Free Necessary Evil by David Dun Page B

Volume One of the lab reports and hurriedly went about untying and retying Crawford's boot so that he could cram the document inside. Every one of these guys seemed to have a black field watch— nothing distinctive there. Even so, he put Miller's watch in a shirt pocket.
    Now he would learn whether the fallen Douglas fir had what he needed. Picking up the body, he walked quickly. Between Kier and his goal at the butt end of the tree trunk lay sixty feet of pristine snow. It was completely open for about half the distance. The other thirty feet were heavy brush.
    Kier hoisted Crawford onto his back. Leaving a single set of prints, he paused every couple steps to let blood from Crawford's oozing chest drip onto the virgin snow. He dragged one leg as if wounded.
    The base of the trunk, which lay in a shallow swale, was propped off the ground by a fibrous wad of roots and earth. The giant root ball had been torn from the ground when the tree toppled in a high wind. As Kier expected, beneath the root mass lay a deep hollow obscured by drifted snow.
    After sitting Crawford in the snow, he quickly burrowed into the crater where the roots had grown. If he hunkered down he could get his entire body a foot beneath the level of the ground.
    He propped Crawford's body up against a root in front of the hollow and placed his M-16 across his chest. Using Miller's stiletto, he stabbed Crawford's thigh, making an ugly knife wound. Urgently now, he gathered snow and packed a wall between himself and Crawford, verifying that he could seal himself off and retreat under the log. He would not be visible behind Crawford unless somebody dug.
    He dug back through his hole, emerging beside Crawford. In order to see the surrounding landscape, he crawled to the lip of the swale. Tense as a hunting cat, he lay on his belly and waited. They would send a team to surround the windfall area, which was maybe two hundred feet across. They would swarm it.
    Kier didn't have to wait long. First, he saw a man in front, then one to the right, then one to the left. The three were crawling. He watched, checking the progress of each.
    There would be more men on all sides hidden by the brush. His attackers would be confident. They would know that if he was still here, they had him. With any luck, they were certain that they were following a single wounded man and their eyes, as they studied the track, would be clouded to other possibilities. Kier waited until all three of the men in front were visible at once. Pressing his cheek into the hi-tech plastic stock of the rifle, he willed his finger to set off the first round. Controlled, precise shots exploded the tree trunk above the first man's shoulder.
    From every side fire poured in, driving him back under the log. Shoving and packing snow madly, he sealed himself off behind Crawford's body. His movements dislodged a powdery dust. Since everything was frozen solid, there was no apparent moisture. Roots hung down around him, and the earth smell was strong. Plugging his ears helped. He could imagine what it must look like. Wood flew as every green thing was chopped to pieces. Grenade bursts that he could feel in his bones—one after another—shook the ground. Four, five, six. His closed eyes began to flash red behind his lids. The log shuddered overhead.
    Soon they started with what he supposed was a rocket launcher. Explosions that seemed to bounce the log from the ground compressed the air. The breath of almighty God came roaring through the woods, withering everything in sight. Then, at last, it was quiet. There was no doubt that these men were capable of insane violence. They cared for nothing except to destroy those who opposed them. Quickly, he reinforced the crumbling snow that formed the barrier behind Crawford. A radio crackled when somebody turned the squelch too high, but the tiny speaker was still too far away for Kier to hear the words.
    After a time he heard men stomping the brush.
    "One body blown to