“How are they staying with us?” Beatrice cried, gripping the dashboard.
“The drone is tethered to a signal.” Arthur said, his mind racing through his technical knowledge. “If I can get us to a place with enough interference, or if I can outrun the operator’s range...”
But the headlights behind them were gaining. It was a high-performance SUV, built for this terrain. The Mustang was struggling, the engine temperature needle creeping toward the red.
“Arthur, the engine!” Beatrice pointed at the wisps of steam coming from the hood.
“I know!”
He saw a canyon entrance ahead, a narrow slit in the rock. It was a gamble. If it was a dead end, they were caught. If it wasn't, the rock walls might block the drone’s signal.
He swung the wheel, the Mustang sliding sideways before catching traction. They plunged into the shadows of the canyon.
The drone wavered. It dipped, hitting a rock wall with a spray of sparks before righting itself.
“It’s losing signal!” Arthur yelled.
He drove deeper into the labyrinth, the walls closing in until they could almost touch them. He found a small cavern, a natural overhang, and killed the engine.
They sat in the dark, breathing hard. Above them, they could hear the faint buzz of the drone, searching.
“We have to ditch the car.” Arthur whispered.
“What? No, Arthur, it’s our only way out.”
“They’re tracking the car’s heat signature. And those SUVs will catch us on the open flats. We have to go on foot, at least for a while. There’s a hiking trail that leads over the ridge to the next valley.”
Beatrice looked at the Mustang. It was more than a car now; it was the place where they had started this. But she nodded.
They grabbed their bags. Arthur took his Leica and a small bag of batteries. They scrambled up the rocky slope, hiding in the crevices every time the drone passed overhead.
From the ridge, they looked down. The SUV had reached the canyon entrance. Three men got out, carrying tactical flashlights. One of them was holding a tablet—the drone operator.
“Look.” Arthur whispered, pointing.
One of the men stepped into the light of a flashlight. It wasn't Marcus. It was a man Arthur didn't recognize, but he looked professional. Cold.
“They’re not police.” Beatrice said, her voice barely a breath. “Marcus wouldn't call the police. He’d hire 'security' to bring me back quietly. To avoid the scandal.”
Arthur felt a surge of anger. They were being hunted like animals for the sake of a brand’s reputation.
He looked at his camera. He had an idea.
“Stay here.” he said.
“Arthur, no!”
He ignored her, sliding down the back side of the ridge toward a different part of the canyon. He knew how to move with a camera. He knew how to use light.
He positioned himself behind a boulder and turned on his high-powered LED filming light. He aimed it away from himself, toward a distant wall, and set it to strobe.
The drone immediately zipped toward the light. The men in the canyon shouted, pointing their flashlights toward the distraction.
“Go!” Arthur yelled, though he knew Beatrice couldn't hear him.
He moved in the opposite direction, doubling back toward the ridge. He reached Beatrice, who was white-faced with terror.
“Come on!”
They ran along the ridge, the strobe light still flashing in the distance, drawing the hunters away. They didn't stop until they reached a service road on the other side of the mountain.
A lone park ranger truck was parked near a trailhead.
Arthur looked at the truck, then at Beatrice.
“I’ve never stolen a car before.” he said.
“I have.” Beatrice said, a grim light in her eyes. “In season two. The ignition is a standard Ford build.”
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