Children Of The Mountain (Book 2): The Devil You Know (24 page)

He looks over my shoulder again. Mags is still over by the access door strapping the fury into a pair of snowshoes, so she’s got her back to us. His hand slips into the pocket of his parka. He hesitates for a moment and then passes me something cold and heavy wrapped in a Ziploc bag. I don’t need to look down to know what it is.

‘There’s a round in the magazine; all you need to do is pull the slide back to chamber it. You remember how to do that, right?’

I nod.

‘Good. Now when they turn it’s quick, like someone’s just flicked a switch inside them. If you so much as think that might be about to happen you don’t hesitate, no matter what the girl says. Y’hear me?’

I nod again.

‘Alright. Best be on your way then. I’ll see you on the road.’

I have to step out of the way of the blast door as it inches its way across the concrete. When I turn around to look back into the tunnel he’s already gone.

*

D
AWN’S LESS THAN
an hour away as we leave the bunker. Outside it’s still bitterly cold. I can see Mags’ breath smoking with it; she hugs her arms to her sides and stamps her boots to warm up. The fury doesn’t seem to notice. It just stares at the blackened stumps poking through the ashen snow, like they’re the most wondrous things it’s ever seen.

My feet got a break from the snowshoes while we were inside but as soon as I snap them back on I can feel the bindings pressing into the cuts I have there. Right now I’m more worried about the muscles in my legs however. They were tiring badly on the way up here; I wonder how far I’ll be able to make it. But as I look over at the fury I realize that’s going to be the least of our problems.

Marv wasn’t ever big on actual explanations for stuff; I picked up pretty much everything I needed just from watching him. Even so, it didn’t take me long to work out snowshoes. There’s really not a lot to it. You have to raise your legs a little higher than usual, because the powder gives. And the shoes are bigger than your regular boots so you need to widen your stride to keep from tripping over yourself. But that’s pretty much it. When we fled Eden Mags and the other Juvies had it figured out within a couple of hundred yards.

That’s not how it’ll be with the fury, though. As I watch it taking its first tentative steps I begin to realize the trouble we’re in. The recent storm’s brought fresh snow, but even without it the drifts up here’d be too deep for its short legs. And to make matters worse the snowshoes are too big; every time it lifts one of them it almost can’t help but bring it down on the other. Neither of those things are the real problem, however. It’s just like Hicks said; whatever time it’s spent in the cage is preventing it from standing upright, and if it can’t do that it’ll never keep its balance in snow like this. We haven’t cleared the entrance and already it’s got itself stuck in a drift.

While Mags pulls it out I take the handsaw from my pack and trudge up the hill. My recently thawed fingers are still clumsy and I struggle with the blade but I return a few minutes later with a couple of the straightest looking branches I can find. I hand them to Mags and she shows it how to plant the makeshift poles. When it looks like it’s got the hang of it we set off through the trees, following the path Hicks and I took coming up.

It takes us a long time to make it back to the road. I stand in the middle of the trail and watch as Mags and the fury catch up. I think it’s getting better but we’re going far too slowly. I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about this. There’s nothing for it now but to press on, however.

We pick up route 60 and head east. I’m pretty sure we can’t be seen from up in the house but nevertheless the flashlight stays in my pocket. I keep to the tracks Hicks and I made on the way here; the already compacted snow makes the going easier. But once we reach the church there’s no choice but to start breaking trail. My snowshoes sink into the deeper powder. With each step now I can feel the bindings digging into the cuts across my feet.

We continue on, stopping regularly to dig the fury out of the drifts. It seems to take forever but eventually I see The Greenbrier’s crumbling gates up ahead. We cross the road. The station house stares back at us from behind its candy cane pillars. We make our way past it and down onto the railway line.

We haven’t gone far before the sides close up around us, and with nowhere to go the snow deepens again. Our pace slows. By the time we reach the siding where the corroded railcar rests against the buffers the sky’s already getting brighter. It’s still barely light at all yet whenever I turn around now I catch the fury trying to raise its arms to shield its eyes. Every time it tries it loses its balance and pitches over and we have to stop and haul it upright.

