August Ansel - Shadow Road

Not only had the deliberate destruction toppled trees and piled a vast quantity of rock and dirt, but a concerted effort had enlarged and complicated the barrier. It towered at least ten feet over Curran’s head. Backyard furniture, patio umbrellas, and a variety of bicycles were layered into the mound, packed in carefully with more dirt and chunks of asphalt—presumably gathered from the opposite side, where the path once met the street. Stripped tree branches had been thrust in all over the mess, their splintered ends pointed out like the world’s largest, ugliest porcupine. Light reflected off a great many embedded shards of glass.

Handy slid out of his pack and dropped it at his feet with a soft grunt. “If I were alone, I might give it a try, but…” He scanned the confusion in front of them. “Not a chance.” He unlaced the front pocket of the pack and fished out the new map.

“Plan B,” said Curran.

“B?” said Renna. “I don’t think so, big guy. We’re on a plan that doesn’t even cross the alphabet anymore.”

Handy stooped and spread the map on the ground before him. “Come have a look, Kory. Show me where we are now.”

The boy dropped onto his butt in the dirt and studied the map. He paused a moment then touched his fingertip to the smooth surface. “We started here,” he said, and began to trace a careful line, north by northwest. “Then we went this way, then out.” Arie realized he had started from his cabin, and was tracking their route through the woods and out to the coast with uncanny accuracy. “Arcata is right here—oh, there’s the university. So, we’re right about here.” He gave the map a little tap. Talus had parked herself right next to him, and she gave his cheek a companionable lick. “Hey,” he said, and wiped his sleeve across his wet cheek.

“Yes,” said Arie. “And where we’re headed is up here.” She bent and poked the spot where God’s Land was tucked into the hills.

“Not too bad,” said Kory. “It’s pretty close, I mean.”

“As the crow flies,” said Handy. “But there’s lots of rough miles to cover between here and there. The things we saw today could be just the start of what we’ll find.”

“And we’re not crows,” said Kory. His blue eyes were grave.

“Exactly so,” said Arie. “We have to rely on terra firma to get us there.”

“And put up with bullshit like this from homo sapiens,” said Curran, looking at the lethal pile in their path.

“Hayesville is right here,” Handy said, indicating a dot on the map nearest to their location.

“After the things we’ve seen today, I say we skip it,” said Renna.

“Agreed,” said Curran. “I can’t see how scavenging is worth the risk at this point. We still have food and supplies to last awhile, right?”

“It’s not that easy,” said Handy. He sketched a large, meandering circle with one finger. “Hayesville has a big spread. There are clumped-up bunches of houses all over this area. It’s easy enough to stay away from the center of town, here,” he pointed. “And we need to start cutting inland right here. It’s going to be almost impossible to avoid the place completely.”

Curran leaned in for a look. “You’re right,” he sighed. “We’d have to backtrack all the way and take our chances on the highway.” He paused, shaking his head. “Or cut due east and try to climb a two-thousand foot elevation.”

“I don’t like the exposure on the highway,” said Arie.

“No, neither do I,” said Handy. “And exposure isn’t the only problem. Look what happens to the 101 just north of where we are now.” He traced the white line for them, and it was abundantly clear. The road, which mirrored the line of the coast, curved miles west of where they sat before steadily moving inland again.

“We’d have to go days out of our way, no matter how you cut it,” said Renna. “You know what? I’m too damned beat up to choose. If we don’t make camp soon, I’m going to trip and skin something else.” She touched the grazed skin of her face again.

“We don’t have much light left,” said Arie. “The only thing that makes sense is to cut into the woods and make camp. Tomorrow we’ll plot a course that will keep us at the farthest edges of town.”

Handy folded the map and returned it to his pack. “We’re going to have to retrace our steps awhile to get past this blackberry hell,” he said.

It was ten minutes before they found a reasonable break in the snarl of briars, and still they added to the scratches and scrapes they’d already accumulated earlier in the day. When they got through, and into the trees, they found a level place under a ring of redwoods that was dry and spongy. After they’d shrugged off their packs, Arie began digging a shallow fire pit.

“I’ll get wood,” said Kory. “Chop chop!” he yelled at Talus, laughing. They bounded up and over a small bank and into the trees.

“We don’t need much,” Arie called after him.

“And watch out for poison oak,” yelled Renna. She closed her eyes and sighed, looking weary to the bone. “All we need is a kid covered with itchy blisters.”

“I’ve never had it,” said Arie, building up a little berm of rocks on the windward side of the pit. “Lucky I guess. It’s a torment.”

“It’s hell,” said Curran. He was digging food from the packs while Handy made a quick perimeter check. “I didn’t walk in it, though—it was way worse than that.” Across the bank, Talus voiced a single, happy bark.

“How’d it get you?” asked Renna.

“Breathed it,” said Curran. “I was helping a friend clear brush around his property, and we threw all the dry stuff on a bonfire.”

Arie grimaced. “People have died that way.”

“Yeah, that’s what they told me in the emergency room when I was trying really hard to breathe.”

Renna lifted her water bottle in a salute. “To learning things the hard way,” she said, and took a long swallow.

Directly overhead, a great horned owl—brother, perhaps, to the one they’d heard in the tractor barn the night before—chimed in with a throaty interrogative. That’s when the early evening quiet was split with the piercing sound of Kory’s screams.

HANDY GOT THERE FIRST. As Arie crested the little forest rise and hurried down the other side, her mind was a confusion of impressions. It was like being on the beach and almost losing him to the tide all over again. Her first thought was that the trouble must be a person or animal, but even with Handy now bent over him, Kory kept screaming. Curran skidded down next to them and Renna tried to corral Talus, who ran in small circles, barking hoarsely.

“What is it?” Arie shouted, working her way down to them, doing her best not to lose her footing and tumble headlong. Her heart thrummed manically each time the boy belted out another howl.

“His foot,” Handy shouted. “It’s a damned trap!”

Arie got to the bottom of the incline. Kory lay in a shrubby spot near a small creek. A sparse tumble of firewood lay near him.

“My leg,” he cried. “Get it off!”

Then she could see the trouble. The rusted iron jaws of a leg-hold trap had closed on the boy’s foot and lower leg. It was a relic from a long-gone era, when predator trapping was a moneymaking industry. The cuff of Kory’s jeans was darkening with blood, which looked black in the disappearing light. The skin had been broken, and badly. Arie’s own limbs went numb with dread—the trap probably had teeth.

Curran and Handy both worked to open the mechanism. Arie grabbed a slender limb from the spilled firewood.

“That’s it,” she said. “Get this in there and lever it.” In a moment, they had the evil thing off the boy. He made a sound through his clenched teeth, part moan and part growl. “Yes, indeed, my friend,” said Arie. “Try to be still and let me look.”