At The Edge

2

Maria jumped as if stabbed. He imagined her eyes widening with the realization of the coming assault. From under the leather trench coat a policeman's side-handled baton appeared. Her attacker, his face hidden under the brim of his hat and a nylon stocking, swung the weapon. Maria was quick, though, and she deflected the baton with the briefcase. The assailant moved in. A swift jab of the baton caught Maria hard in the ribs. As she staggered, the assailant snatched the case and ran.

Dan sprinted, reckless from adrenaline, but he was too late. A black Chevy with a shine on the chrome came to a squealing stop, the assailant leaped through the open rear door. Inside, the thief's head turned, partially revealing through the nylon stocking the finer details of his profile- the nose and a slender face and jaw. In that moment, as Dan's fingers missed the closing door by inches, he realized that the assailant was a woman.

Tires squealed, and the Chevy raced away.

Dan took Maria's arm, looking her over to make sure she was all right.

A couple stood befuddled across the street, a shopkeeper shook a small carpet in front of his store.

"Follow her," Dan screamed. "Where?"

Somehow she understood that he was asking about her car. She pointed even as he moved toward the Ford Taurus.

''Keys," he said, watching the black sedan turn the corner.

He opened the passenger side and slid across to the driver's seat. "Stay here."

"I'm coming." She slid in as he hit the accelerator.

The car's momentum slammed the door. He squealed around the corner. No black sedan. Maria fastened her seat belt as he accelerated through a red light.

"Take it easy," she shouted.

"Not while they've got the money."

They were on Fifth, the main street through town, going north.

"There." Maria pointed at the black car's tail end, which was disappearing around another corner far ahead. The car had turned off onto an old two-lane highway that eventually headed into the mountains. Dan swerved into the oncoming lane, passing a young woman whose mouth went wide in shock.

"Let's call the cops. For once they could do some good."

"We can't do that," he said. They went around a curve; the rear tires broke loose and started to slide.

"Will you be careful!" she screamed as the car fishtailed from an overcorrection. "Why can't we call the cops?"

Before he answered, she saw some kids crossing the road, and he slammed on the brakes, then swerved into the parking lane, barely missing them.

"Stop this right now," Maria shouted. "We can't kill people because we want the money."

"We aren't killing anybody," he said through clenched teeth. "And we can't call the police because this is not supposed to be public."

The car lurched around another curve, almost leaving the road. His foot remained on the accelerator. Here the road was fairly straight, slightly diminishing her tension. Strip malls and an odd assortment of fast-food places flashed by. Doris and Jerry's steakhouse and a liquor store all fronted against subdivisions.

It appeared they were gaining. The muscle in his jaw bulged, but he looked otherwise unfazed. Except for the speed they could have been on a Saturday outing.

"I insist we call the cops," she said.

"Remember we made a deal. This is all attorney-client privilege."

"That was before someone stole the money, for God's sake."

They flew by a small school and entered the first grove of trees, then dropped to flatland pastures. Towns ended abruptly in these sparsely settled regions. Maria knew this road well. Along this area the coast rivers and streams had deposited silt for millennia, making a narrow band of grassy bogs. Behind this lush green ribbon were towering foothills, redwood country that butted up against the mixed conifer forests of the coastal range of northern California. The two-lane road on which they drove meandered along the coastal lowlands at the toe of the hills. Mountain roads spurred off it. One in particular led to a maze of graveled ranch and logging roads that cut deeply into the mountains to the east. This was the route to the backside of the Highlands Forest.

They passed a pickup as though it were standing still. Its blaring horn was lost in the wind.

"Slow down-" Then the car rounded a gentle turn, hit some loose gravel, and began a slide. She saw the white guardrail approaching. "Jesus." She stiffened her legs and tensed every muscle, anticipating the crash. By some quirk of spinning tires and centrifugal force, the car came completely around, missing the white steel railing by inches. "You're gonna kill us," she said as the car straightened out after the 360.

''Who gave you this money?'' she asked as they fishtailed past a slow-moving van. She didn't really expect an answer. "The thief knew exactly what he was doing." Realizing that she was half-yelling, she told herself to talk calmly. Maybe it would help slow him down. "That guy knows you're back here."

"That was no guy. And if they were thinking about us, they wouldn't be doing this. They'd be weaving around town."

''Not necessarily-there are cops back there. In the mountains there are no police. Maybe they want us to follow."

She studied him, wondering if he'd thought of that. His hands were clenched around the wheel, his expression all grim determination.

"You lost the mustache so I wouldn't recognize you?"

"At least for a few minutes."

"What exactly is going on here?"

"I was giving you money for a worthy cause. Somebody stole it. That's it."

Now they were maintaining an even distance of a few hundred yards behind the black sedan and traveling at about eighty miles per hour.

"You're not being straight with me. Tell me who you work for and what they really want. Then maybe I can figure this out."

"I can't, all right?"

"Fine," she said.

