David Dun - At The Edge

"Pick up the log," she demanded.

The men, each in shock, stirred, tried to move, to obey. But not fast enough for Corey.

"You're not listening. You will each lose an ear." She said it without a thought, then stopped to consider the words, which dangled in the air like a spider on its thread. A chill of excitement ran through her and the blade shot from its handle with a quiet, cold click. People would talk about this; broken ribs would heal, but severed ears… These would be permanent offerings to Mother, more permanent than anything she'd done to them before.

On the ground before her, the men grasped desperately at the log.

"Too late. Stay where you are. The ear comes off first." The fat one. She grabbed his ear and made a clean, lightning-fast slice. The man's legs started shaking, and he stamped his heels on the ground involuntarily. The bleeding was profuse. She discarded his ear in the brush.

After watching this, the other two men became hysterical.

"Please don't," one of the men said. "Please don't." But before he could finish, his left ear was gone.

Then she turned to the third man and smiled at the look of resignation on his face. It was exhilarating-the knowledge that she could commit such violence, as much as the violence itself. The power was hers now. She would have to work fast, but she would get them all.

The men had learned to concentrate on this quiet, lethal voice, for behind it was a matter-of-fact malevolence like that of an eager butcher doing the spring lambs for sport. A creature that seemed capable of tearing muscle from sinew, bone from meat. Each man's vision was a mess. Through the flood of tears, points of light shimmered, wheeling and turning. Their remaining ears rang with the sounds of a thousand sirens. Struggling, the men lifted the log, the fractured ribs of each twisting in wounded flesh like battens in a wind-rent sail.

"Do not sit down until you get to the county road," she said when the men were standing. "If you sit down, you are liable to die of shock and exposure."

She went to the first man. ''Don't sit down until the county road," she said. "Repeat it."

"Don't sit down until the county road."

"All of you together."

"Don't sit down until the county road," they chanted, barely able to make themselves audible.

"Move." They hobbled off into the night, blood pouring from the sides of their heads, their soft, bare, lily-white feet padding over the crushed rock of the roadway.

Corey Schneider turned and began moving down the hill. The exhilaration was ebbing, but it wasn't giving way to any uncertainty or remorse. This was her calling. She had been summoned by Mother Earth, who had led her to Uncle Sam to be trained. And who had then led her here, to this night, to repay with ruthless violence those who would destroy Mother Earth. Those who would dismiss her as a mere nuisance.

As she jogged down the hill, Corey pondered what she had done, wondering if it was enough. For what she had done had been nothing, really, compared to the magnitude of their crime.

Corey went straight to her refrigerator for the orange juice. Most of the vodka was in the living room with the two couples who came to party, but there was just enough remaining in a bottle on the counter for one mixed drink. The music was turned up so loud she could feel the vibration in her teeth. There would be time for only a few hours' sleep before she needed to rise and be about her business. For the morning she would need a much better alibi than these potheads could provide. As she guzzled the orange juice and vodka, she hunted for her speed. First thing in the morning, she'd need it.

Walking into the family room, she felt a sense of relief. This time they hadn't trashed the place.

"OK, boys and girls, everybody out. Your hostess needs her beauty rest." She shooed away the smoke with a hand in front of her lips. A person could get fried just standing in the room.

Once the music was off, it took only a couple of minutes to clean up their mess. They were so spaced that they probably truly believed she'd been home the whole time. She closed the door when the last in line walked out.

Unless Patty McCafferty had gotten even softer, there would be a court fight this morning. And industry would come out in force. It would be her chance.

The phone rang. It was 2:30 in the morning; must be a wrong number she thought-or him.

"Yeah," she said.

"You were brilliant; you showed them, but cutting off a few ears isn't gonna do it."

"It was good, though, wasn't it?" she said. "A good distraction for the main event, like you said."

"A brilliant distraction. And now it's time for the main event. Are you scared?"

"Fuck no."

A chuckle. "We have done good things. Now you and I will do some real good."

"Yeah, well, wait until tomorrow." Instantly she hated herself for saying it-for falling in with this German, shoulder to shoulder, as if she had given herself over to this man.

"Have you had any dreams, Corey?"

"None worth talking about."

"You can tell me."

"There is a man. He's faceless. He waits for me in the shadows outside my forest."

"Maybe the dreams will stop if you get this done."

"I don't know. I'm tired of the same dream over and over."

"Corey, using dope freaks for an alibi isn't the best. That little party-is that really the way to go?"

"You had someone here? At my house?"

"It's for your own good, Corey. You need extra eyes and ears." He hung up.

They had her place bugged; they watched her. She knew it. But she'd gone crazy tearing up the house and never found a thing. She shivered. Then told herself that maybe it wasn't so bad. The German knew things. Amazing things. While she was collecting her thoughts, the phone rang again.

''Maria Fischer and Dan Young will both be at the courthouse at nine-thirty for the hearing. Traxler's courtroom."

"How do you know that?"

"We just know. And we know that Mother can count on you to get the job done."

Shohei arrived at her house early Monday morning after hearing about the loggers. His interest in Corey Schneider grew with each day. He would have loved a tap on her phone. Unfortunately, it was also impossible to tap Groiter or Kenji because Groiter swept the executive offices for bugs weekly and at random. Something was making Groiter cautious.

As Shohei contemplated the possibility that this Schneider woman might be linked to Groiter, he decided to ask Yoshinari if a bug of her phone might not be in order. It was highly illegal, and that might cause Yoshinari to balk. In fact, he knew it would.

A Mustang exited Corey Schneider's garage. Since he was in the bushes, a half mile away from his car, a hopeless feeling came over Shohei. Nevertheless, once she had passed, he sprinted up her driveway back to the road and back to his car. Driving flat out, he caught sight of her just as she entered Palmer.

He followed her to a video store, where she got out of her car and strutted like a peacock in her short skirt. This seemed highly out of character. He would wait.

Only hours after she left the earless loggers, Corey walked into Old Town Video wearing shades, short skirt, high heels, and a flashy blouse. It was a locally owned Palmer store that used to be a pool hall. A large rectangular room, it had high racks running its length. Along the back wall were small rooms, each with a video player and a TV that could be rented. The girl behind the counter, name of Macy, used to work for Jack Morgan, the pot farmer, and knew Corey. Macy was a faded blonde with a lot of miles on her, out-in-the-sun weathered skin, a pot slowed brain, and too long without vitamins. Corey thought she looked like she lived on Twinkies.

"Hey, long time no see."

"That's right." Corey took off her sunglasses to look at a young couple at the counter. "How are you folks today?"