William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

The man with the chain stopped in mid-swing. The brute hovering over Maureen stepped away, but not before cracking her one more time across the jaw.

“We’ll be back,” the leader said. “This is just a reprieve.” He started to go, then whipped around suddenly, lurched forward, and drove his fist deep into the soft part of Ben’s stomach. Ben doubled over and fell to the pavement.

“That’s to remember me by,” the man growled. He and his two accomplices disappeared in the darkness of the alleyway.

“Are you all right?” Maureen said, rushing toward Ben. Her eyes were full of concern.

Ben wasn’t entirely sure. His gut felt like it was on fire; he couldn’t seem to stand up straight. “Am I all right? What about you? And Rick?”

“Rick!” She ran back the other way, then knelt by her friend. Ben could see that he was conscious, although he seemed to be having a hard time moving.

He was suddenly aware that Christina was standing behind him. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” he asked.

“What of it?”

Ben smirked. “I assume you provided the sound effects-the slamming door, the rushing feet.”

“Seemed like the least I could do. Nice bluff about the cell phone. Who knows? If you’d take more cases maybe you could afford a real one.”

Ben tried to push himself to his feet, but every time he moved, his stomach felt as if stitches were being ripped out.

“I think Rick’s okay,” Maureen said. She sat on the ground beside Ben. “At least in the sense that he’s not going to die. But I want him to go to the hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Rick said emphatically. “Doc can take a look at me when we get back to camp.”

“Doc’s our medic,” Maureen explained. “A member of our group. We’ve been trying to make ourselves self-sufficient by recruiting people with professional training. You know, so they can help out when the need arises, without our having to bankrupt ourselves hiring outside assistance. We’ve covered most of the major fields, except of course …”

“Law,” Ben said, finishing her sentence.

“Yeah. Most of the lawyers we’ve talked to seem more interested in summer cottages on Puget Sound than helping a group of …”

“Eco-terrorists,” Ben said, filling in the blanks.

“Environmental warriors,” she replied, then all at once broke out in a grin. “Anyway, we’ve got to run before more of these hoods appear. You can see what we’re up against. Like I told you, they’re everywhere. It’s not even safe for us to walk the streets.” She turned suddenly; Ben realized she was fighting back tears. “Thanks for the help. You’re pretty quick on your feet, and if you don’t mind me saying so, and I-well, never mind. I hope we see you again sometime.”

“I’m in,” Ben said.

Maureen stopped short. “You’re-I’m sorry?”

“I’m in. I’ll help.”

“Do you mean-”

“I mean, you need a lawyer. Well, here I am.”

Maureen grasped both his arms. “That’s wonderful. That’s-”

Ben cut in. “But I won’t do anything illegal. So don’t ask.”

“No, of course not. Are-are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

Overcome with enthusiasm, Maureen threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Ben felt a sudden rush that he knew had nothing to do with the acquisition of a new client. “That’s so wonderful! This is the biggest break we’ve had in months!” She hugged him again, overcome with enthusiasm. “Mr. Kincaid, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Tess parked her Jeep Cherokee in the only opening in the gravel-covered parking area. The place was packed-by Magic Valley standards, anyway.

She wasn’t surprised. There were only two bars in Magic Valley, and this one-Bunyan’s-was the only one that stayed open after midnight. For the crowd that wanted to drink into the wee hours of the morning, this was the place to be.

She crossed the parking lot, passing between two rows of pickups, mostly red, a few blue or green. A bumper sticker caught her eye: KILL AN OWL, SAVE A LOGGER.

She shook her head. Those Green Ragers had to be crazy to hang out here. Not that there were a lot of choices.

She opened the front door of Bunyan’s. A thick cloud of smoke hit her so hard she almost choked. Her eyes stung; it was several seconds before she could see anything. When she could, she didn’t see much she liked.

The place was filled with men, most of them tough, bearded, and sizable. Not the kind you’d expect to see at the Friday-night poetry reading. Excepting the waitresses, she saw only a couple of women. The place was decorated with logging memorabilia-rusted hacksaws and chain saws, sepia-toned photos of logging operations throughout the century. One wall displayed a huge neon image of Paul Bunyan-one hand on his trusty axe, the other on Babe the blue ox.

She scanned the bar till she found the guys she was looking for. There were two of them, both seated at the bar. They both had long hair; one of them wore an earring, although these days that wasn’t uncommon even with the loggers. They were younger than most of the rest of the men in the bar.

She knew one of them-Rick Collier. He was one of the top men in the local Green Rage hierarchy, second in command to George Zakin, the man currently under lock and key. She didn’t know the other man, but since he was deep in an animated conversation with Rick, she thought it a good bet that he was also a member of Green Rage.

And as luck would have it, there was an empty barstool beside Rick. Although, upon reflection, she thought it probably was not luck but the fact that no one else in the bar wanted anything to do with them.

She sashayed up to the empty bar stool, consciously ignoring the leers she received from the men she passed. Most of them probably thought they were giving her a compliment, but from her perspective, all they were giving her was the creeps.

She took the empty stool and ordered a gin and tonic. While she waited, she tried to eavesdrop on the discussion to her immediate right.

“Can we trust him?” the man she didn’t know asked Rick.

“I think so,” Rick answered. “To a point, anyway. He’s probably at the dilettante stage. He’d like to think of himself as an activist, committed to the cause. But he’s probably not ready to take any risks.”

“How much can we tell him? How much should he know?”

“Nothing about anything illegal, that’s for sure. He’s still processing. Let’s not get his panties in a twist over some penny-ante act of ecotage.”

There was a pause before the other man asked the next question. “Do you think he suspects?”

“Naw,” Rick said confidently. “Not a chance. He’s clueless.”

The two men fell silent. Tess supposed this was her opening. She took a cigarette out of her purse, pressed it to her lips, and tapped Rick lightly on the shoulder. “Do you know if smoking is permitted?”

He peered at her through the smoke-filled air. “If it isn’t, you’d better run, ’cause this shack must be on fire.”

She smiled seductively. “Got a light?”

Rick shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not into self-destruction.”

She set the cigarette on the counter and leaned closer to him. “What are you into?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Tsk, tsk. Answering a question with a question. That’s a bit defensive.”

“I’ve learned to be.” He started to turn back to his companion. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Tess laid her hand on his shoulder and gently brought him back around. “Please don’t. I’m all alone here, I don’t know anyone, and I’d really like some company.”