Sorry for the long delay in posting here. My laptop finally died and while waiting for a new one to arrive, I was writing and posting with an ipod. Unfortunately, I found it very difficult to navigate this blog on said device, and was posting only on my forum during that time. You can find the link to the forum on this page on the right, just under the photo. I will now post all three missed chapters in the following post. Thank you all for reading!
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As soon as Liz set him down Will began dashing excitedly about the house exploring everything, wanting to touch each of the fascinating and highly varied animal hides and furs which sat draped over furniture and mounted in willow frames on the walls, the turtle shells bolted to the loft-post, and soon doing his best to climb said timber in an attempt to make contact with an armadillo shell which had especially captured his attention and sat just out of reach. While Susan and Liz kept an eye on the little one, Einar joined Bud back out at the truck, retrieving their packs and taking them, at the tracker's instruction, up to the loft.
Cozy little place, bed in the corner, a few tall bookshelves, windows looking out on the nearby peaks and railing of hand-hewn fir timbers allowing an open view of the living room below and out onto the wraparound deck where Muninn had settled on a post and was straightening his feathers after what had to have been the longest, strangest flight of his life.
"You and your lady and the little one can stay up here if you like, have the whole place to yourself while you're here. Sorry it don't quite live up to the standards you're used to, no slushy snow or tangle of prickly old brush for you to sleep on, but we can kinda remedy that by filling the bathtub with ice cubes for you to sleep in, tossing in an old roll of barbed wire or something, if it turns out you just can't abide a soft, dry bed at night..."
Einar nodded, grinned, said nothing, beginning to grow a bit dizzy in the warmth of the house, hearing muffled, eyes blurring, nothing seeming quite right.
"Ok then, ice cubes it is. Looks like you could use a good hot stove and about a gallon of steaming soup right now though. Take a minute, get settled in up here then come on down and we'll see what we can do about all that."
Bud left, Einar bracing himself briefly against the wall and catching his breath before moving both packs over against the wall and making a hasty examination of his own, somehow feeling a pressing need to be certain that everything was still there and as he had left it, ready to go should the situation demand. Thus assured, he put his knife back on his belt--Roger's Air Taxi and Smuggling Service boasted no regulations prohibiting carry-on weapons; they were, in fact, highly encouraged, but the cramped quarters had rendered wearing the knife somewhat impractical--and headed for the stairs.
Einar liked the loft, wanted to stay and explore the bookshelves--containing, he could see, numerous volumes the tracker must have brought back with him from Rhodesia--but could tell he had better get back downstairs in a hurry, lest he end up falling down them when he did try. The warmth of the place was leaving him increasingly dizzy, and he barely made his stumbling way to the bottom of the spiral stairs before the blackness overtook him.
Kilgore, mercifully, had gone straight to wash up and help Susan finish preparing the supper, leaving Einar to his own devices as he hastily wedged himself into a narrow space between the sofa and end table and sank to the floor, rifle propped between his knees and badly chilled body beginning to shake hard as the warmth of the house crept in around him. Though not pleased with this seeming inability to stay on his feet at a time when he would have very much liked to explore and inspect the entire house and grounds, Einar took some small measure of satisfaction in the fact that he had, at least, come to rest in a spot which allowed him to observe the door and the deck outside. Which at the moment meant a bird's eye view of the bird, Muninn doing plenty of his own exploring, hopping, flapping and taking flight to explore the area beneath the deck.
Looking past the raven, Einar studied the terrain below the house, aspen giving way to scrub oak and the driveway visible here and there through the brush, winding its way up towards the house. Even more of it, he was sure, would be observable from upstairs; clearly a site chosen by, and a house designed by, a man who had seen the elephant more than once. And wanted advanced warning should it ever happen to be approaching, again.
Though giving him plenty of space and allowing him to maintain for a time the illusion that no one had noticed his situation, both Bud and Susan were in fact closely watching Einar from the kitchen, which was separated from the main part of the downstairs only by a long counter with aspen wood cabinets beneath, everything wide open and airy, just the way the tracker liked it. After a few minutes Susan left Will in the charge of Bud, motioned to Liz and went to attend to Einar, whose face and hands had remained a rather unhealthy shade of purple, and who--though he would have vigorously disputed the assertion, had his shivering allowed for intelligible speech--seemed entirely incapable of beginning to warm up on his own.
Einar, having for the time accepted the place as reasonably safe and seeing, himself, no problem whatsoever with his current state of being, just shook his head in response to Susan's urgent words, smiled, and went back to watching the raven, the budding aspens, the world beyond.
****
Dismissing at first Liz's quiet hints and Susan's much more emphatic assertions that perhaps he ought to think about moving a bit nearer the stove and working to get warm, Einar might have been content to go on sitting there wedged in safely between pieces of furniture for a great while, had it not been for Will. The little one, having squirmed loose from Kilgore's grasp and gone dashing through the house in a joyful rampage of exploration and discovery, soon found Einar and joined him in his erstwhile hiding place. Not content to sit and be still with so many fascinating new things to explore, he grabbed his father's finger and insistently declared that he must "come! Come see bird!" This got Einar to his feet, following the boy over to a window and bracing himself against its sill as the two of them watched Muninn pick apart the remains of a Ponderosa cone which had some months ago been packed with peanut butter and rolled in bird seed as a winter treat for the jays and chickadees. Will wanted to go out and visit with the bird, chase him along the deck and perhaps borrow one of his irridescent tail feathers to see how it sparkled and shimmered in the sunlight, dragged Einar over to the door and pointed rather emphatically at the knob when no one made a move to let him out. Amazing, Einar thought, that the boy had already been able to figure out what door knobs were for, when he had never lived in a house with a proper door.
"No, not going out right now," Liz explained, when Einar just stood there staring out at the bird. "Maybe another time. Muninn is just having his supper, and soon we will have ours. So we have to stay in right now."
This did not particularly satisfy Will, who, once his mind had been made up on a particular course of action was all but impossible to distract, sway or dissuade. Rather, Liz could not help but think with a sideways glance at Einar, like his father. A trait which surely would alternately serve him well, and serve to trip him up in this life, as Einar's present determination to remain on his feet and away from the stove seemed to be doing for him, just then. Almost literally, for he was close to losing his balance, hanging onto the windowsill with white knuckles and a sort of resigned determination in his face which seemed to leave open no possibility of another course of action. Liz knew better, even if just then he could not, handed Will to Susan and took him firmly by the elbow--briefly he twisted away from her, face blank but body indicating that something hurt, and she resolved to investigate later, as he would be highly unlikely to let her know had he sustained any injury on the journey--led him over to a stool beside the stove before he had time to make any objection.
"Sit. You've been freezing for two days and two nights now, and I know the plane ride didn't make it any better. You might as well get warm while you have the chance. I'll bring you some tea."
Einar was about to mention how he was fine and really would prefer that tub full of ice cubes Kilgore had promised, but he was shaking too hard to make himself understood. Well. Time for that later. For the moment, perhaps the fire really was best. Though he had maintained a dogged grip on his rifle since arriving at the place, he was operating under no illusions as to his present ability to use it accurately should the need arise. Body was not working very well, not responding to his demands as quickly as he would have liked, everything seeming a bit foggy. Instead of gaining ground, he seemed to be losing it. Alright, perhaps, had they been out in the safety and seclusion of their own hills, but here... Lots of unknowns in this place, so many things that could go wrong, and he must be ready. Leaning the weapon against the nearby wall he clasped hands in front of his knees, pressed his elbows to his sides and allowed the heat of the fire to begin doing its job.
Not wanting to give Einar an excuse to leave the fire right away now that she had got him settled near it Liz dropped for the time the idea of making tea, sat with him, followed his gaze out the nearby window.
"Quite a view from this place, isn't there?"
He nodded. "Good place. Need to...get out and..." nodding at the door he encompassed the surrounding hillsides with an expansive sweep of his hand, somewhat frustrated with his seeming lack of ability to communicate verbally. Maybe the fire would loosen things up, after a while. For the moment though, Liz did seem to understand, more or less.
"You want to get out and explore the place?"
He nodded. "Got to borrow...Kilgore's hat or something. So it looks like him. So no one knows."
Uproarious laughter from nearby, Einar startled to his feet and nearly falling over before Liz caught him. "Oh yeah? You think it'd be that easy, do you?" The tracker crouched in front of the stove, adding another log. "Got to tell you fella, you'd need a lot more than a hat to pass for me right now. You're not even the same shape, man. Better stick to the house for now."
A good point, Einar supposed, though he would have been a good deal more at home with the present arrangement had he been able to scout the surrounding forest and decide on the two or three best exit routes from the house, the property. Not happening. Would simply have to wait, and Einar waited, inhaling with each breath the warm, living odors of rising bread and baking turkey from the kitchen, eyes nearly drifting closed despite his best efforts, not seeming to get any warmer despite the closeness of the stove and not understanding the fuss people seemed to be making when he drifted slowly sideways and fell off the stool.
**********
With supper soon to be ready and Einar clearly still struggling to get warm and regain full used of his limbs, Susan enlisted the help of Bud and Will to get the table ready, sending Liz and Einar to wash up in the hopes that some warm water might speed up the process. Einar, who harbored a good deal of antipathy towards warm water under the best of circumstances, was very uneasy about the idea of spending any amount of time in the bathroom, despite Liz's quiet insistence that it would only be polite for the two of them to do so after their long journey, before joining the others at the table. He assumed the place would have no windows, would not allow him to maintain the watch he had been keeping since their arrival, but Kilgore had, of course, designed it as he had designed the rest of the house, room in a corner with tall, narrow windows looking out in two directions, after which discovery Einar had little excuse and Liz talked him into taking a shower. He insisted on letting her go first, though, knowing she looked forward to it a good deal more than did he, and, though not wanting to admit to any such thing, needing some time to let his dizziness pass and hopefully avoid any more falls.
