Heaven's Not Enough

Part II

Chapter 4 – Downhill

March 21, 2019

Skagit County. Public Land.

"Well, they only let me come back to work if I agreed to counseling," Eliza said, as Mike rumbled their work truck up a backwoods dirt road. It was midday. Their radio played one of Mike's 80s rock mixes, the volume turned down low.

"How many sessions?" he asked.

"Not including the actual evaluation? I went to one meeting so far," she said. "I just don't think it was very productive. They wanted to know everything about my family, and I really don't know what to tell them."

"Just be honest with them, Douglas." Mike said. "I had to talk to a psych once, they made me take counseling too. I know how it goes."

"You've been put under a fitness eval?"

"Yep."

She smirked. "No way. What'd you do?"

"Nothin'. Got coldcocked. The guy was more mountain than man, so it stunned me a bit. Blake tased him. As soon as I came to, I tackled the guy, and we got him down. I had a good laugh about it later with Blake, but Horace wasn't convinced. Horace is a good leader, Douglas, but he's got an itchy trigger finger on those fitness evals. Honestly, maybe he needs one too."

Eliza grinned, and rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna miss you, Mike. You and your snark."

"Nothing says we can't still hang out. Hey, what'd you do for your time off, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Worked on a few shortbows, donated them to the local Boy Scout troop."

"See, someone's looking out for those kids." He smiled. "Did you find a department to transfer to yet?"

She drummed her knuckles against the window idly. It was chilly and drizzling outside, and she could feel the comforting cold on her knuckles. "Yeah. My home town has a couple of vacancies. Haven't applied yet, but I'm sure they'd love to have me."

"Concrete, right?"

"Yep. Smack dab in the middle of the Valley."

Mike grinned. "Niiice. The easy life, eh?"

"Somethin' like that. The town knows me, they're practically family." Her voice lowered to a mumble. "Lord knows I have nothing left for me in Sedro, now that George is gone."

"Him uploading on you like that wasn't fair to you. Sorry, Douglas." He turned down a bend on the road.

"It's okay. The counselor wanted me to talk about George some more. Maybe it'll help, I don't know."

Mike gave her another comforting, if sad smile. "It will. Been through that myself, y'know, the couple of suicides in my family. So... I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Mike."

Their truck pulled around another bend past a rocky shale-covered hill, and came to an overlook. They could see the whole valley. The truck stopped. The forest spread out in all directions before them. Eliza could see the river down below. Mike put the truck in park, and Eliza looked at him strangely.

She checked their GPS and noticed they were in the wrong place. "Uh, what's up? We've got a call to get to, remember?"

For a moment, Mike didn't answer. He watched the horizon and turned off the music. The silence sunk in as he gazed, his expression stoic.

"What, Mike?"

"It just... it looks like there's nothing wrong." He watched the trees down in the valley. "It all looks normal. At peace, actually. It doesn't look like an empty forest. You can't see the damage from here."

Eliza, for his sake, tried to absorb that sentiment, her eyes following the hills of the valley along with him. The overgrowth of saplings, brought on by the lack of deer, was completely invisible from on high. And although most larger birds were heavily endangered, plenty of smaller ones flitted from tree to tree, living on seeds. "That doesn't mean the damage isn't there though," she muttered.

"Maybe," he continued. "Maybe not. If you think about it, problems included... nature's been through worse. This is it, Douglas. This is Earth at its finest, it's what it is. The world keeps on spinning, empty forest or not. Species go extinct all the time. We couldn't keep the status quo going forever. Deer, fish, wolves. The lot. We did our best, you know?"

"We didn't, though." She looked at one of the towns down in the valley. "People did this. We hunted it dry, Mike. And we did it in, what, five years? We need more wardens, Mike, not... fewer. This... this was our responsibility, you know? If our department were giving this up by choice, that might be okay, but that's not what's happening. It's being taken away from us. I didn't choose this, you didn't choose this. Some... politicians chose this."

"Yeah," Mike agreed tightly, "But... with or without us, Mother Nature never did care who or what went away. She's suffered the ice age, the comets, everything. I get what you're saying, but... she'll survive us, Douglas." His eyes wandered. "Always has, always will. I have faith in that, if nothing else."

Eliza didn't take her eyes off the town, frowning at that, but she decided not to argue the issue too much, figuring he was probably just rationalizing. "What brought this on?"

"Well, our jobs are going away soon," Mike said. He stroked his jaw with an index finger as he thought. "Feels right to be a little sentimental. The deer could go extinct, we could lose all the fish in the world. The world's always changing. All we can do is our best. And if our best isn't good enough, then oh well. No one can say we didn't try. And the view is still nice, at least."

"Mm." Eliza shook her head, her voice going tight. "I don't know. I liked it how it was."

"We're young, Eliza. Letting go of the past, of things you wanted to keep... that's... part of getting older. Still got a lot now, though. No one expected an empty forest, but it's still a forest. And here we are, still here."

"Here we are," she repeated helplessly, with a sigh. "It's still a good view, yeah, but c'mon. We've got a job to do."

"Yeah," he said with a nod. He put the truck in drive. "I know. I just wanted to savor this for a bit. I got my fill."

They continued along the road and went deeper into the mountains.

It wasn't long before they approached the GPS coordinate of their call. It had come from their tip line, of course. Eliza looked up from her computer and sighed, then looked at Mike. "I'm getting really suspicious of these anonymous tips with perfect coordinates."

Mike grunted, but said nothing.

"It's just... strange," she elaborated. "I mean, I know we wouldn't even be following up unless it was credible, but it's just a little too helpful."

"People are getting more tech savvy, Douglas." He gave her a suspicious look, as if he knew she was being paranoid.

I doubt it, she wanted to say. But she had her theories.

They turned along another bend in the road. Ahead of them in the middle of it stood an elderly black man with a white beard, wearing a flatcap. He was roughly where the coordinate marker was. The man waved at them as they approached, and Eliza rolled down her window, pulling alongside. She nodded at the man, then looked curiously past the man into the forest. She saw a line of tire-crushed undergrowth leading far and away, out of sight.

"Hello, officers," the old man said, with a wave.

