Firewatch Ch 24

“How far is it?” Flores asks as Ava Johnson leads her down the dark path. The chief carries a big flashlight that has only half the power of Flores’s tiny LED. Her white beam slices through the night as she pans it along the trail.

“I think there’s something else you should see,” Johnson says.

“Sounds good. Maybe you can answer some questions for me on the way,” Flores says as they crest another small rise. The forest is thick. There’s still no sign of a lookout tower, and they’ve been walking for more than ten minutes. “Who dropped you off?”

“What?”

“You said that you were dropped off when you took over firewatch. You have no bag. No change of clothes. Dispatch didn’t tell us where you were. That much, I can understand. Did you forget your overnight bag with your keys? You remembered your flashlight.”

Chief Johnson turns around. Flores has her windbreaker open, and her hand is on the grip of her gun.

“Chief,” she says with as much authority as she can muster. “I think you should keep your hands where I can see them, and show me some identification.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“I’m considering it. Who are you?”

“If you arrest me, you won’t be able to see what I have to show you.”

“I have a pretty good idea. When you found us on the path, you weren’t heading for town. You were going in the wrong direction. You were going to visit Aria Durano’s campsite. I’m guessing you’re her partner in whatever trafficking or cult scam she’s running. Where are you taking me? The same place you buried the real Ava Johnson? Maybe a nice, deep mine shaft?”

Flores finishes speaking, and the silence settles in, pushing down like a weighted blanket. Chief Johnson’s eyes shine vacantly in the harsh beam of Flores’s light. She doesn’t blink or flinch.

“Would you like that?” she asks, and Flores feels a chill run through her entire body.

She draws and takes aim. “Excuse me? Get on your knees and place your hands on your head.”

F-FILES

“I’m confused,” Cheryl says, hurrying down the steps after Wilde, who takes them two at a time in her haste to reach the ground.

“Do you have a car?”

“Do you see a road here? Doesn’t work like that. I have a four-wheeler,” Cheryl pants, helping Wilde get the gate at the bottom of the stairs open. “But it’s crazy to take it out at night unless you have a death wish. Or you just want to get lost really fast.”

The gate squeals open and Wilde lunges through, drawing up short. She turns on her light and illuminates the path. She turns and points. “We got a big problem. Get back up there and lock that gate.”