Happy to be clean after the long hike, flight and their dusty ride in the truck, Liz wanted to stay and help Einar off with his clothes, seeing that he seemed to be keeping one arm pressed tightly against his side whenever he moved in a way which indicated some sort of injury and wanting to get a better idea of what that might be. He insisted, though, that everything was fine and she really ought to go check on Will. Glancing back as she left, she saw that his entire left side was a mass of bruises along the ribcage, the result, she could only think, of the bumpy ride in the bed of Bud's pickup truck. Finally alone where no one could see and question him on the state of his physical existence Einar got down to the business of washing up, knowing better than to use water that was too warm unless he wanted to find himself losing consciousness and, as a result of this caution, only seeming to end up colder and shakier when he was all done. He managed eventually to get his clothes back on anyway, and join everyone at the dining table.
Supper that night was a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, wild turkey from Kilgore's freezer, Susan's mashed potato casserole with butter, cream cheese and chives, home-made cranberry sauce and buttered rolls, everyone rejoicing, feasting, Liz thoroughly enjoying it and Will getting his first taste of many things he'd never tried before. The cranberry sauce seemed especially to please him, somehow ending up all over one side of his face and up into his hair, as well as in his mouth, much to Einar's consternation when once he looked up had the momentary impression that his son was covered in blood. The situation very quickly became clear to him, fortunately, leading to a fit of silent laughter as he wiped the boy's face and dabbed with a napkin at the sticky redness in his hair. Will just squealed with delight and began applying fresh smears of cranberry.
Einar, wisely left by Susan to serve himself, had a tiny bit of turkey with gravy and a few bread and butter pickles which he chopped up very small before attempting to eat. Really did want to have more, cold as he was and knowing he needed fuel to get things headed in the right direction again, but he didn't want anyone to see that he was again having a difficult time swallowing. Had been a problem off and on out in the high country of late--could be any number of different causes, he'd told himself, but knew likely as anything was muscle wasting from his ongoing lack of food--but he'd been able to largely conceal the fact--or so he thought--by turning away from everyone while he ate. Not so easy to do at Bud Kilgore's big pine dinner table. So, he mostly stuck to the pickles.
Later, Bud and Susan gone to bed downstairs, the house quiet and Liz all clean and relaxed, she sat on the bed with Will and paged through a Field Guide to North American Mammals from one of Kilgore's bookshelves. It was the first time the boy had seen photos of animals he had grown up seeing in person, as well as many he had never seen, and the book held his rapt attention from the first page to the last. He wanted to see the book again, demanded in no uncertain language that his mother show him once more, but she gently refused, lowering him to the floor and beginning her preparations for bed.
Einar was dead tired, back braced against the good solid log wall as he watched Will play with a jar of marbles on the blue, white and green rag rug beside the bed and the gentle light of a single lamp radiating through its stitched rawhide shade to illuminate the scene, dead tired, but he did not want to sleep. Not in the bed with Liz and Will, anyway, not as jumpy and alert as he found himself here in this new place. Did his best to explain it to Liz, who had the bed turned down and was clearly looking forward to getting some sleep, rested his forehead briefly against hers in silent appreciation when she said she understood, smiled at the sight of Will already asleep lying sideways across the rug on his stomach, both fists full of marbles, and retreated to a corner near the top of the spiral staircase. Here he crouched against the wall as Liz turned out the light and hoisted the sleeping Will into bed, crouched and waited, watching the last of the light fade from around the peaks and stars start blinking into being as the sky blackened. The place was dark and quiet, both inside and out, Kilgore not one to put up with lights or noise from fans, clocks or anything else unnatural at night, and after a time, soothed by the silence, Einar's head began sagging in sleep, mind letting go for a time its constant vigilance, body gratefully accepting the reprieve.
Liz found him some time later sprawled out on the floor and covered him with a quilt, wishing she could get him up off the hard boards and prevent the inevitable stiffness and chill that would settle in his bones overnight, but grateful simply to see him sleeping.
23 March, 2016
15 February, 2016
15 February 2016
Rumbling down the road in Bud's old pickup, Liz and Will had soon worked their way out of their bag, too, Liz moving carefully lest she disturb the coverings with which the tracker had concealed them but Will fascinated both by the unfamiliar surroundings and the motion of the vehicle, wanting to explore. Liz corralled him, pointed out the crack through which his father was watching the world, and crept over closer to Einar.
"About sixteen miles from the airport to Bud's house, didn't he say?"
"To the turnoff, yes. Then a long climb up to the house on a dirt road."
"I like the sound of that. Sounds nice and out of the way."
Einar said nothing to that, face grim, appearing deep in thought. Nothing, she knew, to which one could drive on a road, dirt or not, would likely ever see remote and out of the way enough to him. Perhaps he was even beginning to regret the decision to leave the backcountry , now that they were on the ground at their final destination and his familiar hills were far behind them. It seemed better not to ask just then. They could talk about it later, after they were settled. He seemed completely focused on watching the road, keeping the rifle ready, and she left him to that, corralled Will and began quietly telling him about the things they were passing, other vehicles, the occasional old barn or shed, most having nearly succumbed to time and dry rot, and once, an irrigated pasture full of llamas. The boy seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his first road trip, fascinated, especially, each time a semi truck passed them going the opposite direction.
Truck slowing, turning, leaving the highway, and Einar's hands tensed on the rifle, a quick glance at Liz to make sure she was paying attention before he flattened himself lower against the truckbed, squinting out through the crack along the tailgate. Wished he could get a look around the front of the vehicle, see what was up ahead, but could not. Had to trust Kilgore, hard to do, hard to trust anyone, with so very much at stake, but he had put himself, and his family, in this situation, and now he had little choice. Tired. Bones hurt where they jarred against the truck bed, and had the situation not demanded of him such a level of intensity and alertness, he might have been having a difficult time staying awake. Liz wordlessly put a hand on his arm, gave it a squeeze, almost there...
Slowing further, rolling to a stop, daylight creeping in from outside becoming less intense, shaded, somehow, though from his perspective Einar could not make out what was creating the shade, and then Bud cut the engine, stepped out, slammed the door.
"Ok kids, that's it. We're home. Now, just in case you were getting any ideas on that long ride...hey, don't deny it, I could smell the gears in your brain smokin' from turning so fast...anyway, you ought to know that Sue and I spent last night here, and I made real sure there are no surprises waiting, no eyes or ears in the place aside from our own. So no need to worry about any of that. You just keep under the roof when you leave the vehicle, so you're hidden from above, and come on in when you're ready."
The tracker left, then, Einar hearing the house door open and then shut behind him, and they were alone. No reason to wait, nothing to gain, really, yet Einar found himself having a difficult time with it, not wanting to move from the protective little cocoon of the truckbed. Too bad. Time to move, and he did, motioning Liz in behind him as he dropped the tailgate, rifle ready, only silence meeting him outside. Silence, and the sound of the wind in aspens just barely leafing out; springtime down there in the high desert. Quickly scanning the area Einar found himself in a carport, cover from above but no walls, and he stood blinking in the bright daylight, swaying, bracing himself against the truck, standing up straight.
"Come on out, Lizzie."
She joined him, Will on her hip, and together they walked to the door, where Bud met them, escorted them in.
"Welcome home, soldier. My home, yours too, for as long as you can stand it. Glad to have you here."
With a hasty glance Einar took in the room, eyes lingering on the assegai hung above the stove, kudu hide draped over the railing of the loft upstairs, the view of the San Francisco Peaks through a pair of large triangular windows near the ridgepole upstairs in the loft. All around the house the aspens were leafing out, soft‐shouldered form of Mt. Humphreys rising in the distance through their brilliantly yellow green trembling leaves, and it looked a lot like home...
"About sixteen miles from the airport to Bud's house, didn't he say?"
"To the turnoff, yes. Then a long climb up to the house on a dirt road."
"I like the sound of that. Sounds nice and out of the way."
Einar said nothing to that, face grim, appearing deep in thought. Nothing, she knew, to which one could drive on a road, dirt or not, would likely ever see remote and out of the way enough to him. Perhaps he was even beginning to regret the decision to leave the backcountry , now that they were on the ground at their final destination and his familiar hills were far behind them. It seemed better not to ask just then. They could talk about it later, after they were settled. He seemed completely focused on watching the road, keeping the rifle ready, and she left him to that, corralled Will and began quietly telling him about the things they were passing, other vehicles, the occasional old barn or shed, most having nearly succumbed to time and dry rot, and once, an irrigated pasture full of llamas. The boy seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his first road trip, fascinated, especially, each time a semi truck passed them going the opposite direction.
Truck slowing, turning, leaving the highway, and Einar's hands tensed on the rifle, a quick glance at Liz to make sure she was paying attention before he flattened himself lower against the truckbed, squinting out through the crack along the tailgate. Wished he could get a look around the front of the vehicle, see what was up ahead, but could not. Had to trust Kilgore, hard to do, hard to trust anyone, with so very much at stake, but he had put himself, and his family, in this situation, and now he had little choice. Tired. Bones hurt where they jarred against the truck bed, and had the situation not demanded of him such a level of intensity and alertness, he might have been having a difficult time staying awake. Liz wordlessly put a hand on his arm, gave it a squeeze, almost there...
Slowing further, rolling to a stop, daylight creeping in from outside becoming less intense, shaded, somehow, though from his perspective Einar could not make out what was creating the shade, and then Bud cut the engine, stepped out, slammed the door.
"Ok kids, that's it. We're home. Now, just in case you were getting any ideas on that long ride...hey, don't deny it, I could smell the gears in your brain smokin' from turning so fast...anyway, you ought to know that Sue and I spent last night here, and I made real sure there are no surprises waiting, no eyes or ears in the place aside from our own. So no need to worry about any of that. You just keep under the roof when you leave the vehicle, so you're hidden from above, and come on in when you're ready."
