe, for now.

  But another priority would soon be setting in…water. In the dry air, a hiker could start to dehydrate in a matter of hours. And you only drank water from a stream or pond as a last resort for fear of Montezuma’s revenge, which would dehydrate you into delirium. They’d be fine for a week or more without food, but would need water before nightfall. A loud crack shot from overhead.

  * * * *

  Penny placed each step carefully as she climbed a tall pine tree. Dad had said if she moved slowly, bad guys wouldn’t see her. Rough bark had already pricked the arch of one foot through her socks. She tested each branch after that, making sure it had no sharp points. But one had snapped with a bang.

  She glanced down at her father. How slow was she supposed to go? He seemed lost in thought, but shot a frown at the broken limb and put a finger to his lips. After a few minutes, she could see over the tops of most other trees. The trunk was narrow up here, thick only as the branches had been at the bottom. A cool breeze rocked her perch, then a gust shook it so hard wood crackled. Not quite high enough for a good view, so she stepped up two more limbs, whispering, “Go away, wind.” Maybe from up here she could see Mommy.

  She gazed across a dark green landscape, like a prickly pine tarp draped over a humongous room of furniture. Only here and there did the trees open, allowing a glimpse of earth or rock. Toward the radio tower mountain, the pines parted, revealing a deep ravine. Fallen logs lay across a rocky streambed where the mountain walls creased. A falcon soaring below her swiftly cut across and then, without even flapping its wings, began an upward spiral toward clear blue sky. Within a minute it was as high as her. If only she could fly like that! Studying the soaring bird, she felt as if she could step off the branch, into the rising breeze, and follow it to Cayenne Mountain.

  How silly. Why name a mountain after a pepper plant, anyway?

  Instead she propped her foot on a different branch and turned to peer up to Pikes Peak. Its sharp pink rocks from one ridge loomed over them, looking like they might tumble down any second, slicing paths through the forest. But she knew they wouldn’t, because her science book said they’d been there a long time already. So had the valleys, trees, and everything else she turned her head to study. The pain in her punctured foot drifted away as the falcon banked again, soaring even higher.

  Maybe this forest was a safe place. Nothing out here had tried to hurt them yet, and thick trees shielded them from the searching gaze of those evil men. Above the timberline, bad things had happened. Down here, she was invisible.

  What would Jenny say now if she could see her high in this towering tree? That backstabber had pretended to be her friend, then texted a picture to the whole class about how huge Penny’s feet were. She smiled as she remembered pulling out a tuft of Jenny’s blond hair. Mom had really been mad, but Dad had only pretended to be. “Sometimes we do stupid things.” He’d shrugged. “Jenny and you will be friends again soon.”

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  For a split second, the tree trunk vibrated under her hand, like a big truck was rumbling by. She braced her feet and glanced around. It happened again. She gazed down and… Oh. Dad was waving at her. He must’ve been pounding on the bark to get her attention.

  She stole one more look at the falcon, now high overhead. It tucked its wings and dropped like a missile, shooting past her face in eerie silence, disappearing into the dark ravine. Resisting the urge to step out into the air and follow it, Penny slowly lowered her foot to the branch below and crawled down.

  Dad looked a little angry, but he kept his voice low. “You take a nap up there?”

  “No, silly. Just looking around.”

  “What’d you see?”

  “Trees.”

  A pause. “And?”

  “No one. An ambulance was going up Pikes Peak, but I didn’t see anybody or any cars anywhere else. I think I moved slow enough no one saw me, either.”

  He nodded. “That’s the truth.” He grimaced as he shifted his weight to the other leg.

  “But I did see a dirt road. Not far down from here. It wasn’t a big one. Maybe we could find someone with a car down there.”

  “Not likely. Even if we took a chance and found someone we trusted, no telling who we might run into on the drive out. And even though the city is just over those next mountains, no roads run that way. You’ve gotta go all the way behind Pikes Peak to get anywhere. Anyhow, bad guys will be watching the roads.”

  She pointed in the direction where she’d seen a chimney. “But someone lives that way. I saw their roof.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “A house? Couldn’t be…well, maybe. How far?”

  She shrugged and took a step in that direction. “Don’t know. Looked like two hills between here and there.” She held up fingers like tweezers. “The roof was this big.”

  Dad smirked. “OK. Be nice if we had a compass, but you pointed toward that rock with a black streak running down the middle. Since we can’t see the house over those hills, we’ll walk to that rock and sight another line from there. If we keep doing that, we should stay straight enough to see the house after a while.”

  She grinned. “And then we’ll ask to borrow their car!”

