copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

CHAPTER 16 -

Steadman opened his file drawer.  U.S. Geological Survey 
maps were stuffed in the back.  Steadman found the one he
was looking for and spread it on his desk.  He located the
road and calculated where the cabin would be.  There was no
use going out there again, not the way he'd done it before. 
The road was clearly visible from the cabin and they'd have
fifteen minutes warning.

Coming in from both sides would be better.  Posting
someone at the top of the hill to watch would help.  There
was access the way the road snaked around the other side,
the same way he'd gone with the binoculars.

Who to get was another problem.  It was likely to be a
large operation--twenty men at least--and Steadman didn't
know what he was dealing with.  It would have to be a
coalition, Steadman decided.  Loggers and mill men.  He'd
have the mill executive, Ranson, there too.

And the FBI--what to do about them?  Ignore them,
Steadman decided.  They'd disappeared anyway.  Maybe they've given up.  Not likely, Steadman reasoned.  He wouldn't let them get the best of him.  This is your jurisdiction.  No interstate commerce involved.  Besides, no crime has been committed, except maybe by the FBI itself.

Steadman leaned back and looked out the window.  The
protesters still gathered on Main Street.  Less vocal now,
war-weary, they passed out their leaflets and tried to
engage the townspeople in argument, but their voices sounded tired and their rhetoric had softened.  "Good kids" were what some in town were calling them, though Steadman
couldn't go along with that.  For one, he wouldn't admit he
was that much older.  For another, he saw in some of their
faces a look of frustration and anger.  They had
accomplished nothing in pursuit of their cause.  "Educating
the public" hadn't taken place, no trees had been saved. 
The news media had long-since abandoned the scene in favor
of more sensational news.

Steadman took a minute to study each face, figuring who'd
be the most trouble.

Raymond Beck, Steadman chuckled.  The FBI agent joined the group, held a sign aloft and shouted at passing vehicles.

Your tax dollars at work, Steadman thought bitterly. 
Reminded, Steadman turned back to the map and his plans to
take the suspects into custody.

This is crazy.  A bunch of civilians tramping around in
the woods with guns.  Somebody is likely to get hurt and it
would be your responsibility.  Just to make a couple of
arrests--four to be exact.  On what charge?  Steadman didn't know.

"Okay," Steadman said out loud.  "I'll try one more
time."  Forget contingency plans, Steadman decided. 
Self-fulfilling prophecy anyway.  You can wing it if you
have to.

"Where are they?" Steadman demanded when he reached
Scott's cabin.

"Out in the woods," Scott replied.  "They ran when they
saw you coming."

"I have to speak to them," Steadman said firmly.  "You go
get them."

Scott considered.  He had trusted Steadman once.  The
result was the interview with the FBI.

"Otherwise I'm going to have to come out here and make
arrests," Steadman warned.

"On what charge?" Scott asked.

"I'll think of something," Steadman replied.

Scott held up a hand for Steadman to wait.  Scott walked
into the woods.

"What does he want?" Xavier called from behind a tree not
far into the forest.

"Ask questions," Scott called back.

Yula and Tenner appeared.

"Do you believe him?" Xavier asked.

"Yes."

"We should kill him!" Tenner burst out.  Yula gasped. 

Scott noticed Xavier didn't.  "He knows too much.  So does
he."  Tenner pointed directly at Scott.  "No contact!  Those were our orders!"

Tenner stepped forward.  He's going to kill you with his
bare hands.

Scott backed away.

"I'll tell him," Scott said simply and hurried back to
the cabin.

"No dice," Scott said to Steadman.

"Now listen here!" Steadman started to say.

"Hey, go ahead and ask them!" Scott pointed to the
woods.  "See if you find them.  See if they want to talk."

"I'm coming back with dogs and deputies," Steadman
warned.

"Go ahead," Scott offered, calling Steadman's bluff. 

"Give it a try.  And think up a charge while you're looking, why don't you?"

Steadman sized Scott up.  We don't have to be enemies, do
we?

"What's going on here?" Steadman asked softly.

"I told you."

"The truth."

"That was the truth," Scott said sincerely.

The sun felt hot on the top of Steadman's head.  He ran
his fingers through what was left of his hair.  He felt old, very old.  Martians and environmentalists and people from the future.  Why can't you just to do your job, be a human being, live life and maybe enjoy it a little?  When did you take on the responsibility of the whole world?

"I know how you feel," Scott said softly.  "I feel the
same way."

Steadman figured maybe Scott did.  He turned and started
down the hill alone.




That night, the sickness started.  Scott heard Xavier
staggering to the door, coughing his lungs out.  Scott
started to rise when Tenner stopped him.

"She will go," he said, and quickly Yula was out the
door.

What is there between Xavier and Yula? Scott wondered. 
Is she his daughter?  The possibility shocked Scott.  Must
think of everything.  People.  Understand people.  Isn't
that what Lorraine railed at you about?  Good with machines, good with causes, but when it comes down to individuals, single human beings, you haven't a clue.

Scott listened.  Xavier sounded like his lungs would
burst.  But there was another sound too.  What is it?  Yula.

Despite Tenner, Scott stood and went to the cabin door. 
There they were, lit by the moon, Xavier bent double
coughing, Yula sneezing repeatedly.

"Are you all right?" Scott called to them.

Tenner rushed past, heading for the woods, his hand over
his mouth, ready to vomit.

"What is this?" Scott asked.

