Deep Trek

“We got some good maps.” Jocelyn and Sukie had been shy of the two strangers, hiding out in the kitchen, peering around the edge of the door. Now the older of the girls was confident enough to show Nanci and Jeff a big Rand McNally atlas.

“We also got them state by state,” said Pamela. “And some hiking-scale ones.”

“Got them for this area of Northern California?” asked Nanci. “Though I reckon I know these parts fairly well. Used to hike and backpack a lot when I was younger. I fear I’m past all that now.”

Mac was watching Jeff Thomas as she said this and he caught the cynical grin, quickly masked, that flitted across the badly scarred face.

“You know Eureka?” asked Jeanne. “Sounds like an exciting sort of a name.”

Nanci smiled. “Only time I was there it was cold and wet and a fog in off the water. Maybe I was unlucky.” She studied the copy of the note again. “What does he mean about this boy, Sly, not being too bright. Do I detect a subtext there, Mac?”

“Sort of. Lad’s got Down’s syndrome. Steve coped well, but it never sat right with his ex-wife. What was her name? Alice? No. Alison, that was it. Took to drink over the boy. Broke their marriage.”

Nanci tutted her disapproval. “Might be that this Sly doesn’t see all of the things that we do. Then again, I’ll bet you that he sees some things that we don’t.”

Mac saw his own ex-wife and his children nod at what the older woman had said. It showed her wisdom and made it easier for her to be accepted into their group. But he was more cynical. From what he knew, it was obvious that Jeff and Nanci had already met Sly Romero. So she’d know all about him. But the others hadn’t noticed the trick.

He decided that Nanci Simms merited some careful watching.

Jeff had taken the note. “Three hundred miles up the coast. That going to be the best route?”

Paul McGill answered him. “We spent some time on the maps, Jeff. There are other possibilities, cutting inland. But if Jim Hilton’s going to try that way, then we might as well do the same. We got a couple of days less than him.”

“December 18,” said Nanci. “Shouldn’t be that hard. You got fuel?”

“Enough for that,” said Pamela. “But not a whole lot to get us farther.”

“Cross that bridge when we reach it.” She looked at Jeanne. “Any more coffee?”

THE FOUR-BY-FOUR went out in front, Nanci at the wheel. Mac drove the Phantasm carefully along the treacherously narrow and winding roads, with Paul bringing up the rear towing the fuel truck, Pamela at his side. Jeanne and the two youngest children were in the rear of the RV.

They’d barely started, just past the turnoff to Bolinas, when they saw the sign.

Nanci braked, holding her hand out of the window in the agreed signal for them to stop. Everyone got down, staring at the weather-stained billboard.

It had originally advertised Acme Coyote Traps. The slogan beneath the picture of a ravenous animal slavering over the mangled corpse of a sheep said Get Your Retaliation In First. Do It To Him With An Acme Coyote Trap.

But that wasn’t what had caught Nanci’s eye.

It had been the painted graffiti on the billboard, done so crudely that it would have been passed by without a second glance by anyone driving Highway 1.

A daubed block of maroon, the color streaked, gobbets running down, puddled in the dirt. The paint formed a rough circle with a series of small silver-white blobs.

“It’s the space-mission flag,” said Henderson McGill. “By God, but it is. A circle of silver stars on a background of maroon. Who put it there and what does…?”

The recent bad weather had damaged the big billboard, leaving some of the advertisement hanging in ragged strips and making it difficult to read the message that had been scrawled in the same red paint.

“North is right. On the way to AR.”

And underneath that was a rough zigzag. like the mark of Zorro.

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