  “No. Remember. Think like one of the bad guys. Stay away from the roads. All we need is a phone or radio. We’ll watch the house this afternoon and, if all looks OK, sneak in at night. It’s a risk, but if we
can call my office, we may be able to help Mommy too.” He took one step with a heavy limp. “We’re pretty far from the peak now, so we can walk slower. Keep pretending you’re sneaking into your brothers’ room to steal their Halloween candy. Don’t step on any dry sticks or pinecones. Don’t even breathe hard.”

  She nodded. Her legs ached from climbing. As she slipped her shoes back on, she realized Mommy was going to scream at her when she saw how dirty they’d gotten. She’d even torn a hole in her new jeans. She carefully padded after Dad, imagining slipping along the forest floor as silently as the falcon had swooped past her nose. She gazed up, feeling again the warm, welcome hug of the forest.

  Chapter 9

  Water

  Red paused within a thick grove of aspen, leaning one hand upon white bark, stripping green leaves from a low branch with the other. Though chewing the mash might dehydrate him more quickly, the mild herbal painkiller seemed to be helping. It was supposed to thin blood as well, reducing altitude sickness. Now, headed in the direction where Penny had spied a rooftop, their path cut across the mountainside, instead of descending, much more difficult going with his wounded leg. He didn’t know for certain how much farther the structure would be, but based on her description, he hoped they were at least halfway.

  “I’m thirsty.” Penny’s arms dangled like wet rope. Her face was pale. “My head hurts.”

  Beginning signs of dehydration. He’d recently become aware of his own dryness. The sun shone directly overhead. In the field, you knew your body’s needs, but learned to ignore them when not convenient. They’d been walking for hours. They could still survive for several more days without water, but confusion and brain fog might make them careless if they didn’t find some soon. “We’re almost to the rock with the black streak. I think we’ll find water there.”

  “Up at a rock?” She pointed downhill. “Wouldn’t it be down there in the valley?”

  “Maybe. But only as a last resort. It might make you sick.” He’d picked up a bug from a cold, fast-running stream once, water he’d figured stood the least chance of infection.

  After ten more minutes of hiking, a gray boulder six meters high stuck out from the side of the mountain like a spent cartridge ejected onto grass. Red reached up and touched a moist, black stain streaked down its front, dripping in a leisurely flow. Penny knelt and cupped her hands beneath it.

  Red pushed them away. “Not yet! We’ve got to see where it’s coming from.”

  He stepped next to the boulder, staying beneath the cover of junipers, to its crown where the spring ran over its rim. Tucked atop, small rocks rimmed the mouth of a narrow opening in the hillside, like a harvest cornucopia. Water pooled in a shallow scoop in the top of the boulder.

  She tugged on Red’s arm. “Can I get a drink from there?”

  “No. See all the white stuff around the pool? That’s a bath for every mockingbird and magpie in the forest. The water comes out of that little cave and gathers there, then runs down the front of the rock, making that black streak.” He nudged her. “And you wanted to drink it.”

  She shrugged and shivered. “But I’m thirsty.”

  He bent to hands and knees and crawled up to the opening like a three-legged dog, his injured limb stiff and straight. He stuck his head into the darkness. The inside was tight, but large enough for two or even three adults. Searching the ceiling for bats, he saw none, nor any brown-rice guano.

  He’d gotten that cold-river drink down in Venezuela. Within eight hours his gut burned so hot his only fear was that he wasn’t dying fast enough.

  Now, except for the bleached bulbous skull of a raccoon, this cave was sterile. Water dripped steadily from a pointed roof, almost a small stream. No algae or mildew clung to rocks, and only a single tree root hung from a nearby crack. Pebbles dug into his kneecap as he worked his way across the opening. The wet floor soaked his jeans. He waved for Penny to follow. “See how the water drips from the ceiling? It’s OK to drink from there. This is where the spring comes out of the mountain.”

  She wiped her palms on her pants.

  “Don’t use your hands. Just let it drop in your mouth. You crawled through bird poop to get here.”

  She scrubbed them harder, then kneeling, opened her mouth like a baby bird, swaying as a wobbling top to follow the uneven dripping. She giggled quietly, and drops blew out her nose. She inhaled deeply and put her hand to her mouth.

  “Don’t cough!” he whispered.

  She doubled over, but she held it back, as if stifling a sneeze. After a minute, she swallowed and gasped, “It went down the wrong pipe. You sure this water is OK? It stinks worse than Grandma’s at the farm.”

  “That’s just sulfur. Some people say it’s good for you.”

  She wiped her lips on the sleeve of her jacket, then opened her mouth again. The two drank till they were full, then he made them drink more, till Penny said she’d puke if she had another drop. He thumbed outside and was moving that direction when she touched his hand. She’d frozen, eyes staring toward daylight.

