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Seven |
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Five
Chris Larabee was nervous. Cramps ripped through his stomach and sent frissons of energy rippling outward. It had started as soon as they'd found the bodies of the rangers - their surveillance team. Josiah's tentative profile on the gang they were up against hadn't helped in the slightest. Cold-blooded killers was a phrase the ATF agent never got used to especially when the phrase was punctuated by three bodies that had been mutilated as methodically as the rangers' had been and a fourth so riddled with bullet holes it was barely recognisable as human.
Larabee glanced across to where Sanchez was taking up his position on the left flank with Standish. The man's voice had been a soft rumble in his ears as he reported his latest suspicions. Obsessive Compulsive, possibly aggressive anti-social. Chris had raised his eyebrows at that and Josiah had supplied him with a more familiar term, psychopath. Josiah believed the leader alone was more dangerous than the whole gang. The cramp in Larabee's gut tightened. Fuck!
"We're dealing with a man obsessed. Everything he does is some part of a pattern he's got stored in his head. The rangers may be an incomplete part of whatever he's got going on inside him. He's ordered and meticulous and at the same time out of control. Whoever he is, he's keeping a tight grip on himself and while everything stays within its set order, he'll continue to do so, but the patterns are already starting to fray." Josiah hadn't finished his sentence. A lost, haunted look had crossed his face and he'd shrugged. "We'd better watch our backs on this one, Chris."
Chris nodded and scanned the camp they were leaving behind. Some of Karr's men were circling the perimeter with police tape; two others were marking the muddy trail to the site of the FBI agent's remains; the rest were in position a few feet away ready to move up the mountainside with Team 7. Larabee waited for Sanchez and Standish to finish checking their radio gear. The echo of his team's countdown playing in his earpiece helped him find his focus. He closed a mental door on the pain in his gut and responded to the radio countdown with his own code.
"This is Leader One. Watch your sixes, our boy likes to play games and he's got six buddies to help him out. Let's go."+ + + + + + +
The temperature was plummeting. No fancy bit of scientific equipment was needed to tell the men that. It was absolutely fucking freezing! Todd Wellman led the way. The trail was easier to see now the light was growing brighter, but the man still walked cautiously. Larabee watched as the Team 2 man paused, head up eyes and ears alert to danger. Larabee stopped moving as well and glanced back over his shoulder. JD Dunne, a few feet behind him and lugging the communications equipment, was scrambling up the slope like a goddamn mountain goat. Chris grunted in disgust, a cloud of icy air billowing in front of his face. He turned away slightly, his eyes roaming the trees that lined the trail up to Team 5's position. Shadows were all he could see of Wilmington and Jackson as they ghosted up the side of the narrow valley. A quick look to the left gave a similar view of Standish and Sanchez. Further behind them ranged the Team 2 members, their figures silhouettes in the still dim light of the morning.
Wellman stood still, snatching quick glances into the trees on either side of the trail that rounded away before him. They only had to go round that last bend and they'd be at the site, but there should have been a man here on watch. Wellman waited another three seconds. The only sounds he could hear were the woods coming to life and the men coming up behind him. He turned back to Chris Larabee.
Chris whispered into his transmitter for the rest of the team to halt as Wellman covered the short distance between them.
"The cave's just around the bend. Someone from Team 5 should be positioned here."
Chris nodded. "Can we circle around?"
"Trees are fairly thick, but there's plenty of animal trails. Tanner followed one that came out above the cave."
"Where's Vin now?" Chris murmured to himself before issuing terse orders to his waiting men. They were to keep the same positions and stay in radio contact at all times. He waited to hear them all call in before turning to JD. "Contact Team 2. I want to know what's going on before we round that bend."
JD pushed his weapon to one side, letting it hang across his back, and pulled out the satellite communications device. Connecting his headset to the blinking console of the device, he rapidly punched in a short numerical sequence and began calling Team 2.
