By then, Tuck and Emma were walking around the campsite, identifying various plants. Greg pulled out the small enamelware pot they’d brought with them and began boiling the water in batches.
“Oh, wow, we’ve got animal tracks,” Tuck said suddenly. “Look at that, would you?”
Greg felt a jolt of fear and turned to them, almost knocking the pot off the crude framework he’d set over the fire. Had they inadvertently camped in a dangerous area? It would be just their luck. But Tuck and Emma were smiling.
“What is it?” Greg asked. “What kind of animal?”
“Maybe a deer,” Tuck said. “I’m not that good at reading tracks. What do you think, Emma?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. The hoof prints aren’t as clear in real life as they are in the book, but deer seems most likely.”
Tuck walked back over to the campfire. Greg noticed a bit of a limp. The poor guy had pushed himself to his limit during the hike. Despite everything, Greg felt sorry for him. He was a tough old fellow, but this was clearly more than he’d bargained for. As he sat down again on the grass, he stretched out his right leg and rested his heel on a nearby rock.
“Are you okay, Grandpa?” Emma asked.
“Just feeling my age,” he replied, rubbing his leg above the knee. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing works quite the way it’s supposed to when you get old, but I’ll be fine. I’ve got a lot more in me than it might seem.”
Once the water had boiled and cooled again, Greg dipped a cup into it and gave it a sip. Immediately, a rank metallic taste filled his mouth, and he gagged and spat it out.
“Oh, this water is foul,” he said. “Like drinking the seepage from an industrial plant.”
“Can I try it?” Emma asked.
“Just a small sip,” he said, handing her the cup. “Don’t swallow it.”
She dipped the cup into the pot and took a drink. Like him, she immediately spat it out, but then she wiped her tongue on her sleeve.
“Yuck, what’s wrong with it?” she asked.
“Something bad is in the water table here,” he noted. “It’s polluted, just as I suspected. We’ll have to get our drinking water elsewhere. I have to pour this out. Sorry.”
“Just as you suspected?” Emma asked, but Greg decided to leave that question alone for now.
He picked up the pot and carried it out beyond the camp. Once he was out of sight, he squatted, unzipped his jacket, and reached into an inner pocket. Producing a small plastic tube, he filled it with water from the pot, sealed it tight, and put it back into his pocket. Then he dumped the rest of the water on the ground.
Of course, he knew damn well why the water wasn’t potable. It was exactly what the whistleblower had said, and exactly what he’d suspected when he’d arranged the trip. Eustace’s company had been allowing third parties to bury industrial and chemical waste on their land. According to the whistleblower, a lot of money had changed hands for the privilege. It seemed there was something to the story after all. Greg wouldn’t know that for sure until he had the sample analyzed in a lab, but he had tasted for himself, and now he knew something was wrong. He had just risen again, shaking the last drops of water out of the pot, when he heard Emma cry out. Racing back to the camp, he found Tuck sitting in the same spot, but Emma was just visible between the trees, standing next to Tommy.
“What happened?” Greg asked. “Why did she yell?”
Tuck shrugged. “Tommy called her over. No telling what he found.”
Greg rushed past his father and found Tommy and Emma clearing the ground. It didn’t take long to see what they’d found. More animal tracks, but these were much bigger, with distinctive claw marks in the soft earth.
“This is very recent,” Emma said, when her dad stepped up beside her. “Is it tracking us, following us along the pipeline? Is it hiding somewhere right now, waiting until our backs are turned or we’re sleeping? Dad, what do we do?” She started looking around wildly.
Greg tried to comfort her with a gentle pat on the back, but this only made her flinch.
“Now, now, let’s not get carried away here,” Tommy said, kneeling beside the tracks. He placed his hand, fingers splayed, beside the clearest of the tracks. The bear paw print was easily twice the size of his hand.
Grizzly, Greg thought, and felt a shiver run down his spine. And a big one, at that.
“It can’t be hunting us,” Tommy said, with a little grunt that sounded like he was unconvinced of his own claim. “Surely, if a big old bear was following us, we’d have heard her crashing about. I think it’s more likely she passed through the area shortly before we got here. Man, she must be a beautiful old bear. Look at the size of that paw! She could step on you and not even notice you were there.”
“Beautiful is not the first word that comes to mind,” Greg said. “Could she be tracking the deer? The deer tracks seemed a little older.”
“Could be,” Tommy said, and gave a little whoop. “The hunt is on. I bet she could eat a whole deer in three bites.”
“You almost sound excited,” Emma said.
“Grizzlies are my favorite animal,” Tommy said. “I know they can be dangerous, but you gotta admit, they’re majestic creatures. I love them.”
“You won’t love a grizzly if it’s chomping on your head,” Tuck shouted from the clearing.
“Aw, we’re just cruising through its usual stomping grounds, that’s all,” Tommy said with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t a horror movie monster we’re talking about here. It’s an animal trying to mind its own business. As long as we’re careful and no one wanders off alone, it shouldn’t mess with us.”
“Well, let’s keep our eyes and ears open,” Greg said. “We’ve got a couple of guns. If it comes around again, do not run from it, and do not scream. The last thing you want is it thinking you are prey.”
