David Golemon - Primeval

The noise dwindled, and then picked up in intensity. It sounded like several people slamming large sticks against the trunks of trees. The sound echoed down through the river valley of the Stikine, bringing with it a set of cold chills, the likes of which Lynn had never had before.

As suddenly as the strange banging had started, it stopped, and the dark world around them became silent once more. Lynn saw Sagli lower his weapon and then gesture for the others to get back to sleep or to take up their guard stations once more. Sagli looked up at the giant trees as they swayed in the slight wind that had sprung up. As he turned away after slinging his rifle around his shoulder, he saw Lynn as she looked out of her tent flap. He smiled, with not one inch of it actually reaching anything other than his lips. Did he know something about the strange noise and wasn't offering an explanation, or was he as taken back as the others had been, herself included?

"Beavers slapping their tales against the water," he said as he passed.

Lynn decided to brave a comment from the small safety of her flimsy nylon fort.

"Sounds like wishful thinking."

Sagli stopped for a moment and faced her.

"Does it really matter? Anything out there would be doomed to challenge this group of men — now get to sleep, you will have a hard day tomorrow."

Lynn watched Sagli disappear into his tent and then his light go out. Just as she was starting to zip up her own flap, she looked once more into the darkness.

"Beavers, my ass," she said, and then gave out a slight shiver.

Around the camp the night grew still once more, and little did the Russians know that their presence in the valley of the Stikine had just been announced.

The few Russians on guard continued their watch, but now they listened far more closely than before. Most of the veterans of war-torn Chechnya and other embattled places felt as though they were once more in hostile countryside as their survival senses became active, and they knew as all old soldiers knew. They were being watched.

As the drone of the large twin-engine Grumman thrummed in Jack's ears, his thoughts turned to his sister, where they never drifted very far away from. He was having a hard time recalling her face. He knew that happened from time to time with others in his life, so he knew he had to think of Lynn in context. Recalling her childhood was the easiest. Her smiling face as he pushed his seven-year-old sister down the hill outside of their parents' house, trying desperately to teach her the balance she needed to, as in her words, ride a big person's bike. He remembered being so proud that she kept her balance all the way down the minislope, and then the sheer horror he felt when she wobbled, and then dumped the bike moments before striking the picket fence that lined their front yard. He smiled at the memory. She had bounced up and wanted to go again.

"Colonel, you awake?"

Jack tuned his head, losing the smile and the memory at the same instant. "Yeah, Lieutenant, what's up?"

Ryan could see Jack's face in the soft green glow of the mapped-out hologram on the split windscreen. He looked tired, and thought seriously about not asking him.

"Uh, you think you can take over for a while? I have to rest my eyes for an hour or so. During our twelve-hour layover at the Columbia River, I didn't get much sleep."

Jack sat up straight in his seat with a worried look on his dark features.

"Don't worry, Alice installed one really nice autopilot; she'll fly herself. You shouldn't have to do anything but monitor the threat board right in front of you, but we're flying low enough that we shouldn't be picked up by anything outside of a seagull with Doppler radar."

"Okay, Ryan, don't you go far, and if I call, don't drag your ass getting back here."

"Yes, sir." Ryan undid his safety harness, and half stood beneath the overhang of the flight controls.

"Tell me, Ryan, does it feel good to be flying again?" Jack asked as he looked at the twin steering wheels of the Y-shaped yoke in front of him as they moved up and down, and left and right on their own.

"Yes it does, boss, we have an old saying in the navy: Just don't take the sky away from me."

Jack smiled at the look on Jason's face. He nodded and then gestured for Ryan to get some rest.

"So, my little Sarah, since my left leg has gone completely to sleep from your nonweight, take my mind away from it and tell me about your Colonel Collins, and his little sister."

Sarah shook her head. She was tired, but the constant bumping of the ancient plane kept her from relaxing, so she and Farbeaux had kept a steady chatter going since refueling in Oregon.

"Henri, you may not believe this, but until yesterday, I didn't know Jack had a sister."

"Would you two be quiet for a while? That damn Frenchman's voice has a worse tone to it than those ancient piston engines," Everett said from the tight seat across the aisle. He had an old fedora that he had relieved from Henri's secret basement pushed down over his eyes.

"Sorry," Sarah said as Jason Ryan squeezed through the small opening separating the cockpit from the cabin. She watched him as he looked around, and then finding no seat to sit in, started to lie down on a pile of supplies.

"No, Jason, here, take my place," she said as she stood and removed herself from Farbeaux's leg. "Believe me, it's more comfortable than that mountain of camping stuff; that is if you don't mind Henri hitting on you."

"Touche, my dear, touche!" Farbeaux said as she stood.

"Jesus, can you people take it outside?" Everett said.

"Here, here," agreed Charlie Ellenshaw, who had his head propped up against Punchy Alexander's large chest, who in turn had one leg draped over Will Mendenhall's lap and two rolled-up sleeping bags.

Sarah apologized and picked her way around the crowded cabin and headed for the cockpit.

"You better keep your hands to yourself; I heard what you Frenchmen are capable of," Ryan said as he sat hard onto Henri's leg.

"Oh, you haven't heard the half of it, Lieutenant, believe me," the Frenchman said angrily as Jason crushed his leg.

Sarah poked her head through the small curtain that separated the cabin and cockpit. The four-foot entryway was something a hobbit would have a hard time going through, but Sarah figured she and Ryan would have no trouble.

"Mind some company," she asked, "it's a tad crowded back there."

Jack didn't turn to face Sarah and acted as though he was still reading the hologram readout on the windscreen.

"Hi, babe. No, sit down, silence in here would no doubt be preferable to Farbeaux's chatting you up."

Sarah squeezed into the pilot's seat and looked around. The hologram with its see-through detail cast a green and blue glow on her features. She chanced a look at Jack and attempted a smile.

"Anyone trailing us?" she asked just for conversation.

"We had a close one just south of Seattle, but Ryan ducked into a valley just below Mount Rainier, he lost them pretty fast."

Sarah waited for more, but she saw that Jack wasn't going to add anything to his answer. She swallowed and then turned her head to the left, a large cloud slid by, almost luminous in its while veil because of the moon. She closed her eyes at her own reflection.

"Jack?"

Jack was reaching over and was turning the small knob on the overhead console that automatically adjusted the altitude because he had seen on the readout that the old Grumman had drifted up by about ten feet. When he was satisfied, he looked over at Sarah and half smiled.

"Tell me you love me," she said, her eyes boring into his.