Children Of The Mountain (Book 2): The Devil You Know (5 page)

Mags says no, but Hicks looks at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to work out what the real answer to that question might be. I shake my head. Eventually he says,
Alright then
, but keeps studying me through the smoke drifting languidly up from the cigarette, like maybe he’s expecting something else. I figure I need to get us onto another topic so I ask him how many of them there are.

‘Hmm? Oh, in The Greenbrier.’ He flicks the cigarette, sending gray flakes floating slowly to the dusty floor. I’m beginning to wonder if Hicks is actually a smoker or if he’s just worried what the world’s lacking right now is a steady supply of ash. ‘We’re down to eight, all told. Mostly regular army, a couple of Rangers like me and Ortiz over there. We have a scientist though. She’s working on a cure for the virus.’

‘A cure?’ I look over at Mags. Before he died Marv told me what Kane had done to the skies hadn’t killed the virus, it had just set it back. That’s why the furies weren’t decaying; it was regrouping, slowly building itself back up inside them. Marv hadn’t known how long it would take but at some point he reckoned they’d be able to move again, just like the one I ran into when I first went into Mount Weather’s tunnel. That would be a real problem. It’s been on my list of things to worry about, right after finding a place for us that’ll be safe from Kane, that is.

Hicks nods.

‘Yep. She reckons she’s pretty close too.’

‘And how’re your supplies holding out?’

Hicks looks over at Mags’ question. ‘The Greenbrier was stocked pretty good when we arrived and we’ve been managing it for the long haul, so there’s enough to go around, at least for now. We’ve been working the surrounding towns but there’s not much left out there anymore.’

Ortiz touches one of our empty MRE cartons from last night with the toe of his boot. ‘Sure would be good to find some more of these. If you kids have come across a stash of them anywhere on your travels we’d love to hear about it.’

Hicks holds up his hand as if to hush him. The cuff of his parka drops and for the first time I notice he’s wearing something inside his liners. It looks like latex; I have a box of disposables just like them in my pack. I thought Marv was pretty careful about the virus, but even he didn’t make me put those on unless I was actually fixing to touch metal.

‘Ortiz are you ever not hungry? I swear you have worms. Y’ate my breakfast this morning as well as your own. There’ll be plenty of time for questions when we get back to The Greenbrier. I’m sure these kids’ll help us if they can.’

We hear Jax stomping up the stairs and a few moments later the door swings open. It looks like the Viking’s found the small stand clinging to the embankment I took from the night before. He hasn’t bothered to cut the limbs though, he’s just pulled the trees up, roots and all, and dragged them back. The trunks are slender enough, little more than saplings, but the ground’s been frozen solid for the best part of a decade and won’t have given them up easily. Hicks drops the cigarette to the floor and crushes it under his boot.

‘Goddammit Jax, now what in the hell are we supposed to do with those? We need smaller stuff for the fire, remember?’

The Viking just looks at the pile of wood tucked under his arm and then at Hicks, and then back at the wood again, taking a moment to stare at Mags and me for good measure. He drops what he’s gathered on the ground and picks up one of the trees and tries to snap it with his hands. The wood’s been dead for years but it’s damp; it bends and twists, occasionally splintering but mostly just holding, not matter how hard the blond giant tries to break it.

I dig into my backpack and set to work with the handsaw while Mags strips some of the smaller branches and starts building a fire. The soldier Hicks had called Boots watches her from his spot by the window. When it looks like there’s enough he pulls a squeeze bottle from the pocket of his parka and walks over. He kneels down next to her and starts squirting the contents liberally over the branches. The rich, sweet smell of gasoline hangs heavy in the air. Gas is pretty hard to come by - Marv only allowed me to use it in emergencies - but Boots doesn’t seem to be rationing himself. When he’s done he pulls a cheap plastic lighter from his pocket and strikes the wheel with the base of his thumb. He holds it to his face and for a moment the small blue-tinged flame reflects back off the lenses in his grubby glasses. When he presents it to the wood the gas catches with a
whumpf!
that makes me wonder how many times Private Kavanagh has had to wait for his eyebrows to grow back. I have to admit though, whatever mix he’s using seems to do the trick, and soon the flames are licking up through the damp wood. The smoke makes me cough and I have to step back from it but he doesn’t seem to be able to tear himself away. He watches the fire as though transfixed, occasionally reaching for another branch from the pile to feed it. I guess I should be grateful for small mercies; for a few minutes at least he’s not staring at Mags.