The tracker left, then, Einar hearing the house door open and then shut behind him, and they were alone. No reason to wait, nothing to gain, really, yet Einar found himself having a difficult time with it, not wanting to move from the protective little cocoon of the truckbed. Too bad. Time to move, and he did, motioning Liz in behind him as he dropped the tailgate, rifle ready, only silence meeting him outside. Silence, and the sound of the wind in aspens just barely leafing out; springtime down there in the high desert. Quickly scanning the area Einar found himself in a carport, cover from above but no walls, and he stood blinking in the bright daylight, swaying, bracing himself against the truck, standing up straight.
"Come on out, Lizzie."
She joined him, Will on her hip, and together they walked to the door, where Bud met them, escorted them in.
"Welcome home, soldier. My home, yours too, for as long as you can stand it. Glad to have you here."
With a hasty glance Einar took in the room, eyes lingering on the assegai hung above the stove, kudu hide draped over the railing of the loft upstairs, the view of the San Francisco Peaks through a pair of large triangular windows near the ridgepole upstairs in the loft. All around the house the aspens were leafing out, soft‐shouldered form of Mt. Humphreys rising in the distance through their brilliantly yellow green trembling leaves, and it looked a lot like home...
29 January, 2016
29 January 2016
Indistinct, muffled by layers of cloth and his position pressed into the ground, Einar struggled to make out words, to be certain beyond doubt as to the owners of the voices , but he could not. Could not see out, either, aside from a very small half moon shaped opening at the top of the bag, and though he very much wanted to see out, he hardly dared risk the movement necessary to facilitate it. Legs were all cramped up from the flight, knees drawn up to his chest as they had been to allow him to fit in the bag, and it bothered him, for he knew quick movement, should it become necessary, would be a tremendously questionable thing just then. Well. He could, at the very least, create a distraction and hopefully cover Liz's escape with Will, if it came to that. For which he would need his hands. Flexed his fingers, tried to find a bit of warm flesh against which to press them, restore some mobility, but without much success. Didn't seem to be a whole lot of warmth left anywhere, and though he was not shivering, he knew he probably ought to have been.
A stirring in the dirt near him, could not see its cause but knew he had earlier heard Liz's voice coming from that approximate spot as she quieted Will, and he twisted around in an attempt to get a look, finally spotted the other bag. That was it, explained the sounds he'd been hearing. Liz, it seemed, was very carefully attempting to wriggle over nearer him, difficult, he could only imagine, with Will crammed in there beside her and they still presumably having a need to appear as inert cargo, should anyone else be watching. Having no sense that anyone was particularly nearby at that moment and wanting to know if she had been able to see anything he was about to speak to her when the sound of approaching boots cut short his efforts. A few heavy footsteps, then silence. Einar inched his hands downwards, finger resting beside the rifle's trigger, though not in a position anywhere near what would have been ideal, its stock braced hard against the tops of his feet. Nothing ideal about the situation at all, but at least it was something, gave him some hope of being able to resist should the situation not be as it seemed.
More footsteps, some scuffing in the dirt and then a heavy boot made contact with Einar's ribs, not too hard, but hard enough that he had a difficult time restraining himself from making a physical response. Succeeded, lay still, waiting.
"This the stuff I ordered, Kiesl? Is it all here."
It was Kilgore; Einar relaxed slightly.
"Yep, it's all here. Air mail. Special delivery."
"Is it still...alive?" He again poked Einar in the side, a bit harder this time. "Don't seem too lively to me, and no way I'm payin' for deceased cargo."
The pilot laughed, took what sounded to Einar like a step to the side, placing himself between his cargo and the tracker. "Hey, cut it out. You break it, you buy it, alive or not. Only I was under the distinct impression that I was doing this on a pro bono basis, no so no pay coming my direction, one way or the other..."
"Oh, you'll get paid, alright. Show up at the house next Saturday whenever you get back into town, and we'll have some elk steaks on the grill. How's that for pay?"
"More than adequate! Ok, got to get back in the air. Have to be in Flagstaff in less than an hour."
Receding footsteps, and Einar, finally assured that they had no unfriendly company, rolled to his stomach, bringing him a few inches closer to Liz.
"You guys doing...ok in there? Will ok?"
Her voice came quickly, quietly. She sounded more anxious than he felt, and he wondered why, wondered what he was missing. "Yes, yes, fine. He slept most of the way. You?"
"I am ready."
"Ready?"
"Ready if...but Bud and Roger...I think they're alone so it's ok."
"You're really cold."
"What?"
"Hang on, we'll be there soon."
A strange conversation, Einar could not help but think, and there were other things he wanted to say, but words seemed rather difficult to come by, and besides, there were the footsteps again, and he braced himself as Bud and Roger each took an end of the bag and tossed it into what he presumed must be the bed of a truck. Liz and Will were next, that transfer much more gentle, a slam of the tailgate, some strange rustling as the tracker fiddled with sheets of some crinkly substance above them, not quite plastic and not quite metal, from the sound of it, and they were moving.
Wriggling and squirming, Einar managed at last to work one of his hands up to the top of the bag and out the hole where he could work on opening the thing. Took a long time but he got it at last, a rush of colder air meeting him. The truck, as he had guessed, was equipped with a camper shell, cover from above, so no reason to remain concealed in the bag. Above them Einar found several layers of mylar bubble insulation, which accounted for the crinkling after Bud had loaded them and whose purpose, he could only surmise, must be more to help prevent detection of their thermal signature from the outside than to keep his passengers warm. It was freezing in there, pressed as they were against the metal of the truckbed. He was freezing, anyway, and he struggled to get up into a sort of crouch in the hopes of having less of him in contact with the bed. Did not work, limbs largely refusing to respond and he left flopping rather unceremoniously back to the ground. Well, it was progress, anyway. At least he was no longer confined in the bag, could watch through a small crack where tailgate met truck, hopefully see in time should things start going wrong.
A stirring in the dirt near him, could not see its cause but knew he had earlier heard Liz's voice coming from that approximate spot as she quieted Will, and he twisted around in an attempt to get a look, finally spotted the other bag. That was it, explained the sounds he'd been hearing. Liz, it seemed, was very carefully attempting to wriggle over nearer him, difficult, he could only imagine, with Will crammed in there beside her and they still presumably having a need to appear as inert cargo, should anyone else be watching. Having no sense that anyone was particularly nearby at that moment and wanting to know if she had been able to see anything he was about to speak to her when the sound of approaching boots cut short his efforts. A few heavy footsteps, then silence. Einar inched his hands downwards, finger resting beside the rifle's trigger, though not in a position anywhere near what would have been ideal, its stock braced hard against the tops of his feet. Nothing ideal about the situation at all, but at least it was something, gave him some hope of being able to resist should the situation not be as it seemed.
More footsteps, some scuffing in the dirt and then a heavy boot made contact with Einar's ribs, not too hard, but hard enough that he had a difficult time restraining himself from making a physical response. Succeeded, lay still, waiting.
"This the stuff I ordered, Kiesl? Is it all here."
It was Kilgore; Einar relaxed slightly.
"Yep, it's all here. Air mail. Special delivery."
"Is it still...alive?" He again poked Einar in the side, a bit harder this time. "Don't seem too lively to me, and no way I'm payin' for deceased cargo."
The pilot laughed, took what sounded to Einar like a step to the side, placing himself between his cargo and the tracker. "Hey, cut it out. You break it, you buy it, alive or not. Only I was under the distinct impression that I was doing this on a pro bono basis, no so no pay coming my direction, one way or the other..."
"Oh, you'll get paid, alright. Show up at the house next Saturday whenever you get back into town, and we'll have some elk steaks on the grill. How's that for pay?"
"More than adequate! Ok, got to get back in the air. Have to be in Flagstaff in less than an hour."
Receding footsteps, and Einar, finally assured that they had no unfriendly company, rolled to his stomach, bringing him a few inches closer to Liz.
"You guys doing...ok in there? Will ok?"
Her voice came quickly, quietly. She sounded more anxious than he felt, and he wondered why, wondered what he was missing. "Yes, yes, fine. He slept most of the way. You?"
"I am ready."
"Ready?"
"Ready if...but Bud and Roger...I think they're alone so it's ok."
"You're really cold."
"What?"
"Hang on, we'll be there soon."
A strange conversation, Einar could not help but think, and there were other things he wanted to say, but words seemed rather difficult to come by, and besides, there were the footsteps again, and he braced himself as Bud and Roger each took an end of the bag and tossed it into what he presumed must be the bed of a truck. Liz and Will were next, that transfer much more gentle, a slam of the tailgate, some strange rustling as the tracker fiddled with sheets of some crinkly substance above them, not quite plastic and not quite metal, from the sound of it, and they were moving.
Wriggling and squirming, Einar managed at last to work one of his hands up to the top of the bag and out the hole where he could work on opening the thing. Took a long time but he got it at last, a rush of colder air meeting him. The truck, as he had guessed, was equipped with a camper shell, cover from above, so no reason to remain concealed in the bag. Above them Einar found several layers of mylar bubble insulation, which accounted for the crinkling after Bud had loaded them and whose purpose, he could only surmise, must be more to help prevent detection of their thermal signature from the outside than to keep his passengers warm. It was freezing in there, pressed as they were against the metal of the truckbed. He was freezing, anyway, and he struggled to get up into a sort of crouch in the hopes of having less of him in contact with the bed. Did not work, limbs largely refusing to respond and he left flopping rather unceremoniously back to the ground. Well, it was progress, anyway. At least he was no longer confined in the bag, could watch through a small crack where tailgate met truck, hopefully see in time should things start going wrong.
16 January, 2016
16 January 2016
Roger had done what he needed to do to fully conceal his cargo, and to keep it that way even at the other end when the bags would be unloaded, had insisted that everyone needed to stay inside for the duration of the flight, but he had left things fairly loose at the tops, both for the purpose of air exchange and, if need be, to accommodate the barrel of Einar's FAL.
As the flight went on Einar wished he could see out, wished he had a parachute, the idea of landing in an unfamiliar place with no foreknowledge of the terrain, cover and possible escape routes, and doing it with his family, beginning to seem a risk hardly worth taking. Too late to do much about it. They were committed, now. Liz was near him, speaking softly to Will, who clearly wanted out of the bag, and to be exploring—and in all likelihood flying—the plane. Einar smiled, tried to reposition himself slightly to alleviate a growing pressure on his ribs where he had ended up lying on a raised ridge of metal. Did not work too well, so he let things be as they were.
