Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

Roger should have chosen his target skirting boards by now and be in position to knock them out.

Crossing to the hole they'd made in the floor, she replaced the boards over it so that it wouldn't be instantly obvious as to what was going on. Her eye fell on the pile of stuff he'd collected from around the cabin and, on impulse, picked up the spare power cord and folded it up in her hand. Back at the fireplace, she lit one of the kindling sticks from the main fire and held the lighted end against the wicker seat of the chair until it started to smolder. Leaning close, she blew carefully on it until a small flame finally appeared.

The chair was as dry as twenty years of neglect could make it, and within half a minute the fire had spread to half of the seat and the wicker was beginning to crackle with the heat stress. Lighting the newspaper beneath the chair, she stepped back and went into the cabin's kitchen area where the newly blazing fire was out of her direct sight. There she waited until the sound of her fire was clearly audible. Then, taking a deep breath, she ran across the living room, making as much noise on the wooden floor as she could. "Fire!" she shouted, putting panic in her voice as she hammered on the door with her fists. "Help! Fire!"

She was still pounding when the door was abruptly pushed open. "What?" one of the Warriors demanded, looking over her shoulder.

"It caught on fire," Caroline gasped, pointing frantically toward the burning chair. "There's no water in the kitchen—nothing to put it out with. Please—help us."

"Move away," the Warrior ordered, stepping into the doorway. He paused there, and she saw his eyes flick to both sides and then up as he searched quickly for the trap he obviously expected. "Just relax," he added, stripping off his jacket and wrapping it around his hand as he strode into the cabin.

"It'll fit just fine into the fireplace."

"But it's a chair," Caroline objected. "We can't—I mean—"

The Green didn't bother to answer. Grabbing the back of the chair with his protected hand, he lifted it up and turned it sideways, lining it up to slide in with the rest of the fire.

Surreptitiously, Caroline glanced back at the door. The second Warrior was watching the proceedings from just outside the doorway, showing no signs of coming in. From where he stood, she realized with a sinking feeling, it wouldn't take more than a slight turn of his head to see Roger making for the car.

She would have to do something about that.

The first Warrior had the chair wedged firmly into the fireplace now, sticking out into the room but mostly over the hearth where dropped sparks and ashes wouldn't pose any danger. Easing toward him, Caroline put her hands together in front of her as if nervously wringing them. Under cover of the movement she shifted one end of the power cord to the other hand. With the threat from the chair mostly neutralized, the Warrior turned his attention now to the newspaper, methodically stamping out the bits that were still burning and grinding his shoes hard where the floor looked like it might be smoldering.

Clenching her teeth, Caroline stretched the power cord out in front of her and leaped up onto his back, looping the cord around his throat and pulling back with all her strength.

The Green was fast, all right, faster than she would have expected. Before she could even get the cord tightened around his neck he had spun ninety degrees to the side, grabbing her right wrist in an iron grip and bending violently forward with the clear intent of judo-throwing her over his shoulder.

But she'd grown up with three brothers and knew how to counter that one. She leaned sideways as he bent over, sliding off his back but keeping a grip on the cord. The maneuver ended up flipping her all the way over; and suddenly she found herself with her heels on the floor, hanging at an angle by the cord now looped around the back of the Warrior's neck, staring up into the Green's startled and increasingly angry face. "I've got him!" she shouted, realizing full well that that was a bald-faced lie.

"Hurry!"

And then the other Warrior was on her, grabbing at her wrists. She tried to kick him, but he was at the wrong angle and she could only knee him weakly in the side of his leg. He got a grip on her wrists and forced them apart, tearing the cord from her grip. With her support suddenly gone, she fell backward onto the floor, grunting as her back and head slammed onto the rough wood. The first Warrior said something venomous-sounding, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand where the cord had dug into his skin. He lifted the other hand over his head, and Caroline flinched back as the open palm poised over her face.

The slap never came. Even as the Green started to swing his hand toward her cheek, the cabin filled with the sudden roar of a car engine.

The two Warriors reacted instantly, making a mad scramble for the door. Caroline grabbed at them as they fled, but they were out of reach before she could catch hold of anything. The engine changed pitch as Roger threw the car into gear, roared briefly as he backed into a tight half-circle, then changed pitch and roared even louder as he tore back down the drive, throwing a spray of dirt and leaves and gravel against the front of the cabin. Hoisting herself up on one elbow, Caroline caught a glimpse of his taillights as they disappeared over the first rise.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears as her fingers rubbed the back of her head.

She'd done her part. The rest was up to him.

The first part was the hardest. As Caroline had guessed, the skirting boards hadn't been much of a barrier, though to Roger's hypersensitive ears snapping them off their nails had sounded like cannon being fired. He slipped through the undergrowth alongside the cabin, wincing at every leaf that crackled beneath his feet and hoping desperately he didn't trip over some hidden vine. He reached the corner of the cabin as Caroline's diversion was in full swing, only to find one of the Greens still standing in the doorway between him and the car.

He stayed pinned to the corner for what seemed like an hour, agonizing over whether he should try to sneak up on the Warrior or bypass him and head for the road on foot. But then the commotion hit a higher pitch, and the Green charged inside, and Roger sprinted with desperate recklessness for the car. For once the Buick started without protest, and he managed to get turned around and onto the drive before the Greens could stop him.

Which didn't mean they didn't try. Glancing in the mirror as he tore along the narrow drive, he shivered as he caught a glimpse of the knife sticking up out of the trunk. Whether the Warrior had been trying to hit something vital or whether he'd planned to hang onto the weapon and pull himself aboard Roger didn't know. But his muscles trembled with the realization of how close he'd come in that split second to losing everything.

And he was hardly out of the woods yet, literally as well as figuratively. He'd paid careful attention to the scenery as they drove in earlier, and he was pretty sure he knew how to get out again. But in the gathering dusk and the light and shadow thrown by his headlights he might as well have been on a different planet, and all the logic and reason in the world couldn't help the pounding of his heart.

Ahead, a road branched to the right. He hit the intersection and turned hard to the left, hoping fervently that he was going the right way. They'd always turned right on the way in, and he hadn't spotted any other side roads but the ones they'd taken, but it was always possible that he'd missed one. If he had—if he took a wrong turn anywhere in here—he would be instantly lost.

The car shot over another rise, and he winced as it hit the ground hard enough for the rear end to bottom out. He veered to miss a pothole, nearly running off the drive in the other direction, and threw another shower of gravel rattling against his rear bumper as he manhandled the car back on course. Ahead, he caught a glimpse of another intersection, and again turned to the left. One more left turn, he reminded himself, and he would be on the last leg. The intersection after that would be Route 42, and from there he was pretty sure he could find his way back to the Thruway and the relative safety of the city.