“No. Nothing, except for some sort of back-ground wildlife sensations. Can’t say I’m aware of any sense of danger.”
“I’m sure we can use that old highway as a sort of lodestar to get us away from here. Trees aren’t impenetrable. Should be able to move through them.”
“We goin’, Ryan?” Jak asked.
“Why not? Everyone ready to do some back-country hiking? Then let’s go.”
He began to pick his way between the striated trunks of the pines, heading downhill, using the barely visible remnants of the blacktop to guide him. The others were strung out behind him.
Chapter Five
A rust-colored squirrel darted up the tree that stood close to the pathway, chattering angrily at the invasion of its territory. A jay perched on a high, feathery branch, swaying backward and forward in the rising wind, dark, beady eyes watching the seven humans far below it.
Ryan had been a little optimistic about the ease of following the old, lost road through the woods. For some of the time, it was almost as though there had never been a road through the woods. Time and the weather had washed parts of it away, and the fast-growing pines had broken through the tarmac in many places. But it was at least some sort of guide, carrying them gradually downhill from the abandoned redoubt.
It was around noon when the friends finally found themselves nearing the bottom of the slope, and the end of the winding, hidden highway.
The sun had been a constant presence, breaking through the pools of dappled shadow. The scent of the pines was so strong and omnipresent that they’d almost stopped noticing it. Away toward the far north, the sky was darkening with banks of snowy thunderheads. The tall, slender pines that had masked the main entrance to the redoubt had gradually been absorbed into a region of mixed forest. They strolled through a magnificent mixture of ancient oaks, shivering aspens, white firs, dogwoods, sugar pines and cottonwoods, with a smattering of massive sequoias.
The flowers and shrubs were just as impressive: vivid orange and startling white lilies, chiquapin, lupine and bracken ferns. There was a wealth of bird life, including ravens, owls and bright chickadees, which prompted Doc into an impersonation that he claimed was someone called W. C. Fields. He became annoyed when only Mildred had ever heard of the comedian.
Once they paused near a crystal-fresh spring, resting for a few minutes and heard the howling of coyotes, several miles away to the east, in the higher country.
“Used to be bear and bobcats around here,” Mildred commented. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they made a good recovery without man to hunt them out.”
DOC HAD a nasty coughing fit, doubled over, and hawked up threads of green phlegm into the bed of pine needles under his feet. “I feared there that I was about to vomit copiously,” he spluttered.
Mildred approached and laid a hand on his sweat-dewed forehead. “Kind of hot,” she commented. “Could be that you’re in for a touch of flu, Doc.”
“I confess to feeling a few inches below par, Dr. Wyeth. Slight headache and soreness in the throat. Perhaps it is only a touch of the sun. Or a mild attack of altitude sickness. Or it might all be in the fevered imagination of a foolish old man. Let us proceed, shall we?”
THEY HAD EMERGED from the forest onto the buckled remnants of an old highway and followed it as it meandered north and eastward, sometimes between the high walls of a sheer gorge with a river running along its bottom.
“There’s a sign,” Dean said, running ahead of the others to a bullet-pocked, rusting road sign. “One ninety-eight,” he called back to them.
J.B. took off his fedora and scratched his forehead. “Sounds right. Have a feeling it’s a highway that runs through Visalia, all the way toward the coast. Linked up with what used to be Highway 101. Way we’re heading, I reckon we should finish up in the heart of the national park. See taller trees than you ever imagined.”
“Is there one that you can drive a wag clear through?” Krysty asked.
“Believe there used to be, but I think it fell some years before skydark.” Mildred shook her head, her beaded, plaited hair rattling. “I expect the trees in the park should be something. If the quakes didn’t bring them all crashing down.”