Chris turned back to Wellman. "Let's go in." He lifted his hand and waved the team forward with a perfunctory flick of his wrist, JD's voice a hushed whisper behind him as they moved.+ + + + + + +
The ground was trampled and muddy. Pools of slush were slowly freezing into dangerous pockets of black ice. Strips of police tape marked the approach to the cave and the start of a narrow cut through the trees. In the grey light of morning the place looked dismal and deserted. It should have been full of men. JD had been unable to contact Team 5 but mentioned something about possible technical glitches. He hadn't been able to raise Team 2 either.
Larabee and his team held their positions around the perimeter, but there were no signs of foul play. Team 5 just wasn't there and neither was Vin Tanner. The men did a complete circle, found nothing and moved down to the cave.
"Buck and Wellman, check out the cave. JD, keep trying to get someone on that thing. Ezra and Nathan, you come with me. We'll check out this marked trail. Josiah, you take the rest of the men and keep looking around."
There was a chorus of acknowledgments and the men left to follow orders. Chris gripped JD's shoulder as he walked past. "Radio me if you hear anything. I'll stay in contact."
A light breeze was picking up as the three men moved out. The snow-laden trees groaned with the movement the breeze caused. As the men disappeared up the trail, a loud crack sounded and one overburdened branch fell to the ground with a thud and explosion of shattered ice.
They had only been gone a few minutes when Vin Tanner and the ranger appeared at the edge of the road on the far side of the cave. There was no attempt to sneak up on any of the remaining agents. Vin whistled his arrival and called out before stepping into the clearing. The ranger stayed close behind, the pair having settled into a working rapport from their night of tracking, following the ATF man over to the cave mouth. Tanner signalled Josiah to come up as he approached an intent JD bent over the communications pack.
"JD! Where's Chris?"
JD jumped, startled. "Gone up the trail looking for you and Team 5."
"Shit!" Vin pulled his hat from his head and ran a gloved hand through his hair. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes, but it was obvious he was disturbed by this latest information.
"Nathan and Ezra are with him," Josiah supplied. "Buck and Wellman are in the cave. What's going on here, Vin? The orders were everyone to meet here."
Vin shook his head and hooked a thumb at the ranger. "We were scoutin' the area and Little decided to make use of the light and head out straight away. Thinks he can get a jump on the bad guys. We didn't find any sign but the light ain't good."
"That trail leads down to a pass through the mountain. Little said he'd wait for Larabee down there." The ranger sounded as weary as Tanner. "He's going to send a couple of men through to check it out. Wouldn't hurt to have a couple of teams go the high road too."
"Contact Chris and let him know what's happenin', JD. We'll catch up to him and go down together," Vin ordered.
"I'll collect Buck and Todd," Josiah offered.
Vin left his hat off as he started walking off, his rifle gripped loosely in his free hand. "Let's go."
Six
Jack Waters had been a ranger for years, stationed all around the country at various times, changing scenery whenever the itch to wander started up in his feet. He'd been at Gunnison and, in particular, the West Elk Wilderness Area for only twelve months and figured he'd stay at least another few and then maybe move up to Wyoming. Less people up that way. West Elk was getting way too crowded for his liking. All these Federal agents wandering around fairly cluttered the place up, half of them - it seemed - without the good sense they were born with. He and Vin Tanner had warned that other guy, Little, about continuing on. The pass was as good a place for a trap as he'd ever seen and Tanner had agreed. At least, they'd been able to get the guy to say he'd wait before sending all his men through the narrow defile.
Jack watched Tanner talking with his boss. Both of them were pissed off and worried, but Larabee was listening to the younger man with obvious respect. Jack was relieved that this Larabee had some sense. The two men turned as Tanner pointed something out and then gestured in the general direction of the path Little and his men had taken, before looking back down at the map spread out between them. Vin jabbed at several points he and Waters had marked earlier. Larabee clapped Tanner on the shoulder and together they turned back to the waiting men. Jack shuffled over to hear the latest instructions.
