James Smith - The Flock

"I'll be damned," Ron said. "This truck has an electric motor?"

"Dual systems."

"What?"

"Electric and propane. We can switch to propane if we want to."

"You're joking." He looked the cab over again, checking out as many details as he could in the cool, green light from the dash. "I've never seen one of these."

"Hey. Vance is a wealthy man. He buys only the best." Kate tooted the horn and Ron saw two fellows appear from the shadows to unlock the gates and let them out. She waved at them and muttered thanks, even though they couldn't hear her through the raised windows. In a moment the compound was a couple of distant lights in the darkness, then gone. They were on a single lane road that was merely a couple of sandy tracks in the wiregrass, a narrow gap that led through the woods, meandering back and forth. "I like driving this little road," she said. "We didn't cut it through here, you know. We just cleared out a couple of loblolly pines and that was all the construction needed. The big trucks that brought in the building materials did most of the work for us, and the forest has even repaired most of that damage."

Ron nodded. "He seems sincere about saving this place. I have to say it's an important site. But I don't know if he's going to get what he wants."

Kate glanced his way just as the dirt road met up with one of the paved roads that marked the current boundary of Salutations. "You might be right. But it would hurt my heart to see him fail. You've seen a little of it. This place deserves to be saved, despite shoddy impact statements from the government, high powered lawyers from an entertainment conglomerate, and the slippery good ol' boy politics of a thinly veiled neo-Nazi." There was an edge in her voice. The truck bounced as it climbed up from sand to asphalt.

"I agree with you. It's a big place. Lots of varied habitat."

"Ron, I don't think you have a grasp on this place. Not really. You ought to take a look at it. I mean, a really good look. It's one of the largest unprotected roadless areas in the eastern United States. It has to be preserved. As is."

In the dark of the cab Ron looked at Kate's face outlined from the bluish glow from the lighted dash. He was finding himself more attracted to her the longer he was with her. "Sorry about what I said today. In Levin's lab, I mean."

There was a moment's silence. "That's okay. Don't mention it."

"I just wanted to apologize. The reason I said it, well, that guy Levin was getting on my nerves. He was baiting me. Maybe he's jealous that I was out hiking around with you, or something." He cleared his throat, feeling nervous again. "Are you two…attached?"

"Attached? Me and Levin? Heavens, no." She glanced his way. "What was he saying? Did he say something about me?"

"Not in so many words, no. It's hard to describe. He was just giving me a hard time. Making innuendoes. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Sure you are. Look, I've known Adam for nine years, and I know exactly what you're talking about. He can be quite irritating." They were going through the center of Salutations. The lights were bright, the quaint mall bustling, people walking down the streets. The place looked very nice. She slowed the truck to a crawl, to avoid hitting any of the kids who might dart into the street. She'd seen kids do that here in the past.

"Apology accepted, then?"

"No need for one, but if you feel like giving one, then sure. Apology accepted." Kate smiled at Ron and accelerated gradually through a green light.

"Then how about going out with me this Friday? I know some nice places to eat. Some nice clubs. I was thinking about driving over to Melbourne. How about it?"

Kate was quiet for several seconds. It seemed like minutes to Ron, and he was beginning to become uncomfortable. She reached over and flipped a switch, letting in cool air. Finally, she spoke. "Look. You don't know me that well. There are some things happening for me right now that are keeping me very busy. But, I'd like to make the time to get to know you."

Ron pressed his lips together. Okay. A mystery woman. "I can't imagine what I'd need to know before taking you out. But, okay. Let's talk about it."

For the first time since he'd met her that morning, an expression of something like anger crossed her face. "Not now. This isn't the time or the place. We'll talk later. Maybe tomorrow, if you come by the compound. Hell, there's three days before Friday."

Ron reached back and grunted, pulling his wallet free. He opened it, dug around until he found the small bundle of cards he carried there. "Here," he said, handing one to her. "This is a business card. I have to have them for when I'm doing interpretive talks for schools, tourist groups. They have my home phone number. Give me a call and we can make some time. Just to talk."

Without looking at him, Kate reached out and took the card and stuffed it in the breast pocket of her shirt. "Okay." Her eyes were on the road as they left the town center behind and faded into the darkness toward the residential neighborhoods. "Now. Where did you park your truck?"

"North side of town," he told her. "Phase Three, they call it. I parked right next to that substation."

"I know exactly where you're talking about," she said. "I'll have you right there."

She made a couple of right turns, the headlights of the truck spotlighting freshly mown lawns and smart cars parked in pale, concrete driveways, waiting to pull into wide garages. "I hate this place," she said. And then they were there, her bright beams illuminating Ron's truck. "This the place, fella?"

"This is the place," he told her, smiling at her and offering his hand. She took it, gripped it, and released him. "Thanks for the ride, good lookin'."

"Anytime," she said as he slid out. He smiled again, waved, and shut the door.

While Ron walked to the truck and climbed in, she waited until he had started it and was pulling away. Once, when she was younger, she had dropped a friend at a vehicle, a situation similar to this one, and had driven away without waiting; the friend's car had not started and a four-mile hike in the dark had been made to the nearest public phone. She had always felt some guilt over that, and never wanted to repeat that kind of error.

Falling in behind his truck, she followed for a hundred yards or so. Then he turned south, and she had to bear to the right.

Tim Dodd lay in the garden tub and soaked. Soaked, he thought. He was thinking of doing that to the Inquirer. Sure, he was on their dime, but he'd earned it. They were paying for this fourth floor room, an expensive room at that. They were footing the bill for this hot bath and for the room service, which he had abused for the past two weeks. But they had gotten some good articles from him. Roe Fox, his immediate editor, had admitted that they received a flood of calls and letters concerning his pieces on Salutations. He'd boosted sales considerably in the South, Fox had told him. But the story was starting to flicker out. People had seen enough photographs of trussed up alligators in the back of some gator hunter's pickup truck. And the hospital bed photos he'd gotten of the fat jogger who'd been nailed by the cottonmouth were topflight, certainly. But the paper had run it twice and that kind of stuff was losing its punch.

"Either build up this giant snake thing you've got going, or head on back. You can't run up your expense account like this forever," Fox had told him.

"I'm not making this up, Roe. These people really are losing their pets to some silent predator coming out of the woods. For real."

"Save it for the funny papers, Tim. This is Roe Fox you're talking to. Now, find your giant snake or get your ass back to home base. You've got a week, son."