E.L.F. - White Leaves Page 4

  She had to have been imagining it all. But in the event she hadn’t been knocked senseless, if it wasn’t a dream, why was it shooting at dump trucks of all things? Better yet, what exactly was it that she’d seen?

  Though no answer was readily available as certainty, what she’d seen was just as authors have told for decades and folklore has been telling for centuries. It was an elf. Yet elves were fictitious creatures found only in books, movies and old world fairy tales, most of the latter of which came from Europe. Traditional fairy creatures, amongst the oldest of all tales on earth, they have been portrayed a thousand different ways –but all of them unreal, all of them myth and legend.

  But it had been there, sure enough, standing on the hill. She wanted it to be imagined, but couldn’t bring herself to accept that answer. She felt as though even the memory of the elf’s weighty gaze could reach down into her soul and bind it from accepting disbelief with an iron cold fist of fact, just as it felt when the thing had gazed upon her. It was like having her soul touched.

  Shannon suddenly recalled being the target, the move she’d made, and the sound and sensation of the arrow ripping past her cheek. It had tried to kill her for seeing! As if it knew she would not be able to disbelieve after. She sat bolt upright and moved to touch her cheek, but winced terribly beneath the ache in her belly. Gasping and groaning, she lay back again, writhing and panting gingerly against the searing sensation in her guts.

  When the pain lessened, she then peeled away the pale blankets and sheets. Gentler now, she pulled up the hospital gown she’d been dressed in since her obvious surgery. She had no way of knowing how long she’d been out, but judging by her nudity beneath that gown and the freshness of the wound, it couldn’t have been very long. A day? Maybe two at most.

  She delicately peeled back the bandage to survey her injury -a stitched up, ugly black and blue area upon her left flank. She wasn’t much for discerning the dangers of such an injury, or injuries altogether, but she was willing to bet by the weakness in her muscles that she had been lucky to survive -unlike the older federal agent.

  The man who had died. She’d heard his name before, long ago. Her father had mentioned him. Agent Carlos Fastez. He’d been working to uncover the structure of E.L.F. when she was but a girl, and was apparently still working at it when he’d been killed by the archer on the hill.

  Her act to save the other agent came back, and she felt the heat of that moment -not wishing him to be slain when she was the target. It left her flushed, and she had to make an effort to calm her heart. But a strange thought abruptly did so for her. From what she knew of elf creatures in stories, they never missed. Why then had this one? More importantly, why had it tried to kill her? Just for seeing? Better yet -why had it ceased firing if it had wanted her dead to begin with?

  The questions screamed through her mind at the streaking pace the glittering arrows had marked through the smoke-filled night air, and they left her spinning with all the implications. Stunned by all that had befallen her, she swiftly turned to the comfort of believing it an illusion. She hadn’t really seen it. She’d whacked her head on the rocks pretty hard when the first truck blew. Lights had danced before her eyes. Perhaps she hadn’t seen any of it. Perhaps it was all a dream. Though, the gunshot in her slim belly was real enough.

  She was still prodding at it, testing it and feeling the coarse threading of stitches beneath her lithe fingers, when the door to her room opened by the distinct sound of a clicking latch at the hand of a turned knob. Her eyes flew from wound to the entrant, and immediately darted away to the sunlight streaming in through the window as she jerked her hospital robe down to cover herself.

  Panic swelled in her heart within a single beat. It was him, the man, the agent with the thick tongue who had shot her! With him was another man with a receding dark hairline and dark hard-set eyes. Both wore dark suits like pall bearers at a funeral. Her e.k.g. started beeping more swiftly, making her panicked heart pick up the pace even further.

  “How are you feeling, Ms. Hunter?” The thick tongue came calling. She defiantly scrunched her pouting pretty face and refused to look -stressed beyond all recourse. The two men pulled up chairs to the foot of her bed and seated themselves below a television high on the wall. The new one produced a pen and pad of yellow legal note whilst the mostly bald leaned aside, trying to enter her field of vision and force her to look. He did little else, clearly playing the nice cop. He wasn’t nice, she warned herself thrice. He’d shot her for saving his life. She had to believe that, or she’d be forced to look into his eyes.

  Her denial of what she’d seen inevitably won out.

  Silence ensued only until she forced herself to meet his gaze, and when she did, she could not hide the tears that threatened to come with her rising emotions.

  “You are in quite a deal of serious trouble, Ms. Hunter.” The other man spoke, a refined clear voice rising up, drawing her panicked eyes as he looked down his upturned nose, through a pair of square-rimmed glasses. She stiffened up, but said nothing, biting back her tongue as she struggled to think of what she was supposed to do when in trouble with the law. She didn’t know the law very well. It had always been irrelevant. She did what she wanted most of the time, and had never sought to hurt anyone. She’d gotten away with her fair share of law-breaking in the bustle of a sprawling city all around her. But there were plenty of fair criminals within a city like Seattle much more deserving of attention than a hippy girl whose offenses had never been as drastic as the latest.