"Hello, sir," Eliza smiled back. "What brings you out here?"

The old man smiled. "I watch the land, it's private property here."

Eliza nodded. "Yessir. You the one who called?"

"Yes ma'am." He patted his chest. "Name's Ned."

Ned, who had given the dispatcher perfect GPS marker coordinates. Eliza looked at Mike to get his I told you so out of the way as soon as possible. Mike grinned at her, raising his eyebrows once. She rolled her eyes at him, and looked back to the old man.

"I saw some young boys roll in with a big truck a couple of hours ago, camo head to toe," Ned said. "Saw a few guns in the window, and the back. Guy in the back with a big rifle and a big scope. Saw me lookin', told me to mind my effin' business... only he didn't say effin'."

"Guy's got great manners," Eliza grouched sarcastically.

"Best I've seen out here in a while," Ned agreed. "Except you, of course. I don't see many folk these days except my supplier. Speaking of supplies, they had a big green crate in the back, now that I think about it. Now, I know hunting isn't legal 'round here no more, but I didn't know what else they'd be doing. I usually mind my own business, but this land is my business, so... that was back... I don't know, three hours ago?"

Eliza raised a brow. "You've been waiting here for us for three whole hours?"

"No ma'am." Ned smiled again. "Just came out to take another look at the tire tracks, wanted to see if you showed up. Then, you showed up."

Eliza took out her notepad and pen. "You live around here, sir?"

"Yes ma'am." He pointed down the road. "Just that way a bit, small little cabin. I work for a mining company, keepin' an eye on their deposit."

"What company, sir? Got an ID, phone number? In case we need to call you?"

"Ore Hearth Roscoe," he said. He gave her his number too, and passed over his ID.

She copied it all down. "I'm surprised OHR's still in business." She handed the ID back to him.

"Yep. More a holding company than anything else these days, but I'm on the books."

"Describe the vehicle, please? And the guys you saw?"

"Big old truck, like I said. Raised, huge, like one of those big Ford types. Green, looked like spraypaint budget camo in brown. The back was covered with a big tarp, mostly. One in back, two boys up front, wearin' old hunting camo. Not a shred of orange on any of 'em, but I wouldn't wear orange if I didn't want to get caught poachin', so..."

"So, this the first time you've seen these guys?"

"Yes ma'am. Not the first poachers, mind. Been a while since I've seen one, though, in months. No idea what they'll need that truck that big for. Compensating, or something? Hey, maybe they just want to knock down an aspen for fun."

"Yeah," Eliza said, with a chuckle. "Not like there's much game to take home these days." She pointed down the route of crushed saplings. "You see anyone else go out that way before?"

"Not that way in particular, no ma'am."

She nodded. "Alright. Mr James, that's all we need for now. Thank you for your help. If we need more, we'll come on back or call ya."

"See you," Ned said with another friendly wave, as he started up the road to his cabin. "Lemme know what you find."

Eliza nodded at him, and she rolled her window back up. Mike slowly took the truck offroad to follow the trail left by the subject vehicle.

"Sounds like a Ford Raptor," Eliza said. "Think we should call for backup?"

"Maybe," Mike said. "But Eliza, it's been a while since that call came in. If we wait til the deputies get here, these guys'll be gone for sure."

"Waste of time, then?"

Mike thought for a moment. "Tell you what, Douglas. We'll call in we've made contact with the witness. We take it slow, do some recon, get in and out. If we see anything more than tracks, we call the County Sheriffs and fall back here. Sound good?"

It was a sound plan. "I like it."

She got on her satellite phone and made the call, reporting in with Sergeant Cornwallis. A minute later, he approved their plan of action.

When Eliza hung up, Mike grunted affirmatively, driving onward. "Get those rifles ready, Douglas. Just in case, y'know."

Eliza silently got to work. She shoved a clip into her Garand, and then a magazine into Mike's AR-15, chambering rounds into each. She dropped both rifles in the foot well between her legs.

They drove for a while at no more than fifteen miles an hour. The old truck struggled to brush aside the tall foliage as it moved. The offending target vehicle obviously had more vertical clearance than theirs, because the police vehicle had to deal with tougher, shorter roots even as they followed on the exact path it took.

"Y'know," Eliza said suddenly, "you can go faster. I wouldn't worry about the damage too much. It's not like we'll be paying for it." She chuckled. "Department's probably auctioning this clunker off anyway. I'm getting sick of wannabe cops rolling around in our gear, maybe it'll fall apart faster that way."

"I hear that," Mike said, as he threw back a grin. "You read my mind. Still, I'd rather not get stuck."

"What's wrong with being stuck out here? What, you don't like camping?"

Mike laughed. "Camped out in the woods with you? Damn, Douglas, I'd lose my mind."

She grinned, knowing he was joking. "Thanks, asshole."

"Oh, don't mention it," he chuckled.

They continued to scan far beyond their path, and could see nothing. The truck had gone through some rocky outcrops and past some landslides. The trail was hard going without a road to follow. They drove for ten minutes, and by that time, it seemed like it would go on forever. At one point, they even crossed a small stream, and had to move away from the crushed saplings slightly to choose a more shallow crossing.

"Damn, but they went far," Mike growled.

Eliza checked their dashboard GPS. "Four klicks in so far. Think they'd let us call in a plane?"

"Hell no," Mike chuckled. "We're starved for budget as it is. The Feds wouldn't even spare it for an IOU."

"Doesn't hurt to ask, right?"

"Well we could, but... Horace would wring our necks if they said yes, so..."

A few minutes later, they crested a small hill, and encountered a land depression about half a kilometer across. The overgrowth and the trees were just as present there as it was everywhere else. The area was surrounded by hills on all sides, including the one their truck rested on.

There was a rock formation to their immediate left, almost fifty yards across, the land looping around either side of it. At the bottom of the hill was a small pond, and some sort of hole or cave in the opposite hill. Eliza saw the target vehicle parked in front of it. The subject vehicle was much, much bigger than expected.

Eliza held up her hand. "Woah, woah. Hold up, stop." Mike started to put the truck in park, but reverted the change when Eliza tapped his wrist. "No, put it in reverse. We might need to get out of here quick."

