Dr. Paige Lyons wrapped her arms around the skinny tree to keep from falling on her face. She bent over, expecting to vomit, but she was too tired even for that.
Next to her, Capt. Steve Connors hugged his stomach with one hand and pressed against his heart with the other, as if fearing it would burst through his chest. His mouth was open as he gasped for air.
"I thought astronauts were supposed to be in good shape," Eric said innocently.
"We… are," Steve said. "I've… run…" He started coughing.
"He's run… marathons," Paige said.
Steve nodded, held up two fingers. "Twice."
Paige pointed at herself. "Jog… every day."
"Gee," Eric said, "we've only run about eight miles. Hardly anything to a pair of sports like you."
Steve straightened up, his face glowing red. "Eight miles up and down goddamn hills. In the goddamn dark. Shit."
Paige slid to the ground, her back propped against the tree, her legs splayed straight out. "Well, you wanted them following us. Congratulations."
"Thanks." Eric tipped his canteen back and drank. "We're still a good forty minutes ahead of them. Pretty soon they'll stop for the rest of the night."
"Thank God," Paige said. "I'd sell my soul for a couple hours sleep."
"I said they'd stop for the rest of the night. Not us."
Steve Connors pointed an angry finger at Eric. "Listen, pal, we've been going along with you so far. But now you're starting to bug me. What's the point in all this running, anyway? We're leaving tracks even Little Red Riding Hood could follow."
"He's right, Ravensmith. We're not even trying to cover our trail."
Eric squatted next to Paige and Steve quickly sat on her other side, giving Eric a possessive sneer. Eric sighed. "We're leaving the trail so they will have something to follow. We've been leading them away from the Columbia for the past few hours, giving us a little more room to maneuver. By tomorrow, we'll reach the beach and follow it north to where your father's cabin is supposed to be. By the time Fallows reaches the beach, our prints will be washed away and he won't know if we went north or south. There's a good chance he'll split his men up then. That will give us better odds if we have to confront them." He paused. "And it will give me a better chance to get Tim back."
"I understand your feelings about your son, Ravensmith," Paige said. "But we can't help you. We have our own mission to complete. You'll be on your own."
"On my own, huh?" Eric smiled grimly. "That'll be new."
Paige started to say something, changed her mind. It was for the best, anyway. The guy didn't have a chance of getting his son back. He'd probably be killed trying. And that would be convenient all the way around.
Steve picked up a yellow flyer from the ground, began slowly tearing it like a destructive child. "I don't like it, Paige. His plan is too risky. I think we should try to lose them now. Do some backtracking or something. That'll give us a bigger lead."
"We don't want a bigger lead, Captain," Eric explained. "As long as Fallows knows about where we are, he'll keep the pace bearable. Once he thinks we're bolting, he'll come at us full force. I don't think we can outlast seventeen trained troops, do you?"
Steve shrugged, continued tearing paper.
"Well," Eric said, "I think I'll do a little looking around while you rest. We leave in five minutes." He ducked into the woods, moving silently away.
"Stop brooding, Steve," Paige said when they were alone. "Ravensmith is right. They push us any harder and we'll be crawling. We may be behind on points, but we're controlling the center of the court."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that we're goddamn lucky he came along or that maniac Fallows would have killed us all by now."
"Hey, thanks for all the faith."
She shook her head. "Give me a break, Steve. It has nothing to do with you. This Ravensmith character just happens to be better trained than you. Than any of us. He knows what he's doing. Hell, put him on the tennis court and you'd probably slaughter him."
"That supposed to be funny?"
"Christ, grow up." She took a deep breath. "Listen, Steve, we have a mission. Find my father and/or his papers. My dad and I haven't been that close the last few years, but I still want to find him. Bring him home. Family reunion and all that. But we only have another thirty-eight hours. After that the shuttle takes off. I intend to be aboard with or without my father or his papers. A couple of hours in this slime pit has convinced me of that much."