  “My name is Arthur Black, Special Agent, Arthur Black. I head the region’s counter-terrorism bureau, young lady.” He introduced himself, sounding stern and serious. He was only feigning those gentle words. She could feel it in his look. “This agent with me is Benjamin Connelly. You remember, whose partner’s murder you assisted. You remember Agent Fastez, don’t you?” He asked, hesitating only for a moment. Shannon did her best to let her shoulders slump only slightly. There wasn’t much more that she could do, but it gave her away.

  “You should remember quite well, in fact. Agent Fastez has been in the Pacific Northwest for fifteen years now, working to uncover the structure of the organization, E.L.F.” He stated. “Earth Liberation Front.” He added, lowering his nose to peer over the rim of his glasses this time, and he went on without hesitation. “You’re familiar with it, aren’t you? Of course you are. We have indisputable evidence that you are. After all, your father had numerous run-ins with them more than a decade ago, one of which you yourself were a victim.” He paused, studying her dark eyes.

  “As a matter of fact, to date, you’re one of the very few individuals to actually be injured directly in the millions of dollars of damages members of E.L.F. have done to a wide variety of victims in various crimes committed throughout the years.” He trailed off matter-of-factly, then took off his glasses and rested them along with his pen upon his legal pad.

  “I can sympathize with peaceful protesting.” He gave her his best shot at a sincere look. “Really, I can. I enjoy my trees as much as the next man. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I’m an outdoorsman myself. Surely you understand. But now what I can’t seem to piece together is why you would join an Eco-terrorist organization like the E.L.F.” He said it blandly. He clearly didn’t care what her reasoning was, but he was pretending to for some reason other than a confession.

  “A young girl like yourself, dropping out of a promising, prominent art school to become a terrorist and a murderer of federal agents doesn’t seem to fit together into the picture very well, especially when your father’s logging company, Hunter Industry, is one of the largest in the area -possessing the largest properties, whole fleets of trucks, numerous mills, and gives back to the environment by planting plots for regrowth.” He paused meaningfully, and Shannon had to look away for a moment. She stubbornly refused to acknowledge her own faults. The crimes of men against the world were justification enough for anyone to do what she had, and she hated her fath
er’s business with a passion perhaps most of all.

  “Of course, that’s not what made you do it is it.” Again he made it a statement. “What then? Is it the topsoil, gravel, rock crushing, or mining he also controls?” Agent Black suddenly turned as dark as his name implied. “Or are you not really a member of E.L.F.? Are you instead working for your father to sabotage the business of his competitors?” He asked, hinting at her father’s involvement in her actions.

  “Do we need to bring him in for questioning as well?”

  Shannon said nothing. She was furious. She didn’t want to defend her father’s industry, but it wasn’t right to blame him for things he hadn’t done. She was just about to speak up, snapping her gaze back to the man when Agent Connelly cut in.

  “Listen, Shannon.” He took a leveling tone with her, presuming he knew how to deal with an eighteen year old rebel. Or perhaps he was just feigning at it as well. “Special Agent Black here is not known for his forgiveness. You’ve been arrested for a whole handful of offenses. Aiding terrorists, being a terrorist, sabotage, arson, and willful destruction of corporate property, malicious endangerment, aiding the murderer of a federal agent, and thereby obstruction of federal law -all of which carry a string of very heavy prices.” He gave her a meaningful look, burly bare chin lowering slightly. “But, I know you couldn’t have been the one to kill him. He was alive when you attacked me. You can help yourself here immensely if you can reveal information on the whereabouts of one Jason Brooke, a William Bentley, and or Devin Lock. If we can bring them to justice for the murder of Agent Fastez, then we may be willing to drop some of your charges.”

  He really was playing the nice cop. It was all over him. She’d seen it in countless crime dramas, but she couldn’t stop herself from responding.

  “They didn’t kill him!” She snapped bitterly, voice low as she looked away, crossing her slim arms. Her brow narrowed, and out of the reflection in the glass window to her door she watched the agents exchange a look. Special Agent Black was scribbling something down on his legal pad. Agent Connelly was reading it.

  “Who did?” Connelly tried, but Shannon clamped her broad lips shut and only tightened them down on her tongue. She was a fool for having said that much. She’d just placed herself beyond a reasonable doubt at the scene of the crimes, as if the gunshot hadn’t already done so. She wished suddenly that she’d paid more attention in government and criminal law back in high school. Her ignorance was making her sweat bullets inside, and the duo could see it.

  “Who killed Agent Fastez?” Connelly tried again, and again Special Agent Black was scribbling, drawing Connelly’s prominent jaw. He arched a brow as he read.

  “We know the men you were with didn’t kill him.” He admitted after a hesitant glance at his superior. “We know your boyfriend wasn’t responsible for my partner’s death, Ms. Hunter. On site ballistics projection reasoned the shot that killed him must have come from a hill at the edge of the yard, but found no traces of a bullet anywhere in the vicinity. And autopsy reported this morning, but didn’t find any trace of a bullet-wound in his throat.” He trailed off, having dragged her dark eyes back once again. He could see right through her, she feared. It read on his face. He could see that she knew what he was about to say.

