David Dun - Necessary Evil

Kier led her through the woods beside the open trail.

"Give me just the good stuff of what you read," she said as they walked.

"I want to show you some more passages."

"Fine, fine, but tell me the guts of it now."

"I want to show you why I think they felt the need to clone people. I've got to explain the research. At the cabin. I'll show you."

After backtracking one hundred feet, they stood five feet off the tunnellike passage through the forest that was the pathway.

"Move your feet just slightly, like you would if you were waiting impatiently."

"When he sees this, he will think we are trying to ambush him?" She was catching on.

"He will wonder, and the wondering is enough. It will make him cautious… slow him down."

"Why am I moving and you're not?"

"Because he knows I wouldn't move."

"What? So I'm supposed to be stupid?"

"You'll learn, and then he'll read your knowledge in your track. But if I had said nothing and we had been here for twenty minutes, wouldn't your feet have moved just a tiny bit? If there was no movement, he would think we had only waited for a short time." Kier pointed behind her. "Take one step back." She did as he suggested. Squatting down, Kier flicked on a small light. "Now look at the size of your track. See how large it is and how the borders are blurred? Now look at mine." Kier stepped backward. "If he looks at this, he will wonder if we waited twenty minutes trying to catch him unawares.

"He'll know from my prior track up the trail that I was carrying you, that you were sick or wounded. Then he'll see that here you walked along after me. See the angle of your feet, compared to mine? And the way you stood next to me? He'll think you were waiting for me while I was looking up the trail, probably with my gun at the ready. When you step, you don't raise your feet high. You walk tired."

Kier touched her shoulder. "Let's go. I think he'll get our message. The illusion is at least confusing."

When they returned to the pack, Kier pointed to a log.

"I can walk now," she said, obviously anticipating him.

"I want to jog," Kier said.

"Are you always so… dismissive?"

Kier turned to her, stepping so close that she looked up at him. Reaching out, he touched her face. He let his eyes say the words that he felt.

"Oh, God," she said, meeting his gaze. He thought he saw confusion and uncertainty in her face. Seconds passed before she lowered her eyes.

Kier dropped his hand and turned to pick up his pack. "I'll carry you. It will be faster that way. When you are stronger, you can go on your own."

"Come over here next to the log and I'll climb on."

Once again, Kier gave her a line to pass behind her shoulders to provide support for her back. Since she held on without much conscious effort, she soon fell into a stupor. After an indeterminate period of jostling, she prodded herself conscious and saw no snow falling. A hole in the clouds revealed more stars than she had ever seen and a bright moon against the black-velvet sky shone so clearly she could make out its surface texture. In its light, their shadows danced behind them on the satin shoulders of the mountain. Kier walked now at an ordinary pace.

"So tell me again that we're going to sleep in a cabin with a fire."

"In a cabin, by a fire. But it will be tomorrow."

"So I wasn't imagining things," she said with some hope that it was really true.

"The only other guy who knows about the cabin is in Montana. But it's up to us to get there."

"What do you mean?"

"I would like you to consider just trusting me and not having me explain it. How do you feel about that?"

"Why don't you wish to discuss it?"

"It's one of the reasons I am carrying you."

Confused, Jessie looked around. To her left stood a sheer granite wall. Instantly, she looked down to her right and sucked in a breath. It was a straight drop. In fact, she couldn't see what Kier was walking on.

"Is this a trail?"

"Of sorts," he said cryptically. "I need to concentrate on keeping my balance. Try not to move."

She noticed now that he was carrying his snowshoes.

Her gaze wandered over the outline of the tiny ledge that they traversed. For the first time she observed the long stick in his right hand that he held in front of them, feeling along the rock ledge. As she considered the danger of such tenuous and blind footing, she could feel her heart beginning to pound. Her cotton mouth made swallowing difficult. For a moment, she shut her eyes tightly, telling herself to relax. A few slow, regular breaths helped.

Again she looked. They were moving across a cliff on a narrow ledge. Below there was an almost vertical decline. Directly overhead occasional rock overhangs blocked out the clear night sky.

After a time, the rock wall to the left disappeared, and there was nothing but snow to both sides and below them. Ahead was another mountain, rising gently from the end of their ledge. Far below she could see where the landscape turned dark in the moon's glow-a forest. Kier snapped on a light. He was knee deep in snow on a razorback ridge. Now, on both sides, an abyss invited her mind to take leave of thought and embrace panic.

"Oh my God." She meant it as a prayer.

"I would like for you to carefully consider something."

"What?" She could barely speak.

''Loosen your grip around my neck just slightly, so as not to choke me."

''Oh. Sorry." She realized that she had pulled her wrists into his Adam's apple. "I don't mind telling you I'm frightened."

"I know what I'm doing."

She forced herself into a sort of calm. "I'm better now," she said after a time. "Can I help?"

"In a few minutes, I'm going to need to let you down."

Each of his deliberate steps followed much poking with the staff. The flat mountain surface ahead lay less than a stone's throw away. She longed to lie on it, touch it, kiss it. It was so massive, not nearly so steep as the ridge on which Kier now balanced. And it had trees, blessed trees. In front of them, she could just make out a tree near a large, dark area, like a cave. Actually, it appeared that the mountainside had an overhang. It was as if she were looking down the tube of a giant, curling wave. Ice and snow in the moonlight were the foam atop the breaker.

"There," he said, running his staff into a spot in the snow that seemed to have no bottom. "How would you feel about my loosening the rope and your getting down?"

"Not good. But I'll do it."

Slowly she slid from his back, letting her feet sink into the snow until she found a foothold on the rocky surface. Removing the pack, Kier pushed it down into the snow like a candle in a cake. He motioned for her to sit on it.

"Have you ever seen that?"

She knew exactly what he meant. On the horizon a planet shone jewellike. She threw her head back, staring. Bright stars and lesser stars occupied every tiny patch of black, and the Milky Way was a shimmering cloud of light. Her cold fear mixed with awe. She looked into eternity. And it was so quiet. There was not a sound.

"It sounds really corny, but I feel like I'm part of God," she said. "How could I ever describe this?"

"What are you feeling?"

"Peace, I guess. This is all so crazy. We're dead meat. There's no peace for us. I wonder if the men who hunt us could ever feel this. God, when I look at this… all this… I have never seen a sight to match it… But it is not just in the seeing… it's… " She didn't know what to say.

Kier tried. "It's the experience of a spirit-a very thirsty, parched spirit-that wants to touch another. Grandfather says that by knowing your own smallness you can find a way to the whole. Under these stars you are finding your smallness. You touch the whole."