But of course it wasn't fine.

Ahead, the black car had disappeared from sight. For a few moments neither said anything as Dan increased then-speed around the tree-lined curves, squealing the tires and keeping her knuckles white.

"They're up there. As soon as we get around this bend, we should see them." She was hoping that would slow him down.

As they rounded the hill, she saw the black sedan take a smoking-tire right up into the mountains. The road followed the Wintoon River Canyon to thousands of square miles of rugged wilderness owned primarily by the government, some by ranchers, some by timber companies, and some by the Hoopa, Yurok, and Tilok tribes.

They drove in near silence up the canyon, the country getting steeper as they went. They passed the first major ridges near the coast and a gorge where hundreds of feet below them there was a series of waterfalls.

"I figure the best way to identify these people is to see where they're going," he said. "Fortunately, you started with almost a full tank."

"It's a rental car. My Cherokee's in the shop."

"There are no gas stations until you get to Johnson City. On these back roads that's over one hundred twenty miles."

"Maybe they live up there."

He didn't reply or say what he thought, but he was obviously planning something.

"So what do we do if we follow them to a house?"

"I stay and watch the place while you tell the clients where the money is."

Ahead she saw the dark sedan pull to the shoulder. They had entered an isolated stretch of road high on the mountainside. The last mailbox was about two miles behind them.

Dan slowed to normal highway speed. They both peered forward. Barely two cars wide, the asphalt was old and intermittently striped down the center. Narrow gravel shoulders dropped off steeply into a stand of young-growth redwood maybe twenty feet high.

"Oh God," he breathed. "They're-"

Maria saw two figures crouched near the back of the sedan when an explosive sound startled her. The bullet hit their right front tire. The car shuddered; another thundering report rang out. The car veered, and Dan's mouth remained unwavering in a determined line, his elbows locked. The outside tire hit the gravel shoulder; rocks shot into the wheel well, creating a clamorous racket. Then over the bank they went, horrible jolts as the car pitched and yawed as if riding a sea of concrete waves.

Instinctively, Maria planted her feet firmly to the floor so that the car's violent shuddering rippled through her body. Flung forward and back despite the bracing posture, her body felt bisected as the seat belt bit into her chest. Small trees disappeared under the front end, but others rose to replace them. Then everything rolled to the right, and she was hurled against the door. One crash was like an explosion as they were knocked around; the car was plunging forward; then a crash was followed by a jolt that felt like it ripped out her ribs. Then silence.

Maria hung from her seat belt and knew they were on their nose. Dust swirled in the partly crushed car, blinding and choking her. Dan's hand on hers pulled her, but she was held in place by her seat belt. Stinging eyes sent tears down her face. Her body felt heavy and began to ache, just now awakening to the bruising.

Above her head was a large tree trunk or branch. Glancing down, she saw a breathtaking abyss whose bottom was a ribbon of deep blue-the river.

"Oh my God," she whispered. They hung in space at least 200 feet above the river rocks.

An oak branch had speared the windshield and come out the back end as though a giant rapier had run the car through.

The spread of torn and buckled roof from which they hung stretched like a spring, giving bounce to the car as it dangled in the wind.

"Don't move," he said in a low voice, as if even a small noise might break the ribbon of sheet metal. An eerie mountain wind blew through the twisted openings in the car and made a sound like sighing. The tree was rooted in a tiny shelf on a nearly vertical cliff. The main trunk grew out away from the cliff for a distance of twenty feet or so before curving up to rise nearly parallel to the steep rock face. If the car had slid another three feet down the branch, the front end would have hit the main trunk.

"Maybe we can go out the side window over the roof and into the tree," he said.

Maria noticed her knee shaking through her tattered nylons and quickly took inventory of her body. Everything was painful, but nothing excruciating.

"We're gonna get out of this," he said.

Wham! A bullet from a high-powered rifle slammed into the car. There was a creak as the metal stretched.

"God, no," she heard herself saying.

She froze. She looked at his face and found him appraising her.

"I'm OK," she muttered.

Another bang shuddered the car. Neither said anything, waiting, feeling the agony of their own mortality.

Looking down at the gray rocks and green river below, with the twisted metal groaning, Maria imagined the long free fall superimposed over the sound of her pounding heart.

"Please let them stop shooting," she prayed.

"We gotta get out of here. Any second this thing could bust free of the tree."

But they waited, in the coolness of the wind, their minds searching for a way to free them from the anticipation of being about to fall and yet not falling. Two or three minutes seemed like ten. The leaves were life green; the sky was a hopeful blue; the ants on the luxuriant bark looked busy, unaffected. The chill-was it death or was it a morning's invigoration? In just moments she would know.

"Come on," he said, snaking his right arm around her small waist even as she felt his fingers fumbling for the latch on her seat belt.

"Wait, be careful, I'm liable to fall right out of here." Immediately in front of her, there was a gaping hole through what used to be the front windshield and beyond that, the abyss. Somehow his right arm wasn't enough. By putting out both arms and both feet against the jagged metal, she secured herself.