The soldiers wait while we fix breakfast. Hicks says they’ve already eaten but I offer Ortiz some of the sausage patty from my MRE just because he’s staring so hard. Hicks shakes his head and says I oughtn’t do that; I’ll only teach him bad habits by feeding him from the table. Ortiz’s mouth’s full so he just flips him the finger again and holds out his hand for a hash brown.

As we’re finishing up Hicks bends down and retrieves Mags’ copy of
Owen Meany
from where she left it. Her eyes dart over to the fire. The flames are already dying down. She sets her MRE aside and stands up.

‘That’s not for burning.’

He looks up at her.

‘Don’t worry darlin’, that wasn’t my intention. This yours?’

She nods.

‘Have you read it?’

Mags hesitates, like maybe it’s a trick question. Kane didn’t allow us to read.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s good, isn’t it? I liked the little guy; he knew what had to be done. Can’t say I cared much for his friend, though. Not sure what use a man is without a trigger finger.’

He examines the tatty paperback a moment longer then hands it over. She takes it and returns it to her backpack. I scoop the last of my breakfast from its pouch, bag our trash and we set off.

*

R
OCKBRIDGE
C
OUNTY
H
IGH’S
right off I-64, the road that Marv’s map says will take us all the way to The Greenbrier.

There hasn’t been a fresh fall in a few days and the snow’s settled, so the going’s not so bad. Hicks sets a steady pace and soon I settle into an easy rhythm. But after a while I notice Mags falling behind. I’m beginning to wonder if everything’s okay; maybe she hurt herself as we were running through the school earlier. I hang back and soon the soldiers are a stretch ahead of us. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when she rests a hand on my arm. Jax has taken to stopping every few minutes to gawp in our direction, but he’s just finishing up a stare-break. As soon as he’s eyes-forward again she unsnaps one side of her respirator. The wind’s picked up a little, enough to prevent anyone ahead from hearing. Nevertheless she keeps her voice low.

‘What should we tell them?’

‘About what?’

‘About where we’ve come from. Sooner or later they’re going to ask again.’

Hicks and Ortiz both appear friendly, and it does seem like Jax’s staring is simply curiosity. I really don’t care for the way Boots has been looking at her, but these certainly don’t seem like the desperate, lawless men Kane had warned of. Maybe Mags is right, though; we have only just met them.

‘Well, it’s either Eden or Mount Weather; we won’t be able to make up a story about anywhere else that’d sound even halfway believable. I think we should just say we’ve come from Eden. That way at least they won’t know where the rest of the Juvies are.’

Mags considers this for a moment. ‘But if they figure out where that is and go there they’ll find Kane. They’re soldiers; wouldn’t he still be their commanding officer? And he knows where we’ve gone.’

I think about this. She’s right, of course, but I’m not sure it widens our options any.

‘After all this time I’m not so sure they’d still take orders from him. He was the one that caused all this after all. We can prove it if we have to; we still have the virus. Besides we don’t have to use Eden’s real name. I don’t think anyone other than Kane called it that. Even if they work out where it is by the time they get there we could be gone from Mount Weather.’

She considers this for a while. In the end she nods like maybe it’s not the best plan she’s ever heard but right now she can’t think of another that might be better. She snaps the respirator back over her mouth and we pick up the pace.

Up ahead the soldiers have stopped next to an RV that’s come to a sideways halt in the middle of the road. Jax is using his break time to get some more staring in and now Hicks turns around as well. The Viking’s gaze is blank, vacant, but with Hicks it’s different; I feel like behind those blinkered shades our progress is being measured. When we catch up to them he pulls down his bandana.

‘How’re you two doin’?’

Mags stops and unsnaps her respirator again.

‘I was finding the snow a little heavy back there. I’m fine now.’

