Every Second

72

Coyote Mountains, New York

A sickening sensation grew in the pit of Kate’s stomach as Strobic drove them deeper into God knew where. The forest rolled by, taking them farther from the media center. Looking into the woods, trying to penetrate the darkness, she thought of the Fultons again.

Dan was in intensive care. Lori and Billy were missing with fugitives suspected of plotting a terrorist attack-if they were still alive. Kate’s heart went out to the family.

Will my story make their situation worse?

Kate hadn’t heard from Reeka or anyone at the desk but reception was bad, so that was a factor. She was struggling to control her rising anxiety when she caught a faint static-filled transmission spilling from one of Strobic’s scanners.

“…hikers…reported…gunfire…sector…”

“Did you hear that, Stan?”

Nodding, he adjusted the scanner’s volume and frequency. A series of static pulsations and squeals filled the cab as Strobic continued tuning the scanner for better reception.

“…hikers just came out of Fox Ridge near the…need air support…”

“Air support? Where? Near where?” Stan shouted at the scanner.

“…we’re sending people to Fox Ridge…at the northwest turn of the Bearfoot River…hikers…hearing steady automatic gunfire…”

“Fox Ridge and the Bearfoot, I know it.”

“Are we close?”

“We’re close.” He pressed down on the accelerator. “The best way in is seven or eight miles from here.”

Strobic pushed his truck flat out. Kate gripped the grab handle above her door as the narrow road twisted left then right, climbing and dipping through the woods. At one point they rolled by an immense swath of charred trees and gnarled stumps, the aftermath of a wildfire from years gone by. Gradually, stands of deadwood gave way to thick, healthy trees.

Strobic and Kate listened hard to every dispatch as the road ascended and curled into forests so dense they obscured the light. They stayed on the fringes of the search perimeter to avoid any checkpoints.

Sometime later, he pulled off the road, turned and crawled into the dirt mouth of a forgotten trail. His truck was invisible from the paved road, concealed by the dense brush.

“This is the northwest entrance to Timber Point,” Strobic said as they got out and went around to the back of the truck. “It’s an old logging trail but it tapers off into some badass terrain.”

Strobic lowered his tailgate, raised the door of the cap and began rooting through his gear.

“You’ll need these.” He collected boots, heavy woolen socks, jeans and a ball cap. “They’re my wife’s, but you’re about the same size, I think.”

Kate nodded and took the gear from Strobic.

“We’ll take the trail. We might have to hike in a long way.”

“Remember, they heard gunshots.”

“I know.”

A helicopter thundered above the treetops as it passed.

Kate stepped behind a tree with the clothes. After changing, she returned to Strobic, who waited with his camera bags and radios.

All suited up and ready to move, he passed Kate a fluorescent orange vest with the word PRESS in reflective lettering across the back. It matched the one he had.

“This is so we don’t get shot at,” he said. “You know the rules, Kate, same as in a war zone. Be watchful, be careful and be lucky.”

Kate nodded. “Let’s go.”