Mitch moved out of the thicker concentration of trees, and opened up the throttle, relishing the brisk air in his face and hair, and the sense of freedom afforded him by not being restricted to the asphalt rat track. Mitch rode for over an hour before he saw the familiar sheriff’s SUV, with the light bars flashing, and deputy Harris standing outside the vehicle, motioning him over with a disapproving look.
Mitch knew it was not worth running from the deputy; one of the disadvantages to living in such a small community was that Harris knew him, and knew where he lived and hung out. He eased the off-road bike over to the SUV, and lowered the kickstand.
“How can I help you,
Deputy Harris?”
Robert sighed, “You can
start by getting off of Mrs. Jackson’s back 80, then we can move on to you wearing your helmet while you’re riding, and after that, we can talk about you staying off of peoples’ property with your bike.”
Mitch looked at the exasperated deputy, “This is about Claudia, isn’t it?”
“No, Mitch,” Robert answered, “this is about you respecting the law, and peoples’ property, THAT can get you in trouble when someone finally decides to press charges. You dating my sister can get you shot in the face, and buried in a gully somewhere. Now… get outta here, before Mrs. Jackson decides to press charges.”
Mitch raised the kickstand, and kicked his bike back on, and headed out toward the road.
“
And stay off of peoples’ property!” Harris yelled after him. Mitch raised his hand, whether to acknowledge the order, or to blow the deputy off, Robert couldn’t be certain. He just shook his head, got back in the service vehicle, and drove back to the station, taking an extra few minutes to patrol the streets, and listen to old man MacGregor tell him the story (
again) about storming some beach or other during World War II, and how he was reminded of it, years later, as a Major, in Korea when they were making a landing, to establish a beachhead.
Deputy Harris smiled, laughed at the appropriate spots, nodded, and seemed to pay close attention at all the requisite points in the story. Having been in the Marine Corps, himself, he fervently hoped he wouldn’t be one of the old soldiers telling about Kosovo, and Bosnia, and ducking potshots by random villagers in the Middle East.
Robert parked the SUV and went to his desk, pulling out action reports with a sigh, rubbing his temples, and writing up the latest complaints about Mitch.
Elsewhere…
.
Deidre Jones moved through the night, sleeping during the day, moving at top speed when she could properly see. It was simply too bright during the day for her to make good time. Without extremely dark shades, she would end up tripping over anything on the ground.
Night was better for her, anyway, a quick flash of white hair was all anyone would see of her, her ebony skin, and dark BDUs hiding her movement. She had lost her hat somewhere a week back, while being pursued by Canadian Intelligence Agents, but she hadn’t survived the past nearly 60 years by being careless. Nearly 30 years in the military of a country heavy on wooded areas had taught her to move through an area without leaving much of a trail. It helped that she was naturally light on her feet, and faster than the vast majority of her former comrades. Moving at top speed, she suddenly stopped, cocking her head, and listening intently. Just what she wanted to hear: traffic. She couldn’t be more than a kilometer from a road.
Picking her way to the road, she stayed off of it, until there was no traffic, then darted across. Deidre headed south, on foot for the rest of the night, and slept during the day. When she started out, again, she only traveled another two hours before coming across a petrol station. She watched the station for another hour, to make sure it wasn’t under surveillance, before entering, and moving quickly to the rear of the station. She found a scarf on a rack, removed the tag, and wrapped her hair in it, before picking out a few high calorie snacks, and a cola, along with some beef jerky, a few packs of hard candies, and two bottles of water.
She wandered up to the counter, paying for all of her items, (including the scarf, just in case the cashier saw her grab it), and went out, and back off the road, into the woods, and then around to the north of the store, watching, and waiting.
As she suspected, a black sedan pulled into the lot at high speed, and two suited men quickly entered the store, stayed for a few moments, rushed back out to the vehicle, and tore off down the road to the south, followed in short order by a military helicopter with a search light scanning the woods to the south of her position, and slowly going that direction.
She decided to sleep where she was.
The next day, she approached a man in an 18 wheeler, asking if he’d give her a ride. He was a bit leery at first, but then the novelty of a beautiful young black woman asking if she could ride with him overcame his reluctance. Deidre rode with him, making light conversation and veiled flirtatious remarks, headed west for two days before she slipped off into the night, going south into the U.S.A. from an unwatched direction. Now to find a military base….
To be continued…