"We're dividing up," Chris began. "Vin'll take Waters, Wellman, Standish, Jackson and Morris along the ledge above the pass. Wilmington, Sanchez, Dunne, Canley, Vale and myself will take the path on the opposite side. Keep in visual contact. Little and his men will be blind below. JD, you heard anything yet?"
"We've got renewed intermittent radio contact with Team 5 and none with Base or Team 2 back at the camp. Signal interference. I did get the tail end of a weather report. Cold snap expected and storm warnings for half the state." Mumbled group abuse was directed at the downturn in weather conditions. "Team 5 reported fresh tyre tracks at the pass. At least two vehicles both with snow chains, both weighed down."
"They say how fresh, son?" Jack Waters asked.
"No. Signal started to fade out," JD replied.
"Gotta be at least eleven hours," Vin said. "No more'n fourteen. Been that long since we lost contact with the surveillance team."
"Buck, you stick with JD and watch his back. JD, keep trying on the communications. The pass gets no wider than a hundred feet across at its widest point. At ground level the greatest width is fifteen feet. The trail heads south-southwest toward Black Canyon. By then they'll be out of the mountains and moving fast. We have to move faster. We're racing against them and the weather. Any questions?"
"Once they get closer to the Gorge won't Base be able to pick them up?" one of the Team 2 men asked.
Larabee looked at Ranger Waters for an answer.
"Depends on the weather. Hell of a wind down there, plenty of holes to hide in."
"And whoever they are have had this planned out for some time. Their exit upon discovery was a well-oiled procedure, very little evidence left behind, no firm indication of what their intentions are," Ezra added.
"We're playing catch up and chasing ghosts every step of the way," Josiah observed. "Almost like we're following a set pattern, wouldn't you say?"
Chris stared hard at Josiah as the men got to their feet. The stab of pain he'd felt earlier came back like a blow to the stomach and he winced.
Vin noticed the slight change to his friend's expression. "Chris? What is it?"
Chris shook it off. "Nothing. Just getting too old for this shit."
Vin laughed and went to move away. Chris grabbed his arm. "Watch your back, pard."
"Always do, cowboy. Always do."+ + + + + + +
Chris had met up with Max Little and the rest of Team 5 at the entrance to the pass and in a voice as cold as the weather, updated them on the situation. Little confirmed similar communication problems to that of Team 7 and filled Chris in on what they'd found so far - tyre tracks from two trucks, both from the camp below and evidence that they'd made a stop before entering the pass. Boot prints, scuff marks at the edge of the tree line and signs of melted snow refrozen into solid ice pointed to a routine piss-stop before continuing down the narrow trail. A few other tracks led further into the trees, but there was nothing suspicious and they didn't appear to go far. Fresh snow was quickly covering the tracks, and to Chris's eye there was no discernible pattern or indication of a trap. With his gut instincts all but screaming at him that they were missing something, Chris agreed it was time to go get some bad guys. The pass was reasonably clear, but the weather was already closing in. Getting caught in it up here or returning to base could mean losing valuable hours in tracking down the murderers.
Vin and his team were already on the ledge above them waiting for a signal to start. Chris gave a low whistle, paused to listen for a reply from Vin and when a few short notes drifted down, gave the nod to start. Little was to stay in visual contact wherever possible with Larabee's team on the less treacherous path and make short wave radio contact should they find anything. The wind moaned through the trees and valley as the three teams began their hunt.+ + + + + + +
By the time the sun had reached the town, Travis had given up on getting any sleep and left his motel room to take the brief walk back to the town hall. The hall was in darkness for the most part, the gloomy interior lit only by the winking lights of the computer and communications equipment. Travis flicked on the main lights and woke up the FBI agent asleep in the far corner. Special Agent Bailey sat up with a jerk - eyes blinking against the sudden glare - brain still foggy with badly needed sleep. She wiped a hand across her face and stared at AD Travis.
