"The sea?" said Con.
"It's only a day's hike."
"He got so close," she said sadly.
"There's piles of stuff left by the tsunami. There must be tons of driftwood."
"For a signal fire?"
"Yeah," said Rick, "a huge one. They can't possibly miss it."
"If there's anyone to see it," said Con listlessly.
Rick looked at Con with concern. "You're not giving up? Joe would have never wanted you to do that."
"I'm just tired," said Con. "I'm tired all the time."
"I'm going to get the wood," said Rick. "It'll only take a minute. Get warm, and things will look better." The sky had turned gloomy. Soon it would be utterly black. How I miss the moon and the stars, Rick thought, as he headed for his abandoned load. Tonight will be long... He envisioned trying to sleep as Joe's body slowly froze outside the tent.... very long.
When Rick returned, he found that Con had dressed Joe's body in the Tyrannosaur hide.
"Won't we need that for our bed tonight?" asked Rick.
"I made it for him!" said Con vehemently. "We won't be able to get it on him after he ... after he ..."
"You're right," said Rick quickly. "Oh course, you're right."
"He's coming with us Rick."
"What?" asked Rick, wondering if Con's mind had snapped.
"I thought it out," continued Con. "We can take him with us on the travois."
"Why?"
"The signal fire will be his funeral pyre, too. That way, no matter what happens, he'll leave this world with us."
"Con, that's ..."
"Crazy? Is that what you're thinking? We can't bury him, the ground's frozen. And I'll never leave him for the night-stalkers to find. Never!"
Rick looked at Con, searching for signs of a shattered mind. The gleam in her eyes could be read either as reso-lution or madness.
"We can do this," said Con in a firm voice. "We owe it to him." Seen in the cold arithmetic of calories, it was an absurd idea. A dispassionate person would have abandoned Joe's body. A more dispassionate one would have used it. Yet Rick had come to respect the importance of things that were not easily calculated. He saw that having a goal was vital to Con. Her wasting frame already seemed sustained more by her will than by their meager rations. He knew she would do her utmost to put Joe to rest. Taking him to the sea would help ensure that Con reached it also.
"We'll get him there," said Rick. "His fire will light up the world." A look of relief came to Con's face. She hugged Rick. "I was worried you'd say 'no,' and I didn't think I could do it myself."
Rick looked at Con with respect. "You would've tried though, wouldn't you?"
"Of course."
Though it was a painful job to do so soon after Joe's death, Rick and Con bound the poles to his body so they could take him to the sea. They realized that by morning he would be frozen stiff, and the task might be impossible. They arranged his hands in a position of repose and placed his bloody spear within them. Con stood and addressed him. "Good night, Joe. We're taking you to the sea. I don't need to forgive you, because you did what you thought was right, and you always took care of me. I know Nicole loves you and would be proud of you. I love you, too."
"Amen," said Rick.
They left Joe in the tomb-dark night and returned to the fire. There were three strips of meat left, each no larger than a strip of bacon. Rick pleaded with Con to eat them all, but the most she would take was two. They ate their last meal slowly, trying to stretch it out. Throughout their pitiful dinner and long afterward, they talked about Joe. As they shared their stories, it seemed like they had known him for years, rather than weeks. Rick added wood to the fire, and they crawled into the tent and tried to sleep. Con lay on her side, curled up tightly. Rick lay behind her—his chest to her back, one arm thrown around her and his face in her hair. Never had Con seemed so precious to him. Or so fragile. RICK WOKE WITH a sense of urgency. They were in the final stretch. The goal of all their hardship and sacrifice lay within reach, but just barely. That thought both ex-cited and frightened him. Tonight we'll find out if it was all in vain. He realized that Con was approaching the limit of her endurance. So was he. To further lighten her load, they would leave the tent behind, wagering every-thing on being rescued. Speed would be of the essence, for in the relentless mathematics of survival, each minute in the cold cost calories.
Joe, stiff as a wooden statue and strapped to the poles, made a macabre travois. It was a manageable load, but just barely. Con, who, like Rick, wore one of the thin blankets as a cloak, carried everything else—down and kindling to start the signal fire, a spear and a water bottle. When they reached the riverbank, Con asked. "How far do you think it is?"
"See that bluff near the river?"
Con gazed into the distance. Snow was falling again and the bluff looked faint and far away, a gray hump near the horizon. "I think so," she said.
"I saw the shore from the top of that bluff."
"So the sea's behind the bluff?"
"Well. . . no," said Rick, "but I could see it from there."
"Oh," said Con with disappointment.
Soon after they started out, it became clear that their progress would be slower than Rick had planned. He had underestimated the difficulty of dragging Joe's body. De-spite having lost many pounds, Joe was a heavy and awk-ward burden. Rick's muscles had shrunken and the weight of the poles on his now bony shoulders chaffed and bruised them. When the pain became unbearable, he had to halt and rest. As the journey wore on, the halts became more and more frequent.
They reached the riverbank below the bluff after hard hours of travel. The view from there was unchanged, of-fering no hint of the tsunami debris mounds that Rick had spied from above. Instead, the bleak, burnt forest spread out as before. The cold land looked empty of life, a place where even the nightstalkers had departed.
With the bluff behind them, there was no visible goal for them to reach. Their pace lagged and, after a while, even Rick was beyond caring. In his exhaustion, it took all his effort to keep moving. He set little goals for him-self. First, they were to reach the next bend in the river. Then, they were to reach a blackened tree trunk a few dozen yards ahead. By the time it started to grow dark, his goals had been reduced to taking the next step.
"We have to stop," said Rick. "I can't go on."
Con wordlessly dropped her pack. Despite her tiny load, she looked every bit as exhausted as Rick felt. Rick realized that his urgency to finish their journey had clouded his judgment. He had pushed himself and Con too hard and still failed to reach their goal. Now, they were at the end of their strength and would spend the night in the open. If his miscalculation was not to be fatal, he would have to think more clearly.
"I'm going to look for driftwood," said Rick. "Will you be all right?"
"I'll help you," replied Con in a tired voice.
They walked along the riverbank looking for wood. It proved just as scarce as at the last camp. Though they moved as quickly as their exhaustion allowed, racing the gathering darkness, it was soon clear they wouldn't find enough wood to burn all night.
"We'll have to dig a snow cave," said Rick.
"A snow cave? I thought we wanted to be warm."
"It's better than being out in the open. We'll snuggle close to keep each other warm."
"From a log cabin to a snow cave," said Con. "You sure know how to lower a woman's expectations!
But I like the snuggling part."
Rick smiled and felt encouraged that Con still had her sense of humor.
As they walked along the bank, Rick spotted a charred trunk of a large fallen tree. On one side, the snow had drifted to the height of the four-foot log. "There's a likely spot," he said.
"You'd better get Joe and our stuff, then," said Con. "It's really getting dark. If you tell me how to make the cave, I'll dig it."