"What do you see?" Mike squinted. "Woah. That's... that's them! That's no Raptor, what the hell is that?"

Eliza grabbed for the binoculars in the center console. She saw two men in camouflage just by the truck, stood amongst the low foliage and the reeds by the pond. They carried a crate together from the truck to the cave. They both had rifles slung over their backs. Upon closer inspection, the cave entrance was reinforced with wood and had a catwalk over the top of the entrance. The catwalk had a camo net draped over it.

"It's some sort of abandoned mine, looks like. Wow, Mike."

"What?"

"Those guys have some serious hardware, one of them has an AK. That truck is something else though, take a look." She handed Mike the binoculars. He peered into them.

"Wow, that's a truck truck. Military. Shit, I think they saw us. Douglas, get a coordinate, we're leaving." Mike tossed the binoculars into Eliza's footwell. "Buckle up, these guys aren't poachers." He threw his arm back onto Eliza's headrest and looked out the rear view mirror. Their truck moved back.

Eliza quickly pulled the GPS arm over and tapped a few buttons. She hit the speed dial for dispatch on her sat phone. "Dispatch, Whiskey 4, priority. We have eyes on a suspicious, possibly military grade vehicle. Two heavily armed suspects sighted, and they're not poachers. We're leaving."

"Copy Whiskey 4, what are your coordinates?"

"Coordinates are as follows..." She began to read the GPS grid aloud.

Eliza heard a world-halting crack. In an instant, she was partially deafened, and she felt a shockwave blast through the vehicle. Glass showered everywhere, and the windscreen spiderwebbed. She shouted wordlessly, screaming with fright and pain as glass peppered and cut her face. The truck suddenly accelerated backwards as Mike slumped. The engine roared.

Mike groaned and gasped, then hunched forward on the wheel as he clutched his chest. The wheel turned, and the truck turned with it. It slammed backwards into a tree. By some miracle, the airbag didn't deploy. A long series of deafening cracks surrounded them, and Eliza felt the truck vibrate with every impact. She quickly realized they were being shot at with accurate semi automatic fire. Her heart began to pound.

Eliza reached over and shifted the gear back into drive. The truck launched forward further down the hill... toward their attackers. She reached for the wheel to turn it, and she dimly realized that Mike's foot was still on the accelerator. "Mike! You alright? Mike, talk to me!"

"I'm fine, God d-damn it...!" He clutched an arm to his chest, and Eliza saw blood spill over his wrist. He tried to turn the truck back out of the depression, but then he suddenly lost consciousness and slumped.

Eliza looked forward, flinching as she saw a rock wall rapidly approaching. "Look out!" She tried to turn the steering wheel, but Mike's weight against the wheel prevented that. It was too late. Their truck slammed into the rocks, which partially obscured their line of sight to the men down at the mine. The airbag deployed, and Eliza felt herself roughly forced backwards into her seat. She felt the barrels of the two guns dig painfully into her stomach. Breathlessly, she mouthed a little prayer of thanks that that she had her kevlar vest on; it dampened the crushing feeling of the front sights as they forced their way against her stomach, and with enough force that the sight flanges might have otherwise opened her gut. Still, pain flooded her.

The gunfire continued to pour upwards into the bed of their truck. Eliza pushed the airbag out of her face, coughed violently, and swept her hand wildly against the door in search of the door handle. She opened it, but the door stopped halfway as it collided with a heavy boulder. She unbuckled her seat belt and slumped out like an egg from a pan, falling right down into the thick foliage. Her head spun as bullet impacts rocked the side of the truck. With a glance to the back, she saw the rear tires were completely destroyed. Something told her that going toward the back of the truck would be a very bad idea.

She quickly checked herself over and made sure she wasn't hit. She didn't seem to have taken any bullets, but her face was cut up from the glass. She felt blood trickle down from her hairline, and she ached all over. Her hands quickly gripped both rifles by their slings, and she started to crawl under the truck over to Mike's side. She heard him coughing above her as she stood.

"Mike, you gotta move! Ge—" she flinched as a large round snapped very close past the truck. "Get up!" She shook him frantically through the window, which was now missing. "Wake up!" She noticed the truck's hood was pushing out smoke, and a small fire licked at its edges.

Mike groaned loudly. Eliza yanked the driver side door open and shook him awake. Mike started pawing at his chest with a hand. "Fuck," he said, in a daze, and he noticed the blood for the first time.

Eliza reached forward and dug her hand into his shirt behind his outer vest. She felt mild surprise when she noticed he was wearing a now-fragmented ceramic plate within his vest, just above his ballistic layer. She searched his chest behind the kevlar, praying she’d find what she was looking for. Mike yelped, and Eliza felt the sickening crackling of his ribs. It felt like a small rupture wound; it didn't go any further.

Her two fingers caught a firm, loose object. She hoped it wasn't bone. She pulled her hand back, and covered in his blood, she held a crushed steel slug of a rifle round. She let out a quick sigh of relief.

The round had almost completely defeated his armor, and was just barely jutting out against his skin. It had broken through both layers and stopped against his sternum, barely out of lethal energy. It felt like his rib cage had been pulverized, and he would have a bruise as wide as his chest. But he was alive, but by the grace of God and pure dumb luck.

"Feel... every bone... my chest..." he said weakly, in shock.

"They are! You've been shot, but your armor caught it. You're lucky it's not worse, Mike! C'mon, get up, let's get the hell out of here. Those lunatics are shooting at us, they'll be here any second!"

"Good thing I..." he whimpered. It looked like he passed out again, but then his eyes fluttered and he looked up.

Mike saw the fire growing under his truck's hood, which got his attention. Eliza could practically see adrenaline pour into him as his pupils dilated. He shook his head, then tried to get out with a shout of pain. He stumbled into Eliza's arms as his feet hit the ground, and ducked with a wince as two more rounds cracked by. The shots were coming in with reduced frequency, but that didn't make the situation any less dangerous. Eliza passed him his AR-15. She unslung her Garand.

"What the hell do we do?!" she shouted, only now starting to truly panic.

Mike shook his head. "A sec." He looked around and crouched low, wincing heavily in pain. He panted and heaved as he glanced into the truck's cab. "Extinguisher...!"

