DEAD BEEF (Our Cyber World Book 1) (16 page)

Chapter 24

Cynthia spotted the sedan that had followed her the night before heading out of town at around 9 AM. She followed them at a distance in her dirt bike, concealing herself behind other vehicles whenever possible. The weight of the ammo and Uzi sub-machine gun in her backpack pressed against the handgun in the small of her back.

Soon they were heading north on Highway 395, and she dropped back by nearly a mile to avoid detection in the lighter traffic. Five miles later, she saw her mark turn left and onto a dirt road and come to a stop.

Up ahead Cynthia saw an incline on the highway that would make a good lookout, and she sped past the dirt road turn-out to climb the highway. She made a quick U-turn and stopped. Below she saw two men exit the sedan and climb onto the bed of a black Jeep. Seconds later, the Jeep sped up the trail in a cloud of dust.

Cynthia gunned the engine and sped down the hill then made a sharp turn onto the trail. She slowed down and approached the sedan, just to make sure it was empty. It was. She thought for a minute about checking the interior. Figuring she could easily catch up, she opted to do a quick scan. The car was unlocked, one of its doors actually slightly ajar.

Cynthia’s eyes immediately fell on a folder that rested on the passenger side dashboard. She opened it. Inside, she saw a three quarter headshot of a woman in a green uniform, and a name below the tanned smiling figure: Ranger Jeannette Estrada. Behind the first sheet she found another one, this one featuring two pictures and the names of Martin Spencer and Julian Rogers. Below Julian’s photo, someone had scrawled “DEA?”

As she raced up the trail again, her mind struggled to make sense of that last bit. Did they think Julian worked for the DEA? Cynthia scanned her memory. Julian at one point struggled with drug addiction, one of the reasons he was kicked off the project. Was that it? Was there more to his addiction, or was that just a coincidence? The logic didn’t connect for her.

She recalled reading a newspaper article earlier in the year about Marijuana plots in the national forest. Was that a problem in this area? Maybe, and Mexican Mafia thugs cruising town, following her... Did they think she was DEA? Or maybe they guessed she was working for a rival gang? Did they connect her to Julian because she had been showing his picture around town?

Her thoughts halted upon reaching a fork on the road. One side of the fork turned right and downhill. The other bent to the left and started up a steep grade. The fresher, wider tire marks climbed up the left trail. A sign stood there, pointing up trail and reading: “Mono-Mammoth Fire Lookout. CAUTION: STEEP, WINDING TRAIL AHEAD. HIGH CLEARANCE 4X4 VEHICLES ONLY.”

Cynthia decided a dirt bike would be fine to make the climb.

With only the weight of a camera and a gun, Martin found the climb up the ridge far easier than the hike the day before. Steps built into the dirt and rock also helped. Climbing above the tree line, now only exposed tan colored rock surrounded them. They passed a sign that indicated an altitude of 9,200 ft.

“Air’s really thin up here,” he noted, short of breath.

Sasha looked back at him and smiled. “If you start getting a headache, let me know and we’ll rest. I think you’ll be fine. You had a full night's sleep at altitude.”

Up ahead the trail leveled off, still climbing, but at a moderate pace. The challenge now was to maintain steady footing. They were walking along a wall of rock to their left, and a sheer multi-thousand feet drop on their right.

They passed a rope ladder and Sasha said, “That goes up to camera number 1. The one we want is still ahead, number 4.”

They walked a few hundred feet, passing two more rope ladders. As they climbed up the trail, the rock wall shortened. It was then that they reached the ladder for camera number 4.

Martin looked up the ladder, and the look on his face must have prompted Sasha to say, “You can stay down here if you prefer. It’s a nice view, and you can get some nice pictures. But the really nice pics are up there,” she added with wink.

“Now, be a dear,” she added. “Hold the ladder with slight downward tension and a little away from the wall as I climb.”

He did as she requested, and watched her climb with incredible ease and agility.

“Coming up?” she said playfully from the top.

“Who’s going to hold the ladder for me?” he asked.

“Your heavier weight will do the same thing. It gets easier as you go higher.”

Martin thought about the Physics at play and tried to restrict his thoughts there. Not allowing himself to think about it, he slid the camera strap so that the camera came to rest behind him, and he started climbing. He went up slowly and methodically.

Halfway up, a gust of wind buffeted the rock wall, and he froze. Martin closed his eyes, refusing to look down, and took a deep breath.

“You’re doing good,” he heard Sasha say. “Keep pushing with your legs instead of pulling with your arms. You’re almost here.”

