Pierce pulled up to the canyon's edge on the ATV.

"I've got him." The com needed to be turned in. It had been getting more static on it in the last couple of days. The rough, dusty terrain or the hot weather, or the combination of both, were tough on electronics no matter what was done to protect them.

"Detainment is the goal."

"Roger."

The drop into the canyon would require him to work down slowly if he wanted to sweep in behind the hiker. Or whoever he was. He looked like a hiker, with a pack on his back, but few hikers would hack through an electrified fence marked every three feet that the area was restricted and that the use of deadly force was authorized.

He put the machine in gear and slowly rolled down the rocky face of the canyon, weaving around the scrub that clung to the hill. Sitting back on the ATV as far as he could kept him from toppling ass over teacup as he braked. Once he reached the slope near the bottom, the terrain was still rocky with large boulders scattered around, but the vehicle was more easily maneuvered.

After a small bend and a low dip into the canyon, he came up behind the interloper. The hiker slowed to a stop and turned around. After a quick glance back, he unsnapped his pack at the waist and brought it around to the ground where he squatted and unzipped the flap.

The hum of the motor echoing through the canyon ceased abruptly when Pierce drew up to park the ATV at an angle to the man and cut the motor. A small billow of dust settled around the wheels as he twisted on the seat and rested his left hand on an M-4 rifle strapped to the crossbar. He glared at the man, measuring him in silence.

The hiker was dressed like someone used to long hikes. He had on an expensive pair of hiking boots and canvas pants that would be resistant to tears in rough terrain. A wide-brimmed hat shaded his eyes against the harsh sun overhead. Everything looked right, but it was wrong. Everything was new. Too new.

"This is a restricted area. You need to turn around and go back."

The man dug into his pack. It was an expensive brand with built-in hydration and several mesh pockets that bulged with gear. A glint of silver flashed from a small hatchet strapped to one side of the bag, but the man was more concerned with finding something buried inside.

Pierce went on high alert. His body vibrated and the muscles in his abdomen tightened. Even his focus became sharper. One of the aglets on the man's hat string winked in the sunlight.

"Actually, I'm lost and could use some help." The man gave a small, embarrassed shrug and continued searching blindly for whatever was evading him in his pack. His eyes never left the soldier, and he froze when Pierce brought his 9 mm around from his right side and pointed it at him. Slowly he pulled his hand from the bag and stood up. A map was clutched tightly in his fist.

"Whoa. I'm looking for a research facility. I have some information for the researchers. I really need to get in to talk to them." He took three steps to close the gap between himself and the ATV.

"No, you really need to leave."

"Please, if you would just–"

"You aren't listening to me," Pierce growled. The ATV bounced as he swung his leg over the seat to the ground and grabbed the man's arm.

"Look, if you could just show me the way to the facility, I'll–"

"Perhaps you're confused about the definition of restricted. Or maybe you just can't read."

"If you could just show me on this map..." He lifted the map, and Pierce snatched his arm behind his back. The man cried out in pain as the map crumpled and fell beneath their feet.

The clean scent of the man's shampoo competed with the acrid odor of his fear when Pierce brought his arm under the man's chin and tightened it against his throat. The man was choking for air and clutching desperately at his arm. In terror, the man struggled harder and Pierce lost his grip on his wrist.

Bad news for the hiker. With Pierce's hand suddenly free, he could add more power to the vice at the man's throat. He forced him to his knees and continued squeezing.

Too late, Pierce felt the man unsnap the strap to the bowie knife at his side. He pushed him away toward the ground and bounded back a step as the man came up swinging. The blade whizzed by within inches of his face.

Air wheezed in and out of the man's frantic lungs as he stood back holding the knife before him. "Please. Just let me leave. I won't come back."

Pierce lunged, and the man parried with a forward thrust of the knife. It sliced through Pierce's shirt and bit into his bicep as he spun away toward the ATV. In one smooth motion, Pierce recovered with his feet spread and his gun aimed at the hiker.

Surprise marked the hiker's face when he saw the M-4 abandoned on the ATV. He made a wild grab for it. Strapped tightly to the machine, he had to drop the knife and use both hands to wrench at the gun. The Velcro straps suddenly gave away with the sound of tearing paper.

When he turned to take a shot, the bullet from Pierce's 9 mm caught him in the middle of the chest. The man sank to his knees, his eyes glazing over before the last retort echoed off the canyon walls.