"Sir?"
"Has there been any word from the men in the field?" Travis asked her.
Agent Bailey merely blinked and Travis walked over to the coffee machine. Filling a Styrofoam cup with the dark brew, he moved over to the bunk and handed the coffee to the agent. "My apologies for waking you. Why aren't you down at the motel?"
"Waiting for an update from the weather bureau. We've got a storm front moving up. There was a chance it would bypass the Gunnison." The agent took a sip from the mug and screwed her face up at the bitterness of the stale coffee. "New report due in about six."
Travis nodded and looked at his watch. "It's almost that now. I'll see if I can rustle us up some breakfast. Why don't you go freshen up?"
The young agent muttered what Travis assumed was agreement, and the Assistant Director turned away to go over the faxes that had arrived in the few hours he'd been gone. There was nothing new in the reams of thermal paper, and Travis dropped them on the map table to reread the last communication he'd received from Chris Larabee. The full report had been chilling when first received and was no less so now, hours later.
In the corner of the room, the sleepy FBI agent got up to make fresh coffee.
Special Agent Paul Makin shrugged through the doorway a few minutes after dawn. A burst of wind followed him through and created havoc with the paperwork that covered the tables. He quickly pushed the door shut against the rising weather and stomped his feet on a welcome mat. Shards of grimy ice falling free to form mud-slick puddles beneath the woven covering. Travis and the communications officer looked like they'd been at it all night even though Makin had walked back to the motel with the Assistant Director just before midnight the night before. Judging by the intense expressions on both agents' faces, the situation in the mountains had obviously deteriorated. Makin fervently hoped it was only the worsening weather causing the worry and not an increasing body count.
Travis flashed the new arrival a look that fell somewhere between the 'where the hell have you been' and 'things are totally fucked up, it's about time you got here' categories. Makin kept his face blank and got straight down to business. "Any news on the crime scene unit yet?"
Bailey was young but experienced and efficient. She snapped her superior a small smile and began filling him in on the situation. "The crime scene team has been held up by the weather. Their ETA is approximately two hours. The storm front is expected to hit the area sometime today. Temps will continue to drop, winds to increase and several avalanches have been reported further north."
Makin stared at the agent. "Now tell me the bad news."
"We've lost radio contact with all three teams," Travis's harsh voice interrupted.
Makin kept his expletives to himself. "How did that happen? Our equipment is supposed to be state of the art."
"You try telling Mother Nature that. It seems that she's sent us weather so foul what signals that managed to make it past the mountains have been snuffed out by blizzards. Even the satellite system is faltering trying to get through the bank of cloud cover. Two thirds of the state is affected by the storm front and half the country is on storm warning. We managed to get word from Max Karr before the system went down. He and half his men will stay put at the camp. Larabee's already on his way up to the cave. There's been no contact with Little at all."
"Have we got back-up standing by?" Makin asked.
Travis walked over to where a box of day old donuts lay open next to the coffee machine. Eyeing them with distaste, he refilled his coffee mug and turned back to the FBI agent, a strange mix of resignation and stubborn determination on his face. "They're snowed in down at Gunnison and the long range weather report has deteriorating conditions for the next week. All we can do is sit… and wait."
Seven
Max Little and his team walked warily through the narrow pass. The tyre tracks were covered in snow, but the trucks had nowhere to go but forward and there were very few roads to choose from once through the gap in the mountains. The team leader had occasionally caught glimpses of Larabee's men and shared brief radio messages with the man himself when it was necessary. Other than that he'd been on his own - he and his men.
