A cliff face rose up sheer from the side of the road on his left, its summit
lost in the hovering gloom that was split, every few seconds, by fierce jagged
traceries of lightning darting surreally about the sky. To his right, beyond the
road and the bush-matted strip of verge, was the lip of the gorge that plunged
heartstoppingly down to the river racing far below. Ahead was the road, rutted
and cracked and potholed, unused for generations, devastated by the angry
elements that feuded constantly day and night in these blasted and forsaken
mountains, winding steeply, disappearing around craggy bends. Behind, the road
snaked downward to the river, through grim foothills, past sick forest and
leprous meadow out to an even grimmer plain.
“Reacher, dammit! What the hell do you see?”
Reacher wiped an arm across his face, leaned groggily against the black granite
of the sheer cliff, stared sullenly at the three men facing him.
First, McCandless. Always first. The leader. The guy who had brought them
together, the guy who had succeeded where everyone else, every mother’s son over
the past three or four decades, had failed. That was his boast. Black bearded,
scarred, glaring eyed, hulking in his furs. McCandless was a brute schemer who
let nothing get in his way. He wanted power and he bulldozed opponents, anyone
who thought differently or acted differently.
Then Rogan. McCandless’s sidekick. Tall, craggy, stupid faced and stupid
brained. But handy with his shooter— that had to be admitted. Reacher had seen
how handy Rogan could be back in Mocsin when the tall, pea-brained man had shot
a guy’s nose away. Rogan hadn’t liked the way the guy had been badmouthing
McCandless, calling him crazy for even thinking of heading up into the Dark
Hills. Rogan had shot the tip of the guy’s nose off—one slug, swiftly done,
almost without thinking about it. Last Reacher knew, the guy was still alive.
And why not? All Rogan had done was blow his snout away. Nothing to it.
Then there was Kurt. Kurt was okay. Solidly built, stocky, thick reddish brown
hair, watchful eyes. Nothing seemed to worry Kurt. He took things as they came,
did the best he could in a bad situation. He, too, was handy with his gun,
handier than Rogan and McCandless put together. Which was why he was here, on
this rutted road that snaked blindly higher and higher into the Dark Hills.
McCandless didn’t care much for Kurt, but he cared a lot about the way he
handled a gun.
“Reacher, I’m gonna cut your heart out unless you tell us what you seen.”
McCandless’s voice was now low, thick with rage.
Reacher wearily pushed himself away from the rock-face.
“Don’t see anything, McCandless. You know that. I ain’t a doomie. I just smell
it.”
“I oughta get myself a doomie, Reacher. You ain’t paying your way.”
“You’d never have got a doomie, McCandless. You know that, too. Ain’t too many
of them guys around and most of ’em keep dark what they got.”
Rogan spat at the road. He growled, “Miserable mutie. Yer all the same. Ain’t
human an’ ain’t worth shit.”
He cringed back as McCandless suddenly turned on him. The leader lashed a gloved
fist across Rogan’s face. Rogan grunted, staggered back toward the precipice,
then tripped, sprawling only inches away from the drop. He glared up at
McCandless with red-rimmed eyes.
Around them the wind howled like a dead soul racked in chilly Hell. Lightning
flickered crazily; the air seemed charged with electricity. Even though the wind
was a cold and icy blast, the atmosphere was heavy, muggy. Reacher felt his
bones had been somehow turned to lead. His body was clammy with sweat under the
thick fur garments, even as the wind cut at his exposed face like a keen-bladed
knife.
Reacher watched Rogan crawl away from the chasm and scramble to his feet. Rogan
didn’t look at McCandless. He was breathing heavily, fingering his face where
the bulky man had struck him. Reacher didn’t need his uncanny power to tell him
that danger threatened now. Any fool could see that an explosion was only
minutes away.
But that was not what Reacher had smelled seconds before. He did not know what