They found a huge sequoia that had fallen, probably a hundred years earlier, during the tremors of skydark, and had barely begun to rot. Its root structure was massively tangled, like a mummified Medusa’s hair, forming a cavern a good fifteen feet deep and at least a dozen feet across. Large enough for them all to find shelter.
Within a couple of minutes, J.B. had used one of their precious self-lights to set sparks to some dry leaf mold, some thin, broken twigs and some bigger branches, until there was a bright, roaring fire.
They stripped off their sodden outer garments, keeping on only underclothes, and hung the soaked pants, shirts and vests on the dried roots, turning them now and again as the dark, damp patches gradually became lighter and their white, wrinkled skin resumed its usual color.
The steam from the wet garments hung heavy in the damp air. Ryan glanced out into the teeming rain, conscious of Doc at his elbow.
“You know, dear friend, that this used to be a hell of a beautiful part of the country once upon a while. Now, every place we set our feet, it seems like the shadow of death falls across the land.”
Ryan shook his head, running his fingers through his damp, thickly matted hair. “Something’s real wrong in these hills. Trees like the gods just finished growing them. Air so fresh you could slice it with a knife. Everything green and pleasant. Yet, like you said, it’s as if there’s a corpse lying under every bush. Madness. First the Apaches freaking out when there wasn’t any need for it. Then those fladgies with their sick games.”
He felt Krysty’s hand, gentle on his arm, like a moth’s wing, the warmth of her nearly naked body against his.
“Think that it’s these Children of the Rock that have tainted things, lover?”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “How do we know? Possible. Either we can keep on and explore a while more, or we turn around and go back and make a jump to someplace else.”
“Keep goin’,” Jak said from the darkness behind them.
“I’ll second that,” J.B. called, his words echoing in the cavern.
“And I’ll third it,” Mildred added. “Soon as we can rest, get ourselves dry and our clothes dry and the rain stops. Then maybe find something to eat.”
“Seen game trails,” the albino teenager commented, shaking his tumbling mane of snow white hair. “Deer all sorts.”
“Won’t be much fishing with the river in spate.” J.B. took off his glasses, then realized that he had nothing to wipe them on. “We can hole up here. This rain looks like it’s here to stay for a while.”
Ryan spit out into the rain. “Guess we don’t have a lot of choice right now. Just so long as we don’t have to massacre anyone else for a while.”
IT WAS A LITTLE before dawn. The fire had sunk to a pile of white, glowing embers, and the rain had recently stopped, water still dripping noisily from the pines. A gray mist hung in the trees, about fifty feet up, hiding the soaring tops. Ryan awakened feeling cold and stiff, yawning and stretching, feeling the tight muscles creak across his shoulders and the back of his neck.
“Sleep well, lover?” Krysty whispered.
“Getting too old for this sort of thing.” He quickly began to dress himself, pulling on his pants and slipping his blaster into the greased holster. “Time I settled down in a snug little log cabin with a warm fire and an old mongrel dog sleeping on the hearth.”
“And a snug little wife waiting up the stairs for you to go and join her?”
“Sure. That, too.”
Krysty laughed and rolled out of her blanket. In less than half a minute she, too, was dressed and armed.
They made no effort to keep quiet, and within a few moments the others were stirring.
Doc’s knee joints cracked like musket shots, and he threw back his head and yawned noisily, showing off his unnaturally splendid set of teeth. “By the Three Kennedys!” he exclaimed. “This may have suited Daniel Boone, but I find it parlously chill. Who let the fire be so sadly neglected?”