climb.'
'Supplies?' Michael said. 'I have to get the '98 journal anyway.' Sam looked at the spacious log house thirty yards distant across mostly open space. If they tried to make it into the house and back out, at least one of them would probably die.
'Over there, through the trees, there's a rock house. Inside, there are two guns and a little ammo. Run like hell. I'll be right behind.'
'First the journals.' Michael sprinted off through a hail of bullets without awaiting an answer.
Sam took out his radio. 'Everybody up the mountain now. High ground.'
Sam looked again at the main house. By some miracle Michael had made it inside. Sam waited to see if he would emerge. Between the front door and his current hiding place were several oaks, trimmed up and offering little cover. There were some benches cut from logs, a chain saw sculpture that formed the likeness of a walking bear, and an old hammock strung between two of the oaks. Unfortunately, his M-4 was on the porch. He set out in a run, his boots sinking in the soft earth and throwing up black soil as he zigzagged to make himself a tough target. Shots cracked in the cold air and bullets spat mud around him. Just as he reached the porch, he heard a rushing sound- something like the sound following a jet fighter's low pass at an air show. Michael passed him at a dead run. Grabbing his rifle, Sam fled as the rocket vaporized the back of the cabin and the concussion sent him flying. Hitting the dirt, he was moving instantly with hands and feet flying, and his gun slung over his back in an unconscious motion guided by reflex.
Food would have been good, but they would have to make do without.
Sam found Grady, Michael, and Raval huddled, Grady with red eyes.
'God, I thought you were both dead.' Her voice cracked, but she held back any tears.
'Let's go,' Sam said, grateful at least for his gun.
They ran through the densest clumps of trees toward a corner of the property, where there was a pump house and a cache of M-4 ammunition. Sam's body sung with adrena line, his mind working out how he could get his charges up the mountain.
They ran at a full sprint, except where rough ground or tree branches slowed them. They bulled their way through a heavy stand of fir saplings and into a small opening. For a second Sam had difficulty locating the small doghouse-size structure that he had seen only once. Then he located an old madrona tree that had been partially burned at the base, and he knew right where to look. Upon finding the rickety, grayed pump house, he yanked the door off its hinges and grabbed ten clips, stuffing them in his pockets. In a war it wasn't much. Michael, Grady, and Raval grabbed handfuls, he didn't know how many each.
Grady, Michael, and Raval were running behind Sam, while Yodo was running through the trees about thirty feet to their right, as were Martin, Gunther, Kenneth, and the rest. Yodo had a rocket launcher; Martin was lugging the BAR. They were taking one heavy piece of armament each and he hoped it wouldn't slow them down. They were all headed across a forested stretch of the plateau that was dotted with sixtysomething-foot conifers. As they neared the corner of the plateau and the mountain, they tightened into a single- file formation.
The snow began falling in windblown sheets. Almost im mediately it became difficult to discern angles and slopes; 'down' became the white ground and 'up' the white sky. Beyond that, there was little visible of anything. It even made it hard to balance. They began running through what seemed a white tunnel with snow-laden branches whipping them and the whoosh of snow underfoot. The cold air poured into their lungs in odd juxtaposition to their sweating bodies. Soon they were laboring in the heavy branches.
Sam had on shooting mitts. The thin leather of the trigger finger was cold against the metal of the M-4. As he ran, he peered into the blinding snow and the dense white and green of a tree-choked forest in winter. Then from the murky land scape a form suddenly took shape-off to his left-then shots were pounding in his ears.,
A man had burst through the trees, firing. Gunther hit the ground as Sam and the others fired back, turning the at tacker's white camo into red-splotched laundry.
They ran on for a few seconds until more deafening muzzle blasts tore through flesh and forest. This time Martin and Kenneth were down, writhing in the snow, their wounds hopeless, their bullet-riddled bodies nearly empty of life.
Sam ran the thirty feet to Grady, Michael, and Raval.
'Run as fast as you can. Stay in the main branch of the creek at the end of this trail. We'll catch you when we can.'
Grady grabbed his neck and kissed him on the cheek, then quickly gave him a peck on the mouth.
'You gotta live' was all she said.
Yodo remained while the three others ran after Michael, Grady, and Raval. Sam had killed the shooter, but he waited for more. Yodo squatted with his M-4 ready to fire and the rocket launcher cast beside him on the ground. They heard the cracking branches of men in a hurry to kill and Sam de cided on a strategy.
'Yodo,' Sam whispered. He pointed up the trail and began to move with Yodo following. When they left the plateau, it was on a steep, snow-covered sliver of a trail, which soon became a faint tracing on the ground. Under the snow-coated oak lay loose rock and acorns rotting from winter. Douglas fir and slightly smaller white fir canopied over the oaks, diminishing the light greatly. Sam and Yodo followed the route of the others until they came to a spot fifty yards up the white-foamed creek. It was steeper than any city street but did not require traveling on all fours, although just ahead the smaller branch of the Y moved up steeply in a couple of near-vertical drops. Quickly they lay track in the earth and the old snow, and they broke branches, making it appear that the larger number of the group had taken the small fork. Next they used tree branches to obliterate as best they could the prints going up the main fork.
'Yodo, you need to go after the others and be the rear guard.'
'But the larger force, if not all of them, will follow after you.'
'Yes. But I know these mountains. I'll be going fast. Very fast.'
Yodo's frustration showed, but Sam knew that he would not disagree.
Yodo nodded. 'Take the rocket.'
'No. I will make my point another way. This is partly a mental war.'
Yodo nodded and took the artillery.
Sam turned and began scrambling, carrying only the M-4 and his backpack. As he went, he slowed a moment to feel for the satellite phone that created a reassuring bulge in a pocket at the bottom of the pack. As soon as he was several hundred yards up the hill, he took out the phone and called Jill.
'We're being chased up the mountain into the wilderness by thirty men, maybe more. I'm guessing they're rogue French SDECE or mercenaries trying to take Raval back to France. Gaudet may be leading the attack. They've created two large rock slides into the river, one above us and one below. I imag ine that a huge lake is forming above, It's only a matter of time before the dam bursts. When the second one breaks, there'll be an amazing debris torrent for miles downriver.'
'In that case, anyone near that river is dead.'
'Call the authorities just to make sure they are evacuating people. I know it's obvious but it is the government… and don't worry, we won't be near the river.'
'I'll call the authorities.' She paused. 'You're pretty much on your own, Sam. Be careful.'
'Uh-huh. Look, I've got to move. Any word on Benoit?'
'No.'
'Do everything you can to find her, Jill.'
'We've got men combing the warehouses. We're trying to get permission to go inside. It's slow work.'
'I know. How many atomizer-equipped helicopters have they found?'
'Only three so far. There must be many more. We're run ning out of time. I figure twenty-four hours max.'
'What about Grogg?'
'Government is showing no signs of letting us release the Internet antivirus.'
'That's nuts. If Grogg gets into the Quatram server and gets a read on Gaudet's virus, call me before anyone else.'
'Even the government?'
'Especially the government.'