Martin opened his eyes and looked at his left hand. He was clenching the vertical rope so tight it was beginning to hurt. He took another deep breath and forced himself to relax. With a push of his right leg, he started climbing again.

As Sasha had promised, the climb got easier toward the top. His left leg was starting to tremble when he reached the last rung, and he stumbled rather ungracefully onto the top of the rock wall, somehow managing to end up in a sitting position.

The opposite side of the rock wall provided another sheer drop to the forest’s tree canopy, two to three hundred feet, Martin estimated. The top of the wall was no more than 5 feet across, and sloped down on either side. The row of cameras lined along the top of the wall, spaced at regular intervals of 100 to 200 feet. The last camera stood atop a welded metal tripod on a weathered wooden platform that Martin guessed as the now demised location of the initial fire lookout shack. Next to the camera, a red windsock hung nearly limp, shivering from time to time when the wind picked up.

“Here, put this on,” Sasha said, though it has her that was wrapping a belt around his waist, and latching a tether and carabineer to it, which in turn tied with another carabineer to a hook on the top of the rock wall. “Sometimes it gets windy up here,” she explained.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Each of these are supposed to have two tethers, but the other one for this camera station needed replacement, and I haven’t gotten around to it. Just remind me when we get down, OK?”

“Sure,” he said, still out of breath. “I’m sure it will come right to mind.”

She laughed. “Do me a favor, Lord Mallory. Grab on to my belt while I work, and if a gust kicks up, please hold on like you mean it.”

He did as she asked, and she went to work, squatting as close to the ground as she could manage. Out of the light pack she carried, Sasha took out a screwdriver. Carefully, she unscrewed the housing to the base of the camera, saying, “Let’s see what’s keeping you from a smooth turn.”

After placing the screws in Martin’s free hand, she peered inside with a small flashlight. “Just what I was hoping for. The gears look a little dry.” She took out a spray can out of her pack and sprayed inside. “OK, let’s hope that Silicon spray does the trick. Otherwise the repair gets a bit more complicated.”

Sasha reached inside the housing. “Let’s see if we can test you right here.” Martin heard a click, and the camera turned left. Then came another click, and the camera turned right. “That looks like a full and smooth 180 degrees to me. I’ll test the elevation turn rate when we get back, but that looked good.”

In another minute, Sasha replaced the housing’s lid, stashed her tools, and re-strapped her backpack.

“You haven’t taken a single picture,” she said.

“I’ve been a little busy.” He tugged at her belt. “Hands full, actually.”

“Right. I bet you haven’t had a single thought about your camera since you started climbing the ladder.”

Martin smiled. She was right.

“OK, let go,” she said after grabbing onto his tether. As soon as he released her belt, she came over, slid behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Her chin rested on his right shoulder, and she whispered in his ear, “Now you're hands free. So enjoy the view and take some pictures.” She nibbled gently on his ear.

It was only now that he allowed himself to admire the view. He took a deep breath, and at that moment, there was nothing but him, Sasha’s embrace, a blue sky dotted with white clouds, snowy capped mountains and forest that ran up and down ridges as far as the eye could see. Martin brought up the camera and tried to find a good picture in the view finder.

“You remember what I told you once about views like these?” he asked.

“That no matter how you point the camera, it can’t capture it all? That sometimes some pictures are meant for your mind and not a camera?”

“Yeah,” he said. He lowered the camera to his chest and drew a long, deep breath.

“Even back in college when we hiked and saw spots like this one, I think you always knew that sometimes life is too big and far more than what we can do with our gear.”

Martin thought about that for a few seconds during which he wished one could just live up here and drink the wind and eat the views. He thought that if he could live that way, this would be life enough for him.

A strong gust came through. He felt himself tighten up, and felt Sasha’s embrace do likewise.

“Relax,” she whispered in his ear, and he did.

When another gust followed a few seconds later, Martin did not flinch or brace himself. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to inscribe the mountains, the sky and the forest into his memory.

The sound of a horn blowing 3 times brought him back.

“What was that?” he asked. A few seconds passed, and the horn sounded out again, 4 times. “Is that the alarm you told me about?” he asked.

Sasha let him go. Before he could turn around, she was climbing down the ladder. Still latched to the rock, he looked down just in time to see her reaching the bottom, pulling up her gun and aiming it down-trail. She looked up at him, and with her free hand, placed her index finger on her lip, and then waved at him to come down.

Martin fumbled with the carabineer until he managed to release his tether. As he climbed down, the horn blew three times, followed by brief silence before blowing 4 more times.

He reached the bottom quickly, far more quickly than he’d reached the top. There, Sasha reached for his gun and flipped off the safety.