downhill bends and tight uphill turns with the truck grinding in a low
gear. Periods of cruising down gently winding roads, bad surfaces,
good surfaces, gradients, gravel under the wheels, potholes in the
road. Readier could imagine the headlight beams flicking left and
right and bouncing up and down.
The truck slowed almost to a stop. Turned a tight right. Pattered
over some kind of a wooden bridge. Then it yawed and bumped its way
along a rutted track. It was moving slowly, shuddering from side to
side. It felt like they were driving up a dry riverbed. Some kind of
a stony, narrow track. It felt like this was the very last leg of the
journey. It felt like they were very close to their destination. The
urgency had gone out of the guy’s driving. It felt like the truck was
nearly home.
But the final leg took a long time. The speed was low and the road was
bad. Stones and small rocks were popping under the tires. The tires
were squirming sideways across the loose surface. The truck ground on
for forty minutes. Fifty minutes. Reacher got cold. He sat up and
shook out his shirt. Put it on. An hour on the bumpy track. At this
speed, maybe fifteen miles, maybe twenty.
Then they were there. The truck lurched up over a final heave and
leveled out. Rolled forward another few yards and stopped. The engine
noise died. It was replaced by an awesome silence. Reacher could hear
nothing at all except a vast emptiness and the ticking of the muffler
as it cooled. He could hear the two guys in front, sitting quiet and
exhausted. Then they got out. He heard their doors open and their
seat springs bounce. He heard their feet on gravel. Their doors
slammed, enormously loud metallic clangs in the stillness. He heard
them crunch around to the rear. He could hear the sound of the keys
swinging gently in the driver’s hand.
The key slid into the lock. The lock clicked back. The handle turned.
The door swung open. Loder propped it back with the metal stay. Then
he opened the other door. Propped it back. Gestured them out with the
Clock. Reacher helped Holly along the ridged floor. He
1 A A
stepped down. The chain on his wrist clattered to the earth. He
lifted Holly down beside him. They stood together, leaning back
against the edge of the truck’s ridged metal floor. Looking out and
around.
Holly had wanted to see the sky. She was standing there under the
vastest sky Reacher had ever seen. It was a dark inky-blue, almost
black, and it was huge. It stretched up to an infinite height. It was
as big as a planet. It was peppered with a hundred billion bright
stars. They were far away, but they were unnaturally vivid. They
dusted back to the far cold reaches of the universe. It was a gigantic
night sky and it stretched on forever.
They were in a forest clearing. Reacher could smell a heavy scent of
pines. It was a strong smell. Clean and fresh. There was a black
mass of trees all around. They covered the jagged slopes of mountains.
They were in a forest clearing, surrounded by mountainous wooded
slopes. It was a big clearing, infinitely dark, silent. Reacher could
see the faint black outlines of buildings off to his right. They were
long, low huts. Some kind of wooden structures, crouching in the
dark.
There were people on the edge of the clearing. Standing among the
nearest trees. Reacher could see their vague shapes. Maybe fifty or
sixty people. Just standing there, silent. They were in dark
clothing. They had darkened faces. Their faces were smudged with
night camouflage. He could see their eyes, white against the black
trees. They were holding weapons. He could see rifles and machine
guns. Slung casually over the shoulders of the silent, staring people.
They had dogs. Several big dogs, on thick leather leashes.
There were children among the people. Reacher could make them out.
Children, standing together in groups, silent, staring, big sleepy
eyes. They were clustered behind the adults, still, their shoulders