In the stillness he suddenly realized that be could hear J.B. and Mildred making love, a little way along the bank of the river.
Embarrassed, Ryan limped farther alongside the Tennessee to relieve himself, moving as silently as he could through the dew-damp grass, leaning heavily on his makeshift crutch. He spent a little time sitting on the bank, back against a beech tree, watching the river flow. He thought about the crazed priest that he’d sent off to knock on heaven’s door and about the serene beauty of the countryside around them.
To his surprise, he actually dropped off to sleep, waking with a start, shivering and cold. He glanced down at his chron, but it gave him no clue as to how long he’d been dozing. It was an indication to him of the way a wound could weaken a man, far more than he might expect.
He levered himself upright again, with the help of his stick, drawing in a whistling breath at yet another stab of pain burning through his leg.
An owl swooped out of the starry darkness, wings spread, eyes like saucers, veering away at the last moment as its keen sight picked up the motionless human.
Ryan watched it go, floating low over the calm surface of the river. There was a sudden ripple, and he spotted something lithe and silver leap clear out of the water, hanging for a moment, the patchy moonlight gleaming off the scales.
The owl had seen it and veered sideways, jinking like a running back heading for the end zone, but it was a heartbeat too late and the fish disappeared in a burst of foam.
Ryan grinned at the closeness of the escape and hobbled back to sleep again alongside Krysty.
DURING THE LATER PART of the night, the sky became cloudy and the dawning was gray and overcast. Ryan sniffed the air, tasting a fine drizzle on his breath.
“Might as well get moving early,” he said. “No point in sitting around if there’s rain on the way.”
There was a brief shower as they were launching their raft, pitting the surface of the Tennessee, the rising wind ruffling the branches of the trees around.
AROUND TEN O’CLOCK the river narrowed dramatically, steep bluffs rising on both sides, raising the pace of the current to something close to twenty miles per hour.
Jak joined J.B. on the steering oar, while Doc and the women also took an oar each, ready to aid in the struggle if the raft got out of control. Unable to do much by way of steering, Ryan propped himself up at the front of the craft, struggling to balance on the spray-soaked logs, keeping a watch out for any dangers in the rapids ahead.
“Bridge!” he shouted, sporting a spidery edifice of strung ropes that dangled low over the foaming surface of the Tennessee, around six hundred yards in front of them.
“And people!” the Armorer yelled, pointing with his right hand to movement at the top of the cliffs.
Ryan stared up, seeing about a dozen men, all of them gesticulating and running, moving fast toward the narrow bridge. Peering through the spray, he made out that some of them were carrying coils of rope with what looked like long hooks attached to their ends.
“Aiming to catch us!” he yelled.
“Off the bridge,” Krysty said. “They’ll try and snag us from the bridge.”
Ryan dropped to hands and knees and crawled back into the cabin, emerging with the Steyr. The raft was pitching so much that it would take an amazingly lucky shot to hit anyone until they got real close. But a few rounds buzzing around their ears might make them cautious.
“Steer to the right, away from them!” he shouted, pointing with the muzzle of the bolt-action SSG-70.
“Can’t!” Jak replied, his wet hair matting around his long, narrow skull. “Too fast!”
They were closing on the bridge at an amazing rate, rocking from side to side. Ryan steadied himself against the roof of the makeshift cabin, trying to draw a bead through the scope on the scampering men.
But it was impossible.
The roaring of the torrent made conversation hopeless. All of them could see the danger as the group ahead was already moving out onto the swinging bridge, allowing the iron hooks to dangle below them off the looping ropes. A couple of them had long guns strapped across their shoulders, but most seemed to be armed with daggers, swords and axes.