Night Vision

  Night Vision

  by

  Maria V. Snyder

  Sophia started the Honda 250X dirt bike. The roar of the engine cut through the quiet darkness. A perfect September night for a ride, she thought. The air smelled of living green. No moon. No wind.

  She swung on her backpack, strapped on her helmet, and checked her safety gear before pulling on a pair of padded leather gloves. She straddled the bike.

  Where to? Sophia glanced at the surrounding forest. She lived near the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. Basically, the middle of nowhere with not a soul around for miles. Which suited her just fine. No neighbours. No annoying questions. No light.

  She decided to ride over to Standing Indiana Mountain near Georgia’s northern border. It had been a couple of months since she last visited. The old glider landing strip near the peak would be a nice place for a midnight snack.

  The bike jumped to life as she feathered the clutch. Following the narrow trails, she rode hard. Low-hanging branches smacked against her chest protector. She ducked thicker limbs, navigated around trunks, splashed through streams and motored up inclines. Her heart raced with pure adrenaline as the bike chewed up the miles.

  Sailing over the last mound, Sophia whooped in mid-air. The bike landed with a solid thud. She stopped at the edge of the airstrip and removed her helmet.

  It took her a moment to realize that the long grass that had grown wild on the strip had been cut to stubble. Tyre tracks grooved the ground. The glider port was no longer abandoned, but no aircraft was in sight.

  Curious to see if the farmhouse nearby was also in use, Sophia hiked to the dilapidated two-storey building. Sure enough, light gleamed from the windows despite the late hour. A blue Ford F150 pickup with Virginia licence plates rested in the weed-choked driveway.

  Not a weekender - Virginia was too far. Perhaps the new owners were glider pilots.

  The brightness from the house burned her eyes. She averted her gaze and headed to her bike. But the sound of tyres crunching over stones enticed her back. Crouching nearby, she vowed to leave as soon as she spotted the car’s owner. After all, they were technically neighbours.

  Face it, Sophia, it’s the first bit of excitement you’ve had since Dad died.

  A Land Rover bounced and bumped along the dirt. . . well, calling it a road would be an exaggeration. Clouds of dust followed in its wake. Keeping out of the headlights’ beams, Sophia watched as the Land Rover stopped in front of the house with a squeal.

  Two men stepped from the vehicle. A tank-sized, muscular man pounded on the front door. “Hey Rick, come out. We caught a big fish.”

  The driver unlocked the back gate. The door swung wide and Rick came out of the house to join his friends.

  “Who the hell is that?” Rick demanded.

  “He’s a Fed, man,” the Tank said. “Special Agent Mitchell Wolfe.”

  An icy chill crawled up Sophia’s spine. The cliché about curiosity and dead cats churned in her mind.

  “Shit. How much does he know?” Rick asked.

  “He knows we’ve been collecting treasures, but he doesn’t know the pick-up location,” the driver said.

  “Shit. What did you bring him here for?”

  “He hasn’t reported in yet. We didn’t know what to do.” Keys jangled as the driver gestured.

  “How did you know he didn’t talk to the Feds?”

  “We threatened to harm his treasure. He blabbed like a baby.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yep.” The big man yanked a long mesh bag from the back seat of the Land Rover.

  Rick jerked a thumb towards the house. “Inside. Wake Glenn. We’re gonna need him.” A resigned annoyance coloured his tone.

  While living in the middle of nowhere had its benefits, it also had its drawbacks. No wireless signals. No authorities within fifty miles.

  The two men discussed delivery times as they waited for Glenn. Sophia heard “4 a.m.” and “three treasures” before Glenn slunk from the house.

  “This better be good,” Glenn said.

  “We have a problem,” Rick explained.

  “No problem.” Glenn gestured. “We’re in the middle of bloody nowhere. Nobody’ll find him.” He pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed.

  Sophia jumped to her feet. Ready to ... what? Scream?

  Rick shoved Glenn’s arm down. “Not in the Rover, you idiot. Blood evidence stays behind even after you clean up. Don’t you watch CSI?”

