"Let's get the other stuff," he said.
They stood up, Newman's eyes scanning the blank wood-line around them, and ran for the pack boards "Take that one on the tree," Newman said.
His wife shoved it into the tent. The flames were crackling now in the dry wood. The sleeping bag began to smolder. Janet ran to the other side of the clearing and picked up another pack board Her husband had two slung by the shoulder straps over his left arm. He held the knife blade in his teeth and the carbine in his right hand. He threw the two pack boards into the tent through the open front flap. Janet put the last pack board in. The sleeping bag was burning.
"Will the tent burn?" Janet said.
"It's nylon," Newman said. "It should melt, and when it does it will carry the burning meltage into the pile of packs and stuff. Or it should."
They turned and slipped back into the shadow of the woods. Behind them the tent fabric began to shrink and then coalesce. Holes appeared in it as burning trickles of melted chemical dropped onto the fire below.
The fire burned hotter. "Uphill," Newman said.
She followed him without a sound as they climbed over the tabletop rock and splashed through the stream that splayed across it. Behind them ammunition in the packs began to explode in rattling pops. The tent diminished into a seething wallow of chemicals and flame. The smell of it filled the woods, oddly foreign, an industrial smell in the pristine forest. The starlings flew away.
The upgrade was steeper now as they moved up the trail, Newman first, Janet behind him. Almost at once they were out of sight of the camp, though they could smell the fire and hear the ammunition rattling off.
Janet had the knife back in her scabbard. Newman had the hatchet stuck in his belt at the small of his back. He carried the carbine with both hands now, ready to fire. His hand tense on the trigger guard, listening for footsteps, fearing the sudden confrontation as the trail bent and the enemy came hurrying down toward the fire. But they met no enemy.
They stopped to rest.
"Why uphill?" Janet said.
"I figure they'd be looking for us downhill, and I didn't want to run head-on into them coming up the trail."
"Why wouldn't they be looking for us uphill?"
"Because we were downhill last they saw of us. Because like us, I bet their whole mental orientation is downhill, back toward the lake and the cottages and, you know, civilization. When we ran yesterday, which way did we go?" "Downhill," she said.
"Right. In my mind we're on the end of a long string that stretches back to the lake but not ahead. You know?"
"Christ, you think in such elaborate pictures."
"I know. And I know you don't. I see ideas, you think them. It's one reason we argue, I guess."
"Now what?" she said.
"Now we swing around through the woods and go back down past them."
"Why didn't we do that in the first place?"
"Because we had to get away. We were in a hurry. Now we're not. Now we can sneak slowly back and cut them off below. We can't let them get out of here. They know who we are. We have to kill them all. If any one of them gets away we're as good as dead."
"I know." "Four men," Newman said.
"I don't mind," she said.
Looking at her face in the slow-fading afternoon light, he knew she meant it. He felt the same surge of strength he'd felt before, looking at her face. The permanence of it, the hard resolve. She had an intensity of single purpose he'd never had. He could endure. But she could persist.
"You've always been tougher than me," he said.
She smiled at him. "That's because I've always had you to back me up," she said. "You never seem to understand that."
He patted her shoulder. "Well it's you and me now, babe," he said.
"We better start downhill before it gets dark," she said.
"Yeah. We don't want them ahead of us."
"What if they headed straight back for the lake as soon as they saw the fire?"
"I can't believe they would," he said as they began to work their way through the woods, swinging west of the trail and downhill. "They'd try to put out the fire. They'd try to salvage things. They'd look around for us. They'd get together and talk about what to do. It'would take them a little while to realize they're stuck out here with no supplies and a full day's walk from the boats. It's almost dark. They won't want to blunder around in the dark not knowing where we are. I say they'll find someplace to hole up and take turns standing guard and wait until morning."
"I hope you're right," she said softly.
He took a small compass out of his pack. "We'll head southeast," he said, "and keep the path on our left. That way we won't get lost in the dark."
They moved as quietly as they could. It was slower going through the woods and it was dark before they were close to the campsite again.
They could smell the harsh chemical smoke. He reached behind him in the darkness and took her hand. He heard human voices and they both stopped motionless. They listened. The voices went on but they were only voices. Newman couldn't hear meaning. He put his mouth against Janet's ear.
"Can you hear them?"
"Yes," she whispered, "but I can't hear what they're saying."
"Me either."
"Should we try for them now?"
"No," he whispered. "There's four of them and two of us and it's dark.
We want to get them when the odds are with us. When they're in clear sight and we're not. We don't know where all of them are. It could even be a trap."
"Yes," she whispered. "You're right."
They moved along through the woods, periodically crisscrossing the trail. Every few minutes Newman stopped and checked the compass, Janet holding the flashlight with her hand over the lens and her fingers split just enough to let a small sliver of light shine on the compass.
The human voices faded, and soon the chemical smell. The night sounds of the woods and the smell of the forest were all there was.
CHAPTER 27.
They were exhausted when they stopped. They had not slept since they entered the woods. They had been on their feet since sunrise, moving through thick forest. They had eaten a handful of berries. He could hear water running over rocks and remembered how thirsty he was.
"We'll stop," he said.
Janet came to a halt behind him and stood motionless, her head hanging, numb with exhaustion.
"We must be a mile or so below the camp now," Newman said. "We better sleep here or we'll fall over."
Janet stood without sound. The moon was up. It filtered, nearly full, through the trees, and Newman could see dimly around him. The trail was just to his right. Across the trail were two enormous boulders, upended, carried along and dropped there in another geologic time by the glacier. He walked closer to the boulders. Janet didn't move.
Between the rocks was a space five feet wide. Newman shone his flashlight into the opening. It ran back between the two boulders for ten feet before they pressed together to form a cul-de-sac. He stepped in and straightened. The boulders were higher than his head. He could still hear the water. He stepped out from between the rocks and listened. He stepped around the rocks. There was a stream. He wondered if it were the same one. It would have to curve back, he thought. But they do that, I imagine.