Ryan turned to Krysty. “You got a feeling on this one, lover? Good or bad?”
“Felt good for a while. Now” She shrugged. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
The doubt was there on everyone’s face, and Ryan realized the decision had, for all practical purposes, been taken. “Let’s move on,” he said.
THEY WALKED AROUND the flank of the lake in a single, strung-out skirmish line. The region was full of wildlife, and they disturbed a mutie moose with antlers that had a spread of over ten feet. Trader went for the Armalite, but checked himself.
“Still got enough meat,” he said, after a long pause, adding, “didn’t want to chill something as grand as that giant booger. Wouldn’t be right.”
The trail forked at the neck of the lake, and Ryan stopped, considering the options.
They stood in a bowl of hills, those behind them taller than those ahead. In the one direction, Ryan could see that a fresh blacktop cut up higher through a fork in the rocks, looking as though it might lead into a valley.
“There,” he said, pointing. “Try up there.”
KRYSTY HAD MOVED FORWARD to join him at the head of the group. “Dark’s not far off,” she said.
“Yeah. You noticed that this has been kept clear, like it’s used a lot?”
“I thought I saw some old wag wheel marks a way back, where the road split.”
“We passed a number of side trails, and quite a few of those showed marks of wheels and feet.”
“Yet it seems deserted. If there’s lots of people, then the game would be more scared and a lot less.” She touched him on the arm. “Good feeling’s already gone, lover, on this place. Like we talked aboutthe worm in the apple.”
“Go back and jump again?”
“Not yet. Mebbe find a good safe camp for the night and think about it in the sane light of morning.”
IT WAS an excellent site for an overnight camp.
Halfway up the main blacktop, Ryan had picked a narrow trail to the left, which headed a little higher up, ending at a small lake, really no more than a large pool. But it was fed by a fast-running stream that fell six or eight feet over a lip of granite, giving good, cold water.
There was a view out to the west between two hills, heavily wooded, with plenty of broken branches all around them for a fire. Abe and Dean quickly got flames dancing and started to cook some of the venison that they’d carried with them.
“Think we should post a guard,” Trader asked, “after those twin dogs?” He spit in the dirt. “And we all saw them wag and boot tracks on the way here.”
Ryan and J.B. had just been discussing that very question when Trader joined them, both agreeing that, with nine of them in the group, they could easily do a one-on-and-eight-off watch.
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “We’ll fix the rota later, after we’ve eaten.”
THERE WERE DIFFERING times of danger during a night in the open in unknown and potentially hostile country.
Just as dusk subsiding into full dark was a particular threat, similarly the hour before the false dawn brightened the eastern sky. Generally Ryan’s long experience had shown that the small hours, between about two and four, were also higher risk than earlier in the night.
This meant using the less combat-skilled for the safer timesDoc, Mildred and Dean. Abe and Krysty for the midrisk times, then dividing the rest of the hours of darkness between himself, Trader, J.B. and Jak.
The white-haired teenager had the best night vision, so it was sensible to utilize him for the period of poorest light.
There was a sliver of moonlight, flirting with an endless range of frayed clouds that were being carried across Acadia from the Lantic Ocean.
SEVERAL TIMES while he was sleeping, Ryan came awake at the distant howling of what he was certain was a hunting pack of timber wolves. But they sounded far off, among the mountains, and didn’t worry him.
Doc had awakened him once, whispering that he thought there was something drinking at the pool. “I fear that my vision is veiled at such times.”