"OK," she said.

At that moment a third bullet slammed the underside of the car, just missing Maria and punching a hole in the roof.

For all of five minutes they waited in near silence. His arm remained around her and her right hand had found its way to his, down at her waist where he still gripped her. There were no more shots.

"Ok, I'm going to release your belt."

The belt came away and she rolled toward him. On his side the opening was smaller and she realized the roof in front of the driver's seat was sunk in, whereas on the passenger side it was torn open by the branch.

Shattered glass was everywhere.

"Wait, let me," she said when she saw him about to crawl out the driver's-side window. "I'm a climber. I can do this." Despite her dread of further shooting, she crawled over the top of him and stuck her head outside. The front of the car was hanging free about two feet above the L-shaped main trunk of the tree. There was nothing to grab. The branch that had punctured the front windshield and exited the rear window was large and smooth and moss-covered like the main trunk. It was without any hand- or toehold for a sufficient distance, so it would be difficult to climb. Ripples went down the side of the fender, some angular enough that they might make a foothold.

"Maybe we can climb down the side of the car to the trunk of the tree and then try and scale the cliff. It's either that or wait and hope somebody finds us."

"We aren't waiting," he said.

"I've hung off cliffs. It's pleasant. This isn't." She wondered how he would react to the high climbing.

"Let's go."

"They may start shooting again," she said.

"They may. The wind may blow a little harder and the car may plunge."

She nodded her assent. Holding out her hand to him, she shook his and looked in his eye.

''If I fall, tell my father I loved him. My mother knows."

"You aren't gonna die today. You should tell him yourself." He smiled. "Industry won't be that lucky."

She began pulling herself through the window.

"How can you be almost dead and still joking?" she asked, trying to get a firm toehold on a small branch held tight against the crushed fender. It was a long stretch as she tried to hold herself with her hands.

"Same way you can be almost dead and arguing about it. Here," he said, holding out his hands. "I won't let go."

They locked their hands on each other's forearms. She could feel his fingers biting into her flesh. With her body fully extended, and Dan hanging out the window, her feet were within inches of the tree trunk; yet she wouldn't hit it square. Even a small slip could have her sliding off the tree and into space.

"Let go, I'll drop," she said.

"You're sure?"

"Do it."

He let go and she dropped, tried to balance by squatting. Both feet slid off the tree and she grabbed.

She groaned when her chest hit the tree trunk. She lay barely draped across it, most of her body hanging in space, digging her fingers into the wood, while she struggled to stay alive. Her feet hung down one side of the log while her arms reached over the top to the other side. Her chin sat on the log's crest.

"Hang on," he said.

"I'll make it," she groaned. But she couldn't think. Her mind was full with spinning, falling fear. Any second her fingers would give way. Slowly she raised her foot until she found a rough gouge in the bark where her toe could get a purchase. She pushed but was able to move her belly up the tree trunk only a fraction of an inch. Again she tried and moved a little farther.

"Hold on, I'm gonna jump," Dan said. He was crawling out the window. A man his size in a free fall would come right off the log, she was certain.

"No! You'll fall."

"I'm coming."

In the split second before he let go, she realized he had kicked off his shoes.

Dropping much farther than she had, he felt his bare feet hit the wood with a loud slap. The pain was a mind-sharpener.

He teetered crazily, arms gyrating. In a squat he hovered over Maria and dropped his hands to the moss-slick bark. His seat-stiffened joints could barely tolerate the maneuver.

Remembering days of football and workouts, of agility and stamina, he tried to get his body to follow his memories. Still draped over a horizontal section of the trunk, Maria moved herself up farther now and was about to push again. He grabbed her armpits and pulled, moving her belly six inches higher up on the log.

"Hold," he said. He did it again and she was able to spring up.

They moved down the trunk to a small shale ledge just big enough for them to stand together. ''Well, you potentially saved my life," she said, her eyes searching his. "But you could have killed yourself. And I was making it." She paused. "Anyway, thanks."

"No thanks until we get up there," he said, nodding at the cliff.

Each of Dan's back pockets held a shoe that he now removed to slip on his feet. She began climbing, clinging like a spider, Dan staying just below her. They were using roots and stems from sparse vegetation and gouges in the face of the rock to support their body weight.

"It's dangerous for you just below me."

"Nah. I'll catch you," he said. He thought about stopping to rest but she wasn't, so he forced himself to keep moving.

After another ten minutes of hard climbing, several near-slips, and two short rests, they finally made it to the forest and eventually the road. There was no sign of the thieves or their car. They backtracked at a crisp jog until they came to a gravel driveway.

"There's a house down here, I think," Dan said, noticing her regular breaths. He wasn't used to women who could keep up with him. "I'll find a car and try to track them again. You go back to town."

"Oh no. That was our money," she said, jogging right after him. "If you go, I go."