The trucks had barely squeezed through the pass in places. Gouged rocks and broken tree branches lined the sides of the trail. Deep ruts in the ground marked where the heavy vehicles had become bogged in slush and mud. Rock falls had left gaping holes in the mountainside and boulders scattered across the road. Little's men skirted them carefully, pausing on the other side to take a brief rest from the wind battering their backs. They were exhausted and freezing, hours of struggling through the weather along a trail slowly filling up with snow had taken their toll. Little called in to Larabee that he was stopping for a short break. Max dropped his pack to the ground and pulled his water bottle out. His men followed suit, leaning back against the boulders and removing the protective gear from their faces so they could drink and talk.
Ten minutes is all he would give them, Max decided. More than that and their asses would freeze to the fucking ground. He watched one of them get up and move to the trees, fiddling with his fly as he walked, then turned away to scan the walls of the mountain surrounding them. One side rose upward in a steep but climbable slope dotted with trees that had become increasingly wind-affected. Their slim trunks, usually straight and tall, were twisted and bent. Chris Larabee was following a trail seldom used by humans. He'd reported finding no tracks other than a few signs of elk and one mean-tempered badger that had come out when Wilmington had stopped too close to its burrow. The other side of the pass was steep, like a knife had sliced through the earth at that point and left a sheer cliff behind. Tanner was up there somewhere, probably just above him. Little hadn't seen or spoken to the man since they'd parted ways at the cave at daybreak.
Little's gaze dropped back to his own men and, in particular, the one off taking a piss. He should be back by now. Max stood just as the man strolled back out of the trees. The agent flicked his team leader a casual salute, finished doing up his fly and readjusting his coat, then moved back to where he'd left his gear leaning against an aspen trunk. Max smiled in return, his eyes barely registering the tree until he noticed the one beside it. Bent over almost parallel to the ground, its pale trunk was covered in snow except one area that appeared to have been wiped clean at one stage. A row of twigs sat on the trunk, a fresh dusting of snow giving them the unreal appearance of stick figures. The agent just back from relieving himself was moving his pack, checking the pockets and straps before lifting it onto his back. There was a general shuffling as the rest of the team got ready to move. Little lifted his own pack, his gaze drifting back to the stick figures. There was something about them. The agent stepped back, bumping into the tree and knocking one of the twigs from the trunk. It hung, suspended in mid-air, swinging in a slow arc from a thin thread of silver wire.+ + + + + + +
Vin's lips were icy. The frigid wind cut through his coat and scarf as if they were nothing more than thin summer cotton. They'd been hiking for hours and Tanner figured they were nearing the end of the pass. The valley had begun to widen; the mountainside appeared to be flattening out. Tree cover was thinning out too. Many of the trees were twisted and stunted, their deformed trunks pointing in the same direction as the wind that howled through the pass. Visibility had been cut in half. They could barely see the figures of Chris and the others on the other side. The men below them had been made completely invisible.
Jack Waters moved up beside Vin and gave him a nudge, pointing to something on the trail ahead. The ranger pointed to his eyes and then to the sliver of glistening light in the bushes. Vin nodded and began to follow the older man forward, one hand half covering his mike as he radioed in to Chris. He turned to tell Ezra, walking behind him, to hold back a minute while they checked it out, his eyes automatically scanning the rocks sloping away above them. The wind blew a flurry of ice and snow from one of the boulders, exposing tree roots that had long ago wrapped themselves around the rock like ghoulish fingers; fingers that appeared threaded with silver light.
Vin's eyes narrowed on the thin wire. It disappeared beneath a snowdrift and reappeared a few inches short of where Jack Waters had stopped on the trail a few feet ahead. Now that his eyes were attuned to it, Vin could see that the wire stretched across the rocky path and down over the edge to the road below.
"Shit!" Vin muttered as Jack squatted down. The ranger pulled his hood and face protection from his head, the fierce wind blowing a scrap of auburn hair back from his face, and reached toward a small section of the wire showing through a patch of snow. In the instant that Vin tore the scarf from across his face and opened his mouth to yell a warning, Jack's boot slipped under that part of the wire stretched taut across the trail.
