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                “The trees are just wood and the woods are just trees.”

                                Little Red Riding Hood, Red Riding Hood

                The wrought-iron metal elevator doors slid open before Lisa.  Dressed in jeans and a white tank top, she carried a thick black trench coat under her arms.  Before her was an open office-space with one long series of curving tables that formed one unit, with chairs and desktop barriers that created individual working spaces at the centers and heights of the curves.  Along the wall, metal doors and windowless rooms sat quietly.

                “Hello?” she called uncertainly, stepping out of the elevator, leaning around the wall to look out the corner.  As she spoke, the door directly opposite the elevators opened and Alex leaned out.  He waved for her to join him, then slid back inside.  Lisa scampered across the room, nearly tripping over the thick bundle of cables that ran along the floor.  She slipped inside the door, closing it behind her.

                In the dark room, Assif turned to her, all the heads in the room turning as well.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, extending his hand.  “As you all know, Lisa Barton has passed the preliminary training.  Its been decided that she will begin field work as she continues her training.”

                A few of the people around the glass table applauded, but Assif almost immediately turned back to the screen.  Before him, a large map of the French mountains was blown up, showing an array of forests and cities.  “The situation has occurred here,” he said, pointing to a small mountain town in the French Alps.  “The town in question is just outside of Pralognan-la-Vanoise.”

                “What was the nature of the disturbance?” Til asked, studying the map on his computer screen rather than the overhead.

                “The remains of nine loggers were found yesterday,” Assif explained.  “They were found at a logging site and they are not intact.”

                “What was taken?” Emma asked.

                “They’re not sure,” Assif said somberly.

                An awkward silence descended on the room.

                “What condition were the bodies found in?” Alex asked hesitantly.

                “The remains were scattered amongst the front lines of the trees where the logging was taking place,” Assif said, allowing the others a moment of discomfort.  “Eco-terrorists were initially suspected, but there seems to be little if any evidence to support that theory.”

                “What evidence is there?” Sarah asked.

                “Very little,” Assif confessed.  “I want Sarah to take a team of six.  Til, I want you going, given your background with this type of terrain. Emma, you too. Sarah, you can choose the remainder of your team.”  He looked over the rest of the group, his eyes falling on Lisa.  “Miss Barton,” he spoke up, getting her disturbed attention.  Her head snapped to him, her eyes huge.  “You are in no way required to accompany the team on this mission, but this looks to be pretty straightforward.”

                “There’s no such thing as ‘straightforward’ in this job,” Isaiah said, glancing at Assif. He turned, the closest to her.  “Stay here.”

                She looked from Isaiah to Alex.  “Your call,” he said with active indecision.

                She swallowed, then looked to Assif.  “I guess now’s as good a time as ever.”

                Isaiah was bent over a metal desk, a black pistol lying out before him.  With a tiny screwdriver, he concentrated on adjusting the tiny screws within the inner workings of the pistol.  As he worked, Adam looked up as the door to the armory opened.

                Lisa stepped inside, looking uncomfortable.  Adam smiled to her.  “Come on in,” he said encouragingly.

                “Sorry to interrupt,” she said hesitantly.  She looked around at the metal lockers full of assorted weapons and similar equipment.  “Sarah, she told me that I needed to get, to get…”

                “Your sidearm,” Adam nodded.  “I’ll go get you one.”

                Adam turned away and disappeared into the tightly packed room filled with metal and dim light.  Lisa glanced about nervously, then came up behind Isaiah.  She leaned over him, looking over his shoulder.  She saw him adjusting a tiny electronics device in the handle of his gun.  “What’re you doing?” she asked curiously.

                “Adjusting my sighting aid,” Isaiah said, his attention never coming away from the device.

                “Your what?” she asked.

                But as she spoke, Adam reappeared, carrying a small black box.  “Here you go,” he said, holding it towards her.  Lisa accepted the box, opening the lid.  Inside, a boxy, matte black pistol with two magazines rested in dense padding.  She shut the lid, looking away uncomfortably.

                “Try to remember,” Adam said understandingly, “that gun is meant to save your life, not take someone else’s.”

Lisa looked down, nodding.  “It’s just…”  She shook it off then looked up at him and smiled.  “Thank you.”  She turned and started to head out.

                “Sure thing,” he said after her.

                Lisa opened the white, metal door, leaning against it to shut it.  As she did, Amy turned around from where she had been studying on her bed.  She reached up to her ears and took her headphones off, looking at Lisa.  “You okay?”