He started back into the camp. When he got there, his father was still massaging his leg, but now he was grimacing. And he was digging in deep. Greg was tempted to keep walking past him, if only to avoid another dismissive reply, but he paused beside his father and spoke.
“Dad, what’s wrong with your leg? Did you get injured?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tuck replied, and immediately ceased massaging his leg. Instead, he reached for the hiking staff on the ground beside him. As he continued to speak, he jabbed the stick into the ground and slowly, achingly rose. “I’m just an old man, tired from another day hiking through the mountains. That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with my leg. We all get sore. Nothing unusual about that.”
And with that, as if to prove his point, he hobbled toward the campfire, leaning heavily on the hiking staff, and took a seat beside Emma. Greg joined them, though he knew he couldn’t relax for long. He had to find a source of water that didn’t taste like industrial waste.
Both Eustace and he had brought hunting rifles. Eustace carried his Winchester around with him, tucked through a strap on his pack. Greg had a Remington Model 700 into which he’d installed a detachable magazine conversion kit. He picked it up now in passing and set it on the ground nearby. Best to keep it within arm’s reach from now on. As he sat there with the others, gazing into the flickering fire and considering their predicament, he had a troubling thought that wouldn’t go away.
We’re never getting out of the wilderness.
“We should probably set up the tents,” Tommy said, after a couple of minutes. “I’ll be asleep in no time. I’m not even all that hungry, to be honest.”
“I guess we can always eat the bistort,” Tuck said. “Might be smart to have a full belly.”
Just then, they heard some massive thing crashing through the underbrush, panting loudly. Greg fumbled around on the ground, trying to grab the gun with shaking hands. But then Eustace appeared, tapping the side of the machete against a tree as he entered the camp, as if to announce his appearance.
“Wow, Eustace, we thought you might’ve been a big, old
grizzly bear,” Tommy said. And did he seem just a little bit disappointed?
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a bear,” Eustace said, swaying slightly from side to side as he walked toward the campfire. “Good news is, I figured out where we are by the serial number of a length of pipe. We’re just a few kilometers from the next way station, and there’s a good chance it’ll be staffed. You know what that means? Real food, probably, clean water, maybe even a working radio or two or three.”
Greg didn’t want to get his hopes up, but the possibility of a functioning radio was so compelling that he was tempted to get up right then and continue hiking into the night. Tuck wouldn’t make it, though, he knew that, and Tommy was already bleary-eyed from lack of sleep.
Tomorrow, though, he told himself. We may get out of here tomorrow.
14
Eustace headed off in the direction the girl had pointed happy to do this on his own. He couldn’t understand why they thought it was a good idea to bring a female child on a hunting trip. More than once, he wondered why she wasn’t home learning how to cook. Or at the very least, staying out of everyone’s way. He was not going to admit that she’d actually been useful but he was glad she was the one to climb that tree. If she’d fallen, at least she was expendable. Unlike him.
Cresting the top of the hill, he took a deep breath and surveyed the area around him. This was all his and he was not prepared to lose it. Not after he’d worked so hard to get the pipeline built. He’d had to grease far too many regulators’ palms to get past all those environmental hippies trying to stop him.
He found an easy path down and began hunting around on the underside of the pipeline until he spotted a serial number. Pulling out the charred company map, he carefully opened it, then lined it up with the way station numbers on the map. They were closer than he’d feared. This was good news. They were in his territory now and everything would be going his way soon enough.
Taking note of the direction they needed to go, he backtracked back up the path to camp, his once tired steps had a bit more spring to them as he looked forward to sharing the news. He even tried to whistle a tune but all that came out was wheezy air followed by a cough.
As he neared camp, he slowed down, taking quieter steps when he heard voices. Wouldn’t hurt to find out what they talk about when I’m not around.
He saw Greg huddled over a crackling fire where a small pot sat atop. Good. He was hungry. But then, he’d watched as the man raised what could only be water to his lips and took a sip, and he’d seen the response. And one sentence stuck out. One sentence went right through him like sudden cold wind.
“It’s polluted, just as I suspected.”
Eustace froze, holding his breath, as the words sank in and he quickly backed up to where he couldn’t be seen from the camp. He began pacing around in a circle, his fury slowly building.
Just as you suspected, eh? he thought. So that’s what this is all about. Good to know, Greg Healy.
The environmental lawyer had invited the natural gas company boss on a camping trip to gain access to company land. Yeah, it had seemed weird from the outset. Eustace was an acquaintance of Tuck Healy, but still…
Sweet-talking me into this trip so you could get evidence to sue my company, you lawyer scumbag? Eustace thought, grinding his teeth to keep from shouting in anger. Was that your big plan? You’re doing the dirty work of that backstabbing whistleblower.
The anger, as it often did, began like heat low in his belly, then radiated upward until it filled every part of him, every thought until it morphed into a violent tsunami ready to wipe everything out of his path.
“Calm yourself,” he whispered. “Don’t let on that you heard anything. Don’t let him know.”
