It was another four days before Peter and Kevin came across tracks a day walk north of the reserve. Karen had headed back to the villages hidden in the forest while they began making a wide search pattern that looped in on itself. They knew the militia was pushing north so it was just a matter of time.

The two of them followed the tracks for half a day before they came across the hunter’s campsite hidden near the base of the mountain. They must've been somewhat experienced as they had taken some precautions in hiding their fire from most angles by mountain and trees. There were also metal pieces around the pit so the mountains wouldn't light up. There were three single man tents, all camouflaged colouring, but they added some branches and dirt to them then placed them up against the rock face.

Kevin wondered if he would've spotted the camp if they weren't specifically looking it. As it was, both Kevin and Peter couldn't see the three men that should've be there. The two watched for the next half hour from the safety of the trees, taking turns so one was always watching behind them to make sure they're not being double backed upon.

"I think they've gone to bed." Peter said, scanning the area with his scope.

"All that trouble to hide it, why would they leave the fire going?" Kevin asked back.

Peter shrugged and kept watching. The light from the disappearing sun was slowly replaced by shadows. The campsite vanished except for the embers of the fire.

"We better decide something soon," Peter sat down behind cover, "’Cause they have the advantage now."

"If it's a trap, the only out is up the cliff face."

"Yeah," Peter played out the scenarios in his head, then smirked. "Ok, so here's what we do, you stay here and I go in. If they're in there I kill them."

"And if they're not?"

"Then you kill them before they kill me."

"Oh great, I get the job with all the pressure." Kevin moved up to one knee and started taking off his heavier gear. Peter did the same. Once down to the essentials Peter nodded to him.

Peter moved down several trees so if they were watching he wouldn't come out near Kevin. Kevin kneeled next to his tree, hoping it gave him an angle on the forest. He didn't need to have an angle on the camp.

Peter came out of the trees near the cliff face, around a small bend just before the camp. He walked lightly with bent knees and his rifle to his shoulder. His attention was on the camp but he kept part of his awareness on the forest, waiting for a flash, or cough, something.

He stopped at the bend and moved around it slowly aiming. He adjusted his eyes to see in the dark crevices. He moved forward using his hip to feel the slide of the rock corner, using it as a guide as the area became darker.

Peter decided on the first tent closest to himself and stepped toward it. To him it was just a black spot against the dark cliff wall. The only way to know for sure was to physically get inside and feel around, hoping the person didn't yell before he had a chance to kill them. Peter realized that to get each person sleeping he'd have to use a knife, so he lowered the rifle to the ground and pulled out his hunting knife. He took it from some militiaman last year.

Peter crouched lower and reached out to the darkness, groping the air for a moment before he felt the edge of the tent. He used it as a guide and moved inside, pausing as he realized something. There was scent in the air, something that took him a moment to identify. Rust.

Peter slid his foot carefully in front of himself and felt for the form. He moved his boot around till he felt a leaver and flicked it. There was a loud snap as the bear trap sprang up and clanged shut next to his leg.

Then the shooting started.

Peter dropped to the ground hard as the rounds shredded the tent above him and hit the cliff wall; they were wild shots so Peter took a bit of comfort in that they weren't using night vision.

Kevin could see where the muzzle flashes were but didn't have a target, so he moved to his feet and ran at an arc toward them. He stopped when the firing finished.

Peter uncovered his head and wondered if Kevin got to them.

"Ya get 'em?" Someone shouted.

"He's stuck in the trap, I think." Someone else said, "Cause he ain't moving."

Kevin moved slower as he listened to the voices, then the sound of movement as the hunters got to their feet.

"Ok, I think we got our scout boys." A third man stated as they came out of the trees.

Peter looked into the darkness for his rifle, wishing he hadn't put it down so far away. He couldn't see the hunters but he could hear them, casually walking his way now. Confident in their kill.

Kevin watched the three move toward the tents, dark shadows with very little to define them from the rest of the darkness. He aimed and tried to get a good shot but couldn't be sure.

Peter felt the vibration as the first man came to the end of the tent, there was a moment and then the flashlight came on attached to the underside of a rifle.

"He ain't trapped. And he ain't dead."

The light was all Kevin needed, silhouetting all three hunters. He pulled the trigger on the first one. The round went through the hunter’s skull base and out through his chin as Kevin aimed for the second Man and fired. Deep down he thanked god he took the ginger’s automatic rifle as the second and third round hit the second man’s chest before he had time to aim.

