Page 1 of Shielding Maya

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Senator Pierce Jackson ran through the woods, stumbling, his lungs burned as he sucked in air as if he'd never get enough. He'd let himself go over the years. Eating and drinking as if it would never catch up to him. Wining and dining and hobnobbing with those he thought he'd impress. Now was the time it caught up to him. Now was his time.

A branch slashed his right cheek. He grunted but continued to thrash through the brush. The man stalking him moved toward him at a steady, even pace. His composure was scarier than the gun in his hand.

Tripping over a downed log, the senator fell with a thud in the heavy undergrowth. The smell of wet earth and decomposing leaves threatened to suffocate him. Rolling to his right side, he reached for the trunk of a small tree and pulled himself up. That's when the footsteps behind him stopped. The birds stopped chirping, the bugs even stopped their flight, and the utter silence around him made his heartbeat increase to a painful tempo. He should have stayed at the GHOST compound where he was safe instead of thinking he’d be able to get to his family.

Slowly turning his head to face his stalker, his eyes rounded when he saw the man standing before him. His hands at his sides, one still held a pistol, one hung free. He raised the pistol and shot once. The burning pain of the bullet as it entered his chest was dulled by his heart cramping and trying to beat. Still on his knees, he gasped.

"I didn't know you were involved," he huffed.

"You do now. Where's the recording?"

The senator hesitated. He'd set this whole thing in motion, he'd not stop it now. "It's with someone who is making changes."

The man shot once more, the echo of a gunshot rang out and disturbed the eerie silence. The senator fell back to the ground. He stared up at the trees above him, the leaves having begun to fall this year. His last on earth. The searing pain in his chest began to subside and his heartbeat slowed. Every stilted beat hurt, but not as much as the burning in his heart. In his last moment, he focused on one reddish leaf floating down toward him. He felt as though he was finally at peace. His wife and kids appeared before him. He hoped they were safe. He hoped his actions didn’t put them in danger too. His watery gaze then clouded until there was nothing.

Jasiah Weston stopped his progress across the common area used for gatherings and celebrations. The animosity of the years gone by had lifted a few months ago, and they were actually living just as the other community members in Glen Hollow, the town at the bottom of his mountain. The truce had been made, the town had honored its promises to bring water and electricity up the mountain, and they'd begun to employ many of the people of Hickory Hills in Glen Hollow. The long-held argument over unpaid taxes had been satisfied and their former president, Craig Howard, was now dead and buried. And, peace had finally fallen over Hickory Hills.

The shot filled the air, the peace of a moment ago, now felt stifling and ugly once more. Feeling a twist in his stomach, Jasiah turned and moved deliberately in the direction of the shot. It was a sound that had gone silent up here. Except during hunting season, and that wasn't due for another month.

Jasiah entered the woods, his steps as silent as if on dirt. His years as a tracker had taught him well. He found his well-worn path through the trees, easily stepping over fallen trees and branches as he stealthily slid along the narrow passageway. A woman appeared from his right. He recognized her as one of the operatives that lived in the old sewing factory in Glen Hollow. They'd been instrumental in affecting the negotiations here.

Their eyes locked. He motioned for her to join him. The direction she was heading would alert whoever carried a gun they were near. She slowly inched her way toward him. He nodded, then continued his silent trek toward the shot.

Voices carried to them and he crouched to his left knee. The woman stopped behind him. He pointed through the trees to see a man, dressed in dark pants and a black hoodie standing before a man kneeling in front of him.

"I didn't know you were involved," the kneeling man said.

The woman behind him whispered. "It's the senator."

The hooded man's voice was emotionless when he replied. "You do now."

“Where’s the recording?”

“It’s with someone who making changes.”

He pulled the trigger once more and the man with the white shirt, the senator, fell to the ground with a thud. The hooded man stared for a moment, then turned his head in their direction. Instinctively, Jasiah reached back to find the hand of the woman behind him. He squeezed her fingers, but his intent was to run like the wind if the man saw them. He didn't have his gun with him right now. The need to carry had subsided weeks ago.

The woman squeezed his fingers in silent reply and he held his breath. Turning his body, the man stared in their direction. The small copse of brush he and the woman had ducked behind would hopefully keep them hidden.

The hooded man stared for a few moments more, then turned and stepped over the dead man and moved toward the black road in the middle of the mountain.

The woman behind him stood, but he tugged her hand and pulled her back down.

"We have to stay hidden. I'm not armed," he whispered.

The smile that smoothed across her beautiful face mesmerized him. "I am."

She stood then and stepped on his path, following the man almost as silently as Jasiah would have done himself.

He spurred into action, following this brave warrior woman, as she stopped at the dead man's side, leaned down and placed her fingers to the side of his neck and waited a moment. She shook her head, her dark ponytail, swishing over her shoulders, then stood once again and followed the path the killer had taken.

Jasiah offered a silent prayer to the dead man and pushed away the thoughts that this would bring bad things back to the mountain. They so needed to keep things peaceful up here. They'd learned as much after dealing with Craig these past years.

He caught up to the woman as quickly as he could, without making enough noise to wake the dead. Though he didn't mean that as a pun. Just as she reached the road, she knelt down and watched a vehicle careen down the road. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and typed something into it with such speed and efficiency it was impressive.

Since he'd only just gotten his first phone a few weeks ago, he felt at a total loss to this new skill he witnessed.

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