Three times they found tracks. Once in the comparatively softer soil in a small gully west of the woods. The second set of prints was discovered on the narrow plain. And the last impressions were imbedded in the moist earth next to a trickle of a creek bisecting the hills.
Early on, one fact became readily apparent. The mutations were moving at a swift rate, indicated by the manner in which their footprints were imbedded in the dirt. Because of their weight and their speed, they tended to splatter the mud and earth outward when their feet came down hard.
Blade tried to save time by deducing the probable route taken by the creatures. Most men and animals usually took the path of least resistance; they would go around a mountain instead of over it, or they would skirt dense brush instead of plunging through a thicket. Not so with the Bear People. Blade perceived that the creatures intentionally preferred the most difficult course. Undoubtedly to discourage pursuit, the mutations went directly over hills and mountains and passed through thickets with apparent ease. Either they were incredibly clever or they were amazingly resilient.
Or both.
An hour went by. Then two. Three. By the fourth hour Blade’s simmering impatience threatened to shatter his normally superb self-control. He realized catching the things wouldn’t be easy, and his anxiety over Hickok and Geronimo mounted. He felt sympathy for Eagle Feather and Priscilla too. But the gunman and the Blackfoot had been his dearest friends since childhood. The three of them had been almost inseparable since the age of four. He knew himself well enough to know that if anything ever happened to them, he’d go crazy with grief. And there wouldn’t be a single damn member of the Bear People left alive when he was through.
Well, there wouldn’t be, anyway.
By late afternoon they were approaching a narrow pass through the mountains. The shadows were lengthening and the air becoming quite chill.
“We won’t find them today,” Achilles commented morosely.
“You never know,” Blade responded, his tone totally lacking conviction.
“If I ask you a question, will you promise me not to laugh?”
Surprised by the query, Blade looked at the novice. “What’s your question?”
“Why is it that all I can think of today is Priscilla? I mean, I hardly know the woman. We talked for a few hours. That’s all. And yet I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. I keep hearing the silken music of her voice and the cheery sparkle of her laugh. And when I close my eyes, I see every chiseled contour of her radiant beauty. Why?”
“You missed your calling,” Blade said, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
“What?”
“You should be a poet.”
“I’m serious, Blade.”
“And so am I,” the giant replied, and sighed. “Do you want the truth?”
“I would, expect nothing less from you.”
“You’re in love.”
Achilles snorted. “I hardly know the woman,” he reiterated skeptically.
“Tell that to your hormones.”
The man in the red cloak digested the news for half a minute. “Do you feel the same way about Jenny?”
Blade smiled happily. “Yeah. Which astounds me sometimes.”
“Why?”
“After all these years, even after having a son, I still love her as much as I did when we were first married,” Blade said. He chuckled. “Correction. I love her even more. When a relationship is based in love and nurtured by wisdom, the affection is bound to grow.”
“You sound like Plato.”
“Who do you think told it to me?”
“I wonder if she feels the same way about me,” Achilles remarked.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you mere. With a woman there’s no telling.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Men and women are two distinct varieties of the same species. We’re flip sides of the same coin. Although we can love one another and become as close as it’s possible for human beings to be, complete comprehension between a man and a woman is impossible. We’re essentially different from women, Achilles, and anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Achilles stared at the giant. “Are those Plato’s words?”
“They’re mine,” Blade said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Jenny with all my heart and soul, and I flatter myself that I know her better than anyone else does. But I still can’t predict her every thought and word, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to do so. That’s part of the mystique of romance.”
“What about those who claim that men and women are basically the same except for their sex organs?”
“They’re morons. In every part of our being, in our personalities, our minds, and our bodies, we’re different from women. Live with one for a while and you’ll see what I mean.
“I hope I do, one day.”
Blade stared ahead at the pass, a defile averaging ten yards in width and 20 feet in height, its walls composed of smooth, solid rock. He leaned forward and peered at the soil, seeking tracks. He entered the pass first, engrossed in scrutinizing the dirt, wondering if the Bear People would continue to the west on the opposite side of the mountain range. He was grateful the creatures were in such a hurry. Otherwise, he’d have to worry about the possibility of an ambush.
As it turned out, be should have worried anyway.
Blade realized his error the next moment when he heard a feral snarl from overhead and glanced up in lime to see a bestial form hurtling toward him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun was just rising above the eastern horizon when Hickok obtained his first clear look at his abductors. He’d been carried for hours, the creatures covering mile after mile, over hills and mountains and along a winding valley, and he’d expected them to keep going during the day. At dawn, however, they moved into, a stand of trees until they arrived at a spacious clearing, and the next thing Hickok knew, he was being unceremoniously deposited on the ground. He landed on his back, grunting from the discomfort, and glanced around.
Geronimo, Eagle Feather, Priscilla Wendling, and another woman were being dumped to the turf a few feet away.
Hickok stared at the creatures doing the dumping, the short hairs at the base of his neck prickling. He automatically reached for his Colts, groping from holster to holster, forgetting the guns were gone.
The Bear People, as the Flatheads referred to the mutations, did indeed possess an unnatural combination of human and bearlike trails. There were 37 of the creatures walking around, all adults, the majority males.
They stood between six and six and a half feet tall and weighed in the neighborhood of 210 pounds. Their shoulders were wide, their bodies endowed with rippling muscles, their legs perpetually bowlegged, and they walked with an odd, stooped-over posture. Bedraggled black hair hung to their shoulders and covered their shoulders, upper arms, abdomens, and legs. In contrast, their faces and upper chest were pale and hairless.
And what visages! Low, sloping foreheads were rimmed by beetle brows that protruded above dark eyes. The nostrils were long and rounded, much like the nostrils on bears, and their cheeks were concave. Pointed teeth glistened when they opened their thick-lipped mouths.
Other than deer-hide loin-clothes and skimpy tops covering the pendulous breasts of the females, they were naked.
Hickok struggled to a sitting position and glanced at his companions.
Geronimo was also sitting up. Priscilla lay on her right side, gawking at the mutations. Eagle Feather was intently scanning the clearing. The other woman, a brunette wearing beige slacks and a green blouse, had fallen to her knees and appeared to be too terrified to move.