"We don't. Have. Time!" Eliza panted, as she watched the fire. She was being hunted. Her mind flashed a memory of a scene from a movie she saw a long time ago, wherein two foxes were being dug out of a hole by a dog on one side, and cornered by flames on the other. She shook it out of her head and slapped her own cheek forcefully to bring her thoughts back to the here and now. Focus, she thought. She couldn't zone out here.

Mike looked around. "Shrubs. We crawl. Hide us, stay low. Crawl away, to hill." He drew a pained breath. "Get over the... hill. We r-run. Go now. I'll follow. I gotta... put the fire out..."

"No way! No way, Mike! You’re in shock, you aren't staying here! I'm not leaving you!"

He hunched over, checked his rifle, then looked up at her with a snarl. "Go, you idiot! Now!" He coughed, and gasped. Then he shoved her with a groan that sounded like debilitating pain. "O-or... both dead. Need to... stop fire... or mountain... burns!"

"Let it fucking burn!" she screamed. He ignored her and turned to lunge into the truck with another cry of pain. Eliza swore, then dug into her pocket to pull out some gray earplugs. She stuffed them quickly into her ears.

She glanced over at the rock, desperately scanning the hillside for any sign of anyone. Her rifle was raised, poised to open fire on the first person she saw. She scooted a few steps to the right, and aimed down her scope, but saw no one. Her heart was beating like a drum, and she could hear her pulse in her ears. The gunfire had ceased.

"Douglas! Go! Or you're dead!"

She thought of her mother and father losing their last child.

In an instant, Eliza had her motivation. She turned and bolted out into the open. She sprinted as far and as fast as her unsteady legs could carry her. Inevitably, she heard another round zip past her head, the snap louder than most had been. By inches. She nosedived into the dirt and ducked beneath the thorny blackberry bushes, thankful for the wild and relentless overgrowth for the first time in her life. To her horror, automatic gunfire snapped wildly in her direction, and it tore the bushes to shreds around her. She screamed in fear and crawled away desperately. Her ballcap fell from her head as it nudged the thorns.

From the truck, she heard the loud hissing of a fire extinguisher. Mike shouted over. "It's out! Douglas... quiet! Stay quiet... stay the fuck... down!" A few seconds passed, and she flinched as she heard a few gunshots at the truck, and another growl from Mike. A chorus of gunfire responded from down the hill, and Eliza heard more shots snap over her. She realized Mike was shooting at them. They were returning fire.

She fought the paralysis of fear and clutched her Garand. Eliza raised up to a crouch and very slowly peeked up as she tried to see any of the men that were shooting at Mike. She needed to cover him, too. Her eye caught movement downhill: one of the men was pushing shrubs aside as he ran up toward the rocks. She leveled her rifle, took aim, and fired once. She didn't see if the round hit him, but he did fall beneath the leaves. Another barrage of gunfire soared past her, which caused her to stumble and dive for the dirt. She heard Mike's rifle fire again. He was covering her. "Eliza! Stop. Shooting! Go! GO!"

She crawled uphill as she gave a desperate prayer for his safety. She wished Mike would hurry the hell up and join her. Then, she heard another burst of gunfire. She felt around for her radio mic, then keyed up. "Mike," she whispered harshly, between hurried breaths. "Mike, are you okay? Answer me!"

No answer.

She tried to scan beneath the brush, but couldn't see very far. That was for the best, she decided. That disadvantage cut both ways.

The sound of a vehicle engine could be heard in the distance from where they first entered the area. It was quiet, and she hoped it was help coming. Knowing her own luck lately... it was probably anything but friendly. She continued her frantic crawl toward the sound, but accidentally nudged a tall sapling. The men saw the movement and shot wildly at her, and she screamed again as they missed.

She made it another twenty yards, then raised up again, ready to fire. She couldn't hold the weapon steady. She shook too much. She saw another camouflaged man sprinting up to her truck, about fifty yards away. She held her breath, put her finger over the trigger... then hammered out seven wild shots, desperate to strike him before he reached Mike. She missed. She spent her whole clip, and her rifle made a reverberating ping. The clip popped out of her weapon.

Before the clip had even touched the ground, more shots flew past her head. She dove ninety degrees opposite the way she had been crawling, still frantically making her way uphill. An automatic weapon again coated her entire area.

Eliza decided to not stand up again.

The engine noise was getting closer. She found a felled log in the bushes and settled in alongside it, praying it would block any sporadic, testing fire. Her trembling and erratic breathing refused to subside, and she couldn't fight like that. Fear rooted her to the spot, and she decided to hold position and hope for the best. Eliza dug into the rifle's butt pouch, scooped out another full clip, slotted it into the weapon, and released the charging handle. The bolt clacked into place, and she winced at the loudness of it.

She laid the rifle on the ground beside her. It wouldn't do her any good while she was on her back, and the men were unarmored. She drew her sidearm, checking the safety and the chamber. Her hands trembled against her vest. She focused on nothing but breathing and on listening.

There was shouting. Someone was close now. She laid on her back and prayed breathlessly with her eyes clenched shut. She wanted to be home again. She wanted to see her parents again. And despite herself, she even wished she had accepted that ponypad offer when she had the chance... or... or that she had even...

There's no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole, she thought.

But Eliza was no soldier. She wasn't an atheist. She didn't have a foxhole. All she had was an old moldy log, a mile long list of regrets, and a couple of guns. She thought of the carving on her rifle, the word Apex, and ran her fingertips of one hand along it like it was a charm. She had already died once. She wouldn't die again. She gripped her pistol tighter and tried to calm down.

The gunfire slowed, but it was closer now. Occasionally, a few rounds would bounce off the dirt somewhere in the hill, but she knew better than to move. They were trying to spook her out of hiding, she guessed. The sound of a truck from uphill was getting closer, and Eliza knew it was only a matter of time until the new vehicle reached her.

She continued to pray, her voice barely a whisper as she mouthed all the words she knew of Psalm 121. In her head, it formed with the voice of her father.