  Glenn shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Go ten miles and shoot him in the woods. Leave him for the cougars. Ed, you drive.”

  The driver closed the back. He slid behind the wheel. Glenn hopped in beside him.

  Watching the Land Rover U-turn, Sophia’s thoughts raced. There was no doubt she had to help, but Glenn was armed. She had a tool kit, but no weapons. Tonight had been a fun ride, not a hunting trip.

  She had her Honda. The 250 cubic centimetre engine would keep up with the vehicle, and she had her . . . other talent, if desperate. Running to her bike, she jammed her helmet on, and kicked it into gear.

  The beams of light from the Rover sliced the darkness, making it easy for Sophia to follow. Since she didn’t need a headlight, the men should be unaware of her presence.

  After bouncing and crashing along the tight trail for thirty minutes, the vehicle swung to the side, illuminating a thick patch of underbrush.

  Sophia silenced her bike and coasted to a stop about a hundred feet up the trail. Propping the bike, she crept closer. The men stepped from the vehicle, leaving the engine running.

  “Perfect spot,” Glenn said. “He’s starting to wake. Take him out to those briars.” He checked his weapon.

  Ed pulled the captive out. The man staggered. Ed steadied him. The agent’s wrists were handcuffed behind him. Cuts lined his face and a purple bruise covered his swollen right eye. He looked groggy, but when Glenn flashed his gun, he snapped awake.

  “Easy there, Mitch,” Ed said. “We’re just going to leave you here to find your own way home.”

  “Right.” Mitch’s voice rasped with sarcasm.

  “Come on.” Ed dragged him towards the briar patch.

  With her heart doing gymnastics in her chest, Sophia bent the light around her, rendering herself invisible to the men. She reached the vehicle and crawled towards the front tyre, keeping her eyes on the men and away from the burning brightness. When the two men stepped into the Rover’s headlights, they disappeared from her vision.

  One chance. Sophia opened the driver’s side door and switched the headlights off, plunging the three men into total darkness. Points scored for middle of nowhere.

  Mitch used the sudden blackout to kick the side of Ed’s knee. Ed crumbled to the ground in pain.

  “Shoot him,” Ed said.

  “I can’t see, you idiot!” Glenn shouted. He fumbled for the Rover’s door handle.

  The agent ducked and ran, but tripped and crashed. Without light to bend, Sophia became visible. She darted after the agent. He regained his feet as she caught up to him.

  “I can help you,” she whispered.

  He jerked in surprise, but thankfully stayed quiet.

  “Follow me. I have excellent night vision.” She put a hand on his arm and guided him towards her bike. “Hurry.”

  They reached the bike as the Rover’s headlights lit up the area. Silently thanking Honda for electric starters, she mounted.

  “Over there!” Ed yelled. “What the hell?”

  A gun fired.

  “Jump on,” she ordered. Panic threatened to scatter her senses, but she bit her lip.

  The bike sank as Mitch’s weight compressed the suspension. He wouldn’t be able to hold on to her.

  Another
gunshot cracked through the air. Mitch grunted.

  “Lean on me.” She put the bike in gear, then took off down the road and away from the Rover. Mitch’s stomach and chest pressed against her back.

  Doors slammed and tyres spun on gravel.

  “They’re chasing us,” Mitch said with urgency.

  Great. Her heart dropped to her stomach to do a floor routine. Sophia reviewed her options. With his hands bound, she couldn’t ride off-road with him. The Rover’s headlights behind her caused sections of the road to disappear from her sight, making it difficult to navigate. She could bend the light around the bike, but if the headlights aimed directly at them, they would be suddenly visible.

  She manoeuvred around a turn. Mitch leaned with her. He’s been on a bike before. Perhaps she could cut through the mountains and lose the Rover. She searched for an appropriate path.

  When she spotted a tight trail, she turned so Mitch could hear her. “I’m going off-road. Match my movements.”

  “Jesus, lady, you don’t even have a headlight.”

