“You know anything ’bout this place, Doc? Where we landed?”
“Upper New York, I believe you said, my dear fellow. Then that must be the Hudson. Or, perchance, the Mo-hawk River. Yes. I believe I have been here before. Hunt-ing in the Adirondacks for deer. Ah, so delicate and pretty until the ball struck them. Then the eyes glazed o’er and the spirit fled.”
“We head west for a few days, we could meet up with what’s left of the Trader’s party,” J.B. said, scratching at
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the stubble that darkened his chin. “Cohn an’ Ches, Kathy, Loz an’ all the rest of ’em in War Wag One. If’n they’re all still living.”
The idea attracted Ryan Cawdor. It seemed several lifetimes since he and the others had split off from the remnants of the Trader’s small army. Since then they’d suffered losses Abe, Hunaker, Okie, Finnegan and Henn. Already there were so many dead and near forgotten. So many.
“How far from the ville where your brother rules as baron?” Krysty asked.
“Forget it,” Ryan snapped.
“Why?”
“Because that’s past. Then was then, but this is now.”
“Virginia is not too far from here, my dear Ryan,” Doc said. “A few days traveling if we could only lay our hands upon some suitable transport.”
“I don’t give a-” Ryan began, stopping as Krysty’s fingers tightened on his arm. “Why d’you… ?”
“Because I know what you want, Ryan. I can feel it. Trust me. You have to go back to find your roots. To claim what is yours. You have to try.”
“Which direction is Virginia from here? The Shens were south of Newyork city. Must be south. Must be a good ways off.”
“Why don’t we just go look?” J.B. suggested. “I’d kind of like to meet your brother. Heard plenty ’bout him the last few weeks.”
“And none of it good,” Jak added, grinning.
“Let us journey on,” Doc said. “Truly, like brothers in arms.”
jak and J.B. managed to find a rope inside the re-doubt, dark blue plaited plaslon that was strong enough
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to lower a war wag over the cliff. They secured it at the top, and each member of the group rappeled down, land-ing safely among the scattered conifers dotted with stately hemlocks. Once everyone was down, J.B. hooked the bottom of the rope on a jagged overhang of splintered granite.
“Be there for when we come back from where we’re going.” He looked intently at Ryan. “Into the Shens, I guess.”
Ryan didn’t answer him. He led the way down the nar-row path, toward the river. The wind was not as forceful as they walked among the trees, and they could make out the sullen sound of the water as it rolled over great plat-ters of gray stone.
As he picked out the trail among the loose scree, Ryan thought back to the boy he’d once been. He thought about the great sprawling mansion that lay at the core of the ville of Front Royal, down in the blue-muffled Shen-andoahs, the endless waves of the Shens. And he thought of the man that he’d become.
Behind him, he heard Lori trip and stumble, cursing in her odd, flat little-girl voice. Doc soothed her. If only she’d throw away the ridiculous bright red thigh boots with the stiletto heels. He’d tried to persuade her to settle for combat boots, but the blond teenager had refused. And Doc hadn’t been any help. He’d merely grinned and commented how much he liked them.
“Upon my soul, Mr. Cawdor,” he’d said. “Surely a man must be permitted a little harmless deviancy, every now and again?”
The river grew closer, the sound of its rushing waters louder. The trees thinned out and the trail widened. Ryan stooped and examined the ground, seeing tracks that he recognized as elk, and the round pad marks of wolves. He
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knew from old books that in the olden times, before the long winters, wild animals had been limited to what had been called national parks. Bears and wolves lived only in the desolate high country, rarely seen by man. But since the nuking had decimated the population and destroyed every city, the creatures of the night had come back, growing bolder and often mutated into even more fero-cious beasts than before.