Tired. Had not noticed it until the plane had been airborne for some time and he, of necessity, lying still, but now it came over him as an inexorable force, heavy, all encompassing, so that after a time, nothing he could think of to do in that confined little space seemed to have the power to let him go on resisting it. Wanted to talk with Liz, plan, as well as they could, how things would go on the other end, but the weariness was very strong, and though it went against all of his instincts he figured it might be best to go ahead and allow himself a bit of sleep. Perhaps for half an hour, forty five minutes, no more. So he would be alert and ready at the other end, when things could really get interesting.
Liz wanted to talk, too, tried, but could not get Einar to answer with any reliability. His voice, when he did respond, was muddled, sleepy, and before long he stopped responding altogether. It was cold up there, a lot colder than she had imagined or expected, and she was worried for him, wished the bags were sleeping bags, and that they had all been able to share one. Will was unhappy at the confinement, wanted very badly to escape the bag and explore the unfamiliar wonders of the plane, so that she had quite a job keeping him still and reasonably content, and had little time to think about Einar for the last hour of the flight.
When finally Liz got Will to settle down and sleep and was able to wonder about Einar again, she found herself unable to rouse him through either speech or jabs to the spine with her elbow, but was reassured somewhat by the sound of his breathing, the occasional chatter of this teeth, until at last those things, too, were silent... Finally she managed to wriggle around so that she could press her back against his—still, not shivering, and she knew he should have been, frigid as the high altitude air had become—enough warmth, she hoped, to make a difference.
Sagebrush, oak brush, alkali soil. He could smell it, could feel its grit between his teeth as he lay where Roger had heaved him upon unloading the plane of its contraband cargo. Arms cramped up at his sides, hands beneath his chin, clasped around the rifle, and its presence was reassuring, even though he found himself at the moment neither in the position nor the condition to use it, had such been necessary. Couldn't feel his hands at all, face all stiff and strange, and he supposed he must have ended up a little chilly after the flight. Liz was there beside him. He could hear her speaking softly to Will, telling him to wait, to keep quiet, that they could get out very soon, but not quite yet, and then in the distance he picked up the grumble of an engine, vehicle creeping along in low gear, stopping. He twisted his head sideways, fought to get an eye up to the little hole at the top of the bag where light was getting in, managed at last and could see out, if barely.
Kilgore. It was Bud Kilgore who got out of the truck, boots stirring up white dust as he walked over to the plane. Boots were just about all Einar could see of him, but the man's identity was in no doubt, and the coiled knot of readiness in Einar's middle eased just a bit. This part, at least, appeared to be going according to plan, but there were too many variables, too much he did not know and over which he had not the slightest modicum of control. Well. A little late to be worrying about it, so, according to plan, he kept still and waited, did nothing to reveal his presence in the bag should someone be watching from air, ground or space.
Silence for far too long, as far as Einar was concerned, then the muffled sound of voices at what seemed a great distance.
As the flight went on Einar wished he could see out, wished he had a parachute, the idea of landing in an unfamiliar place with no foreknowledge of the terrain, cover and possible escape routes, and doing it with his family, beginning to seem a risk hardly worth taking. Too late to do much about it. They were committed, now. Liz was near him, speaking softly to Will, who clearly wanted out of the bag, and to be exploring—and in all likelihood flying—the plane. Einar smiled, tried to reposition himself slightly to alleviate a growing pressure on his ribs where he had ended up lying on a raised ridge of metal. Did not work too well, so he let things be as they were.
Tired. Had not noticed it until the plane had been airborne for some time and he, of necessity, lying still, but now it came over him as an inexorable force, heavy, all encompassing, so that after a time, nothing he could think of to do in that confined little space seemed to have the power to let him go on resisting it. Wanted to talk with Liz, plan, as well as they could, how things would go on the other end, but the weariness was very strong, and though it went against all of his instincts he figured it might be best to go ahead and allow himself a bit of sleep. Perhaps for half an hour, forty five minutes, no more. So he would be alert and ready at the other end, when things could really get interesting.
Liz wanted to talk, too, tried, but could not get Einar to answer with any reliability. His voice, when he did respond, was muddled, sleepy, and before long he stopped responding altogether. It was cold up there, a lot colder than she had imagined or expected, and she was worried for him, wished the bags were sleeping bags, and that they had all been able to share one. Will was unhappy at the confinement, wanted very badly to escape the bag and explore the unfamiliar wonders of the plane, so that she had quite a job keeping him still and reasonably content, and had little time to think about Einar for the last hour of the flight.
When finally Liz got Will to settle down and sleep and was able to wonder about Einar again, she found herself unable to rouse him through either speech or jabs to the spine with her elbow, but was reassured somewhat by the sound of his breathing, the occasional chatter of this teeth, until at last those things, too, were silent... Finally she managed to wriggle around so that she could press her back against his—still, not shivering, and she knew he should have been, frigid as the high altitude air had become—enough warmth, she hoped, to make a difference.
Sagebrush, oak brush, alkali soil. He could smell it, could feel its grit between his teeth as he lay where Roger had heaved him upon unloading the plane of its contraband cargo. Arms cramped up at his sides, hands beneath his chin, clasped around the rifle, and its presence was reassuring, even though he found himself at the moment neither in the position nor the condition to use it, had such been necessary. Couldn't feel his hands at all, face all stiff and strange, and he supposed he must have ended up a little chilly after the flight. Liz was there beside him. He could hear her speaking softly to Will, telling him to wait, to keep quiet, that they could get out very soon, but not quite yet, and then in the distance he picked up the grumble of an engine, vehicle creeping along in low gear, stopping. He twisted his head sideways, fought to get an eye up to the little hole at the top of the bag where light was getting in, managed at last and could see out, if barely.
Kilgore. It was Bud Kilgore who got out of the truck, boots stirring up white dust as he walked over to the plane. Boots were just about all Einar could see of him, but the man's identity was in no doubt, and the coiled knot of readiness in Einar's middle eased just a bit. This part, at least, appeared to be going according to plan, but there were too many variables, too much he did not know and over which he had not the slightest modicum of control. Well. A little late to be worrying about it, so, according to plan, he kept still and waited, did nothing to reveal his presence in the bag should someone be watching from air, ground or space.
Silence for far too long, as far as Einar was concerned, then the muffled sound of voices at what seemed a great distance.
05 January, 2016
5 January 2016
They did not have to wait long. Shortly after first light and before the sun came up Einar thought he could begin to hear a distant hum, faint, intermittent because of the terrain but then he was sure, pressing himself, and Liz and Will, up against the trunk of a dense, low‐branched fir so as to avoid detection until they could get a good look at whatever was skimming the treetops.
Roger—for it was indeed Roger, and he appeared to be alone—made one low pass of the meadow, banked, doubled back and set the little plane down neatly in its center, coming to rest safely but with little room to spare just before the trees, turning, positioned for takeoff before powering down. Unmoving, Einar watched as the pilot exited his plane, walked once around it, scanning the treetops and settled in, leaning, facing their hiding place, looking as if he expected to be there for a while. Not much else they could do, Einar realized, to assess the situation, and little purpose in further waiting; the point of decision had come. He turned to Liz, who met him with such a mix of hope, excitement and pleading in her eyes that even he, who normally found himself all but oblivious to such visual cues from other humans, could not miss or misinterpret her desires.
"You really want to do this..."
"I want to do it. Let's do it, Einar."
"What about the raven?" Muninn, who sat silent and solemn on Einar's shoulder, cocked his head and chortled softly at the mention of his name.
"Take him. He could make the flight, couldn't he, if we kept him still and quiet?"
Einar nodded, and Liz pulled off her stocking cap, handed it to him. "To put over his head and keep him still. So he doesn't panic. Do you need one, too?"
A slight hint of a crooked smile from Einar, though his eyes were very still when he looked at her, almost frighteningly distant. He shrugged, shivered, shook his head. "Been in plenty of planes. I'll make it."
He left the timber then, rifle at the ready, approaching Roger from his blind side, behind the plane, Liz and Will waiting in concealment until he gave them the signal.
"You're alone." He spoke not three feet from Roger's left shoulder, causing the pilot to crouch and whirl on his heels, simultaneously drawing a pistol whose presence Einar had suspected, but not been able to see, from the woods.
"Doggone it, man! Why you son of a slub‐skegged, glabrous‐pated, midden munching GOAT! Yeah. Alone. Hey, you almost got yourself shot right there. What were you thinking?"
Einar shrugged, leaned back against the plane. "Just testing your responses, that's all."
"Right. I'll thank you for it later, huh?"
"Right. Now, what happened to the others?"
"Two of 'em took Bud's truck and headed for Arizona by highway, last night. Wanted to get there ahead of us and check things out, make sure it was all as they had left it, and besides, this gives me more leeway with cargo."
Sounded ok to Einar, and he beckoned for Liz to join them. Roger watched her walk, tilting his head and critically examining her pack.
"This is not gonna be the ideal sort of weight distribution, especially for up here in the mountains. Better if one of you could ride up front with me, but that isn't a good idea, so we'll make it go. Need to put both packs up front, though, and anything else heavy that you've got with you."
The pilot hefted Liz's pack, then Einar's, estimating weights. "Good," he grunted, "good and heavy, help with balance. The lot of you together probably weigh...what? Twelve or thirteen for the little one, and maybe one‐seventy, one‐seventy‐five‐between the two of you?"
Einar gave a humorless chuckle, shook his head. "Not even. Knock off another twenty and you might be getting close."
"Yeah. Good. Helps a lot, today. Got to fix that real soon here ya crazy heap of animated bones, but not before this flight, ok? No eating before the flight."
"Got it."
"Now. I'm staying low so you folks'll have plenty of oxygen, but it's gonna be cold. You need to get anything else out of these packs before I load 'em, warm stuff for the flight?"