                “Yeah,” Lisa said, stepping across the small dorm room to sit down on the opposing bed.  She sighed, her hands in the pockets of her black trench coat.  She sat still for a moment, then reached into her jacket, drawing her pistol.

                “Whoa!” Amy exclaimed.  “When’d you get that?”

                “Today, duh,” Lisa smiled tiredly.  She extended her hand, passing the pistol to Amy.  She accepted, holding the gun, studying the details.  “I’m supposed to get packed and get back upstairs.  I’m going with them.”

                “It’s so light,” Amy marveled.  “But it feels really sturdy, you know?”  She looked back at Lisa, passing the pistol back to her.  “How long’re you gonna be gone?”

                “I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “That Eliot guy’s going with us.  He said that most investigations don’t take more than three days.  That’s what they all pack for, anyway.”

                Amy smiled.  “I like Jason more.”

                “Eww, no,” Lisa giggled.  “He’s a psychic.  He’d be reading my mind all the time and stuff.”

                “Exactly,” Amy said with a flash of her eyebrows.

                Lisa laughed, but a somber tone came over her.  Divided by the light of the window between their beds, she sat for a moment, staring across at Amy.  “Look, be careful, okay? While I’m gone.”

                “Be careful doing what?” Amy laughed.  “All I do all day is take these stupid tests.”

                “And read,” Lisa said.

                Amy suddenly shrugged.  “Yeah, well.  I don’t mind that part of things.”

                Lisa nodded, then stood.  “I’m gonna pack,” she said, heading to the doorless closet near the foot of her bed.

                In the back of the SUV, in the cleared space amongst the host of bags and boxes, several groups of playing cards were stacked in groups of like-suits.  “Got any fours?” asked Eliot, sitting crossed-legged on the right side of the SUV’s back space.

                Across from him, Lisa sat with a collection of cards in her hands.  She looked across at him, then back to her cards.  “Go fish,” she declared.  He grumbled, taking a card off of the stack between their knees.  As he did, the large vehicle began to slow.  “Are we here?” Lisa asked quietly, looking up.

                “Yeah,” Irene said, leaning forward to see through the front window.  Before the car was a crowd of angry-looking loggers walking in a tight circle in front of the logging site, some holding signs.

                “What’s this all about?” Emma asked, next to Irene.

                “They’re angry that the logging site has been closed,” Til said from the front passenger seat.

                “Why would they be angry at that?” Emma asked.  “That means they get to go home and be with their families.”

                “And not get paid for today,” Sarah said, putting the SUV in park.  She looked to Til.  “Ready?”

                “Yes,” he grumbled with a thick German slur in his words.

                Getting out of the car, the six all caught the attention of the protestors as well as the handful of police on hand. But Sarah ignored them all, heading towards the entrance of the logging site. As she neared, the others behind her, a police officer moved to stop her. “<Hello, officer, >” she said, handing her badge to him.  The six watched, as well as the loggers, as the man’s face drained of color.  He swallowed tightly, then stepped back.

                Sarah pushed through the door, stepping into the small set of offices in the tiny building that formed the entrance of the site.  She glanced around as the others came in behind her, only to turn as a man in a suit and an uncomfortable look on his face came over.  “<Good afternoon, >” he said in a polite French tone.  “<I’m the temporary foreman, >” he stuttered.

                “<Temporary? >” Emma said, surprised.  “<What happened to the original one? >”

                “<He had to be sent to the hospital, >” the foreman excused.  “<His nerves. >”

                “<I see, >” Sarah nodded. “<We need to be admitted to see the site. >”

                “<I’m afraid I can’t do that, >” he said.  “<The site has been closed for…safety reasons. >”

                Sarah blinked disinterestedly at the man.  “<Sir, >” she asked.  “<Who do you think we are? >”

                He blinked as well, considering the team of six.  “<Aren’t you the negotiators? To put an end to the protests while we… >”

                “<No, sir.  We’re with the government.  We’re here to investigate the deaths, >” Sarah said coldly.

                His face drained even further until he was nearly completely white.  “<Oh, >” he breathed.  “<I’ll… >”  He pointed over his shoulder. “<I’ll, I’ll show you… >”  He pointed again, then turned around, heading towards the back of the building.  Sarah shook her head in disbelief and started after him, the others following her.

                Through the waiting doors into the logging site, the six followed the site manager.  Around the building where the thick metal fence wrapped around the front of the forest, a wide-open space was cleared of all life and vegetation. A couple of hundred meters beyond that, the tree line waited.  The trees were densely packed, with seven narrow paths leading into the thick forest.