  Pointing out the opening, she cupped a hand over his ear. “I hear something.”

  Red snatched his pistol and pointed it at the glowing brilliance. A few seconds later a boot stomp, then small rocks on the hillside cast with a puff of dust. He aimed his weapon toward the cloud. The Yoga bitch, now in brown leather hiking boots, worn gray flop hat, and cargo shorts crossed their trail, headed away from the cave. A black stick, or butt of a pistol, bulged from under a brown canvas backpack. She stepped with purpose, as if knowing where she was headed, tan dust clinging to olive-skinned calves.

  He’d killed Ravens Fan, her partner. Yet here she was. Persistent. No stranger to the forest, either. Part of a trained, professional team. But why such an extreme effort? There were more efficient ways to kill an operator than in broad daylight in a tourist area. Yet, Red had instigated the conflict by tripping Mandarin. Still, it meant whoever was trying to kill them was well funded but desperate, without time on their side. Who was it? He’d have to figure that out later.

  With one arm, Red pulled Penny tight and laid a hand across her eyes. Drawing a bead, he brought the front sight up to Yoga’s back. So easy. But she might not be alone. Anyone with her would have the upper hand since he was stuck in the cave. Not a defensible position.

  But the wet team would’ve split up, maximizing their search area. This bitch had threatened Penny. She had to die. His finger tightened on the trigger.

  Still, a shot could bring others to the location. Sure, Yoga would be dead, but he had a bullet in his ass, so they wouldn’t be able to make it very far from the area in time. Staying hidden was the only hand he had to play. He couldn’t risk alerting others to their position.

  Yet he kept his aim, held a breath, anticipated the weapon’s kick...

  And what if the takedown went wrong? If she got off a few shots into the cave before Red finished her? Could she hit Penny? Following her for a few strides, he released a breath and loosed his grip on his daughter. Her safety was the higher priority. Yoga’s fate would come another day. Still, he’d regret not killing her when he had the chance.

  Once Yoga was down the hill and out of sight, Penny whispered, “She looked nice. Couldn’t she help us?”

  Red held a finger to his lips, mouthing Shhhh. After listening for several minutes, he turned to her. “You ever see her again, run. Understand? She is not a good guy.” He touched her ears. “You did well, though. Those young things are sharp.” Just like he’d taught her, she’d heard something out of place. “All we need to do is get to that house and make a call. That’s it. We don’t know how much farther it is, and we can’t take risks. Understand? Mama’s depending on us. We can’t get caught.”

  She shrugged. “I was hoping it was Mommy.” Cupping hands to ears, she resumed a distant stare. “I don’t hear anything else. You think it’s safe?”

&n
bsp; “Yeah,” he lied. Red holstered his pistol beneath his sweater and inched toward daylight.

  Chapter 10

  Naked Dream

  Lam leaned against his truck and gazed upon Andi’s body once more. Her mouth curled slightly into a smile, but the flesh of her cheeks drooped. Placing his fingers upon her eyes, he pulled the lids down, the soft orbs feeling like chilled grapes. A pause. She wouldn’t want them closed. She’d loved staring at the clouds. For Andi, it didn’t seem right. Though it chilled his skin, he pushed them open again.

  Lifting his head, he studied the bright white two-story cottage. An open porch with low bannister spread across the front. Cold from the truck body seeping through his shirt dissipated as he remembered the warmth of the old oil furnace standing in the living room. These chilly mountain mornings, he always looked forward to lighting the thing up. Even in winter it heated the entire cottage, small as it was, with a kerosene scent that reminded him of the one in his dad’s mountain hunt shack they visited as a kid. He’d jump out of the bathtub and hold his T-shirt over the hot air vent, filling it like a balloon, warming the garment before he put it on. Guilt panged his chest for the pleasant memory.

  He started toward the house. Halfway across the packed-clay parking lot, he was sprinting. He slowed, trying to calm his nerves, but his legs still seemed to carry him faster than when he’d run the fifty-five-meter hurdles in high school. He slid to a halt. What if the hiker’s friends had already been here? What if they were inside? He slipped behind a stand of tall mountain sagebrush. On all fours, he crept between stalks, inhaling their minty scent, till he spied the side door. The paint seemed gray now, and the newel post at the base of the front porch steps leaned sideways, snapped at its base. Lam snorted when he realized how stupid he’d been. Hell, if any hiker friends were in that house, they’d have heard his truck’s racket and would’ve already tried to kill him. How foolish, displaying Andi’s body and hefting it into the bed.