Winter Prey

better wait there until I get somebody up that side of the house.
    Lucas said to Climpt: “How’re you doing? Gettin’ shaky?”
    “Just a bit,” Climpt admitted. His eyebrows were clogged with snow, his face wet.
    “You head back to the sled, let me take the rifle,” Lucas said. “Where does it shoot?”
    “Put it right over his ear,” Climpt said. He held on Helper for another second, then said, “Ready?”
    “Yeah.”
    Climpt handed him the rifle. Lucas put the front sight on Helper’s helmet, right where his ear should be. He held itthere, his cone of vision narrowing to nothing. He couldn’t see the top of the girl’s head, although it was only inches from Helper’s ear. He could only infer its position.
    “Come in as soon as you hear him start that machine. You can ride me back for the other,” Lucas said, speaking around the black plastic stock. The stock was icy cold on his cheek, but he kept the sight on Helper’s ear. “Can’t be more than a couple hundred feet.”
    Climpt touched him on the shoulder and was gone in the snow.
    The transfer of gasoline seemed to take forever, Helper leaning nervously against the truck while the girl stood passively in front of him, watching the syphon. Finally she pulled the tube out of the truck, dropped it on the ground, and she and Helper edged back to his snowmobile, the girl struggling with the can. Five gallons, Lucas thought, probably thirty-five pounds. And she wasn’t a big kid. Next to Helper she looked positively frail.
    The yellow-haired girl boosted the can up with her thigh, tilted it so the spout fit into the mouth of the gas tank. Again, it seemed to take forever to fill the tank, Lucas tracking, tracking, tired of looking at Helper over the sight.
    The girl said something to Helper. Lucas caught one word, “Done.” The girl tossed the can aside and Helper pushed her up on the driver’s seat of the sled. A pair of snowshoes was strapped to the back, and Helper straddled them, sat down. His gun hand never wavered.
    “Don’t try to follow,” Helper screamed, looking awkwardly over his shoulder as the girl started the snowmobile. They lurched forward, stopped, then started again. Helper screamed, “Don’t try . . .” The rest of his words were lost as they started around the side of the house, heading toward the back. The forest was now almost perfectly dark, and silent except for the chain-saw roar of the sled. Lucas stood to watch them go, putting the rifle’s muzzle up, clumping out into the yard, following the diminishing red taillight as long as he could.
    The radio was running almost full time, voices . . .
    He’s going out the back.
    Heading toward the flowage.
    Can’t see him.
    And the feds: We got the beacon, he’s moving east.

    Carr came running up the driveway. “Lucas, where’n hell . . . ?”
    “Over here.” Lucas waded through the snow to the driveway. Three other deputies pushed out of the woods, heading for them. Carr was breathing hard, his eyes wide and wild.
    “What . . .”
    “Gene and I’ll go after them on the sleds. You follow with the trucks,” Lucas said.
    “Remember what he did to the other two, hit ’em on the back trail,” Carr said urgently. “If he’s waiting for you, you’d never see him.”
    “The feds should know when he stops,” Lucas said. He realized they were shouting at each other and dropped his voice. “Besides, we’ve got no choice. I don’t think he’ll keep the kid—she’ll slow him down. If he doesn’t kill her, we got to be out there to pick her up. If she starts wandering around on her own . . .”
    Climpt had come up on a single sled, and Lucas swung his leg over the backseat, holding the rifle out to the side. “Okay, go, go,” Carr shouted, and Climpt rolled the accelerator forward and they cut back through the trees to the second sled. Lucas handed Climpt the rifle. Climpt slung it over his shoulder as Lucas hopped on the second sled and fired it up.
    “How do you want to do this?” Climpt shouted.
    “You lead, stay on his trail. Look for the kid in case he’s dumped her. If you see his taillight . . . shit, do what seems right. I’ll hang on to the radio. If you see me blinking my lights, stop.”
    “Gotcha,” Climpt said and powered away.

    Helper was running four or five minutes ahead of them. Lucas couldn’t decide whether he would be moving fasteror slower. He presumably knew where he was going, so that should help his