Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [51]
Unexpectedly, Roger Bloomquist spoke. Until now he’d been a lump at the edge of Kasey’s peripheral vision. “Remember in fourth grade when Scooter broke that kid’s ankle practicing karate? Then he beat up Edgar in ninth grade and put him in the hospital? The dude up the hill is never going to know what hit him.”
“It’ll be okay,” said Kasey, snatching the binoculars Ryan Perry had brought along. He moved to the rocks overlooking the north face of the mountain, followed by Jennifer and Bloomquist. When he climbed onto the largest rock and lay on his belly, he could see all of the bluff that jutted out from below the cyclists’ camp about a hundred yards off.
The binoculars confirmed that the lone figure on the tip of the bluff was Polanski.
“What are you going to do from down here?” Bloomquist said. Jennifer had spread out alongside Kasey.
“I’m going to keep an eye on things.”
It was awhile before Chuck and Scooter showed up below the cyclists’ camp. Kasey couldn’t hear what they were saying. Scooter must have spoken, because Polanski turned around and took a couple of steps in their direction. Scooter and Chuck stepped out onto the narrow outcropping and began advancing on Zak, who had both hands out in a gesture to stop them. Kasey could see why. The drop on this side had to be a hundred feet. Judging by the way Scooter and Chuck were negotiating the first section, the outcropping was dangerously narrow.
Scooter stepped close to the cyclist, and then, where the bluff must have been wider, Chuck moved alongside. Kasey sometimes forgot how large the Finnigan brothers were, but when he saw Chuck outlined against the sky next to Scooter, it became obvious why he’d been an all-conference lineman for three years in high school and had gotten a football scholarship to Stanford.
“Get off the bluff,” Roger Bloomquist whispered. “Get off the damn bluff, you guys.”
“Like they can hear you,” said Jennifer.
“Like they would listen, if they could,” added Kasey.
22
“Hey, jerkoff.”
When Zak turned around and saw Scooter and Chuck on the slope of the mountain, he could tell from the posture of both men that this wasn’t a cordial visit. He’d been thinking about the events of last night—in particular, being called paranoid. Though he would never admit it to the others, he was a tad paranoid when it came to Scooter and Kasey, so the accusation had stung.
Zak stood up and took a couple of steps forward, realizing he was stranded on this outcropping. “What do you want?”
“I just came to apologize,” said Scooter, grinning sheepishly.
“You stay there. I’ll come over to you.”
“What the heck. We’ll come out.”
“Stay there.”
They came out anyway, Scooter looking more comfortable with the cliffs than Chuck, who had that stiff-legged gait people get when they’re nervous. Zak wondered how they’d walked through the camp undetected. Now Zak was cornered, and, if he hollered for help, the wind would blow away any words that weren’t blotted out by the Panther Creek waterfall near the camp.
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, I’m here to apologize.” Scooter bridged the narrow portion of the bluff and moved onto the tabletop area where the drop-off was sheer. Zak walked forward to the tabletop portion of the escarpment and held his ground while the other two lined up almost side by side, twelve feet of flat rock spread out between them like a welcome mat, the rock maybe four feet across at its widest.
“I don’t want an apology.”
“No, I’ve acted badly. I want to tell you how sorry I am. Nothing else will get me to leave. I have to say I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
Scooter took two steps forward