Long Road to Mercy

Chapter 53

Pine drew farther back against the rock as the men drew closer.

She silently cursed, because as she crouched there, the dawn was beginning to break over the Canyon. Light coming here could be breathtaking. She had hiked over the Canyon at various places and various times simply to see the sunrise. It was a surreal, one-of-a-kind experience.

Now she hated it, for the first time ever.

She could tell the men were real pros simply by the way they moved over the ground. They worked as a team, spread out, one point, two flanks, and communicating efficiently by hand signals, their gazes scanning all points on the compass, methodical, missing nothing.

And, at some point soon, they would not miss her.

They also had night optics, but their models looked far superior to hers. They were dressed in cammies but were not wearing military uniforms. No insignias, no name tags, no indicia of rank.

But they certainly looked military.

As the light began to deepen and then diffuse, they lifted their optics and trained their eyeballs on the terrain ahead.

Her Glock versus three assault rifles. It would be a short fight. She wondered where they would bury her, if they even bothered with that.

They must have come to the same conclusion that she had: namely that Roth was down here, in one of the side canyons.

And that told Pine something else.

They’d gotten the knowledge of Roth’s plan... from Ben Priest. After enhanced interrogation? And what about poor Ed Priest, whose only sin was being Ben Priest’s concerned sibling?

As Pine focused on the M4s coming her way, she slipped out her phone. One of the major carriers had put a tower in the park, and its customers sometimes could get reception. Well, Pine was a customer.

“No Service” was displayed across the top of her phone screen.

Note to self: If you get out of this alive, cancel your fucking provider contract.

She stiffened as the man on the point reached up and pulled a small communication unit that was Velcroed to his armor. He spoke into it and then listened to the response.

Okay, he’s probably got secure satellite communication down here. He would probably have it in Siberia, or Antarctica, too.

If these guys weren’t American military or CIA paramilitary, she wasn’t sure who they were. The fact that they probably served the same country as she did brought her no comfort. Those had been feds back at Simon Russell’s house, too. And they were planning to fly him to a place where torture was considered perfectly legal.

Based on that, Pine believed if she stepped out and flashed her FBI creds they would probably just shoot her in the head. And then shoot her a second time just to be sure.

The point guy put his comm unit away and motioned to the other two men. They turned around and made their way out of the side canyon.

Pine breathed a sigh of relief and then looked to the sky.

The breaking dawn, she knew, had probably just saved her butt. They were as afraid of the coming light as she was. They had probably been searching down here all night.

She wondered where they were camping out. Or was a chopper shipping them in and out? Ordinarily, that was not permitted under the prevailing laws and regulations enforced by the Park Service.

She assumed those laws and regulations had been overruled by a far higher power.

That sent a chill right down her spine.

She waited another thirty minutes before coming out of her hiding place, just to be sure. Then she set up camp behind the cover of a large rock outcrop that also provided some shade.

It was going to get blisteringly hot down here shortly. She had earlier located her water source, then refilled her hydration pack and a second CamelBak bladder after filtering the water. She sat in the shade, and ate and drank until she was satisfied, but no more than that. The heat crept up on you. You simply felt warm one minute, and then sick, dizzy, and disoriented the next. It could take hours or even days to recover, a luxury Pine did not have.

The presence of the three M4 guys here told Pine that they didn’t have Roth. And they weren’t down here looking for her, because they could have no idea she was even here. Were they looking for the nuke, too? But how did that make sense? Roth was a respected WMD inspector. Why wouldn’t he be working with the government to get the sucker out of here? This whole thing was as muddied as the Colorado River.

She endured the stifling heat, taking catnaps and keeping her hydration levels up.

Part of her wanted to get up and continue her search for Roth during the daylight. But her good sense made her stay where she was. If the brutal heat didn’t get her, the three guys with assault weapons might. Better to do her searching at night.

The day passed and darkness fell swiftly, as it tended to do on the floor of the Canyon.