Pierce came around the side of the ATV and snatched the M-4 from the dead man's hands. He rammed it back onto the machine and wrenched the straps tight.

"You can't shoot me if you don't take the safety off," he ground out between clenched teeth. He leaned over and checked for a pulse. Nothing. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

With a heavy sigh, Pierce stood and stretched his back. His neck cracked loudly in the silence of the canyon. He hit the button on his com unit to report in. It was as silent as the air around him. No birds. No wind. No static.

He pulled the earpiece from his ear and detached the unit from his waist. The ATV had an auxiliary storage compartment between the back wheels. He set the earpiece on the seat and opened the box.

A tow strap and wrench had to be moved to access a medical kit. It was a small kit that contained only the items Pierce thought were necessary. Tightly packed into the box were antiseptic wipes, bandages, needle decompression, wound sealant powder, preloaded suture anchors with needles and rattlesnake anti-venom. Until this moment, he had only needed the wipes and bandaids.

Blood smeared down Pierce's bicep as he peeled off his shirt and lightly prodded at his arm to gauge the depth of the wound. Satisfied it was not a deep laceration, he retrieved the wound sealant and shook powder over the area welling the heaviest with blood. He wrapped self-adhesive tape tightly around his arm and pulled his shirt back on.

The medical kit was packed and returned to the auxiliary storage where he swapped it with a black waterproof case. The case opened with a loud click, and he took out an earpiece. He pushed the earpiece into his ear and unpacked a handset and antennae. Once connected, he flipped on the unit.

"Pierce to Phoenix. Copy?"

"Phoenix, copy."

"Target acquired. KIA. I need a pickup."

"Roger that. One second while I confirm your location. Phoenix en route. Over."

Pierce walked over to the body and emptied the pockets. One pocket held a handful of granola bars. He read the ingredients on the back of the package as he unwrapped it and took a bite. The wrapper fluttered to the ground.

One-handed, he reached over and slid the pack closer. In one of the pockets, he found a cell phone. He pressed the power button, but it didn't turn on, so he set the phone on the dead man's chest to continue his search.

With nothing of further interest discovered, he popped the rest of the granola bar into his mouth and stood up to stretch once more. The bright colors of the wrapper caught his eye as he gazed down at the dead man. Crouching abruptly, the wrapper forgotten, he reached forward and touched an impression left in the dusty rock. It was wrong.

"Damn it!"

Once again on high alert, Pierce grabbed the dead man's leg and pulled it around to look at the bottom of the hiking boot. It was definitely wrong. Not only was it the wrong pattern, it was the wrong size. Someone else had been in the canyon. Or was in the canyon.

From his crouched position, Pierce quickly scanned the canyon walls. He scrambled back to the ATV and unhooked the M-4. Assuming there was only one assailant was an amateur mistake. He knew better. He was no novice in this enterprise. Why was he always so damned confident?

"Pierce to Phoenix. Copy?"

"Phoenix, copy."

"I've got another in the wind."

"Roger that. Wait for assist. We're in the air. Should be less than five."

"Negative. I'm going to scout and engage."

"What direction?"

Pierce moved cautiously around the area without answering. He found more footprints and checked back in, "Make that two ops. I'm moving west out of the canyon."

"Roger."

Finding spots where rocks and dust had been freshly agitated, he moved quickly across the canyon, dodging behind boulders and scrub to maintain cover. Around a bend, he paused to assess the footprints. They were spaced further apart. His quarry was on the run.

So intent on keeping his eyes to the ground while he ran following the prints, he suddenly found himself in the open. He ducked behind a rock ledge that was as tall as he was and quickly scanned left to right in his shallow field of vision. His eyes focused further out and scanned the opposite direction. On his fourth sweep, a small cloud of dust rising into the air drew his gaze to the base of a climb six hundred yards out. The scope of his rifle confirmed the distance and the target. It was definitely more men. Not the farthest he had successfully hit a mark, but distant enough to test his accuracy. The assailants could still be brought in for questions instead of caskets. That would make Central happy. Maybe it would even make up for the dead guy in the canyon.

Pierce squatted down to rest against a boulder and set the rifle to single shot. He flipped the safety off, took a long slow breath in, and focused the crosshairs on one of the men. As he slowly let his breath out, he squeezed the trigger.