The glowing ashes gave just enough light for his dark-accustomed eyes to see where everyone was lying.
Carrie was next to him on his left, and Heather on his right. Sly was next to his daughter. Then came Mac’s two little girls, Sukie and Jocelyn, in a twin sleeping bag. Paul, tall and broad shouldered, slept next to his half sisters. His pump-action Winchester 12-gauge was at his side. Then came Jeanne McGill, restless, whispering to herself in the darkness. Mac was next in the circle.
Jim had been distressed to see his oldest companion so stricken by the fatalities that had torn his family apart.
Before sleep finally claimed him, Mac had sat up next to Jim and talked ceaselessly about the sons and daughters now dead, focusing on Pamela.
“Buried her well above the high-water mark,” he said. “Deep as we could. Didn’t want dogs or crabs or…” He’d rested his face in his hands. “I got up to the house in Mystic, and they were fine, Jim. Nine of them. Now there’s four. I’m like a storm crow, Jim. Harbinger of fucking doom, aren’t I?”
He wouldn’t accept any sort of sympathy, and Jim stopped trying.
Jeanne McGill had woken and urged Mac to try to get some rest, then immediately laid herself down again and closed her eyes.
“She had on a fine cameo brooch and a lovely tiger’s-eye ring, Jim. It was a present. Middle finger, left hand. She…she only had it for a few weeks.”
Finally Mac, too, had fallen into darkness.
Jeff Thomas was in his sleeping bag between Mac and Nanci, who completed the circle.
Jim was even more uneasy with Jeff around. The man had always been a grade-A, numero-uno, checkered-flag asshole. His story of how Jed Herne had died still didn’t ring true, leaving the suspicion that he’d either killed the ex-Giants free safety himself or stood by while he was murdered.
And there was the bizarre relationship with Nanci that had always had some sick and perverse elements to it. Now it seemed as if love and hate had polarized even more.
“Ticking off good and bad points, Jim?”
He started at Nanci’s quiet voice. She was lying on her elbow, looking at him with her pale blue eyes.
“Sort of.”
“How do I score?”
Jim felt that anything other than an honest answer would be a waste of both their times and would make the older woman feel contempt for him. He didn’t want that.
“High on some things. Top marks. Lower on others.”
She laughed, the sound barely audible. “You say the nicest things, Skipper.”
“The truth.”
The smile vanished and she nodded. “I know. One of your strengths, Jim Hilton. I understand why both General Zelig and the Hunters want you and your people so badly.”
Sukie McGill sat up in her sleeping bag, thumb in her mouth, eyes open wide. She looked past Nanci Simms, through the plasterboard wall of the hut, and said, “Who’s been sitting in my chair, Mama?” And then she lay down once more by her sister.
Jim waited a few moments before speaking again. “We get moving in the morning?”
Nanci nodded. “I have the uncomfortable feeling of an invisible net slowly closing around us. Do you not have that feeling at all, Jim?”
“No. I just feel like a man running blind along a corridor lined with razor blades. And the passage is getting narrower and narrower.”
“Same feeling. We need to get to the highway and find some wheels.”
“More killing,” he said wearily.
“If that bothers you, then take your .44 and blow your own head off. If we are…any of us…to safely reach Aurora, then I can only promise you more killing. I just hope and pray that we will not be among the dead.”
“Think the Hunters are really…really hunting us, Nanci? Right this moment, I mean.”
“Doubtful. After the ravages of Earthblood, life hasn’t been so easy for the military. No gasoline being processed. The technical side collapsing. If the Hunters move against us, then it’ll start in the light. But I figure we have two or three clear days before that happens. Still… I can’t always be right.”