Hicks just nods and leads us on.

We stick to the interstate as it winds its way west into the Appalachians.

The first morning we pass a succession of exit signs – Shank’s Creek, Longhorn Furnace, Forge – but we don’t take any of them, stopping only to warm our MREs by the side of the road. Hicks sits off to one side and sips from a thermos he pulls from his pack.

As soon as we’re done eating he stands, like he’s keen to get back now. I bag our trash and we set off again. For a while the road opens out and billboards compete for our attention on both sides. A decade of weather has left them faded and tattered, but it’s still a riot of color compared with what we’ve been seeing. Then the mountains close in on us again and they’re gone.

The last of the light’s leaving the sky when Hicks finally leads us towards an off-ramp. We make our way into a small town called Covington in almost darkness. I’m not used to hiking at night; Marv always had us off the road before dusk. We may not have seen the sun since the Last Day but I guess it’s still up there doing something because once it dips below the horizon it turns real cold real quick, and without a moon or even stars to light your way it’d be easy to get lost. Hicks seems to know where he’s going though. He brings us to a small brick and shingle building just off the highway. The weather-beaten sign outside says
New Hope Baptist Church
, and underneath in smaller letters,
Praying For A Miracle
.

Hicks sends Jax off in search of firewood and then heads out himself shortly after. All the Viking comes back with are a handful of blackened limbs that do little more than smoke up the place, no matter how much gasoline Boots pours on them. We huddle around the reluctant fire scooping our rapidly cooling MREs from their plastic pouches while Ortiz, Boots and Jax eat a supper of cold franks and beans. I tear the wrapper off a HOOAH! for dessert and Jax stares at me like the world’s largest, dumbest wolfhound. I break it in two and toss one half over. It disappears into his beard and I have to hold my hands up so he’ll believe I’m not holding out on him.

Hicks returns a little while after. He doesn’t bother with dinner or the fire, just walks past us and up into the shadows by the altar. He eases himself to the ground and sits with his back to the pulpit. A quart bottle of bourbon appears from the pocket of his parka and he unscrews the cap. Boots is staring into the dwindling flames absent-mindedly picking at a scab on the inside of his arm. He looks up at the sound but Hicks makes no move to offer it around.

The church has a small organ balcony, so I figure that’s where Mags and I will sleep. As we get up from the fire Boots tears his eyes from the flames; I can feel his gaze following us as we head for the stairs. I unfurl the sleeping bag and lay it on the dusty floor. Mags has been quiet over dinner and she still hasn’t said anything as we climb inside. She lays still for a while, her back to my chest, but I know she’s still awake. Eventually she whispers:

‘We should hide the map. It has the code for Mount Weather on it.’

I nod. She closes her eyes and rests her head against my shoulder, like having decided this is a comfort. But it’s a long time before she finally drifts off.

I wake from an uneasy sleep sometime in the middle of the night. The fire’s gone out so there’s little to see, but something’s stirring down below. I hear footsteps as someone makes their way down the aisle and then the door at the back of the church opens and from outside there’s the sound of retching. After a while it stops and then for a long time silence returns to the darkness.

I’m beginning to think whoever it was has snuck back inside without me noticing when I hear the door opening again. I ease my arm out from under Mags’ head. She mumbles something and then shifts in her sleep, like whatever’s troubling her has found its way into her dreams, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the sleeping bag and creep over to the balustrade. My eyes have adjusted as much as they will but without a fire there’s nothing but inky blackness. I strain to hear. Whoever’s moving around down there seems to be retracing their steps up the aisle. There’s a pause and some shuffling sounds as they settle themselves, then the dry rasp of a lighter wheel being struck and Hicks’ face suddenly appears out of the darkness as he holds the flame to the end of a cigarette and draws on it. He’s about to extinguish the lighter but then something causes him to stop and he turns and looks up in my direction. I suddenly feel the need to announce my presence; like I’ve been caught spying on him. I raise my hand to wave down but then I feel foolish and stop myself. I’m hidden behind the balustrade in total darkness; there’s no way he can see me up here. After a moment he lets the lighter go out so that all that remains is the glowing red tip.