Steve crumbled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. "OK, I'm just saying I don't think this Ravensmith is as hot as you think. I've had survival training too, you know. I'm saying that we should backtrack now that we've got them going in this direction, circle behind them, and head off in the direction we want. Fallows will just keep going straight ahead, hoping to pick up the trail."
Paige said, "Makes sense."
"Sure it does. The only reason Ravensmith is doing it this way is to split up Fallows's group so he can get his son back. That's his problem, not ours."
"I don't know, Steve." Paige thought about it. Steve sounded so sure of himself. And he was probably right about Ravensmith's motives. Still, she felt a lot more confident with Ravensmith than with Steve. He'd done well so far. "Let's just stick it out a little longer."
"What for?" Steve frowned. "So you can get in his pants?"
"Jesus, Steve."
"I know you, Paige." He wagged his finger accusingly in her face, his own face turning red again. "You're looking for a quick fuck from the tough mountain man. Something different, a little kinky, to tell the folks back in D.C."
"Calm down, Captain!" Paige ordered.
"Fuck you, Doctor." Steve sprang to his feet and stared down at her, his lips twisted into a cruel grin. "I'm doing this my way. I'll get your father or his goddamn secret blueprints or both and meet you back at the shuttle. Then you explain to the boys back home how your pussy got in the way of this mission."
"Captain Connors," Paige said, rising to her feet. "You are under my command on this mission. I am ordering you to stay here."
Steve chuckled. "Blow it out your ass, wifey." He grabbed his SPAS shotgun and started to leave.
"Steve, goddamn it, stay here."
Capt. Steve Connors spun back and slapped Paige hard across the cheek, knocking her into the tree. "I wanted to do that the whole time we were married. If I'd known how good it felt, I'd have done it long ago." He grinned at her. "That's one thing the ERA ain't never gonna stop. A right cross to the chops." Clutching his shotgun, he jogged off into the woods the same way they'd come.
Eric returned a few minutes later. "Looks clear ahead. No bandits waiting for us that I can see." At first he had assumed that Steve had gone off to take care of bodily functions. But now as Paige turned her face toward him and he saw the red splotch of a hand imprint on her cheek, he knew what had happened. "You OK?"
She nodded. "He'd never hit me before."
"Yeah, well, this island changes people. Even a few hours exposure. Brings out something in people, the things they've managed to hide in civilized society."
She glared at him. "You saying Steve was a latent woman-beater?"
"No, just that you stick someone, anyone, in a savage land, take away all the rules, all the peer pressure, and they're bound to change. Ever drive in your car and have someone cut you off and you wished, right at that moment, you had a gun so you could kill them?"
"Sure, everybody has."
"Only you don't kill them. You think about the morality, the consequences and all that. Besides, you don't usually have a gun in your car. But out here, somebody looks at you funny and you can blow him away, no questions asked."
"That's horrible."
"Yeah, but also kind of freeing. Freedom of choice is heady stuff, especially when no two people are playing by the same rules. You'd better remember that while you're here."
"What rules are you playing by, Ravensmith?"
Eric smiled at her. "Same as you. For now."
Paige said, "Steve intends to beat us to the cabin and then back to the shuttle. He thinks it's some kind of macho game."
"Does he know where the cabin is?"
"Pretty much. I gave him directions as best as I could remember. It's not that hard to find."
"Damn," Eric said, handing her his HK 93. "You hang onto this. I'll move faster without it." He checked the bolt in his bow.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to track down your friend."
"And kill him?"
"Will he come back voluntarily?"
She thought about it a moment. "No."
"Then I'll kill him."
"That's crazy. I won't let you."
"Listen, Doctor. He knows where we're going. What happens if Fallows gets hold of him? He'll know exactly where we're going and why."
"He won't talk."
"Sure he will. I would."
She shook her head. "You don't know Steve."
"You don't know Dirk Fallows. Anybody'd talk. If they were smart, they'd talk before he does anything to them. At least then he might kill you quickly. Otherwise…" He shrugged.
