Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

“Lead the way-I’ll try to keep up.”

“Don’t worry about keeping up. We’ll be moving very slowly in the dark. And Nicole,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands, “don’t be sorry. I’m still glad you invited me.”

She kissed him briefly, then pulled her hood up and tightened the drawstring under her chin.

Rain began to fall just before 2:00 a.m., slowly at first, then more heavily, making the going slippery and difficult. They’d been unable to observe any movement from the brigade searchers since cresting the ridge over an hour earlier. The last compass heading Dan had taken left him fairly certain the searchers had found his Blazer and were concentrating their search along that one fire trail. The brigade was still left with multiple directions they would need to consider. Dan hoped that in the dark and wet conditions, he and Nicole would be able to avoid being spotted until daylight. Nicole had followed in his muddy footsteps without complaint.

“Not much farther, if I’m right. The cabin should be about half a mile down this ravine. There’s a small stream running this side. Once we spot that, we can just follow it to the cabin.”

“Still think we should hole up in the Boy Scout hut?” she asked.

“No.”

Nicole pulled his arm, stopping his progress. “No? But I thought-”

“ We aren’t going to hole up, Nicole. I am.”

“Dan, I thought we agreed that-”

“There’s a small cave-not a cave, really, just a rocky overhang where I’m going to leave you. It’s only about four hundred yards from the Boy Scout hut, and you can see the cabin from there at first light. I’m going to hole up in the cabin.”

“No, Dan, we should-”

“Listen, Nicole. I’ve been thinking about it, and it makes sense.” He squatted down, wiping the rain from his face and tugging at Nicole’s hood, shielding her eyes from the rain. “If I’d thought this through better, I would’ve dropped you off at a suitable spot back on the main highway before I headed back up the mountain. After their truck passed, you could have flagged down a car and gotten a ride into town with the disks safely in your possession. I just didn’t think ahead and certainly didn’t plan on another brigade bunch coming from the other side of the mountain. What I’ve realized is that I’m not the only one raised in these hills. Several of the brigade boys know them quite well, also. I’m afraid they might know about the Scout hut, even though it’s been out of use for many years.”

“But then they’ll come directly to you.”

“Possibly. But even if they do, I should be able to stall them until morning. They won’t take any action against me until they get orders from their commander. And besides, the cabin is located right in the middle of the last coordinates we gave Connor.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Nicole,” he said, “I know this is your case, but this is my territory. The brigade’s not stupid. They won’t just kill me without trying to determine where the disks are. I plan to tell them I left you back on Highway 53 and that by now you’ve got the disks safely at FBI headquarters in San Francisco.”

Nicole thought for a moment and began to see the merit of the argument. “All right, Dan. But if you get caught-”

“I probably will, but that’s our plan. Remember?”

Hunkered down beneath a rock outcropping, the rain no longer dripping from her hooded jacket, Nicole listened as the sounds of Dan’s retreat diminished. Lightning had begun to streak across the sky, and in the quick flash of those natural floodlights, she thought she caught a glimpse of the cabin in the direction Dan had indicated. Holding her coat tight around her, she tried to get comfortable in the face of a long wait.

Less than thirty minutes after Dan left, she was astonished to hear faint voices approaching. Dan had felt they had a good hour-and-a-half head start from the time the brigade would find the Blazer. Nicole squirmed back farther under the rock overhang and tried to still her breathing. She listened as the voices approached and came to a stop only yards away from her position, conferring on the other side of a cluster of rocks. She could make out three or perhaps four voices, and after several seconds of garbled speech, the talking ceased, leaving only the sound of falling rain in the darkness.

Dan had been in the Boy Scout hut just over half an hour when he heard the first sounds. It had seemed like hours, during which he had second-guessed himself several times, concerned that should Nicole be captured, he’d never know it-and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. The flaw in the plan was his ignorance of what was happening outside. He was trapped, somewhat like a rabbit run to warren, waiting for the fox to find the entrance.

The door burst open, and two men dressed in full camouflage gear entered the shelter, one wearing goggles Dan recognized instantly as a night-vision device. That accounted for how they had been able to cover the ground so quickly. Dan had started a Coleman lantern after entering the cabin-part of the emergency Boy Scout equipment left behind in the hut. That lantern provided the only light, far too much, however, for the man with goggles. He removed them just as a third man came in the doorway. Mild surprise showed on his face as he recognized Dan, a fact that eluded Dan until the man stepped farther into the light. It was unmistakably Jackson Shaw. As soon as he stepped into the dimly lit room, the even more familiar face of Roger Dahlgren appeared in the doorway.

“Well, Mr. Rawlings,” Shaw said, “what a pleasant surprise. Camping on such a night, or are you just earning a few more Boy Scout merit badges?” Shaw stepped farther into the small cabin and turned to face one of the men who had not taken his eyes or his weapon off Dan since he entered. “Sergeant Krueger, secure the perimeter.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, leaving the cabin.

Shaw pulled a stool out from under a rickety table and sat down facing Dan, who was standing with his back up against the far wall of the hut. Dahlgren entered and sat on the edge of an old, wooden bunk bed.

“Lose your companion, Mr. Rawlings?”

Dan maintained a blank stare, holding Shaw’s eyes. “Companion?”

“Rawlings,” Shaw said, spitting on the floor of the cabin, “save the tap dance for someone else. Where’s the girl?” he demanded.

“You must mean Agent Bentley,” Dan replied. Glancing casually at his watch, Dan looked again at Shaw. “By now, she’s probably back at her office in San Francisco.”

Shaw smiled. “Right! Beam me up, Scotty. Is that it, Rawlings? You expect me to believe that?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Believe what you will, Shaw. If she’s not there yet, she’s at least well on the way. Look, we can save each other a lot of time. We saw your men at Stevenson’s cabin and when we made a run for it, I left her out on the highway, intending to hide until your men passed. I then took the fire trail back over the mountain to lead them off. By now, she will have flagged down a passing car and made it into the city, or at least to a police station.”

Shaw remained expressionless, evaluating this bit of information.

“We might as well all hike back down to our vehicles and go home,” Dan said, pushing his luck. “There’s nothing I have that you want, Shaw.”

Shaw slowly shook his head side to side, a sneer forming on his face. “Rawlings, you just don’t get it, do you? We’re at war. And you’re not even one of the enemy-entitled to POW treatment under the Geneva Convention. You’re a Californian and a member of our legislature-a traitor, as I see it.”