Chapter 12

A few days after the meeting with Girl’s people, Clipper got the itch to try some more panning. They were running out of a lot of things, and their cash supply was pretty low. He gathered up his pan, some jerky, his bow, fishing rods, and on impulse he strapped the AK on his back just in case something worth shooting showed up. They took off to the east along the side of the mountain into country that Clipper had never seen before. An Indian summer was in full swing, and the weather was beautiful. It felt great to be outdoors. Great to be alive, even. Bear bounded far and wide, investigating smells and noises as they tramped through the trees.

They found a creek immediately with a nice sandy beach, and Clipper spent an hour without turning up even a single flake of gold. As she often did when it was this warm, Girl stripped down and got full benefit from the water to get clean and to splash with Bear. It was distracting to no end for Clipper because she was so damn good looking, and it was hard to pan with a hard-on. He eventually quit in disgust for lack of color in the pan, and they moved on alongside the mountain. By afternoon they had tried two more creeks, with no success. He was already thinking to head West the next time. They got hungry enough to stop for a quick lunch, and then moved on, down the mountain a ways this time. Finally, they found a fourth creek, a river this time.

Within a few minutes he knew that this was the spot. Lots and lots of dust was in his pan, on the first dip and swirl. He worked it for several hours, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay out after dark either, especially this far from home. He gathered up their stuff, which now included half a leather pouch of dust and flakes and they set out for home. It had been a very successful day, he thought, and he fixed the place in his mind with every intention of coming back as early as he could. Maybe even tomorrow.

Bear began to growl softly, and looked ahead of them. Clipper looked, and saw nothing but trees. Silly dog, he thought. Probably a rabbit or something. Maybe another dog. Bear growled louder, and Clipper glanced at Girl, who did her “I don’t know” shoulder shrug.

“Freeze!” a voice said, loudly and plainly, and they did. Shit, did they ever. Just hearing a voice, out here, in the middle of nowhere, would be enough. But a voice, barking out a command like that...

Shit, he thought. Caught again. The bow was in his hand, but he didn’t have an arrow nocked. The gun was on his back. He caught Girl’s eye, and could see the fear on her face. He was sure he had a little on his, too. He carefully let the bow fall to the ground, and raised his arms high. He did not want to get shot on accident. Well, he did not want to get shot on purpose, either. He just plain did not want to get shot.

Twenty five feet in front of them, a man stepped from behind a tree, holding a M4 on them. Then another, a few feet away. Then another. Shit, oh shit, he thought. One was bad enough. Within a few moments he guessed six or seven men stood before them. Heavily armed men in uniforms. He knew the uniform. He knew that round red circle, on an olive green background. Peacekeepers. They had been downwind until the last second and in defilade from the trail so he couldn’t have seen them, until Bear barely got a whiff at the last minute. Classic ambush. Clipper was unused to professionals this far out in the mountains.

Bear went insane, but at least he didn’t charge the men. Girl spoke sharply to him, telling him to shut up and sit. He didn’t sit but he calmed down a little, still growling deep in his throat. Girl motioned and told him to go! go! and he went a ways away from them, and turned, watching and still growling. Clipper felt sick, afraid that the soldiers would just shoot her dog, to keep from having to worry about him. One approaching soldier, he noticed, did keep his gun on the dog.

Shit, he thought to himself. Fucking Peacekeepers. On this mountain? Here, now? What the hell were they doing way up here? It was the single most hopeless situation he had ever found himself in. He knew that the AK on his back was a death sentence in the wrong area. In virtually any populated area. Technically, anywhere in the USA. It wasn’t a law, there really weren’t laws anymore, since there wasn’t really a legal system anymore. But that’s just the way it’d been the last ten years or so. Cops or Peacekeepers ... if they found a gun on you, they popped you. It was just the way it was done now.

He looked at Girl desperately, and mouthed “I love you.” to her. She replied the same way. If I must die I must, he thought. Just spare her.

A soldier approached him. The other soldiers clustered around them in a semi-circle, half their guns on him and Girl, the other half facing out scanning the area around them. A single man approached and motioned him to step back a few paces. He did. The man knelt and retrieved his bow, his eyes never leaving Clipper. The man did a turn-around motion and Clipper turned halfway, hoping he wouldn’t get a bullet in the back. The man approached from the side, so he wasn’t in the line of fire of his buddies and carefully took the AK47 from Clipper’s back, lifting the sling over Clipper’s upraised arm. He patted Clipper down, finding his folding knife and his two throwing knives. Clipper knew that possession of the rifle was bad, and he was glad that he hadn’t brought the pistol today. The man searching him yelled “Clear,” and another man approached keeping his weapon on Clipper while the first man took clipper’s arms by the wrist and brought them down one at a time and placed a plastic tie wrap around his wrists.

Clipper was praying the whole time that Girl didn’t do anything stupid. He wasn’t too worried, she wasn’t stupid. But he kept thinking of those knives beneath her shirt. There were just too many soldiers, though. And he thought it was a good sign that the soldiers hadn’t just gunned them both down instantly. He knew that’s the way it was usually done. He’d seen it done, before.

A man led him away, and stopped him a few dozen feet down the mountain. He could see Girl out of the corner of her eye as the first soldier approached her. He heard her voice, and the man’s reply, though he couldn’t understand them. The man immediately lifted her shirt and took the knives from her belt. Clipper was relieved that she had apparently told them about the knives and hoped that the men would be easy with her. They seemed to be. They did not tie her wrists, a man just led her with his hand on her upper arm. They joined Clipper and his escort and the half-dozen or so of them set off across the mountain followed by Bear, still growling. No one talked, so Clipper kept his mouth shut, too.

A mile later they passed through a picket line and then fifty yards past that came to a nice little camp. Five olive-green tents were laid out nice and square, and a fire burned as a soldier tended a large pot. It smelled like soup. The soldiers halted them in the clearing, and one of the men went into a tent. A minute later he emerged and motioned them inside. Before they went the man turned Clipper around and cut the tie from his wrist. Clipper hoped that meant something good. They entered the tent, followed by one soldier, who stood at the door. Bear followed them into the tent, and things stopped for a moment while Girl got him settled down in the corner. At least he had stopped growling.