“Take Cheney with you.” Hawk glanced down at the shaggy dog. “Keep him for as long as you need him.” He handed Panther a piece of clothing. “That belongs to Cat. Cheney can track her from the scent.”
Panther took the offering, a blouse, and held it woodenly. “Yeah, this is good. But I don’t know. Cheney belongs to you. He don’t even like me all that much.”
“He’ll stick with you long enough.” Hawk bent down to the big dog and whispered to him. Then he stood up again. “You come back.”
Panther nodded. Then, impulsively, he embraced the other boy, gripping him tightly. “You get them all to where they’ll be safe, Bird‑Man. You can do it. Ain’t nuthin’ can stop you.”
Hawk hugged him back wordlessly.
“Frickin’ hell,” Panther muttered.
Then they broke the embrace, turned away from each other, and began walking. Neither looked back.
THIRTY-ONE
AT DAYBREAK, the caravan set out anew, continuing east toward the mountains. Most of the vehicles were still running, although several of the older ones had to be left behind because sand and grit had clogged their motors, and there wasn’t time to fix them. Those who needed to ride simply doubled up. Conditions were perfect for travel. The day was clear and bright, the storm a thing of the past. Even west, where it had raged on through much of the night, all traces had vanished. Angel Perez, knowing the weather would favor the demons and the once–men as much as it did them, asked Helen Rice to send scouts back the way they had come to see if there was any sign of pursuit. She didn’t have any illusions about the possibility of preventing their enemies from crossing the Columbia. Destroying the bridge would not stop them. Once–men lives were expendable. Whatever it took, the army would come after the caravan. If Angel and the other defenders were going to face another battle before reaching the promised safehold, they had better be ready.
She spoke briefly with Hawk, who was back in the lead, walking with a handful of his family members. She tried talking to him about their destination, to find out once again if he had any idea of how much farther they had to go. But the boy simply shook his head and said he didn’t know, and the other Ghosts closed about him protectively. When it was apparent that no one wanted her there, she let the matter drop and moved away.
She traveled alone for a time after that, lost in thoughts of expectations, good and bad. She had been plagued by a sense of foreboding since rising and setting out. She should not have felt that way; in fact, she should have felt renewed confidence following the destruction of the demon. The children were safe again, and the caravan was moving forward. But for reasons she could not explain, her mood was dark and uneasy.
Eventually, Kirisin Belloruus joined her and reiterated his growing concern over his missing sister. Even though a handful of Elves who had escaped the massacre in the Cintra had found their way to the caravan, his sister was not among them. Angel understood. She was worried about Simralin, as well, not to mention the absent and long–overdue Logan Tom. Like the Elven Tracker, he should have been back before this. It was a difficult situation, having both of them missing at the same time and not knowing where to look for either. Nevertheless, Angel promised the boy that a new set of scouts would be dispatched to see if any sign could be found.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Hawk and the Ghosts?” she asked him after a while. “When I tried to talk to them earlier this morning, they made it clear they wanted me to go somewhere else.”
“The halfling, Catalya, disappeared during the night, and Panther went after her,” he said. “The others didn’t want him to go. They tried to talk him out of it, but he went anyway. I think they are afraid they won’t see him again.”
She sighed wearily. “Ay Dios mio.” Her mood darkened further. “Well, I’ll ask the scouts to look out for them, too.”
“I wish we could just get to wherever it is we’re going,” the boy muttered.
Angel nodded but didn’t say anything more.
The morning slipped away, and it was nearing midday when they sighted the dam.
They saw it first as what appeared to be a cluster of dilapidated buildings and collapsed power lines settled within a depression. But as they drew nearer, they saw the smooth curve of a massive concrete wall spanning a deep gorge, and recognized it for what it was: an enormous structure built to hold in check the waters of what was, if the maps could be trusted, the north–south branch of the Columbia River. It appeared that the gates had been locked in place for a long time. Even a cursory glance revealed that the waters above the dam were perhaps two hundred feet higher than those below.
The caravan slowed as it came up on the banks of the gorge, and Angel found Helen Rice and had the bulk of the vehicles and all of the children kept well back while they went forward to decide what to do next. Then she gathered with Helen and the Ghosts on a high embankment and peered down at the dam and the gorge. This close, Angel could see cracks in the dam’s smooth wall, spiderwebs across the whole of its curved surface. Water was leaking through some of the larger splits. The leakage appeared to be steady and had dozens of sources, all of them feeding the waters below the dam wall. Mounds of debris lay clustered along the banks of the gorge, including abandoned cars, pieces of sheet metal, and old appliances, all of it turned to rust.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s come this way in a while,” Helen said quietly. She glanced at Hawk. “Do we have to cross this?”
Hawk nodded without hesitating. “Yes.”
Helen rolled her eyes at Angel. “I’m sending AVs in both directions to see if there’s a bridge somewhere.”
She turned and walked away. Angel stayed where she was, already considering alternatives. The top of the dam wall was clustered with housings for machinery and controls and iron railings, not all of them still in one piece. As well, the flat surface tilted at odd intervals, forming ramps and chutes. While the members of the caravan could probably make their way across, if they were careful and passed in single file, it was too narrow for vehicles. Even so, she was doubtful. She didn’t like the look of the cracks in the concrete wall. The dam looked weathered and old and unsafe, even if it was still holding back all that water.
“Maybe we could build rafts and float the caravan across,” said Helen, coming up beside her once more.
Angel looked around at the barren sweep of the hills and cocked one eyebrow at her. “Out of what? Trash and deadwood?”
They were silent then for a few minutes, all of them staring at the broad span of the gorge, mulling over the problem of crossing. Angel brushed at her short–cropped hair and thought how long it had been since she had washed it. Washed any part of the rest of her, for that matter. Days. She didn’t like how it made her feel, thinking of it. She didn’t care that the others were every bit as ragged and dirty as she was. She wanted to feel clean again.
She shook her head. Well, there was no help for it. She glanced at the gorge and the dam once more. Maybe there was no help for anything.
“Let’s give everyone something to eat,” Helen suggested.
Angel nodded her agreement. “Go ahead. I want to have a closer look at that dam.”
She left the others and walked along the embankment to where steps led down to a catwalk that opened out onto the top of the wall and the buildings beyond. She stood at the top of the steps and studied the structure. She didn’t know anything about dams, so she didn’t have any idea what she should be looking for, but she looked anyway.
Waste of time, she thought.
She looked beyond the dam wall to the waters trapped behind it. The river was thick with deadwood, and an ugly slick covered its surface where it brushed against the concrete. She wrinkled her nose. She wouldn’t want to wash herself in that. She was still studying the morass when Kirisin appeared unexpectedly at her elbow. Wordlessly, he pointed skyward. When she looked, she saw a pair of winged creatures circling the caravan.