Hawk nodded. “Maybe.” He knelt in front of the dog for the second time. “Where’s Panther, Cheney? Can you find him?”
Cheney turned away and started off. Hawk and Bear followed wordlessly, moving across the rough terrain, wading through the haze. Hawk found himself somewhat reassured now that he had found Bear, a reasonable start to his efforts to get everyone back together again. With luck, Cheney would lead them to Panther and Catalya, and from there they would eventually catch up to the Lightning and the others. If the militia actually had given up pursuit, they might manage to reach the camp with the children and Helen Rice without further trouble.
He smirked at his own optimism. Unwarranted, unjustified, and totally unrealistic. Life did not work out like that in his world.
They walked for a long time–or what seemed to him a long time–before Bear spoke.
“Do you think you can really do it?” the big kid said quietly.
Hawk didn’t need to ask what he meant. He knew. “What do you think? Do you think I can?”
Bear shrugged. “I don’t know. You can do a lot of things no one thought you could. I think you can probably do some more. We all think that. But this? I don’t know.”
Hawk nodded. Fair enough. He found himself tired all of a sudden, as if the long journey from the walls of Safeco compound to the gardens of the King of the Silver River to the banks of the Columbia and finally to here had sapped him of his energy. He really didn’t know the answer to Bear’s question. He didn’t know if he could do it. How could he? He didn’t know where he was going or how far it actually was to the haven promised by the old man, the place where the coming destruction of everything could not touch them. He wondered if it even existed. He hated himself for thinking this way, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered how there could be anywhere safe in a world that was coming apart all around them. How could anyone survive such a thing?
Nevertheless, he knew he had to believe they could. He had to believe that his child would have a chance at life and not end up like so many others. His child and Tessa’s—he had to believe. He had to believe for the Ghosts, too. And for the children in the camp, waiting for him to lead them to safety. And for the others who would be joining them along the way. And maybe for the world’s future, as well. He had to believe.
But it was hard when there was so little reason to do so.
“When I was younger,” Bear said suddenly, “still living on the farm with my family, no one believed in much of anything. That was the problem. They only believed in what they could see. They believed in the present, but not the future. They were just hanging on, living day to day.”
“That’s what most do,” Hawk said.
“Not us. Not the Ghosts. We have something more. We have a future we believe in. That’s what’s different about us. We’re not just hanging on. We’re going toward something. Even if we can’t see it and don’t know exactly what it is. It doesn’t matter. Your vision feels real to me.”
He paused, head lowered. “So I guess maybe I do think you can do it.” Hawk looked over at him, and he shrugged. “You’re not like the rest of us. Even before I knew about this gypsy morph thing, I knew that. That’s why we all follow you.”
“Maybe my vision isn’t going to work out,” Hawk said.
Bear shook his head. “You don’t believe that.”
“No, I don’t guess I do. I think it’s real. I just wish I knew more about it than I do.”
“Maybe you know all you need to know.”
Hawk smiled despite himself. Such faith. “Maybe I do,” he agreed.
Ahead several paces, Cheney suddenly gave a low growl, and the thick hair on the back of his neck bristled. He stopped moving, freezing in place. Hawk stopped, too, listening. He heard Bear release the safety on the Tyson Flechette. Then nothing. He waited a moment. Cheney growled again and started forward. Hawk and Bear reluctantly followed. Neither liked it that they could see so little. Neither liked the idea of encountering a danger they couldn’t measure in advance. But there was nothing they could do about it; they had to keep moving and find out what was waiting. Better to find it than to let it find them.
They walked in silence, eyes and ears trained on the dark and mist, searching for some indication of what Cheney had sensed. The big dog walked point, head lowered and swinging side to side. He had stopped growling, but Hawk couldn’t be sure if that meant the danger had passed or if Cheney was just masking his presence. The silence was unnerving, but he held himself steady and waited it out.
When the screams started, not long after that, they drew up short instantly. Cheney cast about, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. Bear’s stoic face turned pale and then empty of expression. Hawk listened to the screams rise and fall and then disappear. He could not be sure where they had come from. He couldn’t tell who had uttered them. The haze distorted both vision and sound and lent a feeling of disorientation to everything. Hawk tried to sort out what he was hearing and couldn’t.
When the screams stopped, they stood where they were for a long moment, waiting for more. When nothing happened, Bear said, “Should we take a look?”
Hawk shook his head. “Not in that direction.” He took a deep breath, reached down to touch the tire tracks of the AV in the loose soil, and said, “Cheney, track.”
They set off a second time, decidedly uneasy now, less certain of themselves. Hawk, carrying only a prod, reached into his pocket and extracted a viper–prick. If something was going to happen, he thought, it was going to happen soon. He glanced skyward and wished for what must have been the hundredth time that the mist and clouds would clear. But he knew his wish was futile, that there would be no clearing before dawn and perhaps not even then. Finding their way would depend on luck and Cheney’s instincts. Finding the others might depend on more than that.
The minutes dragged on. The silence and the night deepened. Cheney kept moving at a steady pace. Nothing appeared. Hawk had almost decided that nothing would when Cheney gave a deeper, more threatening growl.
Ahead, masked by the haze, something moved.
A BRIGHT PAIR OF EYES appeared from out of nowhere as Sparrow swung the barrel of the Parkhan Spray about, her finger tightening on the trigger. The safety was already off, the clip locked and loaded, and the weapon ready for firing. She almost went the whole way, so startled by the movement that she was ready to shoot anything. She held up just in time, even though the glint of those big eyes caused everything inside to tighten from her throat to her knees. Something about those eyes, some small detail, made her pause, and a second later Cheney’s grizzled head swung into view, clearing the curtain of the mist.
The big dog moved toward her, and a second later Hawk and Bear appeared right behind him.
“Hawk!” she called, lowering her weapon and rushing over to him. “Jeez, am I glad to see you!”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Sparrow, what are you doing out here? I thought you were in the AV. What happened to the others?”
She hugged him impulsively. “I don’t know,” she said into his shoulder, refusing to let go. Clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. Very unlike Sparrow.
As if sensing what he was thinking, she stepped back and abruptly released him. “I was thrown off the roof of the Lightning after we got separated, and they didn’t know I was gone. I’ve been wandering …” She gestured toward the wall of mist. “All over.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Hawk, I think there’s something out there, tracking me.”
“There’s something out there, all right,” he agreed. “But I don’t know that it’s tracking you. I think it’s just mist and night and some militia people running into each other. Look, we have to get moving, follow the tire tracks of the AV until we find them. It’s not safe to stay here.”