The man with the light aimed and fired at Kevin but the Native pulled back behind the tree. Peter darted to his feet and with a steady blade sliced the last hunter’s jugular. The hunter grabbed at his throat, staggered forward and dropped to the ground.

Three militia men failed to report in at their morning designated time which mandated dispatching twenty-six regular members of the Prince George’s Light Infantry out of Chilliwack to their last known location.

What they found was a campsite and three half naked bodies being torn apart by coyotes. These critters were easily scared off as an assessment of the area was done All weapons and supplies were gone. All tracks as well.

Beth was sent a directive from her immediate boss that she was to authorize the collection and hunting of three Native Notables. This meant that she had to go through her file of paid hunters and select who was next on the waiting list and then select three natives that would make the greatest impact on the Reserve.

Her choices were limited to recommendations from the Indian Agents and whom they brought to her. The Agents made good choices though, at the top of her pile were the suspected leadership of the different nations and although the Agents only suspected them they were accurate. Sadly, also in the files were people like Jacob, people that had no interest in leading but were depended on by others for food and health. They die and others would suffer or die soon after. Any one of these people would work in order to be devastating.

Which is why Beth depended on Damien to bring her files for the pile although he was a junior he could still add recommendations. His submissions were usually random people, based on idiocy and emotion. For this reason she found him useful.

Beth selected three natives without any strategic value and put them in order of their hunts. She had a moment of sadness for the young lady, Rachel, who was on top. She knew that this would destroy her family and friends but it wouldn't hurt the overall plans of the resistance. She told herself this as she moved on with her work. This is for the greater cause.

Beth scheduled the first hunt for five days later and began contacting individuals that had already paid until she came across one that could make it.

Once it was all confirmed she sent a memo back to her superiors that everything was in place. She then grabbed her lunch and moved upstairs to the patio on the roof. She picked a spot out of sight of everybody so she could send a secure message on her Blackberry messenger.

It wasn't much, but it might help someone. Once it was sent she deleted it from her phone, pulled the battery out for twenty seconds and reinstalled it; she only heard that would work but thought anything is better than nothing.

All the cell towers around the reserve were encrypted fifteen years ago. There wasn't any reason for anybody to have a cell phone here unless they had an Indian Agents access code. The codes were assigned for each Agent’s phone directly so they would allow a call to be made but also logged who specifically made the call.

Miranda had the only cell phone on the reserve that she knew of, an old flip phone from before the war that had been modified many times over the last year by her younger sister Layla.

The two of them lived on the furthest edge of the reserve near the highway, and even though there was a ten-foot tall fence, people still managed to toss their garbage over it when passing. The two girls didn't mind, using whatever they found for one thing or another. Then one day they found the phone, which Layla took apart and fiddled with for nearly a year before the seventeen year old came out declaring she got it working.

By now it was the size of a Kleenex box and hooked up to old batteries and an oddly shaped solar cell for power. Unfortunately, turning the phone on also set off the electrical field detectors and Damien came out to investigate.

Miranda was able to convince him not to punish them. She sacrificed some of her dignity for the safety of her sister by sleeping with him then and a few more times after, when they were in need of information. The second time, while Miranda was teaching Damien how to last longer, Layla was in the next room stealing all the data off his phone.

Three days after that Layla used his keys to get into the car and used the computer inside to access all the codes of the agents. Now when she turned on the cell she kept the charge just below the sensor's threshold and only long enough to download text messages once a week. Miranda did this now though, away from her sister for safety but essentially it was just a matter of putting in a ten-digit code that depended on which agent was patrolling that night.

Neither of them knew where the account for the cell came from, it was given to them from the resistance when they told them what they had. The first message might have been a clue though, it read 'you have friends, there's always hope, be careful my loves, Angela.'

Tonight's message was a dreaded one from their usual contact, reading it to herself, Miranda felt a pang of fear. She knew Rachel personally, not well, but she's seen her around and chatted. Miranda quickly put what she read to memory and deleted the message so the phone couldn't be used to trace it back to the other end.

She wrote the message down on a small piece of paper that she took to Eric up the road who was an elder native in his sixties shriveled up by arthritis. She helped him into the back yard where he attached the note to a three-year-old wolf named Larry, after one of Eric's childhood heroes.

The wolf, once released, took off into the forest.

"Think they'll do anything?" Miranda asked Eric.

"Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't."