"Nah, I'll be...."
"Yes, we do." Liz was already digging in her pack, pulled out Will's blanket and another hat for herself, tried to get Einar into another layer but he was too busy walking around the plane, crouching, inspecting.
"Hey, that's my job," Roger snarled in mock outrage. "Get away from my plane."
Einar stood, stretched. "I didn't touch anything. Just looking for transponders."
"Transponders? Find any?"
"No."
"Good."
"Speaking of transponders, your truck still out at the airport?"
"No, I took it to Bud and Susan's last night and left it. Kinda seemed like some funny business going on there yesterday at the airport with the service trucks and all, but nobody had tampered with it. Didn't seem like a good idea to leave it there indefinitely, especially after somebody supposedly heard reports on a police scanner about one of the airport trucks going missing yesterday...didn't want to arouse anyone's suspicion."
"Went missing, did it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, they'll find it...eventually."
"I bet they will."
"So if you moved your truck, I guess you got the crates..."
"Look for yourself."
Einar looked. No crates. Relieved. Would have felt so trapped in one of those crates. So confined. Besides which they would have messed up the load even further made weight distribution more difficult. Which must have been why Roger finally decided against their use. The concept, though, had been a useful one. Concealment. Given the nature of the cargo, concealment of some sort was essential, and now they would be left to use the duffel bags which lay folded and ready.
Roger was ready to go, peering up at a few high streamers of cloud which had recently appeared from behind the horizon, and looking anxious. "We doing this?"
One last glance at Liz, at little Will, entirely enthralled by the plane and striving his hardest to reach up and touch a wing, and Einar nodded, took a step towards the plane and nearly fell when he stumbled over some not‐quite‐visible irregularity in the soil. Roger caught him, a firm hand on his wrist.
"You sure you're ok, man? You kinda feel like ice. Maybe you should eat before the flight."
"Huh? No, I'm fine. Let's get airborne, before your cargo changes its mind..."
Into the bags, then, they slithered with some difficulty in the close confines of the plane, Muninn secured somewhat unhappily in Liz's hat, Will going in with Liz and Einar taking the rifle with him, despite some degree of consternation from Roger, who really did not want holes in his aircraft should such be at all avoidable... They were ready to go, then, roughness of the meadow beneath Roger's tundra tires, a bump as they left the ground and then the smooth nothingness of rapid ascent as the powerful little plane climbed, banked, headed south.
Roger—for it was indeed Roger, and he appeared to be alone—made one low pass of the meadow, banked, doubled back and set the little plane down neatly in its center, coming to rest safely but with little room to spare just before the trees, turning, positioned for takeoff before powering down. Unmoving, Einar watched as the pilot exited his plane, walked once around it, scanning the treetops and settled in, leaning, facing their hiding place, looking as if he expected to be there for a while. Not much else they could do, Einar realized, to assess the situation, and little purpose in further waiting; the point of decision had come. He turned to Liz, who met him with such a mix of hope, excitement and pleading in her eyes that even he, who normally found himself all but oblivious to such visual cues from other humans, could not miss or misinterpret her desires.
"You really want to do this..."
"I want to do it. Let's do it, Einar."
"What about the raven?" Muninn, who sat silent and solemn on Einar's shoulder, cocked his head and chortled softly at the mention of his name.
"Take him. He could make the flight, couldn't he, if we kept him still and quiet?"
Einar nodded, and Liz pulled off her stocking cap, handed it to him. "To put over his head and keep him still. So he doesn't panic. Do you need one, too?"
A slight hint of a crooked smile from Einar, though his eyes were very still when he looked at her, almost frighteningly distant. He shrugged, shivered, shook his head. "Been in plenty of planes. I'll make it."
He left the timber then, rifle at the ready, approaching Roger from his blind side, behind the plane, Liz and Will waiting in concealment until he gave them the signal.
"You're alone." He spoke not three feet from Roger's left shoulder, causing the pilot to crouch and whirl on his heels, simultaneously drawing a pistol whose presence Einar had suspected, but not been able to see, from the woods.
"Doggone it, man! Why you son of a slub‐skegged, glabrous‐pated, midden munching GOAT! Yeah. Alone. Hey, you almost got yourself shot right there. What were you thinking?"
Einar shrugged, leaned back against the plane. "Just testing your responses, that's all."
"Right. I'll thank you for it later, huh?"
"Right. Now, what happened to the others?"
"Two of 'em took Bud's truck and headed for Arizona by highway, last night. Wanted to get there ahead of us and check things out, make sure it was all as they had left it, and besides, this gives me more leeway with cargo."
Sounded ok to Einar, and he beckoned for Liz to join them. Roger watched her walk, tilting his head and critically examining her pack.
"This is not gonna be the ideal sort of weight distribution, especially for up here in the mountains. Better if one of you could ride up front with me, but that isn't a good idea, so we'll make it go. Need to put both packs up front, though, and anything else heavy that you've got with you."
The pilot hefted Liz's pack, then Einar's, estimating weights. "Good," he grunted, "good and heavy, help with balance. The lot of you together probably weigh...what? Twelve or thirteen for the little one, and maybe one‐seventy, one‐seventy‐five‐between the two of you?"
Einar gave a humorless chuckle, shook his head. "Not even. Knock off another twenty and you might be getting close."
"Yeah. Good. Helps a lot, today. Got to fix that real soon here ya crazy heap of animated bones, but not before this flight, ok? No eating before the flight."
"Got it."
"Now. I'm staying low so you folks'll have plenty of oxygen, but it's gonna be cold. You need to get anything else out of these packs before I load 'em, warm stuff for the flight?"
"Nah, I'll be...."
"Yes, we do." Liz was already digging in her pack, pulled out Will's blanket and another hat for herself, tried to get Einar into another layer but he was too busy walking around the plane, crouching, inspecting.
"Hey, that's my job," Roger snarled in mock outrage. "Get away from my plane."
Einar stood, stretched. "I didn't touch anything. Just looking for transponders."
"Transponders? Find any?"
"No."
"Good."
"Speaking of transponders, your truck still out at the airport?"
"No, I took it to Bud and Susan's last night and left it. Kinda seemed like some funny business going on there yesterday at the airport with the service trucks and all, but nobody had tampered with it. Didn't seem like a good idea to leave it there indefinitely, especially after somebody supposedly heard reports on a police scanner about one of the airport trucks going missing yesterday...didn't want to arouse anyone's suspicion."
"Went missing, did it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, they'll find it...eventually."
"I bet they will."
"So if you moved your truck, I guess you got the crates..."
"Look for yourself."
Einar looked. No crates. Relieved. Would have felt so trapped in one of those crates. So confined. Besides which they would have messed up the load even further made weight distribution more difficult. Which must have been why Roger finally decided against their use. The concept, though, had been a useful one. Concealment. Given the nature of the cargo, concealment of some sort was essential, and now they would be left to use the duffel bags which lay folded and ready.
Roger was ready to go, peering up at a few high streamers of cloud which had recently appeared from behind the horizon, and looking anxious. "We doing this?"
One last glance at Liz, at little Will, entirely enthralled by the plane and striving his hardest to reach up and touch a wing, and Einar nodded, took a step towards the plane and nearly fell when he stumbled over some not‐quite‐visible irregularity in the soil. Roger caught him, a firm hand on his wrist.
"You sure you're ok, man? You kinda feel like ice. Maybe you should eat before the flight."
"Huh? No, I'm fine. Let's get airborne, before your cargo changes its mind..."
Into the bags, then, they slithered with some difficulty in the close confines of the plane, Muninn secured somewhat unhappily in Liz's hat, Will going in with Liz and Einar taking the rifle with him, despite some degree of consternation from Roger, who really did not want holes in his aircraft should such be at all avoidable... They were ready to go, then, roughness of the meadow beneath Roger's tundra tires, a bump as they left the ground and then the smooth nothingness of rapid ascent as the powerful little plane climbed, banked, headed south.
29 December, 2015
29 December 2015
On the ground, unmoving, Einar appeared at first to have passed out, Liz hurrying to try and rouse him so they could keep moving, but something was wrong, his limbs all stiff and back arched in an odd way, the situation becoming clearer to her the next moment when he began visibly seizing. Nothing she could do, nothing but watch, wanted to move him in further under the overhang where he would be even better concealed from the air, but the way he was flailing about, she feared getting too near him with Will on her back.
It had been some time since Einar last experienced a similar incident, a long time, at least, since she had last seen it happen; she was not at all sure that he would have told her about it, had it happened somewhere out of her view...and though she could not be sure of the cause, low blood sugar seemed a likely candidate, perhaps various electrolyte imbalances after their long trek to reach the airport, accompanied by his usual antipathy towards taking in anywhere near an adequate quantity of nutrients...but nothing she could do about any of that at the moment.
She wondered if she could give him a bit of honey, perhaps, in the hopes of at least raising his blood sugar, without either hurting him or putting herself at too much risk, wanted to take Will off her back for his own safety but with their situation so uncertain and the little one both highly mobile under his own power and intensely curious about all aspects of the world around him, she did not dare. Could not have him wandering away. So, she waited. Surely the event would have to end soon, and Einar would be alright, and they would move on... But, it did not, and Liz knew she must try to do something.
Approaching carefully, knee gently on Einar's chest more to monitor his movements and give herself an early warning should she need to jump back than to restrain him in any way and his right hand gripped firmly in hers, she worked to get a taste of honey into his mouth. Hoped it might help cut short the seizure, which already seemed to have gone on far too long. His mouth was clamped shut and she could not get it open, had to make do with smearing the honey on his gums and hoping some might find its way inside. Not too likely, but there was nothing else she could think to do. Other than to wait. And wait.
Liz had no way of keeping track, no time keeping device, but it seemed to go on for a dreadfully long time, upwards of eight minutes, she was pretty sure, and when at last it was over and Einar lay still, she was not at all certain at first that he was still breathing. Hurrying to him she was prepared to start CPR, but he grimaced and twisted to the side when she touched him, half opened his eyes and then went limp again.