"Don't move!" Vin started to call out, lurching forward at the same time, only to find himself thrown to the ground as a massive boom roared up from the valley floor. More blasts followed. Rocks and tree branches flew through the air, the force of the explosions hurtling them high into the sky. The wind drove the smaller branches like daggers, spearing into the valley walls. Vin threw his arms up to protect himself, grunting as he was pelted with debris, and began moving forward again, looking up just in time to see the ranger begin to stand then fall back, a jagged branch protruding from his chest. Jack's face was a mask of shock as he fell. He took a step backward, never feeling the slight catch as his boot caught on the wire.
The next explosion ripped the gnarled trees from their roots and shattered the rocks that had held them in place. Boulders and trees lifted upward and then began sliding down the slope. Vin felt a rush of hot air pushing him back. He glanced down as his feet left the ground, and suddenly all he could see below him was nothing but space and the destroyed road at the bottom of the pass littered with broken trees. Bodies lay like squashed ants among the ruins. Vin heard his name being called, felt himself being jerked backward, his coat catching under his chin and snapping his head back, and then nothing but a fuzzy greyness and the wind whistling through thick fog.
Eight
Wind and snow whipped through the mountains with a roar. A mushroom cloud of smoke from the explosions rose high with the initial intensity of the blow but quickly began to dissipate as the wind tore at its edges. Already wisps of grey-brown smoke were reaching out across the sky, caught in the coming storm's fury and staining the otherwise dull expanse with the debris of the dead and broken. A faint odour, acrid and metallic, reached the solitary man watching from a not-too-distant ledge.
Declan Raddick peered into the smoke with straining eyes, waiting for the pass to clear - waiting to see how much damage he'd wrought. He ignored the pressure of the binoculars digging into the soft tissue around his eyes and the burning tears that quickly froze as they ran down his cheeks. His face was blank, his concentration deep as he pictured the scene in his mind - the twist of the trigger wire around the sticks he'd fashioned into crude figures, a curious hand picking one of the figures up for a closer look, or maybe not even seeing the figures, but tripping over the wire strung between the trees and across the trail. The following explosions coming so soon on the heels of the first had filled him with warm satisfaction. The booms had echoed through the mountains. The pebbles beneath his feet had jumped from the ground, ice had cracked and dropped from the trees behind him. It was a wonderful feeling. His plan had gone so well. Raddick had felt a welcome stillness grow inside him from the moment he'd seen the wire and explosives in the back of the truck. The plan had flashed across his mind in its entirety, and he'd mentally sketched out the details as they'd driven away from the cave the day before. He'd collected the twigs when they'd stopped for the night half way along the pass and spent the hours until daylight getting them just right, the snores and rumblings of his men as they tried to sleep in the close quarters of the trucks a soothing backdrop as he worked.
He'd left his men at the far end of the pass with firm instructions to continue on until nightfall and then wait for him to catch up. Hoisting a pack full of explosives and several lengths of the trip wire to his back, and carrying a cloth bag containing the stick figures, Raddick had hiked back along the pass to set his trap. Working diligently, a low humming the only sound he made, Declan strung the wire through the trees and packed the explosives under a pile of head-sized rocks. He pushed more under the roots of a dead tree, more still at intervals beneath a fallen log then set the detonators. Looking around him, and still full of the drive that pushed him at such times, he spied a pattern in the trees on the slope above that indicated a trail. His humming grew louder as he climbed the slope, quick eyes picking out the best trees to decorate with his own brand of welcome. He found three, strung them up, planted two more explosives and set the detonators, but a twisting inside his gut urged him to find more. The twist curled inside him and an old familiar tightness began in his chest. He needed more trees, but they had to be the right ones. He scanned either side of the trail and finally looked across to the other side of the pass. The going was hard, but Raddick knew the steep cliff was climbable a little further along the main trail, and there were plenty of trees over there - plenty of trees and lots of loose-looking rocks. Declan's lips had buzzed with his humming as he trotted back down the slope; one hand lashed out at a tree as he passed it, the snow from its branches drifting to the ground as his fist connected with the trunk. Everything was as it should be. The tightness in his chest was fading, his stomach was settling, the stillness would stay with him a little longer.