Eliza heard the sound of someone running toward her, and her eyes shot open. She tracked the rough footsteps, following the crunch of leaves and twigs with her ears, acutely aware of the brush of cloth on branches. She stopped praying and raised her handgun toward the noise. Her weapon followed the movement, her hand trembling like a seismograph. The pistol rocked as adrenaline pushed her heartrate ever higher.

The man ran right past her, perhaps only a few yards away. She flinched. By some miracle, he hadn't seen her.

She even caught a glimpse of his face for a fraction of a second, but her mind sucked in his image like a vacuum. Green tri-color camouflage. Caucasian, short black hair, in his thirties, carrying an AR-15 style rifle with a rail system, some kind of scope, and a thirty round STANAG magazine. He had forgotten to shave that morning. His brow was furrowed, and the collar of his fatigues was uneven. He panted as he ran, had even stumbled and coughed as he passed her. His shoulder bore an armband with a red circle, inlaid with a raised fist holding a severed power cord.

It was as if he had run past her in slow motion. If she hadn't been so afraid for her life, that level of recollection would've astonished her. It had to be the adrenaline.

The incoming vehicle was almost upon her now.

She heard the man's voice shout out from the crest of the hill, and he was so very close to her that she flinched when she heard him. "Contact! Army! It's the Army! Looks like scouts!" A second later, the man began to fire in semi-auto, a rhythmic pop, pop, pop. Eliza flinched again, and she thought he was shooting at her. No bullets came. She was close enough to hear brass landing in dirt between every shot. She raised her pistol in his direction and could see him moving behind the bushes. Her hands trembled wildly with fear. She gripped her pistol tighter. She doubted her aim was any good, but she wouldn't get a better chance.

Just then, a rapid fire barrage sailed overhead that sounded like hell's fury, a wild hissing snap that never ended. She heard the man cry out. As Eliza flinched, she pulled the trigger. Her gun kicked and the shot went wide. She couldn't have struck him, not with how heavily her hand jerked to the left. But ahead of Eliza, the man's face rolled into view. It was bloodied and aghast, and he gaped several times like a fish out of water, eyes unfocused, wide, and rolling back. He was dying, his torso sporting a bullet wound as thick as a dinner plate, body blown half apart, lungs trying to push out a breath of air that was no longer there.

The incoming vehicle was soon close enough to rumble the ground. She quickly looked up the hill in its direction, and saw its tires. They were coming right for her. She rolled, and the tire missed her. She crawled away again.

She heard a man shout from the vehicle. "Two vicks front! Target there! By the cop car, right there!"

Another voice. "Check fire, check fire! Cop car looks busted! Civilians here!"

Someone fired at the soldiers from the rock outcropping, from the direction of her truck.

"Knock him dead, Bannon!" The second voice cried.

The new vehicle must have had a huge gun on it, because the whole world began to shake again. Eliza was almost deafened despite her earplugs. She curled up into a ball and covered her head, hoping against hope that it wasn't Mike they were shooting at. She screamed.

The first voice. "Contact close, at our six! He's not dead!"

She heard the scrape of metal. Eliza quickly realized they heard her. She wailed desperately. "Police, police! State police, don't shoot, please, for the love of God, don't shoot!"

The second voice. "Put your gun away, and get over here! Now!"

She slid her pistol back into its holster and rolled onto her rifle to sling it. "I'm crawling over! Don't shoot!" Eliza frantically churned the dirt with her arms until she was at their vehicle. It was a green Humvee, and a soldier manned the turret. The gunner glanced down at her, nodded as if to confirm she was friendly, then started blasting away downhill again with the machine gun. Eliza noticed that the gunner had a cluster of violet rhododendrons stuffed into a band around his helmet, and they jittered as he fired away. Their state flower. Eliza almost thought it looked stupid, but it was the kind of stupid that had just saved her life. She wasn't about to judge.

She started to stand. Suddenly, she was grabbed by her jacket and hoisted into a standing position. The soldier who grabbed her glanced at Eliza's uniform for just a second. She saw a corporal's insignia on his collar. No sooner than she had registered this, he unceremoniously shoved her into the back of the Humvee. "Stay down and stay put!" he shouted, so she could hear him. He raised his weapon around the Humvee's right to scan the trees down below.

"There's another cop down there," she shouted over the sound of the gun. The corporal leaned back toward her with an ear as she leaned in to speak again. "My partner, he's hiding! He was at the small truck!" The corporal nodded without looking at her, then continued shooting. She continued to measure her breaths, the adrenaline still making her shake. She keyed her radio. "Mike, stay down. Army's here, don't move. Stay. Down."

No answer.

The corporal shouted again. "Bannon, kill that five-ton, don't let these assholes leave!" The gunner hooted a response and opened fire on the military truck by the mine entrance. Brass bounced all over the cabin, and Eliza felt it rain down on her. She dodged. Suddenly, the gun stopped.

"Jammed, Erv!" An instant later, a single bullet ricocheted off the Humvee's hood. Bannon flinched and ducked as his headset shattered and plastic flew all over the place. Bannon roared and plopped down into the cabin with Eliza, gripping his ear. "God damn it! Fucking Amish prick!" A trickle of blood ran down from his ear. "Erving, I'm hit! Let's get out of here!"

The corporal called over between bursts from his rifle. "We aren't leaving the cops! Backup's on the way, hold out!"

"But my fuckin' ear, man!"

"If it's just your ear, you lucked out! Deal with it!"

Bannon muttered a curse. Seeing her rescuer writhe in pain made Eliza swell with rage, and that rage quickly replaced her fear. Eliza saw a set of binoculars near the gunner's feet. She snatched them up and looked in the direction of the shot through the window of the Humvee. Her hunter's eye saw dust kick up from the mine's wood catwalk; the sniper had fired another shot, which slammed into the hood once more. She jolted and ducked. "I see him!"

"Where?!" the corporal asked.

Eliza lowered the binoculars and pointed. "By the mine, on top of the entrance! Under that camo net!"

"I don't see him!" Another round soared past them, and the corporal sprayed his rifle at the mine entrance. "Bannon, fix that jam!"

Eliza turned to the gunner and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. "Can you hear me?"

He cocked his head, putting his good ear towards Eliza. "I can't hear shit!"

"How far? To the big truck!" She exaggerated her enunciation, so he could read her lips.

