And then I remembered Rob. Rob, who, last I'd seen him, had been spread-eagle on the floor of the True Americans' meeting house.
Which was now in flames.
I forgot about Seth. I forgot about Jim Henderson and Chick and the True Americans. All I thought about was getting to Rob, and as fast as humanly possible.
Unfortunately, that meant running across the snow toward a burning building while Hell's Angels and truckers on snowmobiles were ripping the place apart. It was a wonder I got as far I did. Part of it was due to the fact that Chigger appeared from out of nowhere, and, apparently thinking I still had mashed potatoes on me that he might be able to score, loped after me.
I didn't recognize him right away, however—there were other dogs running around the place, barking their heads off thanks to all the shooting—and I thought he'd been trying to bring me down. So I kicked up my heels, let me tell you.
But when I got to the barn doors and peered inside, all I could see were flames. The tables were on fire. The rafters were on fire. Even the walls were on fire. Though I couldn't lean in very far, due to the extreme heat, I could see that no one was inside … not even any unconscious motorbike mechanics who happened to be on probation.
Then I was suddenly yanked off my feet. Thinking a True American had gotten hold of me, I lashed out with my feet and fists. But then a familiar voice went, "Simmer down, there, little lady! It's me, old Chick! What choo want to do, light your hair on fire? Get away from those flames, they're hot!"
"Chick!" I squirmed around in his arms until I was facing him. He was barely recognizable in his winter gear, which included a thick pair of aviation goggles. But I didn't care how he looked. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life.
"Chick, have you seen Rob? They got him. The True Americans, I mean. They got Rob!"
Chick looked bored. "Wilkins is fine," he said, jerking a thumb at a rusted-out pickup sitting half-buried in snow about twenty yards away. "I put 'im in the back of that old Chevy. He's still out like a light, but it don't look too bad."
I clung to the front of his leather jacket, hardly daring to believe my ears. "But the blood," I said. "There was so much of it. . . ."
"Aw," Chick said, disgustedly. "Wilkins was always one to bleed like a stuck pig. Don't worry about him. He's got a head like a rock. He'll be all right, after a coupla stitches. Now what about this kid? Where's he?"
I looked around, and saw Seth still standing over by the ranch house door, shivering in the winter cold despite the heat from the many fires all around him.
"Over there," I said, pointing.
At that moment, a shot rang out. I ducked instinctively, but ended up with my face in the snow, thanks to Chick practically throwing me to the ground, then trying to shield me with his own body.
"Idiots," he muttered, not seeming the least discomfited by the fact that he was laying on top of a girl he hardly knew. "Told those boys we had to take out their muni shed first. But they said no way would the fools shoot at us with women and children around. They're true Americans, all right. True American assholes. Damn! You all right?"
I could barely breathe, he was so heavy. "Fine," I grunted. "Seth. Got to get Seth … out of range … of gunfire."
"I'm on it," Chick said. Then, mercifully, he climbed off me, and back onto his snowmobile. "You get on over to Wilkins," he said. "I'll get the kid and meet up with you, then we'll figure out a way to get the three of you outta this hellhole."
He took off with a spray of snow and gravel. I was still spitting tiny ice particles out from between my teeth when I heard a strange noise and looked down.
Chigger was still with me, and was doing the exact same thing I was—trying to get rid of all the snow and bits of dirt clinging to his hair.
I had, I realized, a new friend.
"Come on, boy," I said to him, and the two of us raced for the abandoned pickup.
They'd wrapped Rob in something yellow, then laid him out across the bed of the pickup. I scrambled up into it, Chigger following close behind. It wasn't so easy to see Rob's face in the dark, but there was still enough glow from the moon—not to mention the many fires all around us—for me to make out the fact that, as Chick had promised, he was still breathing, deeply and regularly. The wound on his head had stopped bleeding, and didn't look anywhere as serious as it had back in the barn. There it had looked like a hole. Now I could see that it was merely a gash, barely an inch wide.
Which was lucky for Mrs. Henderson. Because if she'd given my boyfriend brain damage, that would have been the end of her.
"It's okay," I said to Rob, brushing some of his dark hair from his forehead, and carefully kissing the place on his face that was the least smeared with blood. "I'm here now. Everything's going to be all right."
At least that's what I believed then. That was right before I heard the deep rumble in Chigger's throat, and looked up to see a wild man standing beside the pickup, his arms raised, and his face hidden by all his long, straggly hair.
Okay, okay. That's just what it looked like at first. I realize there's no such thing as wild men, or Sasquatch, or Bigfoot or whatever. But seriously, for a minute, that's what I thought this guy was. I mean, he was completely covered in snow, and standing there with his arms out like that, what was I supposed to think? I screamed my head off.
I think Chigger would have gone for the guy's throat if he hadn't waved the hands he had extended toward me and cried, "Jessica! It's me! Dr. Krantz." I grabbed hold of Chigger's thick leather collar at the last possible minute and kept him from leaping from the cab bed to Cyrus Krantz's neck.
"Jeez!" I said, sinking back onto my heels in relief. "Dr. Krantz, what is wrong with you? Don't you know better than to sneak up on people like that?"
Dr. Krantz flipped back his enormous, fur-trimmed hood and blinked at me through the fogged-up lenses of his glasses.
"Jessica, are you all right?" he wanted to know. "I was so worried! When these animals on the snowmobiles showed up, I thought I'd lost you for sure—"
"Take it easy, Doc," I said. "The guys on the snowmobiles are on our side. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought I told you to go home."
"Jessica," Dr. Krantz said, severely. "You can't honestly think I would leave you out here in the middle of nowhere, can you? Your welfare is extremely important to me, Jessica. To the whole Bureau, in fact."
"Uh, yeah, Dr. Krantz," I said. "And that's why you're out here on your own. Because the Bureau was so concerned for my welfare, they sent out backup right away."
Dr. Krantz pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "I tried to call for help," he explained, sheepishly, "but there must not be any relay centers this far into the woods. I can't get a signal."
"Huh," I said. "That'll make Jim Henderson happy. He's all against contact with the outside world, you know. It infects the youth with liberal ideas."
"This Henderson is an extremely unsavory character, Jessica," Dr. Krantz said. "I can't understand why you felt compelled to take him and his lot on all by yourself. You could have come to us, you know. We would gladly have helped."
"Well," I said. I didn't mention that I hadn't been too impressed by the way Dr. Krantz and his fellow law enforcement officers had handled the True Americans so far. "What's done is done. Look, Doc, I gotta get Rob to a hospital. Do you think you could help me carry him to your car? I know he's heavy, but I'm stronger than I look, and maybe between the two of us—"
But Dr. Krantz was already shaking his head.
"Oh," he said. "But I didn't drive out here, Jessica. It would be quite impossible to get an automobile way out here. The way is virtually impassable thanks to the snow, and besides, there aren't really any proper roadways to speak of. I suppose that is part of the allure of places like these for folks like Jim Henderson—"
"Wait a minute," I said. "If you didn't drive, how did you follow us out here?"