  “Would you rather stay?”

  “No.”

  Slowing to half-speed because of her passenger, she struggled to find a path that wouldn’t unseat him. Curses, yells and a few more gunshots sounded. She concentrated on riding, pouring every ounce of energy into it.

  “We lost them,” Mitch said.

  With her arms shaking from fatigue, she stopped. Mitch dismounted and dropped to the ground.

  “That was close,” he said. “You saved my life. Where the hell did you come from?”

  She removed her helmet. Her long ponytail snagged in the strap. Sweat stung her eyes and soaked her shirt under the chest protector. “I was riding and saw you needed help.”

  “In the middle of the night without a headlight?” His tone implied disbelief. “It’s pitch-black out here.”

  “I told you I have good night vision. Besides, I grew up around here. I know these hills like a bat knows its cave.”

  “What’s your name - Bat Woman?”

  “No. Wonder Woman. My invisible plane is in for repairs so I had to use my super bike.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m Mitch Wolfe - a federal agent, and I’m going to need more of your help.”

  “Sophia Daniels. I’ll do what I can.”

  “First, I need to get these cuffs off.”

  “My tool kit—”

  “I have a key in the—” he cringed “—waistband of my underwear.”

  She couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Are they special spy underwear?”

  “Yep. They’re bulletproof, too. A man can’t be too cautious when it comes to personal safety.” He laughed with a deep, rich rumble that rolled right through her. “It’s a master handcuff key. It’s along my left side.” He regained his feet.

  His grey T-shirt was ripped and stained with blood. Too much blood. She gasped. “You’ve been shot.”

  “I felt a nick.”

  She pulled his shirt up. A deep gash oozed near his ribs on the left, cutting across the ripple of muscles along his abdomen. “It’s more of a slice. You’re going to need sutures.”

  “Sutures? Don’t tell me my nocturnal rescuer is also a doctor because that would be another hell of a coincidence.”

  “My father was a paramedic. I have supplies—”

  “Later. Key first.”

  Sophia tried pulling the waistband up past his jeans.

  “You need to unbutton the pants,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  She hesitated before fumbling at the button. Wonderful, Sophia, she chided. You’re coordinated enough to jump a dirt bike over Ranger’s Gap, but you can’t undo one button. An eternity later, she ripped the key from his waistband and unlocked the cuffs.

  He groaned with relief, rubbing his raw wrists. Sophia realized she stood rather close to him, and he was a stranger. He was about six inches taller than her own five foot eight, and had arms like a professional quarterback. He looked about thirty, a few years older than her. Mitch claimed to be a federal agent, but she didn’t have any proof.

  She remembered his injury and reached for the first-aid kit in her backpack but stopped. Her pack! She had left it by the airstrip. A quick mental scan of the contents made her relax. No personal information, but she didn’t have the kit, food or water.

  He tapped his pockets. “Shit. They took my wallet, phone and gun. Do you have a cell?” Mitch rebuttoned his jeans.

  “No signals out here.”

  “Where then? I need to make a call. The sooner the better.”

  She sighed. No other choice. Her house was the closest. “I have a landline.”

  “Within walking distance?” A hopeful note crept into his voice.

  “No. About twenty miles off-road.”

  “And on the road?”

  “Fifty.”

  “Damn. I’m going to have to trust your night vision again, aren’t I?”

  “Yep.” Buckling up the chest protector, she donned her helmet.

  A queasy expression creased his sharp nose and he rubbed his hand along his five o’clock shadow. Long black eyelashes matched his almost military-style short black hair. His uninjured blue eye stared at her in concern.

  “Relax, Mitch. I’ll get us there in one piece. After we jump the chasm of death, we’re home free.”

  “Funny,” he deadpanned. “I don’t suppose you have another helmet?”

  “Nope. But if we do crash, I’ll aim for the right side to even out your injuries.”

  He gave her a wry grin. “Enduring poor attempts at humour is better than being dead. At least, you have a decent bike. My fragile male ego wouldn’t be able to handle being rescued by a lady on a scooter.”