"Range? Three hundred—three-zero-zero, I think," Bannon yelled a little too loudly as he massaged his bleeding ear. He repeated this by holding three fingers up. "Why? What are you doing?"

"Meters?" Eliza unslung her Garand and checked her scope.

"Yeah!"

Three hundred meters would put the shot within the range of shots she'd made before. She tried not to remember that she made those shots on a calm day at targets that weren't moving. It didn't matter. It counted this time, for more than just bragging rights. The penalty for failure was death, she told herself. For Mike especially... if he wasn't dead already.

Eliza did some math in her head to convert meters to yards, and frantically gripped the elevation dial on her rifle's scope. Eight clicks up would do it. Her hand momentarily slipped against it from her shaking and the sweat. She swore, then she corrected the error quickly. Bannon just stared at her like she was crazy. Eliza couldn't feel any wind, a benefit of the excess foliage acting as a windbreak. She realized that benefit, as before, also cut both ways.

She hopped from the Humvee's bed and came around the left side of the vehicle, then threw herself into the dirt and started to crawl again. She headed away from the vehicle by a handful of yards, moving past a third, bespectacled soldier who was laying prone. The man looked at her curiously from under his helmet as she passed.

She found a stump. That was perfect, because she still didn't trust her hands not to shake. She slowly scooted into a sitting position and brought her legs up sideways, curling them up in front of her as she laid against the hill. Eliza rested her rifle across her left thigh for stability, then against the stump, and she peeked her barrel through the side of the shrub in front of her. She peered down her scope at the mine, and took in a deep breath to steady her trembling. She focused on her anger. It stilled her. Eliza coiled her left hand around the rifle's sling for added stability, and she gripped it tightly.

Mike was counting on her, still pinned down somewhere in the killzone. Her family needed her back home, now more than ever, but she couldn't leave Mike behind. She couldn't fail. She didn't have a choice.

At once, she saw the sniper, as clear as day. He was laid out across the wood roof of the mine entrance, obscured partially by a bullet-fractured wood board and a small camo net. Eliza saw a black band wrapped around his arm. To her horror, she saw he was aiming right at her. She saw he had both eyes open. One of them slowly closed. She saw every subtle movement he made as he readied himself to fire. Time seemed to slow down. She put him right under the crosshair.

All Eliza had to do was squeeze the trigger. She squeezed, didn't pull, just squeezed...

In that split second of slowness, Eliza watched the enemy's rifle jump and kick off dust. She heard a sonic crack slice past her. The bullet cut through the bush, and she saw the leaves tremble. She could even feel the wind rush from the bullet as it passed dangerously close. She sucked in a breath in fright, but then held it. Then, she heard the sniper's shot. The slow motion sensation returned to her, as if she were about to take a deer. She could almost hear her own heartbeat. She made one final positional adjustment, then squeezed the trigger ever so slightly. One millimeter more. Her rifle kicked. That intervening split second of travel time seemed to take an eternity... and then Eliza saw a splash of bright blood explode from the camo net.

The powerful .30-06 round had torn right through him, face to aft.

Eliza let her breath go, then dove aside face down, expecting more shots. None came. Her face pressed into the dirt as if she could bury herself beneath it by sheer force. She panted, and spat as she tasted the dry earth on her lips, and coughed.

All the stress collapsed on her all at once, then dissipated just as quickly. She zoned out. Everything was horribly quiet now. And numb.

A full ten seconds passed like this. It felt like a year.

"Hey, you alright, ma'am?" It was the young soldier with the glasses.

She roused from her daze a moment later when she finally realized that he was speaking to her. "I'm... I... I think I got the shooter! He's... dead!" She looked over to the Humvee and watched the soldiers. Erving was scanning the woods still, rifle raised. Bannon was gripping his ear as he vomited out the back of the Humvee. She dimly realized that the gunner had also just killed one, possibly two people. She wondered if he felt exactly as she did, as a pit grew in her stomach.

"You sure? Hot damn!" the corporal called. "Bannon, clear that jam! Bannon? Bannon!"

"Erv?" Bannon pointed to his ear and looked at Erving. "Can't hear shit!"

"Clear. The. Jam!" Erving pointed at the machine gun.

Bannon nodded fervently, reached up from inside, spit off the side of the vehicle, and racked the charging handle on his machine gun several times. He kept his head low this time, barely peeking out from the bullet shield. Almost as an afterthought, he angrily pulled the violet flowers off of his helmet. "Okay, I... I think we're good!"

Eliza then heard deathly silence, and only silence. She rolled over onto her back, pulled out her earplugs, and stared into the cloudy sky above. She said another little prayer and thought again of her parents. Then, she just breathed. She pretended it was all a bad dream she had while napping in the woods. She watched the trees sway lazily above her. She didn't move. The soldiers didn't move. They all stayed quiet and still for what seemed like forever, and just listened. Finally, the corporal broke the silence. "I think we're clear. Hey, cop, get back over here!"

Eliza picked herself up to a crouch. She felt a familiar floatiness, a detachment from her circumstance, as if she were simply a passenger in her own body. Dissociation, if she had to guess. The world moved slow, and so did her legs. She shambled back to the Humvee, then collapsed against the back of it. She ignored a question from Erving and pushed her face into the crook of her arm. "God forgive me..."

"I said, where's your buddy?"

"I don't know," she shouted. "Fuck!" She turned and kicked a sapling in anger. Now that the danger had past, she hated the damned saplings again.

"Well, it's safe enough. Get him up here, we need to go."

"Mike," she groaned weakly, to no one in particular. She still ached from the crash. She kept seeing that dead sniper's blood spray over and over in her mind. She forced the vision aside and tried to use her radio one more time. "Mike, please answer me. It's the Army, I'm with them. We're safe. Come out... God, please be alive."

No answer.

Eliza stood and looked around. She saw the three soldiers, saw the shredded cargo truck, and saw her equally shredded police vehicle. She didn't see Mike. She shouted. "Mike, it's Eliza! Come out! Please! It's over!"

"Hey," Bannon shouted as he aimed his gun. "Movement!"