She sat down beside him, dabbed at a smear of blood where his cheekbone must have contacted rock in his thrashings and tried again to get some honey into his mouth, this time succeeding. It seemed to help. To her amazement he got right to his feet, unsure at first, stumbling, eyes not quite able to focus, but with one glance at Liz he drew in a sharp breath, situation returning to him and the urgency of the thing lending a straightness to his faltering limbs and a wideness to his eyes as he met Liz's. Tried to speak but couldn't get the words to come together, brain could form them but could not seem to send them to his lips in an order which made any sense, and he soon gave up trying, resorted to hand motions. Time to go. Keep moving. And, they moved.
Focusing intently on the ground ahead of him as he walked, Einar strove to avoid leaving sign, mostly succeeding despite limbs which felt as though they belonged to someone else and a head which would not quite clear up and allow him to reason with the precision to which he was accustomed. Aware enough to recognize the deficit but frustratingly powerless to correct it just at the moment, he struggled to strike some sort of balance between the speed he knew they needed to maintain, and the stealth essential to their situation.
They traveled some distance, Einar walking strangely but maintaining a decent pace. He was sick though, vomiting, didn't want to take the water she kept offering, and when finally she insisted, he choked on the stuff, only managed to get a little down, immediately took off walking again. His walking was getting worse, left side weak, leg dragging, face grey and a dreadful exhaustion in his eyes when finally Liz persuaded him to stop and look at her, hands cold and mottled purple where he held the straps of his pack despite the day being fairly warm, and she knew she had to get him to Arizona.
They did not discuss it, did not discuss anything, really, Einar still struggling to put two words together, but when Liz took out the map during one of their infrequent breaks and asked him if they were on course to make the rally point set by Bud and Roger, he squinted hard at the twisting, blurring lines until they began making a bit of sense, nodded, showed her their present location on the map, and waved her into the lead.
Doing her best to pick out landmarks as she walked and keep them on the course which appeared likely to take them with the fewest obstacles in the direction of the assigned meeting place, Liz took them up the remainder of the increasingly narrow canyon. Having looked at the map, she was somewhat dubious about their ability to cover the required distance before that coming morning, when Roger said he would meet them at the designated meadow, should their first attempt fail. As it had done. Not only had it failed, but Einar's driving, necessary as it had probably been at the had put them many miles from the assigned meeting place. Those miles could be covered, though, and she did her best to make certain they would be, pushing ahead somewhat ruthlessly even when she saw that Einar was lagging, struggling, left leg clearly not functioning properly, grey faced and fighting for breath. He did the same and worse to himself all the time, she reasoned, and they absolutely had to make that meeting.
At the canyon's head, a little trickle of water tracing and dashing down orange sandstone cliffs stained white and purple with deposited minerals, she found an end to the easy walking, a series of narrow, rocky cuts offered a good chance of escape, and when she looked questioningly back at Einar he squinted, nodded and headed for the leftmost of the cuts. Though still visibly struggling with both balance and strength, Einar took on the task of leading his family up that rocky, treacherous draw with the vigor and enthusiasm required of him by once more being in evasion mode, speed surprising Liz, though perhaps it should not have, and they were soon topping out in a dense cluster of wind-stunted little aspens, some of their lithe trunks bent nearly into loops a foot or two from the ground by decades of heavy, gale-packed snow. Going no further for the moment, world spinning most inconsiderately around him, Einar grinned at Liz, lowered himself to his stomach on the damp, mossy ground, and promptly passed out.
Not a time for rest, not even the enforced rest of unconsciousness, and Liz, though desperately wanting to allow him to rest, scrubbed a handful of icy, spring‐hardened snow across Einar's face, all but poured a sip of water down his throat when he snapped awake and looked at her with confusion in his eyes, and dragged him to his feet. Liz led again after that, map in her hand and landmarks showing themselves in such a way that they were able to make good progress, and by the time Einar put a hand on her shoulder and insisted on taking the lead once more, they were less than a mile from the long, narrow, aspen‐lined meadow where Roger intended to land the plane. Sun low in the sky and nearly swallowed by a growing mass of cloud, but not yet set, they had made it in plenty of time.
"Is that it, you think? That meadow?"
Einar nodded. "Has to be."
"Do you think they'll really come?"
Exhausted, swaying, Einar half closed his eyes, caught himself against an aspen tree to avoid falling, nodded.
"Can always count on Roger. He will come."
"I'm glad. Will you get on the plane?"
"Have to see. Just wait and see how things look."
It was the best she could hope for. At least he had not refused. The rest would have to come in the morning. Walking the perimeter of the meadow, securing the place, Einar discovered a jutting outcrop of broken, tumbled‐down grey shale at a high point overlooking the meadow, just inside the trees and parallel to one of its long sides. A fine place, he figured, to spend the night, and Liz agreed.
Later, Will warm and asleep beneath the shelter of stone and everything as well set as it could be for morning they stood together in the rising wind and watched the light fade, streaks of orange and crimson through the clouds. Einar's head still hurt from its earlier encounter with the rock and his entire being felt odd and somewhat out of place from the lingering effects of that seizure, but it didn't seem to matter, relief so great, joy at having been able to evade the potential dangers of the past several days, the smell of sagebrush, broken rock, distant rain and immediate freedom sharp and joyful all around them. Einar turned to her, led her over beneath the aspens, and she might have been surprised at the taut energy in his emaciated and half frozen form, had she not known him so well... Later they fell asleep close together beneath the sheltering overhang of rock, and that night she dreamed of a brother for little Will, the two little buckskin‐clad boys playing together outside a sturdy, hand‐hewn log cabin hidden high in basin somewhere between the peaks, and the dream brought a smile to her sleep...
Einar's sleep was not nearly so peaceful, night quickly becoming cold and a thin, piercing rain starting sometime after midnight. Liz and Will were well sheltered by the overhang, but Einar, on the weatherward side of things and jammed as well as he could manage under the little outcropping as he sought to avoid the rain, had the worst of it. They had begun the night with Liz's jacket tucked around the three of them them as well as could be but as the hours had passed and with little Will's squirming, he found himself with less and less covering, hardly wanted to wake the others to try and do something about it, so he just lay there with various parts of him inevitably sticking out of the cramped little space into the wind no matter how he contorted his body, shivering through the night and any hope of further sleep soon evaporating as the dampness chilled him though.
Better that way anyhow, he told himself, as it kept him awake to listen for any potential danger, gave him time to think. He spent the remainder of the night running through various scenarios in his mind, plane showing up, plane not showing up, showing up but something being wrong, being off, so that they had to conceal themselves at the last moment and melt back into the timber, disappear... Towards morning the rain moved out, sky cleared and Einar dozed a little, exhausted by the intensity of the thoughts and by his own shivering. Daylight and Liz's insistent words woke him some time later.
Wake up, she was telling him, the plane will be here soon, and you have to wake up, but more immediate than her concern about missing the plane was the fact that Einar had become seriously chilled in the night, extremities purple, body nearly too hypothermic to shiver, and she tried to get him warmer, talk him into eating something. Einar, though, saw no problem, his singleminded focus being on that plane, on watching, waiting, making sure things were safe...
It had been some time since Einar last experienced a similar incident, a long time, at least, since she had last seen it happen; she was not at all sure that he would have told her about it, had it happened somewhere out of her view...and though she could not be sure of the cause, low blood sugar seemed a likely candidate, perhaps various electrolyte imbalances after their long trek to reach the airport, accompanied by his usual antipathy towards taking in anywhere near an adequate quantity of nutrients...but nothing she could do about any of that at the moment.
She wondered if she could give him a bit of honey, perhaps, in the hopes of at least raising his blood sugar, without either hurting him or putting herself at too much risk, wanted to take Will off her back for his own safety but with their situation so uncertain and the little one both highly mobile under his own power and intensely curious about all aspects of the world around him, she did not dare. Could not have him wandering away. So, she waited. Surely the event would have to end soon, and Einar would be alright, and they would move on... But, it did not, and Liz knew she must try to do something.
Approaching carefully, knee gently on Einar's chest more to monitor his movements and give herself an early warning should she need to jump back than to restrain him in any way and his right hand gripped firmly in hers, she worked to get a taste of honey into his mouth. Hoped it might help cut short the seizure, which already seemed to have gone on far too long. His mouth was clamped shut and she could not get it open, had to make do with smearing the honey on his gums and hoping some might find its way inside. Not too likely, but there was nothing else she could think to do. Other than to wait. And wait.
Liz had no way of keeping track, no time keeping device, but it seemed to go on for a dreadfully long time, upwards of eight minutes, she was pretty sure, and when at last it was over and Einar lay still, she was not at all certain at first that he was still breathing. Hurrying to him she was prepared to start CPR, but he grimaced and twisted to the side when she touched him, half opened his eyes and then went limp again.
She sat down beside him, dabbed at a smear of blood where his cheekbone must have contacted rock in his thrashings and tried again to get some honey into his mouth, this time succeeding. It seemed to help. To her amazement he got right to his feet, unsure at first, stumbling, eyes not quite able to focus, but with one glance at Liz he drew in a sharp breath, situation returning to him and the urgency of the thing lending a straightness to his faltering limbs and a wideness to his eyes as he met Liz's. Tried to speak but couldn't get the words to come together, brain could form them but could not seem to send them to his lips in an order which made any sense, and he soon gave up trying, resorted to hand motions. Time to go. Keep moving. And, they moved.
Focusing intently on the ground ahead of him as he walked, Einar strove to avoid leaving sign, mostly succeeding despite limbs which felt as though they belonged to someone else and a head which would not quite clear up and allow him to reason with the precision to which he was accustomed. Aware enough to recognize the deficit but frustratingly powerless to correct it just at the moment, he struggled to strike some sort of balance between the speed he knew they needed to maintain, and the stealth essential to their situation.