  With a passenger on board, the trip to her house lasted twice as long as normal. Mitch clutched her waist with a vice grip. He cursed and muttered under his breath, but matched the rhythm of the bike’s motion.

  When they arrived at her small log cabin, he slid off on unsteady legs. The bloodstain on his shirt had spread. Sophia tossed her helmet and gear into a pile. Leaving the bike next to her shed, she led him into the living room.

  The place followed the standard mountain cabin decor -comfortable recliners, plaid-patterned couch, faux bear rug and animal paintings.

  “Sit down before you fall down.” Sophia guided Mitch to the couch.

  “Are you going to turn on the lights or did you forget to pay your electric bill?” he asked with a nervous edge.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the strength for a difficult explanation. If there had been a phone anywhere else, she would have avoided this.

  Working up the nerve, she said, “I can’t tolerate visible light.”

  “Can’t tolerate light? Like a vampire?” His confusion turned into alarm.

  She huffed with exasperation. “I wish! At least vampires can go to a movie.”

  Mitch gestured as if calming a crazy person. “Look, all I need is to use your phone.”

  She sighed. Shouldn’t have made that vampire crack. “I’m sorry. I’m not explaining it well. I’m out of practice.” Sophia drew in a breath. Time for the standard spiel. She would love to tell the truth, but who, except the wrong people, would believe her? So instead, she said, “I have a rare disease called erythropoietic protoporphyria or EEP for short. Light kills my red blood cells, so I have to avoid all visible light, which means I live in the middle of nowhere with no TV, computer or ...” Human contact. But that sounded pathetic.

  If anything, her story made him more uneasy. She wondered why.

  “What do you do when the sun comes up?”

  Retreat to my coffin. “I sleep during the day.”

  He had an odd . . . queasy expression. Perhaps he searched for words of regret or encouragement that she didn’t deserve to hear. Before he could speak, she said, “There’s a phone and a lamp in the guest room, and a light in the guest bath. You can make your call and at least cl
ean that gash before it becomes infected.”

  “Phone call first.” He surged to his feet, but paused. “Where are we?”

  “North of Shooting Creek, North Carolina.”

  “North Carolina! I didn’t realize ...” He rubbed his hand on his swollen temple. “How far to Knoxville?”

  “One hundred and thirty miles.”

  “Damn.” He considered. “Do you have an address?”

  “I have GPS coordinates. Will they work?”

  “Yeah. I just wish I knew where they were heading,” he muttered more to himself than to her.

  “Your friends?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Sophia realized he didn’t know about the farmhouse. She explained. “It’s isolated, but I can pull the GPS coordinates off a topographical map for you.” Strangely, her offer increased his apprehension.

  “Good.” He seemed distracted. “Where ... is the phone?”

  She took his hand in the pitch-darkness and guided him to the guest room. The cabin’s first floor contained a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. Her room and another bath were down in the basement.

  Handing Mitch the cordless phone, she put his other hand on the lamp switch. “Wait until you hear the door close before turning the light on. I’ll go pull the coordinates for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  A strange hitch in his voice worried Sophia but, considering what the man had been through tonight, she didn’t blame him. She was halfway to the door when he flicked the lamp on. Blinding whiteness obscured her vision. She stumbled and bumped into a chair.

  “What did you do that for?” she demanded, fumbling around. Where was that door? The light was too strong for her to bend.

  Instead of answering, Mitch grabbed her wrists and pushed her against a wall.

  “Let go!” Fear flushed through her. Idiot. Why hadn’t she asked for identification?

  She tried to kick him, but missed. He pressed his weight on her, pinning her legs.

  “You can’t see me, can you?” Accusation laced his voice.

  “Turn off the light.”

  “You’re working with Ed. What’s the purpose of your mock rescue?”

  “I’m not working with anybody. Get off!”

  “Don’t lie. I just have to look at your eyes to know you’re one of them. I suspected, but when you said you were ‘out of practice’ I knew for sure.”