Moving closer to the camp, he hid behind a tree. Peeking around, he saw Greg return to the fire and set the pot aside while shaking his head. There was more movement in the camp and he shifted back behind the tree to remain hidden. He heard them talking about tracks and Tommy going on and on about grizzlies and he fervently wished one would attack the camp now, as it would save him a lot of trouble.
Still, he’d seen enough. The veil was pulled back, and the situation was clear.
Eustace worked to compose himself before returning to the camp, a task that proved far more difficult than he expected. As he approached the camp, he made as much noise as he could to let them know he was coming. The others didn’t realize he could be almost completely quiet when he wanted to. The gasping and heaving were as much a verbal tic as anything. His anger was still too close to the surface and his boots hit the ground harder than necessary and he kicked angrily at anything in his path. His blood was still boiling as he contemplated different responses to what he’d seen and for the first time, he was glad they were in a SHTF scenario as it would make things easier. Well. Some things, as he certainly wouldn’t need to make anything look like an accident. But first he needed to cool his thoughts.
Slowly, he was able to stuff the anger back down low, even though he knew it would continue to simmer until it would eventually blow. Just not now. Plastering a phony smile on his face, he stepped out from between the trees to rejoin the others in the camp.
For now, we’re all just friends and fellow hikers, he told himself, but I’ll have to deal with this guy eventually. He’s a snake, and he brought me here to entrap me, but I’m not as dumb as he thinks. He’s going to learn that the hard way.
In a last burst of anger, he slapped the side of the machete blade against a tree just before he stepped into the camp, but then he let his smile grow until his cheeks ached.
15
The presence of calf-killing mountain lions had diminished Darryl’s usual fondness for walking the property, but Grandma wanted him to patrol the fence. She’d insisted that he take the rifle, though he felt a little silly walking around with the Winchester slung over his shoulder like some militiaman. At least he was alone, so no one could see this silliness. As he strolled along, he mostly kept his gaze on the ground directly in front of him, though he glanced toward the distant trees from time to time.
Would I even hear a mountain lion if it snuck up behind me? he wondered.
They’d already begun work on transforming the low, flimsy fence into a veritable fortress wall, using scrap lumber from one of the sheds to build a tall, ugly thing that slashed across the pasture like an eyesore. He had reached the far corner of the fenced-in area when he felt a strange crawling unease. It started near the top of his spine and slowly worked its way down, like fingers dancing down his back. At first, he shrugged his shoulders, as if to dislodge the weird feeling, but then he began to envision an enormous cat creeping through the high grass. What if it was coming up behind him at that very moment?
Suddenly, it seemed so certain that he pulled the rifle off his shoulder and spun toward the tree line, looking for slithering shapes in the grass. Instead, he saw a person walking directly behind him, and he was so surprised, he almost dropped the rifle. It bounced in his hands, as he stumbled backward.
She wore an oversized green hooded sweatshirt, and her hands were crammed deep in the front pocket. Since her head was tipped forward, her long, black hair was in her face, but he saw her eyes glinting in the afternoon light.
“Where the heck did you come from?” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”
“Well, it’s not like I was going to attack you or anything,” she said. “I’m just out for a walk. I can’t help it if you’re lost in your own little world and don’t notice what’s going on in your immediate vicinity.”
“But what are you doing over here?” he asked. Now that his initial shock had passed, he was embarrassed at his reaction, and he had to struggle not to react grumpily to the girl. “Why did you walk all the way over here from your house?”
She shrugged, coming to a stop in front of him. Despite her strangeness, Darryl didn’
t find her unattractive. She had a nice smile and interesting eyes, even if she partially hid her face behind her hair.
“I’m here,” she said, “because there’s nothing to do. I finished all my chores this morning, and it sucks hanging around the house. Everyone’s stressed out and rude over there, so I just decided to get away for a while. You’re about the only person my age that I know in this town. Is it such a big deal if I walk over to visit our neighbors?”
Darryl thought about the endless hours of hard work that filled his days now, from simple tasks around the house to the never-ending chore of trying to keep the herd alive. He barely had a free minute to himself. In fact, this walk around the perimeter was the closest he’d come to leisure time during daylight hours since the power went out. And here was this stranger girl wandering from house to house because she had nothing to do.
It irritated him to no end, but he realized it wasn’t Justine’s fault. She had the advantage of not living on a woefully understaffed dairy farm.
“Well, I have to walk the fence,” he said, turning around and resuming his slog. “We’re keeping an eye out for predators.”
“I can help,” she said, walking alongside him. “I probably have better hearing than you, based on recent incidents.”
He sighed and tried to change the subject. “By the way, your parents don’t happen to have any curing salt in their stash of supplies, do they? We really need some, and there’s no easy way to get it.”
Justine shrugged again. “Maybe. Actually, I don’t know. I’d have to ask them. We have a lot of stuff—like, a lot of stuff—but they’re pretty secretive about it.”
“Next time you talk to your parents, tell them we’d be willing to trade for it,” Darryl said. “We need to cure a large amount of meat.”
She shrugged a third time—it seemed to be her favorite gesture. “I’ll mention it, but I can’t promise anything.”
Survive the Fall (EMP: Return of the Wild West Book 1) Page 10
