"It's a fast way to die," he said to no one in particular.
Grabbing Diggs by the forelock, Tillman let the stilletto's tip cut to the skull and describe a rough circle around the top of the head. He knew that, once started, the human scalp peels like an orange. Using his thumb and forefinger, he separated scalp from skull and held up his gory trophy.
Doyle looked sideways to see what was happening with Diggs. Tillman walked slowly around the tree and dropped the scalp at the feet of Doyle, who didn't move a muscle.
"I understand what you're doing," Doyle said. "You think it's the Indian, Kier, and you want to bloody well make the point to the men. You could never trust Diggs with what he read in that paper. Two birds, one stone. But I think you sense that you can trust me."
"I'm impressed."
"I'm the man to help you catch the Indian."
Tillman removed the cuff from Doyle's wrist.
They hiked back to the burned-out jet, where Tillman let Doyle explain this latest atrocity to the shocked troops.
"A dangerous and cunning Indian has scalped Diggs. He's made fools of every man out here today," Doyle concluded.
Now the hunt would begin in earnest.
Chapter 7
Men will kick an apology ahead of them like a stone, thereby ensuring that they never quite catch up to it.
" Miller, or whoever you are, if you're out there, give me a jingle."
It was the voice Kier had heard before-calm, authoritative-coming over the operative channel on Miller's radio. He assumed it was Tillman. Kier heard the rage only at the edge of his tone. He knew that to talk-even to talk as he ran- would be a death sentence. First, it would totally eliminate their confusion as to whether Miller was indeed whom they were looking for. More important, they could triangulate his position. Over time, they might even determine his direction of travel. They probably had the best equipment available.
"Listen," the voice said. "We can make peace. You'll never get out of these woods alive unless we make a deal. Even if you do, you'll be a hunted man forever. You've got the journals, haven't you? We've figured it out. Okay. We're pissed, but you've got something we need, so let's deal."
Kier believed that they had figured out nothing except that some guy in a white camouflage outfit was killing and maiming their people. Tillman had perhaps twenty men, probably ex-soldiers. Maybe Special Forces men who couldn't find anything else to do in life-hired mercenaries, pumped up with some concocted story about how they were doing the world a favor. Or maybe such people didn't care for abstractions.
At a flat-out run, Kier took the trail directly to the Donahues'. Even if Jessie had traveled at a much slower pace and had covered more than twice as much ground, she should have long since arrived and departed. But he had to make sure.
From the densest thicket, as the last light faded, Stalking Bear scrutinized every detail. He placed the object that would be the salvation of his people in a safe place-a place where, if need be, one other would find it. With it, he left a written note.
Now Stalking Bear was pulled in two directions.
A pregnant Claudie and her two little boys, Bren and Micah, climbed into Kier's truck. Theirs was the immediate peril. Tomorrow would always lie with the children. Even if the Donahue boys were not Tilok, they were friends to the Tilok. And Stalking Bear's grandson had no greater friends than Jack and Claudie Donahue.
Moving like a shadow with easy strides, Stalking Bear vaulted into the bed of the pickup truck as it passed. He folded himself into one of several storage compartments barely large enough for him, making himself very small, and slowed his breath, his heartbeat. He became the sleeping bear. The tension flowed out of his body, and he listened, dreamed.
"Sorry I startled you."
Kier piled into the driver's seat of the Volvo as Jessie slipped over the center console.
"What the hell happened?" she asked.
In the backseat, Miller groaned.
"I didn't kill anybody, but Miller's friends killed one of their own." Kier glanced at his watch. "You were supposed to be gone two minutes after you got here."
"So I'm a slow walker. Only one dead?" she asked, her voice sharper now.
"I think so."
"It sounded like a war. I'm sure you saved our lives."
"See how long that lasts," Miller said.
"Miller here is getting quite a reputation," Kier said.
"You mother-"
"We better get you out of here fast." Kier stepped out of the car and opened the back door. "These guys want to carve you up." As Kier dragged Miller back to the car trunk and locked him inside, he watched the treeline in the last of the gray light.
"We need to hide for a while. We have to figure out what the journals mean,'' Kier began, back in the car. He turned the car left, toward Johnson City, driving as fast as he dared, forcing the Volvo over the drifts and the chained tires into the roadway.
''We've got to head for civilization,'' she said, her fist gently tapping the side window. "Why can't we just try for Johnson City like Claudie?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he looked for a turnaround. They came to a drive marked mollander. It was the only nearby dwelling-a summer cabin about a half mile from Claudie's, usually unoccupied this time of year.
"You're not talking."
"I'm thinking."
When he reached the end of the narrow roadway to the cabin, he turned the Volvo around and got out.
"Now what are you doing?"
"I'm still thinking."
"You're lying in the snow."
"I'm removing the chains."
"What if I want the chains to go to Johnson City?"
"They'll have men at the pass. They'll kill you. If you try to walk around them, you'll die in the snow."
He removed the tire chains quickly and dumped them on the floor in back.
"That's my choice," she said.
"Uh-huh," he said. He would hog-tie her if he had to, but he certainly wasn't going to say so.
" 'Uh-huh.' What's that mean?"
"It means I'm listening."
"You're driving back toward my sister's and away from Johnson City."
"If we go back without the chains, it'll throw them off, at least temporarily."
"We need to get to a town, to telephones. I've got to insist."
"This side of Elk Horn Pass you're off the grid. No power except home generators and no phone but cellular. With luck, they're confused. They'll suppose that people fleeing would more likely head toward Johnson City than away from it. Our only choice is to lose them in the wilderness and come out in our own time and our own way."
"What about the cell phones?"
"There's one in my truck. Claudie's got one. We don't have either of them, and they won't work unless you're higher on the mountain. We can't drive that high in this snow, even if we had one, which we don't."
''Listen, that plane was full of some medical research, including every disease in the Merck Manual. They could be experimenting on those Tilok girls, for God's sake. We've got to tell the world-"
"You can't tell anyone anything if you're dead. They might let Claudie past, but they're never gonna let us through. And this car won't make it over the pass anyway. No chance."
"So we should run off into the mountains in a blizzard, maybe with some deadly disease? These people could be back out on the county road by now just waiting for us around the next bend. I say we make a plan that moves us toward town, even if we walk."
"That's what they expect. They'll likely have snowmobiles. It won't work."
"Why?"
"Resources. I saw their truck tracks. They weren't driving around with empty trucks. Either they have a lot of men, or men and snowmobiles. Whatever they have will be directed at Elk Horn Pass if they lose our tracks."