It was not clear who struck the next blow. All at once, the hunters plunged forward. They closed around the beast, obscuring it from sight. Their ululations reached a fever pitch, higher and more piercing than before, so that the birds in the pine trees rose and flew away, calling out to one another in alarm. Bare arms rose and fell in a frenzy, knives slashed, and hot blood spattered across the skin of those who were at the kill. The others, Sam included, danced around the edges, waiting for their turns to plunge in and claim a piece of the prize.
He saw Sara, her black and gold mask singling her out from all the white skulls, drawing the beast's head back and slitting its throat, sending an arc of blood spraying out. Jefferson in his golden mask moved in and plunged his knife into its chest, prying the ribs apart to extract the beast's heart, which he presented to Sara, placing it in her elegant, tapered hands. What became of it Sam never saw, since the leaders moved away. It was time for the rest of the hunters to descend on what was left of the beast.
Chapter Seventeen
Sam woke up parched. His eyelashes were matted together and all in all, he felt as though he had been gently baked in an industrial oven. He rolled his aching body over and felt around for his waterskin. It was only half full, but it was enough to take the edge off the ache in his throat. He pushed a hand deep into his backpack, looking for the packet of cigarettes that he had stashed there. In all his many years of waking up hung over, he couldn't remember a time when he had felt quite as rough as this. Not since the last time he—
Right. Of course, he thought as he failed to find his smokes. Not since the last time I tried to quit smoking. That'll be it. Gingerly, he eased himself into a sitting position. His back twinged in a rather disconcerting way, apparently determined to remind him that forty was not far off.
"Good morning, Sam," said Purdue. He was sitting at the other side of the teepee, his knees pulled close to his chest. The folding tablet lay on the blanket beside him, showing the front page of the newspaper Le Monde's website. "You were starting to worry me."
"Why's that?"
"Because you've been asleep for the best part of twenty-four hours. It seems that something in the water didn't agree with you."
"What are you talking about?" Julia Rose was unconvinced. "Sam was just tired. And it's not like he's the only one who slept a long time after the Vision Quest. Plenty of people did. Sara said it happens all the time. It's how some people respond to an intense emotional experience."
Purdue peered at her over the top of his glasses. "Indeed, Miss Gaultier. It's also how many people respond to the aftereffects of hallucinogenic drugs."
Julia Rose rolled her eyes. "Some people just can't handle the idea of an experience they don't know how to explain. You know, if all you saw was darkness, you should really talk to Sara about that. She'd be happy to help you."
"Please, don't think that I do not appreciate your concern, Julia Rose," Purdue adopted his most dismissively polite tone. "But I am perfectly capable of managing my own 'spiritual journey.' Far from seeing darkness, I spent that hour having a most pleasant sleep, during which I dreamed that I was falling from a great height — which is, of course, one of the most common dreams known to humankind and generally indicative of the dreamer being concerned about maintaining control of his own life. You can probably imagine why a man in my position might have such a dream. Admittedly, it is one that I have infrequently, but I do not spend a great deal of time worrying about it when I do."
As exhausted and sore as he was, Sam struggled not to laugh as he saw Julia Rose scowl. He felt a little sorry for her — being on the receiving end of one of Purdue's polite put-downs was not an enjoyable experience — but she had walked straight into it, and it would be a valuable learning experience for an aspiring journalist. She was not yet good enough at this game to come up with a sharp retort, so instead she pulled her boots on and went for breakfast.
"Sustaining yourself by crushing hopeful spirits?" Sam inquired, "or just not hungry?"
"Neither," said Purdue. "I'm sure Julia Rose will encounter more difficult people than me in her quest for journalistic glory. Assuming, of course, that she does not decide on a change of career and offer herself as Sara Stromer's latest acolyte."
"Sara does seem to have made quite an impression on her, doesn't she?" Sam mused. "It's funny. She seemed so hardheaded when I first met her, but there's definitely some hero worship going on there. Still, that doesn't answer my second question. Aren't you going to come and have breakfast?"
Purdue shook his head. "The diet here is not to my taste. Fortunately, I anticipated this and brought supplies of my own." Reaching into his bag, he produced a couple of cereal bars. "Would you care for one? I realize that they are not what you would choose either, but you might prefer them to what's offered here. I would certainly urge you to have one just now. You'll recover far quicker than if you eat the connection tent fare."
I never thought I'd meet someone who was even more scathing about all this vegan hippy food than me, Sam thought. He accepted the cereal bar and tore off its wrapper. Through a mouthful of dry, oat mush he said "So you really think there were drugs on the go during the Vision Quest?"
"It wouldn't surprise me," Purdue shrugged, flicking idly through the headlines on his tablet. "Most of these types of quests appear to get their results either through mood-altering substances or through some kind of mass hysteria. I can't imagine how they could be effective otherwise."
"I don't know," said Sam. "I would have said the same thing, but I must admit, I've been quite surprised by this thing. I'm still not convinced by their talk of bringing everyone together in some kind of massive, worldwide connection orgy — but they might be onto something when it comes to, I don't know… paying attention to the things around us, stuff like that." He felt foolish the moment he stopped talking. "I don't know. It's just not as excruciating as I thought it might be."
"You might change your mind about that 'worldwide connection orgy,' as you put it." A tiny smile played around the corners of Purdue's mouth. "I think they might surprise you."
"What do you know?" Sam grinned, despite himself. Purdue's games were infuriating, but he could never quite resist being intrigued. "Is there something you haven't told me about all this?"
The small smile gave way to Purdue's customary smirk. "Oh, Sam," he said, "so much — as ever."
They had barely finished their cereal bars when Kai, Purdue's bodyguard, appeared at the tent flap. "Incoming, sir. Cignetti-Dwyer."
Purdue did not pause to reply but immediately folded the tablet down to its smallest size. He reached forward and snatched up Sam's discarded wrapper, inserted the tablet and folded the plastic so that the whole thing appeared to be nothing but a half-consumed cereal bar. He shoved the little package into a side pocket of Sam's backpack, and then dived back into his previous position as if nothing at all had happened.
"No, I haven't heard from him in some time," Purdue said, as Cody came into the tent, "but do give him my regards if he contacts you again. How is he? Back in Siberia?"
For a moment Sam was confused. Who are we talking about? he wondered. Ah, right — Alexandr. Got it.
"Yeah, for now," he improvised. "He said that's why he hasn't been in touch for a while. He's living on the side of some mountain out there and the nearest net connection is days away. I'll tell him you said hello when I write back."