  “Autopsy reported the wound and scything of his vertebrae was akin to that made by a broad-head, fired by a high-powered hunting bow -perhaps a composite bow, or a rare, custom long bow. You know, like you read about in stories.” He hesitated on that point but went on. “Or see on hunting shows.” He’d hinted at the fact that they’d already been to Jason’s apartment. She was scared by that news.

  “But we didn’t find any shards of ruined steel within his bones and there was no arrow on the site.” He was leaving things out, she could see it. He was playing chess.

  She remembered seeing him act on behalf of Agent Fastez’s collapse. He’d turned the body over. If there had been an arrow, as she’d seen, then he too would have seen it. He would have felt it protruding from the agent’s throat when his hand glided through it as he checked for a pulse. Unless he presumed the arrow had gone clean through and was later taken by the unseen sniper in the confusion of his departure with her wounded self.

  She saw it dematerialize as agent Connelly had touched it. Of course there would be no arrow on the scene if it had evaporated.

  Whatever his thoughts, she said nothing.

  “I would think you would want to help me find his killer, Ms. Hunter, seeing as you saved me from that shot.” He revealed that he knew he’d shot her unjustly.

  Was he apologizing? She couldn’t believe it. It was ridiculous. First he accuses Jason, Willie, and Devin of murder, then absolves them, only to indirectly apologize for shooting her. She didn’t quite know why, but that was absolutely infuriating. She lost control. The sheer nerve of it…

  “Don’t I get a lawyer or something?!” She snapped, shouting at them.

  Special Agent Black drew a nasal breath and let out a nasal sigh. “Actually, Ms. Hunter, you don’t.” He said it certainly, dropping her mouth agape. “Terrorists are not subject to what you might consider fair treatment according to the laws you might be familiar with, foreign or domestic.” He clarified, but it was a readable lie.

  “That’s a lie!” She challenged, but didn’t quite know for certain. “I want to talk to a lawyer, or I’m not saying anything to anyone.” She defied him, prompting him to immediately tuck his pen into his coat. He stood up resolutely without a sound, turned and walked from the room. Agent Connelly hesitated then rose to follow.

  “He’ll be back in a few hours, Ms. Hunter. I suggest you answer our questions and comply. Things will only get worse for you if you make this more difficult than it has to be.” He reasoned with her, but she refused to even look at him as he sighed and stepped out into the hall, closing the door gently behind himself. She heard the locks snick into place. The room may as well have been barren, and the lock may as well have been deafening for all the echoes it cast her head.

  Shannon stressed.

  ‘What on earth am I going to do?’ She thought. She couldn’t very well tell them the truth. They wouldn’t believe it even if she had pictures and video to prove it. Jason might have believed her. He had long since expressed his desire to believe in faerie creatures of all sorts. That’s why he’d joined E.L.F. in the first place. That’s why he’d used Green Peace as a way to recruit followers to the cause of liberating the world from the destruction of mankind’s greed.

  Perhaps the creatures he half-believed to be real weren’t ever real, but the ideals they represented in stories and fiction? Those were real. The goals and causes of such false creatures were just and true. The underlying themes in all those fantasy books were ultimately real. Mankind was a plague. The world was a helpless victim.

  All those authors had seen the same thing as Jason and now herself. Though, the writers were not willing to risk their lives, nor their ways of life to help save the planet. Shannon could understand that now. Before, she’d used their words to bolster her own efforts, to be the soldier they didn’t have the guts to be, as Jason had put it. But now she understood. They were writers, not soldiers. They were artists. They did what they could to sway the world’s course in the best way they knew how, through their talents. Just as she should have been working to accomplish during her failed tenure through early college-life. But now that sort of action was impossible. She’d given that life up and become a soldier for the helplessness of mother earth and all of nature.

  Shortly after her worries and speculations finished their course, she discovered something that mattered more to her than all the trouble she’d put herself in. The Elf she’d seen. If, and it was a big if… but if it was real, then she’d just seen something that no one had ever seen.

  There were of course old fairy tales about seeing Elves, though nothing like what she’d seen. That was of course where fairy tales had to have come from, logically speaking. If it, he or
she, was real, then her cause was just after all, just like the stories. Fairy tale or no, seeing what she’d seen was a discovery no one could ever tell her was not real. Not even herself, no matter how hard she tried, she just came back to speculating and accepting the possibility.

  The Agent, Connelly, had said it himself. Agent Fastez had apparently been shot by an archer from a hill at the edge of the yard. She wasn’t much of a good judge of distances, but it had to have been at least fifty yards. And while it had apparently been aiming at her, it had missed because she’d seen it coming. That stuck with her for a while, itching in a funny way.

  How was it that she was able to see it when Agent Connelly had even touched the arrow embedded in his partner’s throat without even feeling it? He surely hadn’t seen it.

  Moreover, how was she able to have moved so swift as to save not only herself, but Agent Connelly in the face of a legend that reportedly never missed? Something had given her what could only be explained as a predisposed ability to see what couldn’t be seen. Whatever that thing was she couldn’t hope to define, but it was there. She could feel it.

  At once it stirred in her bosom like the strange sensation of utmost revulsion. The answer was so simple it made her balk in an effort to stuff it back into the shadows cast by her ignorance.