“He made his choice,” said Arie, “and we didn’t interfere with it.” She looked around them. The morning was clear and sparkled with thin frost. Ground fog hovered over the pasture-turned-meadowland, and the early sun turned the long ribbons a breathtaking, prismatic gold.
“Whoever he was,” said Handy, “he’s getting a farewell today that he missed before.”
“Rest for him, rest for the Mother,” said Arie. “Now,” she told Kory, “we have a long walk today. Let’s get started.”
Even as they made a move to set out, Handy raised a palm. “Hold up,” he said. “The five of us, we’ve been out, away from town for a long time now. Arie, you said it yourself—as a group, we don’t have much experience with the world out here.” He pursed his lips, looking north.
“When I traveled to Eureka to find my sister, I saw evil things. I told you some of them, but not all. By myself, I could get around a lot of it. Quick to duck out of sight. That’s not so simple with a group. The next best thing to not being seen at all is to not be seen as an easy target. Curran, you’re the most intimidating thing about us, so carry the rifle in hand.” Curran wordlessly swung the Remington off his shoulder and thumbed the safety.
“We need to stay close. No forging ahead or dropping behind. If you need to stop, say something. Talus is our scout for now.” He gave the dog’s rump a vigorous scratch and she closed her eyes. “Our numbers make us vulnerable, but that’s our advantage, too.” He gestured at his face. “All eyes, watching in all directions. Out here, we have decent visibility, but nearer to town we won’t.” Finally, he looked at Arie. “Or in town. What do you think?”
Arie studied the visible tops of the buildings up on the hill. “I haven’t seen a town in two years, nor what’s been done to them since. What do you think the odds are we’ll find anything useful?”
“Nygaard’s is really close,” said Curran.
“What’s that?” Arie asked.
“A sporting goods store, about three blocks up. I’d love to at least give it a pass.”
“Wouldn’t that be the first place people would raid?” said Renna. “Except maybe the supermarket and gas station.”
“There isn’t a store or building that hasn’t likely been stripped clean by now,” said Arie. “But there comes a point when the few souls left stop looking, thinking they’ve seen it all. Hard to say what they might overlook.” She pulled speculatively at an earlobe. “I favor giving it a try.”
“Are we agreed?” said Handy, looking at each of them.
“If we get that far in and things feel wrong, we backtrack,” said Renna.
“Yes,” said Arie. “We not only watch for trouble, we feel for it, too. You know what I mean.”
“Goosebumps,” said Kory.
“That’s right,” said Handy. “The rest of us need to keep a weapon at hand, too.” He rested his palm lightly on the handle of his knife. “This way,” he told Kory. “Anyone who sees you understands you’re on guard, and most of the time they’ll steer clear.” Kory did as Handy had, right palm on his knife. For good measure, he pulled the shot from his back pocket.
“Good,” said Arie. “Practicing to be ready is how you teach your body to be ready when trouble comes.”
“One other thing,” said Handy. He was speaking to everyone, but he put a hand on Kory’s shoulder as he spoke. “The more people were clustered up before the pox, the more dead bodies there were afterward. You’ll likely see plenty up there.” He gestured toward Arcata with a tilt of his head. “Our benefactor back in the truck barn is not likely the hardest thing we’ll see. There’s no way to prepare for that,” he said.
And no way to unsee it later, thought Arie. “A good reminder, Brother,” she said. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
The final mile of bottomland was a heavier slog than any of it they’d tramped through the day before. The Mad River, which had run on their right, now took its wide turn toward the sea. As they approached its banks, the ground declined and became mucky underfoot.
Once they broke through the worst of the weeds, the issue became finding a place to cross. Wet weather had brought the river just shy of flood stage. Even though the current was manageable, none of them relished the idea of wading in and being drenched up to their armpits. Despite their determination to stay together, they decided to split up and walk in opposite directions in search of a shallow spot.
“I’ll give a whistle every couple of minutes,” Handy said. “Arie, you whistle back. A double if you want to turn back and meet up.”
“Shout ‘here’ if you find a place,” said Arie, “and we’ll do the same.”
Handy, Renna, and Kory turned toward the coast. Arie, Curran, and Talus moved east. As promised, Handy whistled not long after they’d lost sight of each other. Arie stuck thumb and forefinger in her mouth and gave a piercing response. The bright sound seemed to bounce off the water, making Talus’s head pop up from her busy investigation of the narrow riverbank.
Curran grinned at her. “I hate to admit it,” he said, “but I’m jealous.”
“Of what?”
“That whistle. I never did learn how to do it that way. It sounds like a hawk calling. Now, if you want a really fine imitation of Jethro Tull, I’m your man.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” said Arie, squinting upriver with a hand lifted to shade her eyes in the silver glare of the overcast day.
Curran shook his head. “Only some long-gone, badass flute riffs, my friend.”
“Things only get worse in this direction,” she said. “Am I seeing this right?”
He craned his neck as they tramped ahead. “It doesn’t look too promising so far.”
Another whistle from Handy, this one not nearly as close. Arie signaled back. “I don’t think we need to go much farther,” she said. “We’re damned near walking backwards at this point, and the water looks deeper than the place we started.”
“Shit. Looks like we’re going to be getting soaked after all.”
Arie was about to give a double whistle and turn back, when they heard Handy’s strong, hey! Talus came to attention again with a single hearty woof.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Curran. “Let’s go find your pal Kory. Want to?” Talus’s tongue appeared in a doggy grin and she turned course.
Ten minutes later, they found their crossing.
“It’s a bridge,” said Kory, excited.
Sure enough, a big maple had fallen directly across at a narrowish bend, creating a natural path from one side to the other.
“Look at the multitude of feet that have beat us to this spot,” said Arie. The bank all around the base-end of the log was gritty mud and provided a clear record of how busy a thoroughfare this serendipitous bridge was. “How many do you recognize?” she asked Kory. He was able to spot duck, fox, and various birds. “These large ones are ravens, I’d say, and look—they left muddy prints right across to the other side.”
“Why?” asked Kory. “They don’t need a bridge to get over.”
“There’s a world of difference between need and want,” Arie said. “They’re tricksters, ravens. Do things for the sheer contrary joy of it. And look there, what a good dog has found.”
Talus was inspecting a place to one side of the bridge with particular care, nosing in the weeds so that her whole head kept disappearing.
“That’s huge,” breathed Kory.
“Cat,” said Arie. “A mature mountain lion. No wonder Talus is interested.” She surveyed the busy bend in the river. “They’ve made themselves their own thoroughfare. Isn’t it glorious? The Rightful Inheritors, going about their earnest business while we hang fire. As it always should have been, drat our big, fat brains.”