Winter Prey

heading toward Table Bay Road anymore, he’s headed up toward the intersection of STH 70 and Meteor Drive.
    Carr: We’re moving, we’re going that way.
    Lucas flashed Climpt, pulled alongside.
    “They’ve just turned, heading north . . . wait a minute.” He pushed the transmit button: “Do you know what trail that is? What snowmobile trail? Is it marked on the map?”
    Feds: There’s a creek down there, Whitetail Run. We think that’s it.
    “He’s on a creek called Whitetail Run, heading up to Meteor Drive,” Lucas said.
    Climpt nodded. “That can’t be far. This trail crosses it at right angles—we’ll see the turn.”
    Carr: We’re coming up on the bridge at Whitetail. We’ll nail down both sides.
    Another voice: They’ll see the lights.
    Carr: Yeah. We’ll let ’em. Henry and I been talking. We decided we gotta let him know that he can’t get away. We gotta give him the choice of giving up the kid and quitting, or dying. The kid’s gonna die if she stays with him. If he just leaves her out in the snow somewhere, she’s gone. And if he stops someplace, gets a car, he can’t leave her to tell anybody. Sooner or later he’ll dump her.
    Feds: If he realizes there’s a beacon on him, he may look for it, then we’d lose him.
    Carr: We’re not going to let him go this time. And if he gets away somehow . . . heck, we gotta risk it.
    Feds: Your call, Sheriff.
    Carr: That’s right. How far out is he?
    Feds: Half-mile. Forty seconds, maybe.

    The Iceman roared through the turn onto Whitetail, and he was almost to the bridge when he saw the lights, shining down through the snow. He knew what they were. The cops, and especially Davenport, had some kind of karma edge on him. They kept finding him when finding him was impossible.
    “No!” He shouted it out as he hit the brake. The lights were there, big hand-held million-candlepower jobs, probing the creek. He slid to a stop, turned to the yellow-haired girl:
    “That’s the cops up there. They’re tracking us somehow. If I had time . . . I’ll have to try it on foot. I want you to take the sled back down the creek here, just ride around for a while. When they find you, tell them I’m heading for Jack’s Cafe down by the flowage. Tell them that you think I’m going after a car. They’ll believe that.”
    “I want to go with you,” she said. “You’re my husband.”
    “Can’t do it now,” he said. He pulled his helmet back, leaned forward, and kissed her on the lips. Her lips were stiff with the cold, her face wet with snow—she hadn’t had a helmet—and a few tears.
    “I tried, but we can’t get through,” he said. “You’ll have to put them off me. But I’ll come back. I’ll get you.”
    “You’ll get me?” she asked.
    “I swear I will. And I’m counting on you now. You’re the only woman who can save me.”
    She stood in the deep snow beside the sled, watched him snap into the snowshoes. He had his pistol in his hand, his helmet back on. With the snowmobile suit, he looked almost like a spaceman.
    “Give me five minutes,” he said. “Then take off. Just roll around for a while. When they find you, tell them I’m headed for Jack’s.”
    “What’ll you do?”
    “I’ll stop the first car coming down the road and take it,” he said.
    “Jesus.” She looked up at the faint light, then cocked her head and frowned. “Somebody’s coming.”
    “What?” The Iceman looked up at the bridge.
    “Not that way . . . from behind us.”
    “Motherfucker,” he said. “You go, go.”

    Lucas and Climpt were moving again, the track filling in front of them, nothing in their world but a few lights and the rumble of the sleds.
    Climpt’s taillight came up and he leaned to the left, taking the sled through the turn. Lucas followed, pressed the radio button, trying to talk through the bumps. “How long will it take him to get from Whitetail to the bridge?”
    Feds: About two minutes.
    Lucas flashed Climpt, pulled up alongside, shouted, “We’re coming up on him in maybe a minute. They’re gonna let him see them.”
    He’s stopped.
    Carr: Where?
    Two or three hundred yards out, maybe. Can’t really tell that close.
    Can he see our lights?
    Maybe.
    “I’ll take the lead from here. I’ll count it out. You get the rifle limbered up.”
    Climpt nodded, pulled the rifle down. Lucas started counting, rolled the accelerator forward with his right hand, touched the pocket on his left thigh where hekept the