The I-64 overpass appears around a bend. Beyond I can just see the crown of the tunnel as the track continues on through the hill. We’ve been traveling an hour and I doubt we’ve covered a mile. I can already feel the muscles in my legs burning, and inside my boots my feet are killing me. Even Mags seems to be struggling. When she hauls the fury out of a drift I see her favoring her side and in the heavier drifts she falls back, like drawing breath is causing her pain.

The first of the day’s light slowly seeps over the top of the shallow ravine as somewhere behind the gray clouds the sun finally rises. I walk us under the overpass. The fury collapses in the snow, relieved to be back in darkness. I ask Mags for the roll of duct tape Hicks gave her to bind it, back in the bunker. She hesitates a moment, like she’s not sure what I’m planning, but then she digs it out and tosses it over. I pull off my gloves. My fingers protest immediately at the cold. I work as quickly as I can but they’re still numb from their recent freezing and thawing and it takes me longer than it should to tear several short strips from the roll and stick them to my sleeve of my parka.

The fury watches me closely. When I have enough tape I step closer and tell it to hold its head up. It looks at me uncertainly and then at Mags. She’s already figured out what I’m doing; she says it’ll be okay. It hesitates a moment and then tilts its face up to me. I pull a piece of tape from my sleeve, trying to ignore the silver eyes that stare back at me through the small goggles. I work as quickly as I can, masking the lens so that only the narrowest slit remains through which light can enter. As I’m stretching the last piece into place the surgical mask Mags gave it slips down. Its skin is the color of the ashen snow, but the tape that Hicks insisted Mags place over its mouth in the bunker is missing. She must have removed it before we set off.

I yank my hand back like I’ve just burned it, but it just continues to stare back at me through the slit in its goggles. I glance over at Mags, hoping she hasn’t noticed. I fumble my fingers back into the mittens, trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

We make our way up the slope and onto the highway.

*

A
LL MORNING WE TRACK EAST
on I-64. I keep looking around, hoping to see Hicks cresting a hill or rounding a corner behind us, but there’s no sign of him. I tell myself it’s early yet. He may have to wait for Dr. Gilbey to make more medicine. And soon Truck and the others will be back at The Greenbrier; if he can’t get out ahead of them he’ll need to pick his moment to leave so he doesn’t lead them to us.

I stop us every hour for frostbite checks. Mags keeps her eyes open now, and she doesn’t let me stand too close. When she looks up at me I try not to stare at the darkening circles there, but I can’t help it. It’s only been a few hours but already they seem worse than when we were back in The Greenbrier. I tell myself that’s just being outside, in what passes for daylight. As long as she keeps taking Gilbey’s medicine she’ll be fine.

We take our lunch an hour after we cross into Virginia. There’s no shelter on this stretch of the highway so we sit in the snow in the lee of a road sign and set our MREs to warm. I’m just grateful to have some time out of the snowshoes. Something inside my boot feels slick, like I might be bleeding again.

The fury picks a spot for itself a few feet away and slumps down into a drift. Mags asks it if it wants anything but it just looks up at her like it’s figuring out if it needs to worry about its answer and then shakes its head. She unwraps a HOOAH! and hands it over anyway. It sniffs at the candy bar but then lets it fall into its lap.

I catch her wincing as she sits back down. I ask her what happened to her ribs but she just goes quiet and says it’s something best forgotten about. We finish our MREs in silence. As soon as she’s done she gets up. She walks over to the fury and pulls it to its feet and I watch as they set off down the highway. I gather our trash, step back into my snowshoes and hobble after them.

Hicks said Truck would probably wait until morning to come after us. I pray he does. But even so I don’t know how we can hope to stay ahead of him, limping through the snow like three broken things.

Darkness is threatening to overtake us as we take the exit for Covington, the town where we stopped with the soldiers on the way out to The Greenbrier. I’ll need to go back to the church to retrieve Marv’s map, but we won’t be sleeping there. Hopefully the soldiers won’t be on the road yet, but if they are they could be here later tonight and it’s the first place Truck would check.

