Dean Koontz - The Servants of Twilight

She figured it was frozen over and covered with snow. If they followed the creek (instead of crossing the meadow into the next arm of the woods), they would eventually come to the upper end of a narrow draw that sloped down toward the lake, for this was a high valley that funneled southwest, and they were still far above Tahoe. Yesterday, when he had first brought out the map, Charlie had said they would follow this route if they had to leave the cabin and take to the wilds, but that had been before he was shot. It was a three- or four-mile hike to civilization from here, not a discouragingly long way-if you were in good physical condition. However, now that he was wounded and weak, and with a full-scale blizzard moving in, there was absolutely no hope of getting down to the lake by that route. In their circumstances, three or four miles was a journey every bit as epic as a trek across China.

She desperately searched the map for some other way out or for some indication of shelter, and after consulting the key several times to interpret the cartographer's symbols, she discovered the caves. They were along this same side of the valley, half a mile northeast of here.

Judging by the map, the caves were a point of interest for those hardy hikers who were curious about ancient Indian wall paintings and who had a mania for collecting arrowheads. Christine could not determine whether it was just one or two small caves or an extensive network of them, but; she figured they would be at least large enough to serve as a place to hide from both Spivey's fanatics and the murderous weather.

She moved closer to Charlie, put her head to his in order to be heard above the cacophonous wind, and told him what she had in mind. He was in complete agreement, and his confidence in her plan gave her more faith in it. She stopped worrying about whether going to the caves was a wise decision, and she started worrying about whether they would be able to make it there through the storm.

"We could walk northeast through the woods, following the base of the valley wall," she told Charlie, "but that would leave a trail."

"Whereas, if we went out into the meadow before heading up the valley, if we traveled out there in the open, the storm would obliterate our tracks in no time."

"Yes."

"Spivey's people would lose us right here," he said.

"Exactly. Of course, to reach the caves, we'd have to re-enter the woods farther north, but there's not a chance in a million that they'd pick up our trail again. For one thing, they'll be expecting us to head down the valley, southwest, toward the lake, cause civilization is that direction. ' '

"Right." He licked his cracked lips." There's nothing at all northeast of us but. more wilderness."

"They won't look for us in that neighborhood-will they?"

Christine asked.

"I doubt it," he said." Let's get moving."

"Walking out there in the open, in the wind and snow.

isn't going to be easy," she said.

" I'm all right. I can make it."

He didn't look as if he could make it. He didn't look as if he could even get up. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. His face was gaunt and shockingly pale, and his lips were bloodless.

"But you've got to. look out for Joey," Charlie said.

"Better cut a piece of line. put him on a tether."

That was a good suggestion. Out in the open field, visibility was only a dozen yards in the best moments, declining to less than four yards when the wind whipped up and the snow squalled. It would be easy for Joey to wander a few steps off course, and once they were separated, they would find it difficult if not impossible to locate each other again. She cut a length of rope from the coil that hung on her backpack and made a tether that allowed the boy six feet of play; she linked them, waist to waist.

Charlie repeatedly, nervously looked back the way they had come.

Christine was more disturbed by the fact that Chewbacca, too, was watching the trail along which they'd come. He was still lying down, still relatively calm, but his ears had perked up, and he was growling softly in the back of his throat.

She helped Charlie and Joey put on their ski masks because they would need them now, whether or not the eye holes restricted their vision. She put on her own mask, replaced her hood, pulled the drawstring tight under her chin.

Joey rose without being told. She decided that was a good sign. He still seemed lost, detached, uninterested in what was happening around him, but at least on a subconscious level he knew it was time to go, which meant he wasn't completely beyond reach.

Christine helped Charlie get to his feet.

He looked bad.

This last half mile to the caves was going to be sheer torture for him.

But there was nothing else they could do.

Keeping one hand on Charlie's good arm, ready to provide support if he needed it, tethered to Joey, she led them into the meadow. The wind was a raging beast. The air temperature was at least twenty below zero. The snowflakes were not really flakes any more; they had shrunk to tiny, crystal pellets that bounced off Christine's insulated clothing with a sharp ticking sound. If Hell was cold instead of hot, this was what it must be like.

Ashes and half-burned black branehes were all that remained of the fire that had recently flourished in the middle of the deer path. Kyle Barlowe kicked at the charred detritus, scattering it.

He stepped under the rocky overhang and looked at the abandoned backpack. There were scraps of paper in one corner of the rocky niche, wrappers from prepackaged gauze bandages.

"You were right," Burt Tully said." The man's been hurt."

"Bad enough so he can't carry his pack any more," Barlowe said, turning away from the abandoned gear.

"But I'm still not sure we should go after him, just the four of us," Thlly said." We need reinforcements."

"There's no time to go for them," Kyle Barlowe said.

"But he. he's killed so many of us."

"Are you turning yellow on us?"

"No, no," Tully said, but he looked scared.

"You're a soldier now," Barlowe said." With God's protection."

"I know. It's just. this guy. Harrison. he's damned good." "Not as good as he was before Denny shot him."

"But he shot Denny! He must still have a lot on the ball."

Impatiently, Kyle said, "You saw the place farther back on the trail, where he fell. There was more blood there, where she came and helped him."

"But reinforcements-"

"Forget it," Kyle said, pushing past him.

He had his doubts, too, and he wondered if he was being sharp with Burt only to push his own second-thoughts out of his mind.

Edna Vanoff and Mother Grace were waiting on the trail.

The old woman didn't look well. Her eyes were bloodshot, deeply sunken, pinched half shut by the sooty flesh that ringed them. She stood round-shouldered, bent at the waist, the very image of exhaustion.

Barlowe was amazed that she had come this far. He had wanted her to stay back at the cabin, with guards, but she had insisted on going farther into the mountains with them. He knew she was a vital woman, possessed of considerable strength and stamina for her age, but he was surprised by her unflagging progress through the woods. Occasionally they had to help her over a rough spot, and once he had even carried her for thirty yards or so, but for the most part she had made it on her own.

"How long ago did they leave this place?" Grace asked him, her voice as cracked and bloodless as her lips.

"Hard to say. Fire's cold, but in this weather the embers would cool off real fast."

Burt Thlly said, "If Harrison is as badly wounded as we think, they can't be making good time. We must be closing on them.

We can afford to go slowly, be careful, and make sure we don't walk into another ambush."