Pine awoke for the last time around nine. She checked the sky and her brow furrowed.

This time of year, the monsoons would draw on the energy built during the heat of the day, combined with the layers of moisture from the southeast, to create some truly remarkable thunderstorms. Well, it looked to Pine like tonight she would be the recipient of such a meteorological vortex.

She put on a water-resistant poncho and made sure her backpack was zipped tightly. She carried it with her, because to leave it on the ground would invite attacks from squirrels, mice, and other rodent types. And they could chew through steel, given time. At the campsites, the Park Service had metal bars hung up high to hang your gear on for that very reason.

She barely had time to take cover before the first streak of lightning seared across the heated sky. The following thunderclap seemed to shake the very insides of the Canyon.

With the second thunderclap came the rains. Or water bullets, to be more accurate, because the velocity was enough to actually be painful when they struck you.

The boulder above Pine’s head provided some cover until the wind picked up and drove the rain horizontally. She turned her face away from the driving water. The temperatures had dropped a bit, but it wasn’t like on the rims, where a pop-up storm could drop the mercury by twenty degrees in minutes. She was sweating even though she was drenched.

The storm passed in a half hour and the sky cleared.

Now she could get to work. Checking her compass, she set off.

The second side canyon loomed ahead of her about an hour later.

It was nearing midnight. She used her night optics to make her way over very rough terrain. There were no marked trails or warning signs here. She doubted any hiker had been here in a long time.

She worked her way slowly along, looking for snakes and other dangers. She didn’t want to get wedged in somewhere with the result that they found her body weeks, months, or years later. People had gone missing here only to have their skeletons found a long time later. And if you died out here, the scavengers would move in swiftly. Before you were dead, actually. Why wait on a good meal?

She had been on the alert for the M4 gents all night, but luckily had not run into them.

She had gone over as much of the side canyon as she feasibly could, and it was growing light.

The result: nothing. No cave, no crevice, no David Roth and a neighborhood nuke.

She hiked on and made her camp near the next canyon she would explore. It was shielded from prying eyes, but it was reasonably high ground and gave her a good view of the area. She had some breakfast and water and dozed off for a bit. When she woke a few hours later she again debated whether to commence her search during the daylight.

Then she heard choppers overhead.

She looked up and recognized the tourist birds flying over above the rims. By law they couldn’t drop below the rims, but someone could still spot her. That confirmed Pine’s decision to confine her searches to the nighttime.

She sat at her camp, munching on some nuts and jerky and sipping her filtered water. She was hot, and she had lost weight, and she felt stiff and sore from basically sleeping on rocks.

She leaned back against an outcrop, closed her eyes, and tried to rest. With her days and nights reversed, her body rhythms had been turned topsy-turvy. It was throwing everything off, but she had no way to correct that.

She had a phone power pack, which did her no good, since she had no bars.

“No Service” on her phone screen had been the most consistent thing about this trip.

In the shade, she decided to take off some layers and looked down at her arms, bare except for the tats. She rubbed her fingers across the name Mercy. She traced each letter with her finger. She remembered quite clearly the day — or rather, night — she had gotten them. She had done her shoulders a few months after her arms.

The tat artist was good and made no objection when she told him what she wanted. He’d also asked no questions about the genesis of the inking she wanted.

“Works for you, works for me,” he’d said. “It’s your skin, not mine.”

His name had been Donny. He’d been tall and far too thin. He later told her he’d been a meth addict for years.

“Kills the appetite, I can tell you that. More than cigarettes. Kicked the habit, but never got my appetite back.”

Pine checked her supplies. She had to consider the long hike back to Bright Angel from where she was now. And then it would be a challenging hike out, considering how much ground she’d covered so far. She had the supplies to search one more side canyon tonight. Then she would have to head back.

Well, Pine thought, as she waited for the darkness to fall, the third time was always the charm, wasn’t it?