I spot a low brown brick building with a sign that says US Army Reserve Center right off I-64. We make for it as the last of the light leaves the sky. Mags gets a fire going and we sit on the floor under a poster of a soldier that says
Does Your Future Look As Exciting As Ours?
while our MREs heat. The fury picks a spot on the other side of the room. It’s still working on the HOOAH! Mags gave it for lunch. Each time I look over it raises it to its lips but by the time we’re finished with our MREs the candy bar remains largely untouched.

I roll out the sleeping bag Mags and I used to share. There’s an awkward moment while we both stare at it and then she says I should take it. She’ll sleep in her parka; it’s not that cold. It’s freezing in here; the thought that she may already not be able to feel it scares me so I announce in a voice that is supposed to be authoritative but I suspect just sounds a little hysterical that she has to have it. I tell her I need to go back out to get Marv’s map anyway. There’s a Walmart right on the other side of the highway. It looked like a big store; it’s bound to have camping supplies. I’ll pick up another while I’m gone.

My legs have stiffened since we came inside and I could really do with replacing the bandages on my feet but I stand and head for the door before she has a chance to argue.

It’s long after dark when I limp back to the center. Mags is propped up against the wall in her sleeping bag,
Owen Meany
open in her lap. The fury sits in the corner, where it was when I went out. She looks up at me as I step inside.

‘How’d you do?’

I tell her I did pretty well, which isn’t so far from the truth. I’ve recovered Marv’s map from the church; it’s back where it belongs in the pocket of my parka. And I’ve managed to find us a bunch of things in the Walmart that we could use.

She smiles but she looks tired.

‘Want to get some sleep while I take the first shift?’

I shake my head. We’ve agreed we’ll take it in turns to watch the fury. I’m pretty beat but there’s a few things I need to do first.

‘Wake me in a couple of hours, okay?’

I nod. Within seconds she’s curled up inside the sleeping bag, fast asleep.

The fire’s burned down, so I set to work coaxing it back to life. From across the room the fury watches me. The branches hiss and steam as I feed them to the flames but eventually they catch.

I lay the sleeping bag I found down close to the spot Mags has chosen and dig into my pack for the first aid kit. I take off my boots and socks. Blood’s soaked through the bandages so I remove them and clean the cuts with water from my canteen, then smear them with some Neosporin I found in the Walmart and tape fresh dressings in place. When I’m done I toss the bloodied bandages in the fire, climb into the sleeping bag and lean back against the wall. My eyelids feel heavy but I need to stay awake. I take Marv’s map from the pocket of my parka and spread it across my lap.

Hicks said to stay on the interstate but we’ve been on the road since before dawn and I reckon we’ve barely covered fifteen miles. In a few short hours Truck and the other soldiers will set off from The Greenbrier, assuming they’re not on the road already. If they hike sunup to sundown they should be able to cover thirty miles in a day, even dragging Boots with them. At that rate they’ll be on us before we even reach I-81. I take the flashlight from the pocket of my parka and wind the stubby handle. The dynamo whirs and the bulb glows, finally casting a faint pool of yellow light across the familiar folds and creases. I turn the map over to find Covington and for a moment I forget where I’m pointing the beam. It slides across the wall and for a second is reflected back by a pair of silvered eyes. The fury turns its head away and buries its face in its hands.

My heart jumps and a cold flush of fear snaps me upright. Somehow outside, in the daytime, it’s just a kid, no bigger than we were when Kane brought us to Eden. But now, here in the darkness, it’s something much more than that. Or less.

I extinguish the beam and refold the map. As I’m returning it to the pocket of my parka my fingers brush the cold metal Hicks handed me earlier. I take Marv’s pistol out. The sweet smell of the gun oil drifts up as I remove it from the Ziploc bag. The magazine slides out easily when I press the switch. I feel along the top for the bullet and lever it out with my fingertips. Nothing pops up to take its place. Just one then. I push the round back in with my thumb and slide the clip back up into the handle. The fury looks at me as it clicks into place, and for a moment the light from the fire catches its eyes. It holds my gaze for a moment, like it knows what that sound means.