They traveled some distance, Einar walking strangely but maintaining a decent pace. He was sick though, vomiting, didn't want to take the water she kept offering, and when finally she insisted, he choked on the stuff, only managed to get a little down, immediately took off walking again. His walking was getting worse, left side weak, leg dragging, face grey and a dreadful exhaustion in his eyes when finally Liz persuaded him to stop and look at her, hands cold and mottled purple where he held the straps of his pack despite the day being fairly warm, and she knew she had to get him to Arizona.
They did not discuss it, did not discuss anything, really, Einar still struggling to put two words together, but when Liz took out the map during one of their infrequent breaks and asked him if they were on course to make the rally point set by Bud and Roger, he squinted hard at the twisting, blurring lines until they began making a bit of sense, nodded, showed her their present location on the map, and waved her into the lead.
Doing her best to pick out landmarks as she walked and keep them on the course which appeared likely to take them with the fewest obstacles in the direction of the assigned meeting place, Liz took them up the remainder of the increasingly narrow canyon. Having looked at the map, she was somewhat dubious about their ability to cover the required distance before that coming morning, when Roger said he would meet them at the designated meadow, should their first attempt fail. As it had done. Not only had it failed, but Einar's driving, necessary as it had probably been at the had put them many miles from the assigned meeting place. Those miles could be covered, though, and she did her best to make certain they would be, pushing ahead somewhat ruthlessly even when she saw that Einar was lagging, struggling, left leg clearly not functioning properly, grey faced and fighting for breath. He did the same and worse to himself all the time, she reasoned, and they absolutely had to make that meeting.
At the canyon's head, a little trickle of water tracing and dashing down orange sandstone cliffs stained white and purple with deposited minerals, she found an end to the easy walking, a series of narrow, rocky cuts offered a good chance of escape, and when she looked questioningly back at Einar he squinted, nodded and headed for the leftmost of the cuts. Though still visibly struggling with both balance and strength, Einar took on the task of leading his family up that rocky, treacherous draw with the vigor and enthusiasm required of him by once more being in evasion mode, speed surprising Liz, though perhaps it should not have, and they were soon topping out in a dense cluster of wind-stunted little aspens, some of their lithe trunks bent nearly into loops a foot or two from the ground by decades of heavy, gale-packed snow. Going no further for the moment, world spinning most inconsiderately around him, Einar grinned at Liz, lowered himself to his stomach on the damp, mossy ground, and promptly passed out.
Not a time for rest, not even the enforced rest of unconsciousness, and Liz, though desperately wanting to allow him to rest, scrubbed a handful of icy, spring‐hardened snow across Einar's face, all but poured a sip of water down his throat when he snapped awake and looked at her with confusion in his eyes, and dragged him to his feet. Liz led again after that, map in her hand and landmarks showing themselves in such a way that they were able to make good progress, and by the time Einar put a hand on her shoulder and insisted on taking the lead once more, they were less than a mile from the long, narrow, aspen‐lined meadow where Roger intended to land the plane. Sun low in the sky and nearly swallowed by a growing mass of cloud, but not yet set, they had made it in plenty of time.
"Is that it, you think? That meadow?"
Einar nodded. "Has to be."
"Do you think they'll really come?"
Exhausted, swaying, Einar half closed his eyes, caught himself against an aspen tree to avoid falling, nodded.
"Can always count on Roger. He will come."
"I'm glad. Will you get on the plane?"
"Have to see. Just wait and see how things look."
It was the best she could hope for. At least he had not refused. The rest would have to come in the morning. Walking the perimeter of the meadow, securing the place, Einar discovered a jutting outcrop of broken, tumbled‐down grey shale at a high point overlooking the meadow, just inside the trees and parallel to one of its long sides. A fine place, he figured, to spend the night, and Liz agreed.
Later, Will warm and asleep beneath the shelter of stone and everything as well set as it could be for morning they stood together in the rising wind and watched the light fade, streaks of orange and crimson through the clouds. Einar's head still hurt from its earlier encounter with the rock and his entire being felt odd and somewhat out of place from the lingering effects of that seizure, but it didn't seem to matter, relief so great, joy at having been able to evade the potential dangers of the past several days, the smell of sagebrush, broken rock, distant rain and immediate freedom sharp and joyful all around them. Einar turned to her, led her over beneath the aspens, and she might have been surprised at the taut energy in his emaciated and half frozen form, had she not known him so well... Later they fell asleep close together beneath the sheltering overhang of rock, and that night she dreamed of a brother for little Will, the two little buckskin‐clad boys playing together outside a sturdy, hand‐hewn log cabin hidden high in basin somewhere between the peaks, and the dream brought a smile to her sleep...
Einar's sleep was not nearly so peaceful, night quickly becoming cold and a thin, piercing rain starting sometime after midnight. Liz and Will were well sheltered by the overhang, but Einar, on the weatherward side of things and jammed as well as he could manage under the little outcropping as he sought to avoid the rain, had the worst of it. They had begun the night with Liz's jacket tucked around the three of them them as well as could be but as the hours had passed and with little Will's squirming, he found himself with less and less covering, hardly wanted to wake the others to try and do something about it, so he just lay there with various parts of him inevitably sticking out of the cramped little space into the wind no matter how he contorted his body, shivering through the night and any hope of further sleep soon evaporating as the dampness chilled him though.
Better that way anyhow, he told himself, as it kept him awake to listen for any potential danger, gave him time to think. He spent the remainder of the night running through various scenarios in his mind, plane showing up, plane not showing up, showing up but something being wrong, being off, so that they had to conceal themselves at the last moment and melt back into the timber, disappear... Towards morning the rain moved out, sky cleared and Einar dozed a little, exhausted by the intensity of the thoughts and by his own shivering. Daylight and Liz's insistent words woke him some time later.
Wake up, she was telling him, the plane will be here soon, and you have to wake up, but more immediate than her concern about missing the plane was the fact that Einar had become seriously chilled in the night, extremities purple, body nearly too hypothermic to shiver, and she tried to get him warmer, talk him into eating something. Einar, though, saw no problem, his singleminded focus being on that plane, on watching, waiting, making sure things were safe...
15 December, 2015
15 December 2015
Encouraged by Liz to travel within the confines of the law so as not to attract undue notice, Einar quickly put several miles behind them in the little truck, Liz silent, letting him think, watching the rearview mirror and tending to Will, trying to keep him still.
Einar did not know the place, did not know the road, but it was not long before he knew exactly where he was going, barely losing any speed before abruptly leaving the highway, taking off up a dirt track, Forest Service Road 322, according to a battered brown and white placard that hung half detached from a bent green fence post off to the left of the junction.
"Where does this go?" Liz's words were clipped and breathless, struggling as she had been to keep Will upright and prevent their backpacks and assorted gear from falling on him during the sharp turn.
"Up. Goes up. Saw the road cut through the trees back there a little bit. Looks steep. We need that." His attention was thereafter fully occupied with navigating the increasingly rocky contours of the track and preventing the truck either high centering or bogging down in the mud that lurked slick and greasy down in the ruts where rocks were more sparse, a balancing act, and one at which he found himself more than proficient, despite the several year gap in his driving experience.
Up out of the mud, then, road turning to shale, switching back and the grade increasing, aspens and the occasional Douglas fir beginning to replace the tangle of scrub oak and serviceberry which had prevailed down lower. Four more switchbacks, shale slippery, road angled towards the outside where banks of the stuff, cut long ago during early coal mining days and largely neglected since, had partially sloughed off over the years and distributed fine rubble favoring uphill side of the track, and Einar eased the truck into four wheel drive, kept going.
"Einar, what...?"
"You'll see. Almost there." Which apparently they were, one last switchback and the vehicle rolled to a stop, nosed into a thicket of small firs so dense that she could not see more than a foot or two into its depths. Einar motioned for her to wait, backing the truck out into the aspens and getting it turned around. He exited the vehicle then, standing, one hand one the top of the door and eyes momentarily closed as he listened, drew in a long breath and finally nodded to Liz.
"Get your pack on, carry Will and follow me." He shrugged into his own pack, but not before removing and unwrapping the FAL, hastily reassembling the rifle and slinging it on his shoulder. Through the firs then, worming his way and then, timber thinning, aspens creeping in, dropping to hands and knees and motioning Liz to do the same. Not easy when one is carrying a child, but Will was more than happy to walk beside her. Reaching an abrupt clearing, trees ending entirely, Einar stopped, dropped to his belly in last year's dead‐brown leaves, snow having only recently left them, leaves matted, crisscrossed with telltale white fibers of snow mold.
Before them, the land dropped away sharply, shale cliffs plunging several hundred feet to the timbered lands below, highway clearly visible in the distance. When she looked closely, Liz was almost certain she could see the place where the Forest Service road left the highway.
"That's the road we came up..."
"Yes."
"You knew, didn't you, that we would be able to see from here."
"I did. Spotted the road cut from down on the highway. Want to watch for a little while, make sure no one is following."
"Then...?"
"Then we ditch the truck, break our trail and get out of here."
"Too bad we can't keep the truck for a while. But I know that probably wouldn't be a good idea."
"Wasn't a good idea to take it in the first place, but we kind of had to. Thought about hanging onto it for a while, heck, thought about going back for Roger's Jeep and seeing if he'd hidden a key, but we can't do either. That thing may be watched, bugged, who knows what, and if they're not already looking for this truck, they will be soon. Got to break contact, here."
Liz was about to answer when Will, who had been quiet, broke out in a series of jubilant shouts, "Moon! Moon!" and when Einar glanced over to see what might have caught the little one's attention, his face wrinkled up in a strained smile at the sight of Muninn the raven, perched only inches from the boy's face, tilting his head and making the soft, contented rasping sounds usually reserved for quiet evenings after good, full meals.
"That bird is some tracker, being able to follow us in a vehicle, like that. Hope anyone else who may be on our trail isn't half that good..."
"How could he have done that?"
"Oh, ravens are awfully smart. He would have watched us get into the truck, just followed it I guess. Took some shortcuts no doubt, to be able to keep up with my driving..."