Yula shook her head and fought off another sneeze.  Guilt
swept over Scott.  You've poisoned them somehow.  What did
you cook for dinner?  What did they eat at home where they
came from?  Something microwaved maybe.

"Come inside," Scott said.  "You're better off."

Scott pulled Xavier and Yula into the cabin.  He closed
all the windows and the door.  He lit the kerosene lamp and
started the camp stove.  Xavier slid down the wood wall,
still coughing.  How long can he keep this up?

Scott kicked the fire around and poured water on what was
left of it.  Keep the smoke down.  Yula sneezed.  They're
dying.  Scott filled a pan with water and put it on the
stove.

"A person better go see about Tenner," Yula said between
sneezes.  She started for the door.

"No, he'll come back," Scott told her.  "Stay.  You
shouldn't be outside.  That's what's doing this.  You're
allergic."

Yula stared at Scott, searching his brain.  She could
tell he wasn't sure.  Think positive, Scott told himself. 
Yula wasn't buying it.  Scott felt violated.  Mind-rape,
lady.  I don't like it.

"Tell him I can't help it," Yula protested to Xavier
between sneezes.  There was panic on her face.

I'm sorry.  I'm really sorry.  I apologize.  We're one. 
Your thoughts are my thoughts.  I want it that way.

She got the message.

"Bring him over here."  Scott gestured to Xavier.

Yula helped Xavier to the camp-stove.

"Breathe," Scott ordered.

Xavier bent over the pan of water.  Steam already rose
from the surface.  Xavier began to breathe.  Either the
steam or the steady breath did it.  Xavier's cough stopped.

"Someone would say it's magic," Yula exclaimed, looking
at Scott with wonder in her eyes.

"Just steam," Scott replied.  "He'll be better."

"Native folk-medicine," Xavier laughed cynically until
his cough started again.

The cabin door creaked open.  Tenner stood sheepishly in
the entrance.

"Close the door," Scott ordered.  Without argument this time, Tenner did as he was told.  "All of you, breathe the steam."

They all huddled around the tiny camp-stove, inhaling the
water vapor.  Scott, suddenly tired, aware for the first
time it was the middle of the night, fell back onto the
floor.  He rested, staring up at the ceiling.  He looked at
his watch.  1:37.

Should have been a doctor.  That's what your mother
wanted.  She was the best.  Stick you in the bathroom, turn
on the hot shower and the sink at the same time, let the
steam fill your lungs.  Was it the vapor or the fact your
mother cared?  There was little caring, Scott knew, most of
the time with his mother.  Well, okay, he'd tried to make it up with Kathy, even if he hadn't with Lorraine.  Call them tomorrow.

Xavier sat back on the floor.  His coughing had stopped
again.  His face was flushed from the effort.

"We don't have much time," he said gloomily.

Scott sat up on one arm.

"You're allergic," Scott said.  "That's all." 

"So you're a doctor now, too?" Xavier challenged.

"That's right.  Johns Hopkins.  Residency at Cedars
Sinai."

"We're sick," Xavier said. 

"Allergies."

"No!" Xavier shot back.  "Viruses, bacteria,
micro-organisms we haven't been exposed to before.  We're
like your Indians, that you killed with your diseases,"
Xavier said bitterly.

Scott realized Xavier was right.  He tried to swallow but
couldn't.  He stared at Yula's face, lit softly by the glow
of the camp-stove, her face wet from the steam, soft wisps
of vapor curling around her chin.

"No," Scott whispered.  "It's just--"
"She sneezes, he vomits, I cough," Xavier said roughly. 

"We don't have the same disease."

Scott started to say something, but Xavier was coughing
again.  Scott put his head down on the hard-wood floor. 

To the doctors.  Tomorrow.  Three different places. 
Emergency rooms, where there won't be too many questions. 
Yula could be your wife.  Use your health insurance.

"Tell him no," Yula said to Xavier.  "Tell him we can't
go to the hospital.  We'd be discovered."

"But why?  You look like anybody."

"Explain we use less oxygen," Yula said.  "That's why the
mountains don't bother us.  And we're used to more
ultraviolet radiation from the sun.  A person should show
him."

Xavier placed his arm flat against Scott's.  Even by the
flickering light of the camp-stove and the kerosene lamp, it was shocking how pale Xavier's skin was.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Scott told her.  "They
won't look that hard.  They'll give you antibiotics, make
sure you pay your bill and send you on your way."

"One could mention antibiotics might kill us," Yula said.

"We don't know.  Besides..."

"What?" Scott asked.  The look of terror on Yula's face
wasn't good.

"We would become more exposed.  That's why we avoided
contact," Xavier explained.

"With me..." Scott realized.

"Yes," Xavier replied.

"You mean I...?" Scott started to say and answered his
own question.  No kissing...  You gave this to them, Scott. 
Filthy, germ-ridden animal.  Scott covered his face with his hands.  You killed her.

Scott looked at Tenner.  What's that look in his face? 
Fear.  That's it.  The boy's scared.  Damn.  Scott looked at Xavier.

For once the old man looked his age.  And Yula looked
older too.  She was Earth Mother again, protecting them from harm, making sure they survived.  Scott screwed up his courage.  It's up to you.  You alone.  With her maybe.  But
don't count on her.  Don't count on anyone.  You alone.

An old fear grabbed Scott and shook his body.  Where does
it come from?  From Kathy.  Responsible for her life.  Her
protector.  But then he'd felt like a man.  A father.  The
prince in his daughter's eyes.  Because he knew he could do
it.  This...Scott didn't know.