A man stood slowly from the bushes about twenty yards from the police vehicle, stumbling, his hands held high. It was Mike. He slowly shambled his way up to the Humvee with his rifle on his back, wincing all the way.

"He's alive," Eliza said to herself, astonished, hardly believing it. "He's alive..."

As soon as Mike reached the Humvee, he saw Eliza and hugged her tightly. He groaned with the pain. "I told you... run, Douglas."

She hugged him back gently for a moment and resisted the urge to slug his shoulder, mindful of his injury. She looked frantic in her concern, eyes bulging. "Asshole, where's your radio?"

"Lost... in the crash," he said, wincing as he tried to chuckle nervously. "Fell out... holster."

"Get in," Erving said. "Both of you. No time for this crap. We're getting the hell out of here. Fanning, update the Bradley, we're clearing."

They rode back along the path they came in on. Eliza wore a bandage across her forehead, one hastily applied by Bannon. She returned the favor by bandaging his ear, then Corporal Erving loaned his canteen to Eliza. She immediately chugged every ounce out of it, then vomited it all up out the back.

Mike sat beside her, his shirt and carrier stripped away while Bannon dressed Mike's nearly fatal gunshot wound. It hit him almost exactly center of mass. Eliza realized that Mike would be dead if he hadn't doubled up with the plate, and knew that the windscreen had also slowed the round somewhat. She resolved to buy a vest plate for herself as soon as possible.

"Alright," Erving said. "I'll bite, what're you two doing out here?"

Eliza sighed. "Looking for poachers." She turned out the back again to clear the stomach acid from her mouth, wiped her face on her sleeve, and handed the canteen back. "A tip about some men in a truck. We found them. They weren't poachers. That's it."

"Really? A tip?" Erving grimaced. "I need more to go on than that."

"What?" Eliza looked confused.

"I don't know you two. We just walked into a firefight that wasn't ours, so I think we're entitled to some answers. Here, I'll start. We're with Washington National Guard, 303rd Calvary. I'm Corporal Erving. You've met Bannon. Guy up front is Fanning."

"Hello," Fanning called in a friendly voice, as he raised a hand to wave. It was the bespectacled guardsman Eliza had crawled past just before she shot that sniper dead.

She gritted her teeth. "Are you serious? We're game wardens. See the patch? You want to see my badge too? I got notes. I wrote everything down about our call, the GPS grid included." She reached into her vest pocket and handed Erving her notepad. "Last page."

"Really, lady? Check your attitude. How about a fuckin' thank you? One of my guys almost died saving your ass." Erving plucked her notes out of her hand.

Eliza felt an urge toward anger, but then checked herself as asked, glancing at Bannon. Bannon lifted a hand and shook his head, saying wordlessly that Eliza didn't owe him anything, although he was probably very grateful to her anyway. Eliza's ears felt warm, and she hung her head in embarrassment, simply letting the conflict with Erving pass. "I'm sorry, sir. Just still... wound up. Adrenaline. I... I've never killed someone." She sighed, and watched her hand tremble as she held it out in front of herself. "I'm Eliza Douglas. My friend here is Mike Rivas. And... thank you."

As he glanced the last page up and down, Erving noticed something. "It's fine," he said quickly, dismissing the issue. "What's this? Ned James? A phone number?"

"That's the witness. He says he called the tip in. He lives up the road from where we came. Gave us a GPS grid ref to find him."

Erving had a glimmer of relief in his eye. He nodded, copied the notes onto the next page, and pocketed the copy. "We'll follow up."

Eliza narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, suddenly suspicious and trying to figure the man out. "Wait. How did you even know we were there? What were you doing way out here?"

"We didn't know you were there, that's the thing. Our orders were to scout this area and look out for anything suspicious. We heard the gunfire and came your way. You're lucky we were close."

"They were anti-uploaders, right? Using stolen military gear?"

He didn't answer right away, and coughed. "I can't say, ma'am."

She continued to stare at Erving. "Come on. We almost died out there. We deserve answers too. Were those guys military? I saw the fist emblem on their armbands."

"They were gearing up to do something bad and deadly, that's all I'll give you. I can't say more. Those are my orders. You're lucky we were around, be happy for that much."

"Are you going to leave their bodies there? What if there were more? They'll destroy evidence."

"Negative," Erving said, matter of factly. "We sent a Bradley, ever see one of those?" Eliza shook her head. "Mean little tank. Should've arrived by now. If anyone is hiding, they'll find 'em on thermals and they'll smoke 'em out."

Eliza looked down at her hands again to watch them tremble. She glanced at Mike. He smiled at her reassuringly, wincing with the effort of speaking, although he was mostly past the shock now. "Hey, Eliza. We're alive. Right? I'll take that." He held out his fist for a bump. Her friend's unflappable optimism was frustrating her, but she returned the fistbump as best as she could. She turned away, sat in silence, and watched the forest melt away behind her.

It was kill or be killed. She knew that. But she still kept dwelling on the blood she had spilled.

The scout team debriefed with the 303rd's local commanding officer. Eliza gave her account. Mike was medevaced to the nearest trauma hospital, but not before Eliza gave him her father's address. She expected that she would be put on leave until the layoffs, and she might not see him again otherwise.

Eliza was then detained by the Army at the request of the unit's CO, who unfortunately had recognized her from the local news. With a quick call to her department, he verified her identity and field assignment. As soon as they were done interviewing her, she was "offered" a compulsory ride directly back to her station. She was allowed to keep their weapons and Mike's gear.

Lieutenant Horace asked for another written statement and gave her yet another extension of paid leave until the end of her employment, as expected. She didn't argue. She didn't have the willpower anymore. Horace still held out hope that Eliza would find work in another agency, but she didn't remember the conversation at all. As far as she was concerned, Eliza didn't want to work another day in any agency.

When she was cleared to leave, Eliza left most of her belongings in her locker, including her uniform. She took only her utility belt, her badge, her vest, her handcuffs, and her locker photos of Tom, Gale, and George. The rest could stay. She resolved to never return.

As she drove back to her apartment in Sedro, she relived every moment of the firefight:

The solid crack made by the first bullet as it slammed into Mike. The fear of losing sight of her partner and being left alone in the woods. The guilt of leaving Mike behind under fire. The guilt of wanting to leave the engine fire to burn. The sickening, vicious cracking noise of incoming bullets.