"No doubt! Einar, where are we going? I don't know exactly where we are, but if we look at the map...well, I'm pretty sure we could make it to that rendezvous place Roger and Bud were talking about in case something went wrong at the airport, meet the plane in the morning..."
Einar sighed, looked worried. "We need to break our trail. Just need to break our trail, first, and then we can think about it."
Seemed to Liz that they could do both at once, really ought to be doing both at once, if they were to have any hope of making the meeting place in the timeframe specified by Roger, but Einar seemed to have thought through whatever it was he wanted to do to break their trail, and for the moment, she let it be.
Not content to abandon the truck where it sat—the road appeared little used, but not entirely abandoned, and he did not want anyone coming across it soon—Einar motioned everyone back inside, satisfied that they were not at the moment being pursued and wanting to find just the right spot. Not a quarter mile further up the track he found it, creeping across an exposed section of schist—they were, it seemed, largely leaving the shale behind—and into the dark, welcoming timber beyond. Not a road or Jeep track, as such, but it appeared to him as though hunters had used it from time to time to park their rigs, and he figured hunting season would be just about the ideal time for the truck to be rediscovered. Making one final sweep of the vehicle's interior to be certain they were leaving nothing behind—he and Liz had both been wearing gloves the entire time, having been prepared for the plane ride and not wanting to leave fingerprints in Roger's plane—Einar pulled out spare quart of oil he'd found behind the seat, carefully pouring a portion of it down over the windshield, while Liz watched in puzzlement. He then scooped up a handful of loose soil and needles from beneath one of the evergreens and tossed it in the air above the windshield, letting it settle and stick on the film of oil. This operation he repeated anywhere glass or chrome might be showing, the resulting dull finish ensuring that no flash of sunlight on glass would bring the truck to be discovered before its time.
Moving, then, off across the exposed schist, raven gliding after them, no trace of their passing, Einar intending to stop and review maps with Liz, make their decision about attempting to meet the plane, but wanting to be well clear of the area, first. He would, at least, lead them in the general direction of said rendezvous , whenever such proved compatible with his escape plan. Over around the shoulder of the ridge he led them, and then down, far down a stony wash where their passing would leave little sign, back into the land of shale and aspens and then, still descending, into a narrow sandstone canyon whose rims bristled with scrub oak. All this time Liz found herself struggling to keep up, amazed at the speed and agility with which Einar moved, exhausted and hungry as she knew he must be. It was almost as though, through being forced once more into close contact with the possibility of discovery and capture, he had begun to regain something of his old self, of the Einar she had known, and she hoped it might continue, even if it had taken rather dire circumstances to bring the thing about. Einar, she had observed, always seemed to be at his best under dire circumstances, anyway...
Down the canyon, walls creeping further overhead as they went and a series of sandstone shelves allowing them to make some distance quickly without leaving much sign, they soon reached a place where the canyon deepened dramatically, water‐worn rock soaring above their heads, overhanging in places so as to provide cover from the air. Liz wanted to pause here, catch her breath for a moment and allow Einar to do the same, but he kept moving, swinging into a narrow, rocky side drainage that took off uphill, a quick glance over his shoulder to make certain she was still following, which she was, but he made it only ten more yards up the rocky gully before she caught up to him for good.
Einar did not know the place, did not know the road, but it was not long before he knew exactly where he was going, barely losing any speed before abruptly leaving the highway, taking off up a dirt track, Forest Service Road 322, according to a battered brown and white placard that hung half detached from a bent green fence post off to the left of the junction.
"Where does this go?" Liz's words were clipped and breathless, struggling as she had been to keep Will upright and prevent their backpacks and assorted gear from falling on him during the sharp turn.
"Up. Goes up. Saw the road cut through the trees back there a little bit. Looks steep. We need that." His attention was thereafter fully occupied with navigating the increasingly rocky contours of the track and preventing the truck either high centering or bogging down in the mud that lurked slick and greasy down in the ruts where rocks were more sparse, a balancing act, and one at which he found himself more than proficient, despite the several year gap in his driving experience.
Up out of the mud, then, road turning to shale, switching back and the grade increasing, aspens and the occasional Douglas fir beginning to replace the tangle of scrub oak and serviceberry which had prevailed down lower. Four more switchbacks, shale slippery, road angled towards the outside where banks of the stuff, cut long ago during early coal mining days and largely neglected since, had partially sloughed off over the years and distributed fine rubble favoring uphill side of the track, and Einar eased the truck into four wheel drive, kept going.
"Einar, what...?"
"You'll see. Almost there." Which apparently they were, one last switchback and the vehicle rolled to a stop, nosed into a thicket of small firs so dense that she could not see more than a foot or two into its depths. Einar motioned for her to wait, backing the truck out into the aspens and getting it turned around. He exited the vehicle then, standing, one hand one the top of the door and eyes momentarily closed as he listened, drew in a long breath and finally nodded to Liz.
"Get your pack on, carry Will and follow me." He shrugged into his own pack, but not before removing and unwrapping the FAL, hastily reassembling the rifle and slinging it on his shoulder. Through the firs then, worming his way and then, timber thinning, aspens creeping in, dropping to hands and knees and motioning Liz to do the same. Not easy when one is carrying a child, but Will was more than happy to walk beside her. Reaching an abrupt clearing, trees ending entirely, Einar stopped, dropped to his belly in last year's dead‐brown leaves, snow having only recently left them, leaves matted, crisscrossed with telltale white fibers of snow mold.
Before them, the land dropped away sharply, shale cliffs plunging several hundred feet to the timbered lands below, highway clearly visible in the distance. When she looked closely, Liz was almost certain she could see the place where the Forest Service road left the highway.
"That's the road we came up..."
"Yes."
"You knew, didn't you, that we would be able to see from here."
"I did. Spotted the road cut from down on the highway. Want to watch for a little while, make sure no one is following."
"Then...?"
"Then we ditch the truck, break our trail and get out of here."
"Too bad we can't keep the truck for a while. But I know that probably wouldn't be a good idea."
"Wasn't a good idea to take it in the first place, but we kind of had to. Thought about hanging onto it for a while, heck, thought about going back for Roger's Jeep and seeing if he'd hidden a key, but we can't do either. That thing may be watched, bugged, who knows what, and if they're not already looking for this truck, they will be soon. Got to break contact, here."
Liz was about to answer when Will, who had been quiet, broke out in a series of jubilant shouts, "Moon! Moon!" and when Einar glanced over to see what might have caught the little one's attention, his face wrinkled up in a strained smile at the sight of Muninn the raven, perched only inches from the boy's face, tilting his head and making the soft, contented rasping sounds usually reserved for quiet evenings after good, full meals.
"That bird is some tracker, being able to follow us in a vehicle, like that. Hope anyone else who may be on our trail isn't half that good..."
"How could he have done that?"
"Oh, ravens are awfully smart. He would have watched us get into the truck, just followed it I guess. Took some shortcuts no doubt, to be able to keep up with my driving..."
"No doubt! Einar, where are we going? I don't know exactly where we are, but if we look at the map...well, I'm pretty sure we could make it to that rendezvous place Roger and Bud were talking about in case something went wrong at the airport, meet the plane in the morning..."
Einar sighed, looked worried. "We need to break our trail. Just need to break our trail, first, and then we can think about it."
Seemed to Liz that they could do both at once, really ought to be doing both at once, if they were to have any hope of making the meeting place in the timeframe specified by Roger, but Einar seemed to have thought through whatever it was he wanted to do to break their trail, and for the moment, she let it be.
Not content to abandon the truck where it sat—the road appeared little used, but not entirely abandoned, and he did not want anyone coming across it soon—Einar motioned everyone back inside, satisfied that they were not at the moment being pursued and wanting to find just the right spot. Not a quarter mile further up the track he found it, creeping across an exposed section of schist—they were, it seemed, largely leaving the shale behind—and into the dark, welcoming timber beyond. Not a road or Jeep track, as such, but it appeared to him as though hunters had used it from time to time to park their rigs, and he figured hunting season would be just about the ideal time for the truck to be rediscovered. Making one final sweep of the vehicle's interior to be certain they were leaving nothing behind—he and Liz had both been wearing gloves the entire time, having been prepared for the plane ride and not wanting to leave fingerprints in Roger's plane—Einar pulled out spare quart of oil he'd found behind the seat, carefully pouring a portion of it down over the windshield, while Liz watched in puzzlement. He then scooped up a handful of loose soil and needles from beneath one of the evergreens and tossed it in the air above the windshield, letting it settle and stick on the film of oil. This operation he repeated anywhere glass or chrome might be showing, the resulting dull finish ensuring that no flash of sunlight on glass would bring the truck to be discovered before its time.
Moving, then, off across the exposed schist, raven gliding after them, no trace of their passing, Einar intending to stop and review maps with Liz, make their decision about attempting to meet the plane, but wanting to be well clear of the area, first. He would, at least, lead them in the general direction of said rendezvous , whenever such proved compatible with his escape plan. Over around the shoulder of the ridge he led them, and then down, far down a stony wash where their passing would leave little sign, back into the land of shale and aspens and then, still descending, into a narrow sandstone canyon whose rims bristled with scrub oak. All this time Liz found herself struggling to keep up, amazed at the speed and agility with which Einar moved, exhausted and hungry as she knew he must be. It was almost as though, through being forced once more into close contact with the possibility of discovery and capture, he had begun to regain something of his old self, of the Einar she had known, and she hoped it might continue, even if it had taken rather dire circumstances to bring the thing about. Einar, she had observed, always seemed to be at his best under dire circumstances, anyway...
Down the canyon, walls creeping further overhead as they went and a series of sandstone shelves allowing them to make some distance quickly without leaving much sign, they soon reached a place where the canyon deepened dramatically, water‐worn rock soaring above their heads, overhanging in places so as to provide cover from the air. Liz wanted to pause here, catch her breath for a moment and allow Einar to do the same, but he kept moving, swinging into a narrow, rocky side drainage that took off uphill, a quick glance over his shoulder to make certain she was still following, which she was, but he made it only ten more yards up the rocky gully before she caught up to him for good.
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