Argent Glass

Chapter 3 - Intercept - Pierce

The soldier sat at the highest point on the mountain feeling like Zeus upon Mount Olympus. The flatter terrain on this side of the apex spread out before him and looking down the sheer drop made him feel powerful in a way nothing else could. At the top of the mountain, he was the master of his destiny. In this moment, he had the power of choice. He could turn around and weave his way down the rocky trail to the north, or he could take a short cut down the south face plummeting like a hawk chasing down a jackrabbit. Unlike the hawk, he would not have the grace in swooping at the last moment to arrest his descent.

The struts of the ATV creaked as if in anger when he stood up on the pegs. He pulled a camouflaged cap from his head, stretched his arms wide, and took a deep breath. With the air trapped inside his lungs, he threw his head back and arched to stretch his spine. The heat of the sun on his face contrasted with the light breeze that foreshadowed the onset of autumn and dried the light sheen of sweat on his tightly shaved scalp. The bike bounced as the air exploded from his lungs and he dropped back to the seat. He resettled his hat. Today he chose the north route.

The ATV started with a growl. He turned around to head down the mountain, squeezing the hand brakes to slow the machine when a flash of light caught his eye. Surprised by the brief speckle of light, he wondered if he had imagined it and scanned the area from where he thought it originated. His eyes swept back and forth in small increments seeking anything out of place in the landscape. There.

The soldier's heart skipped a beat. A splash of red stood out from the muddy grays of the earth and the scattered greens of the sparse foliage covering it. Something was tentatively making its way up the mountain.

Without a glance, he ripped a pair of Velcro strips away from the machine's frame and an M-4 rifle fell to his waiting hand. The scope's adjustable objective was kept on infinity so when the soldier brought it to his eye, the small patch of red morphed into a tee shirt. A boy. And a girl.

When he spun the bezel around the front of the scope, the two came into sharper detail and he could see the boy was explaining something as they climbed. His hands fluttered around his youthful round face while the slender girl occasionally bobbed her hooded head in response.

The two shared space and helped each other up the incline and over the rocky ground. The soldier considered the way they orbited each other like a set of twins. He kicked the rumbling ATV into gear.

As he came down the mountain and across the divide, he kept an eye on them. They continued climbing at their unhurried pace picking their way over and around scattered boulders, unlikely to hear the machine or see the dust rising behind him since they were caught up in their escape. He accelerated for the old two-track that would bring him near their projected destination. The path would take him farther than he needed to go, but he could double back to intercept them. As long as they didn't veer from their current route.

The soldier scratched his head. Reaching the top of the mountain, he traced his way back to where the two teenagers should have surfaced. He scouted around but found no trace of them and left the ATV to climb down the mountain where he finally found scuffed dirt and broken branches belying their progress.

The mountains were full of rabbit dens and wormholes, as well as fissures and crevices, all created as the mountains aged over the eons in the hot desert conditions. The teens could be anywhere. He shook his head and climbed back to the top. Five years out of Iraq and he was already losing his ability to track. Ibrahim had been right. If you didn't practice the skill every day, it disappeared.

His hand slipped into his pocket and searched out the smoothness of a metal hood, the plastic bumpiness of seats and steering wheel, and the fluid movement of four spinning tires. It was a motion he made a hundred times a day during moments of boredom or deep thought. Losing his miniature die-cast Mustang somewhere out in the middle of the desert or on some mountainside was a constant source of disappointment.

A fuzzy piece of lint at the bottom of his pocket mocked him. He tossed the lint to the ground and watched it tumble away stopping near a piece of yellow fluff. Not fluff. He bent to pick it up. A tiny downy feather. The light breeze caught the feather and it floated away. He let it go knowing he was on the right track. They had been here. There would be more clues.

Static screeched in the soldier's ear. "Pierce?"

"Pierce to Base."

"Oh, right. Base to Pierce. This is Michael." The man on the other end of the communications unit cleared his throat in Pierce's ear. "Can you read me?"

Pierce rolled his eyes and shook his head in disgust. "What is it, Michael?"

"There has been a...in the fence."

Pierce adjusted the earpiece. "Come again?"

"...breach in the alpha perimeter fence."

"That fence is several miles long, Michael. Can you give me a little more detail?"

"Oh. Um. Yes. It's not far..." The com unit cut out again. "...abandoned guard shack that–"

"Coordinates would be good. That pair of long numbers there on your screen? The ones we talked about before?" Pierce looked to the sky in exasperation.

"Oh, right." Michael relayed the coordinates to an abandoned guard shack as Pierce tracked the yellow fluff floating and tumbling along the ground.

Pierce made a mental note to come back later.

"Pierce out."

"So, okay. You're going to check it out?"

"Yes. Pierce out," he growled.

The shack was a couple of miles away. The facility had never had a true breach before. Electrified fences with warning signs had effectively deterred the curious, and he doubted this was anything more than another animal that had gotten itself cooked. Knowing that, though, didn't stop his heart from racing with the ATV as he hit the throttle.

Coming down off the mountain and speeding across the flatter plain, Pierce checked the position of the sun. Breach or not, he'd be pushing to get back inside before the scheduled lockout.

What do you think about Pierce? What's that yellow feather?

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