13

“Are we going to stop soon?” When Alex didn’t reply, Ellie tried again. “It’s getting dark. Are we going to stop—”

“Yes,” Alex said. She did not turn around. They’d been walking steadily for what Alex judged had been about two hours, and in virtual silence. The sun was just skimming the trees immediately behind, and the light was fading as the afternoon began slipping into night. It had gotten even colder, the canopy of high, dense pines trapping the chill. A thick carpet of pine needles muffled their steps as effectively as heavy snow.

Ahead, she picked out a dilapidated trailmarker tacked to an oak, the sign listing to the left on a single rusted nail head:

MOSS KNOB 9.7 MI

FIRE MOUNTAIN 13.7 MI

LUNA LAKE 32 MI

Alex’s stomach cramped. Over thirty miles to the lake? That was farther than she’d estimated. If only she had her gear—and especially her maps—she might be able to figure out a shorter route.

Yeah, but you don’t, so stop driving yourself crazy. Just stay calm; you can deal with this.

Another arrow, canted at a forty-five-degree angle and pointing northwest, helpfully noted that in a little less than a quarter mile they could put up at the Spruce Valley campsite. Okay, that was good.

“Another fifteen minutes or so and we’ll hit the campsite,” Alex said. “We’ll stay there overnight.”

“Outside?”

“There might be a shelter.”

“But there’s no water; there’s, like, nothing.”

“There’ll be water. The map said there was a stream.”

“A stream? But … how will I go to the bathroom? We haven’t even got a tent. I don’t want to stay in the woods. It’s spooky in the woods.”

Had she ever been such a major pain in the ass when she was a kid? “Look, Ellie, this is the way it is. We sleep in the woods. We drink what we can purify. We share the food.” She paused a little—yeah, she was rubbing it in—and then went on. “If we’re very lucky, we’ll get to the rangers in a couple of days. Now this isn’t exactly my idea of fun either, but it’s what we’ve got. Whine all you want, but it won’t change anything, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right.” Again with the footstomping, only this time it was more like a thud because of the pine needles. If the kid had felt bad about, oh, stealing food, that had sure worn off fast. “I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to sleep in the woods. I don’t even have my sleeping bag.”

“I’ll show you how to make—”

“I want a bath. I want a shower. I want to wash my hair.”

“Ellie.” She had to clench her fists to keep from screaming. “You’re in the middle of the woods. You wouldn’t have had a shower anyway. If I had my gear, we could’ve washed—”

“But I smell him!” Ellie grabbed her hair in both hands. “I’ve got Grandpa all over me! I’ve got his bl-blood under my nails and in my h-hair …” She began to sob.

Alex’s anger evaporated. At that moment, she saw Ellie for what she was: bloodspattered, rumpled, exhausted. And very, very young. Of course Ellie was scared. In less than twelve hours, she’d lost her grandfather, left behind her dead father’s dog, nearly fallen off a mountain, and now was stuck with some stranger who was just about as scared as she was. Who’d gone ballistic over, yeah, a bunch of dirt and a letter from a dead woman.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Alex reached for the girl’s shoulder, meaning to give a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure out some way to—”

“No!” Ellie ducked away. “Don’t touch me! I hate you! Just leave me alone!”

“Ellie,” Alex called, but the girl had turned and was thudding down the trail. Sighing, Alex trudged after. Ellie was headed in the right direction and wouldn’t go far. Just like a little kid who runs away and ends up sitting on the basement steps. Despite everything, her mouth moved in a grin. Hadn’t she once—

She pulled up suddenly, her nose wrinkling. Weird. That strange, charred smell was back, and stronger now, and strangely sweet. Perhaps it had been stronger for some time, but she’d been too preoccupied to notice, or had simply gotten used to the stink. Only now she sensed—smelled—something else. She dragged in a deep, full breath and then flinched at the slap of some horrible, almost alien odor.

Oh my God, what is that?

The stink was gutchurning: dead, stagnant, and gassy, like days-old roadkill stewing beneath an insanely hot sun. The reek was so strong it pillowed and balled in her mouth. She spat, but the taste clung, furring her tongue.

Just ahead, she spotted Ellie’s pink parka crouching behind a very thick snarl of underbrush. She very nearly called out, but one look at Ellie and the words jammed behind her teeth at the same moment she realized something else.

She could smell Ellie again, and over a distance of, what, twenty yards? Thirty? The smell was strong, too—not enough to overpower that roadkill stink, but it was the same complex aroma she’d smelled once before, on the mountain: a reek of curdled milk and sour breath.

Fear. Ellie was scared. No, Ellie was terrified. The air was a welter of odors: Ellie’s fear, that charry, sweet stench; her own peculiar perfume of sweat and anxiety; and that dead-meat stink that billowed through the woods like ashy, gray smoke.

Ellie did not look around. She’d clapped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes bulged as she stared at something beyond a dense veil of branches.

What was Ellie looking at? Something told Alex she really didn’t want to know. The lizard part of her brain was screaming for her to run, run, run! But she couldn’t leave Ellie behind, not like this; that wouldn’t be right.

Slowly, carefully, Alex dropped to her knees, the cold earth biting through her hiking pants. Ellie didn’t move a muscle. Wordlessly, Alex followed the girl’s horrified gaze—and then her blood turned to slush.

No, she thought. No, please, God, I’m not seeing this.