Up on the ledge, the wind whipping around him, Declan watched and waited. There hadn't been enough explosions. The smoke was clearing and there'd only been the five big booms. The tightness returned. The inner stillness evaporated like the smoke from his explosions. He needed more. Watching as the surviving men scattered around the trails, dragging the injured to hastily erected shelters, checking the area for more explosives, Declan calculated the inventory of his trucks and began to make a new plan.+ + + + + + +
The straps holding the communications gear close to his body were beginning to cut into JD's skin. Even through the thickness of his thermal underwear, shirt, sweaters and coat, the pressure of the tightly woven canvas strap was making his shoulders throb and his neck ache. He shifted them and wriggled, but it made no difference. When Buck had suddenly stopped in front of him, he muttered an aggravated, "Thank God." He hadn't heard Chris's shouted warning and started pulling the com-pack over his head. It was half way off when a firm hand pushed it back down and hissed, "Don't move, JD."
Even as Buck's hand moved to caution JD, all hell was breaking loose around them. Chris's yell to freeze a split second before had come followed by a tremendous upheaval of rock and broken trees from below. Earth spewed upward and had no time to settle before a second explosion rocked through the valley and the trail Vin and his team were following was obliterated from view. The warning hand became a shove as Buck threw himself at JD and pushed him to the ground, covering the younger man with his own body as they were pelted with debris.
Around him the rest of his team were huddled beneath their packs. Buck could hear their yells of shock and anger over the ringing in his ears and the rumble of rocks tumbling down the mountainside to fill the pass below.
As soon as the shockwaves had passed, Chris jumped to his feet and yelled a warning to his team to stay put. If the other two trails had been ambushed, then it was certain theirs would have been as well. Buck lifted himself off a dazed JD, careful not to move around too much, avoiding snagging any surprises in the thick trees lining the trail. Chris signalled to him to shuck the pack and start searching for the traps.
The wire, when they found it, was half covered in snow where it ran along the very edge of the trail. It twisted and wound it's way around rocks and tree roots, hanging like a spider's web glistening with the morning dew. Chris's soft intake of breath was the only indication of shock he gave at how close he and his team had come to being blown to smithereens. He turned to Buck; his friend's face was pinched and pale. "We've got the trigger, let's get the explosive."
Buck eyed the line of wire; following it up to some rocks nestled in the midst of several half-grown trees. "Looks like it leads up to that pile of rocks."
"Let's fix this bitch," Chris asserted.
The other men watched with nervous eyes as the pair picked their way upslope between the trees. Pebbles and lumps of ice slid down, marking their way. JD swallowed audibly as he watched the tiny stones collect against the wire, pushing against it. Until Buck called out an all clear, the young agent hadn't realised he'd stopped breathing. Pin pricks of light danced in front of him as he gasped for the breaths he'd been holding back.
"Y'okay, JD?" Buck asked as he came sliding back down the slope. He stopped to pull up the wire, not seeing JD's shudder as the wire pulled free and the collection of pebbles continued downhill to scatter at his feet.
"Yeah," JD got out. He wiped a hand across his face and struggled to get out of the awkward position Buck had pushed him into.
Strong hands gripped under his arms and helped him to his feet. "Nothing like imminent death to get the heart pumping," Josiah commented. "We got off lightly. Our friends did not." Josiah had already released his grip on JD and was headed down to the main trail after Chris.
JD shifted the pack on his back once more, the cutting straps and his sore shoulders forgotten as he caught a glimpse of the wrecked bodies lying across the trail and two more hanging from the newly formed cleft in the mountain opposite him, an ancient tree root the only thing stopping their fall to the rocks below.
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