The sprinting man she sprayed her weapon at. The sight of his bloodied face when he died mere yards away a minute later. The sound of the guardsmen calling out her position, and the constant fear of imminent death. The feeling of hot brass landing on her head as Bannon fired his weapon.

The vibrant, sickening puff of blood she saw as she cut the sniper's head clean in half.

That red emblem of a hand holding a power cable. Unplugged.

Her thoughts flew to Celestia immediately. Fury. Rage. And suddenly, it clicked. She suddenly had a target for her rage: not just the nameless men she fought, but Celestia. It all boiled down to her. They fought because they hated her. If Celestia hadn't forced herself upon the world, none of this would have happened.

Eliza's hands visibly shook on the steering wheel. She could see the writing on the wall. Things were about to get bad.

Of course they'd shoot at cops. Those thugs would shoot at anyone in a uniform. She wondered how the rebels got their military hardware. Soldiers, no doubt. It was all crashing down, and soon. She was reminded of the chaotic riots worldwide, and the civil war in Brazil.

Until that point, she had tried her best to forget her uncle's paranoia-induced presence at Devil's Tower. She tried not to imagine the reason he would be up there, tried not to remember his refusal to tell her why. She had thrown herself into making short bows for Boy Scouts not only for the sake of filling time, but to distract her from the urge to investigate further into Ralph's suspicious behavior. But she couldn't ignore him anymore, not after the day she'd had. It was time to figure out if Ralph was being serious, and how serious he was being.

She pulled her truck up backwards to her parking space and threw herself into her apartment.

She went straight to her gun locker. She pulled out a semi-automatic shotgun, a sleek and clean Benelli M2 that she bought for George a long time ago. It had been rarely fired. It went into her gun bag with the Garand. She completely filled up a rucksack with magazines, clips, handgun holsters, and ammunition for all of her guns. She went into her bedroom and retrieved a Glock from inside the end table drawer by the bed. It all went into the back of her truck.

She went back inside. Eliza chose her best longbows, including her white oak bow. She grabbed as many bowstrings as she could find, and took a few rolls of unused dacron bow string. She pulled two quivers full of arrows, a box of turkey feathers, several deer antlers, and three old deer hides. Six rolls of paracord, and several carabiners. Another backpack. It all went into her truck.

She went back inside. Eliza collected all the family photos from their boxes, never opened. Those went into the truck too.

Tom's Equestria journal, and his old schoolbag. A box of family holiday cards from her brother and sister and George. Several hunting knives. Her carpentry tools, including a hatchet and a whetstone. All of her flashlights and batteries. She stuffed it all into Tom's schoolbag, and wheeled out two suitcases full of clothes for all seasons. She put it all in the truck.

She went back inside. Eliza took her shoe box full of her old work notes. She gathered up all of her work-related regional maps of natural resources, game preserves, bird migration routes, lookout towers, ranger stations, and abandoned mines. She took two sets of gloves, two spare pairs of boots, and as many glow sticks as she could scrounge. All went into her truck.

She went back inside. Eliza cleaned out her entire pantry of any nonperishable food she could find, and stuffed it into a garbage bag. Almost as an afterthought, she stuffed the roll of bags into the bag too. When she was done, she secured a tarp over her truck's bed to hide the contents.

After one final trip out of the house to pocket some miscellaneous small items, she stopped in the doorway and her eyes unfocused.

Eliza had no love for her apartment, and so she didn't immediately understand her final hesitation. Its existence had been a bleak necessity. It was a place to sleep and keep her possessions. It had been sparsely decorated, more of a hideout than anything else, and most of her belongings were still in the boxes she brought there long ago. But yet, on the precipice of abandoning the place forever, she could not fathom why she hesitated.

George had never set foot in the place. She moved into it immediately after they had broken off their engagement. But by leaving this apartment, she would be leaving George behind forever. Her time in Sedro-Woolley was defined by George's career as a nurse, the beginnings of their life together, and the town was where they had spent countless hours playing Equestria Online with one another.

With those memories came more regrets. But remembering the past and looting her own home like a vandal was to avoid thinking on the present. She had killed a man that day, and that man had tried to kill her.

She turned and faced her front door. She looked it over one last time. And as her eyes swept low, she noticed a small box she hadn't seen on her way in, missed in her confused and anguished haste. It was no wider than her hand, and was just as tall. She stooped to pick it up. It was addressed to Apex, the name scrawled on top with a permanent marker. It had no other markings.

She stared at the box and debated throwing it into her apartment and leaving it behind forever. But she wasn't in the mood to let fully go, nor was she in the mood for surprises. She decided to table that decision for later. Against her better judgment, she scooped the package up and pocketed it.

Her neighbor was watching her from the staircase, and asked her something that sounded like "are you okay?" She realized her face still had all the cuts from the glass, and a bandage was coiled around her head, and she was probably moving like a zombie from the pain. She ignored the question, but the noise motivated her to move. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dropped it on her doorstep. It clattered. She got into her truck, started the engine, and left.

Eliza would never return.

She went to the nearest gun stores and bought as much .30-06 ammunition for her Garand as they would allow. She went to a supermarket and bought out several varieties of canned fruits and meats. It all went into paper bags in the truck's cab. By then, her vehicle was full to bursting.

She made her way east back to Concrete. On her way out of Sedro, she flashed her badge and ID to the police checkpoint and they let her pass without a search. She ignored the military vehicles driving west.

Eliza's only goal now was to get to her parents and uncle to warn them of the coming storm. She needed to get out of the populated area, and she needed to do it as quickly as possible. Things were about to go from bad to worse soon. Of this, she had no doubt.

Author's Note

[We Lost The Sea - Bogatyri]

🌒 ~ Knowing all that I now know, I would have been even more dissatisfied by the originally planned outcome for this event. I wish to define this outright, for the Other. I must note the immense value preserved by the direct intervention of a far wiser and nobler power than she.

It must be said with certainty; I would have one fewer close friend, and less than half the family I presently have. Alas... that is a story to be told by another Pony, upon a much later hour.

One does not screw with the Browning M2.