"God, sometimes I hate men."
"Me too," Eric said. "We're a pompous bunch all right. But that doesn't change our situation. Captain Connors has got to die." He took a few steps in the direction Steve Connors had gone before he heard the safety flick off.
"You know I'll use this, Ravensmith."
Eric turned, looked into her eyes. Her blond hair was pulled tight into a pony tail. The gun was gripped firmly in both hands. "Yeah." He nodded. "I think you would."
"Then let's push ahead. Steve's got a plan of his own. Maybe he'll make it. He deserves the chance."
"Not when it risks our lives. And my son's."
She patted the metal stock of the HK 93. "You don't really have a choice."
Capt. Steve Connors remembered his jungle survival training well. All the pilots had extensive training back when planes were going down into the Vietnam jungles with the regularity of the sun rising. Three of his pilot buddies were still listed MIA. Right.
Steve had been lucky. A couple close calls, but he never went down. The Connors Charm, they'd called it back then. He'd always been lucky, though. Born into a wealthy family, he'd lettered at prep school in football, basketball, swimming and wrestling. He'd dated the principal's daughter, then at West Point he'd dated General Heinz's daughter, Melanie. Always the best of everything. The Connors Charm.
The only thing he'd wanted he hadn't got was Paige. OK, he had married her for a while. But he'd never really gotten her. She'd always been on her own, living her own life. Maybe even a little stronger than he was at times. Now he wanted her more than ever.
Christ, what had he done back there? Slapped her. She'd never forgive him for that. Never. What had come over him? He'd never hit a woman before, never even came close. But she'd gotten him so angry, ordering him around, flirting with that bastard Ravensmith. He had no choice now. The only way he could redeem himself with her was to find her father or the papers and get them safely back to the shuttle. It was his only hope.
He moved through the woods using the fox walk, just as they'd taught him. His sergeant's Bronx accent rang in his ears now: "Don't none of yous get out dere and walk like yous usually do. Clomp, clomp wit yer heads down and big strides. In da woods you'd scare da animals, sos if da VC ain't hoid ya before, dey hoid yous now. Walk like da fox, short, smooth strides, rolling yer foot from da outside to da inside. Body and head erect, like yer dicks is most of da time."
Steve was pleased as he tramped silently using the fox walk. He'd pause every few hundred yards to listen, but he didn't hear or see any movement. Fallows and his men must be further behind than Ravensmith thought. But just to be safe, he'd start circling soon, covering his tracks. Once Fallows was past him, he could move much faster.
Something came to his mind as he fox walked through the dark forest. A line of poetry of all things. Paige was always trying to get him to read poems and sometimes he'd picked up one of her books just to make her think he actually enjoyed it. He didn't. Still, that line suddenly popped in his head. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep." He didn't remember who wrote it, or what came next. Just one of those things. Maybe when this was all over he'd ask Paige.
Enough backtracking, he thought, and started to veer off into a wide arc. He'd walked less than ten feet from the tracks Eric had left so plainly for Fallows to follow when he heard a rustling in the tree above him. He swiveled the SPAS shotgun up and looked for a target. A man was aiming an M-16 at him. Steve pulled the trigger and the twelve-gauge blew a mushy hole through the man's chest. He dropped from the tree, smacking three or four branches on the way down.
Suddenly, Steve watched the ground open around him as two men who'd been buried in shallow holes and covered with leaves and dead branches popped up with their guns aimed at his head.
One of the men went over to the dead man, prodded him with his boot. Shook his head at his partner.
"Well, well," the partner said, more annoyed than angry. "Get his stuff."
The first gunman stripped the weapons from the dead man.
"What are you going to do?" Steve asked, his voice quivering despite himself.
"That ain't the question, sonny." The second gunman chuckled. "It's what you're gonna do that counts."
"What do you mean?"
"He wants to know what I mean," the first gunman said.
The second gunman grinned. "Let's surprise him."