                “<The loggers follow the paths inside, >” the manager explained to the team.  “<They log in about eighteen different spots at a time, all throughout the forest. >”

                “<How are the trees collected? >” Til asked.

                “<We usually use small ATVs, >” the manager explained.  “<Sometimes, though, we just leave the trees for collection at the end of the day.  Then, we use larger vehicles. >”

                “<Are those kept off-site? >” Til went on.  The manager nodded.

                Sarah turned around to the manager.  “<How many were found dead? >”

                The manager suddenly grew tense.  “<We don’t know.  Given the number of workers that have…disappeared, we suspect…maybe nine? >”

                Sarah drew back as if surprised, then nodded.  “<The initial reports we were given by the company indicated six, >” she said academically.  She glanced to the fence and the protestors beyond it, then down the perimeter into the distance.  She turned back to the manager.  “<We’ll need to check your security system.  Cameras, perimeter fence, all of it. >”

                Eliot took a quick snapshot of the edge of the trees.  His camera focused carefully amongst the first row, he took a picture, then turned away, shaking his head.  He glanced down the tree line towards Emma.  But she stood alone, staring at the trees.  The wind passing between the thick trunks brushed her hair back off her shoulders, causing her trench coat to flap.

                Irene put her hand on the metal fence, feeling the course steel.  She drew her hand back, then looked up at the height of the fence itself.  Towering over twice her height high, a roll of tight barbed wire was curled along the top.

                “Hey, Irene,” Lisa asked, coming up behind her.  “What’s going on?”

                “We’re investigating a bunch of murders,” she answered, pushing on the fence with her hands.  There was considerable give, but it belied a hardy sturdiness to the metal.

                “Yeah, but I mean…”  Lisa stopped, chilled by the answer.  “I thought we just looked into weird stuff.”

                Irene stopped and looked at Lisa.  “This looks plenty weird,” she said.  As she spoke, a camera on the fence post panned over the two girls, then panned away.

                “<This is our security room, >” the manager said as the light flickered on in the paneled room.  As he moved to the side, a large set of displays showed numerous black and white televisions with divided displays of four and twelve camera shots.  “<We’ve got about twelve cameras on the front of the site, >” he explained.  “<There are another two dozen or so along the perimeter wall. >”

                “<Thank you, >” Sarah said, sitting down at the farthest of the three seats in the room.  She began to work with the controls, then glanced up at the manager.  “<Thank you, >” she repeated.  He looked awkward suddenly, then excused himself out.

                The door shut and Til sat down as well.  As he did, the chair groaned under his weight.  He glanced down at it, then to Sarah as he bit down on a smile, studying the TV displays.  He glared at the chair again, then moved to his own displays.

                “Found the front,” he declared after a moment.

                Sarah turned to him, then slid over to where he was.  “This should be what the police told Assif to get us down here.”

                As she spoke, Til cued up the recording, rewinding it.  He set it to play, showing the end of the work from the previous day.  The signs of the sun were disappearing into the horizon while long shadows spread out, mixing with the darkness of the heavy twilight.

                “There are still a few workers,” he observed, pointing to the screen. Sarah nodded, watching intently.  The closest of the workers was struggling with a chainsaw in one of the nearest trees, fighting for every inch.

                “Whoa,” Sarah said, sitting up.

                “What?” Til asked.

                Sarah stared at the screen for a moment, then reached across him to get at the controls.  She rewound the video a bit.  “Watch the other loggers,” she said, pointing to the two men almost out of view.  Til watched them for a moment, then watched as they both rushed into the forest. “Did they hear something?” she asked. As she did, the logger in prominence turned into the woods and looked through the trees, as if curious. “What the hell?” she asked.

                He dropped his chain saw, then headed into the trees.

                Moments passed.

                “Strange,” Sarah said, sitting back.

                Til, though, took the controls and paused the display.  “Do you see what I’m seeing?” he asked.

                “Clearly not, because I don’t see anything,” she maintained.

                Til pointed at the screen. “Eight paths,” he said.  He stared at the screen for a moment, then hit fast forward.  Nighttime overtook the logging site, near-perfect darkness encompassing the forest.  But as the first shreds of light began to appear at the edges of the day, the tree line became clear.

                Sarah leaned forward, surprised as Til leaned back with concerned knowing.  “Seven paths,” he observed.  He looked at Sarah.  “The trees are in different spots.”

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