“Gimme the rifle,” said Jim.
“Why?”
“Just fucking do it, Kyle. Then go start them up. Heather and Sly safe?”
Carrie answered. “Both in your four-by, Jim.”
“Fine. Go start it. Kyle, wait for me a couple of minutes. Carrie, take the four-by and head off up the back-trail. Fast as you can. And safe as you can. No lights.”
She disappeared, and the slender black man handed Jim the rifle. “Seven left, including one under the hammer. Got a spare mag in any pocket if—”
“No. Want to slow them up. Discourage them, Kyle. Get the engine going.”
Suddenly Jim Hilton was alone.
Frozen in a vacuum. Behind him he heard the two engines coughing into life, and he thought he caught Heather’s voice raised in protest. Ahead, the experimental plant unit was being destroyed in front of his eyes. A second spotlight was working, focusing on the tumbling remains of the hut that had been home for the group of young idealists. A tall figure appeared, silhouetted against the flames, and threw something inside that erupted into dazzling, oily fire.
“Napalm,” breathed Jim. “Bastard.” He focused the sniper scope on the soldier, centered on his chest. Finger gently on the trigger, he squeezed. But seeing the killer go down and lie still wasn’t satisfaction enough in light of their murderous deeds.
Before he turned and ran to join Kyle in the second of the four-bys, Jim emptied the magazine of the Mannlicher into the group of men by the armored personnel carrier. He didn’t wait to see how successful he’d been.
It didn’t even up the score, but it stopped the murderous sons of bitches exulting in a bloody victory.
And that was something.
Chapter Seven
Fifteen miles out of Fort Bragg, Jim Hilton found that the old Highway 1 was blocked again. A bridge had fallen, probably as a result of more earthquake action, making further progress north toward Eureka impossible along the coast.
The map showed a back road that cut east toward Laytonville on 101, through a village called Branscomb. It was partly unpaved and went across the south fork of the Eel River.
“Could be tough going,” said Carrie as they all peered at the Rand McNally.
It was midafternoon on December 16, two days shy of their projected meet at Eureka, which was still at least one hundred and twenty miles farther north.
“Do we have a choice?” Heather asked, looking around them. The weather had turned cold again and they’d been running through groves of timber, mostly stiff and dead. But some of the bigger redwoods had shown encouraging signs of having survived the Earthblood virus and were green and healthy.
“What’s blue?” asked Sly, pointing at the map with an eager, stubby finger.
“The sea,” replied the girl. “Pacific Ocean. Guess that would be another choice, wouldn’t it, Dad? If we could get hold of a boat somewhere.”
“Possibly. Rather keep our feet dry for as long as we can, though.”
“Blue sea, knew me, true buzzy bee with new knee and poo pee poo pee pee and poo.”
“Yeah, that’s enough, Sly,” said Kyle, patting the laughing teenager on the back, though he was unable to restrain his own broad grin.
Carrie took the wheel of the first truck, Heather at her side. Jim was taking a rest in the second four-by-four, allowing Kyle to drive, with Sly sitting between them, counting the houses they passed.
He wasn’t too confident going much above five, but that didn’t matter, since the stretch of dirt road was deserted, with only an occasional homestead.
The only sign of life, apart from a circling flock of gulls, was a small pack of wild dogs that came running from a thicket, barking wildly, snapping at the wheels, jumping up and snarling at the open windows.
Carrie put her foot down, and they soon outdistanced the malevolent animals.
About three miles farther along they reached a hamlet so tiny, or recent, that it didn’t even merit a black dot on the road atlas.
A tilted sign proclaimed that it was called North Banell and its population was nineteen.
It didn’t even have anything that could properly be called a main street. Two frame houses and a ransacked general store. It only took about thirty seconds to drive from one end of North Banell to the other, where there was a white sign with an arrow pointing off to the right: