Sunshaker's War (31 page)

“Ah-ha!” David exclaimed. “So that was what he was
talkin' about when he said that about you attempting what he suspected you would.”

“Yeah,” Calvin grunted noncomittally.

“So we do it, then?”

“No,” Calvin replied. “Not yet. First we need to get closer to where we think Finny is, just in case the gate only opens in space. And we need the blood of some large animal to prime it.”

“Uki told you this?”

“Basically, yes.”

“What this means, folks,” Alec said, “is that we've got miles to go before we sleep.”

“What
kind
of large animal?” Liz wondered suddenly.

“Leave that to me,” Calvin told her with a smile. “Come on, gang, we gotta travel.”

“Tonight?”
David groaned, unable to suppress a yawn.

“Would you rather regret it a week from tonight?”

“No,” David sighed, standing and stretching until he thought his back would snap apart. “I guess you're right.”

“I
know
I am,” Calvin told him, as he led the way out of the Power Wheel.

Interlude: A Call

(Sullivan Cove, Georgia—Sunday, June 15—11:30 P.M.)

The phone rang loudly in the dark, and it took Dale Sullivan half-a-dozen tries to lay hands on it.

Half awake, he brought the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” He yawned, scratching his side absently.

“Uh, sorry to call so late, but is this Dale Sullivan?” A woman's voice, musical, but a little nervous.

“Uh, yeah, shore is. What can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, you don't know me, but my name's Sandy—Sandy Fairfax. I'm a friend of Calvin Macintosh's.”

“Right,” Dale said, still fumbling for the light. “I know him. He's not here now.”

“No,” Sandy said. “I know he's not. That's why I called you. I think there're some things you ought to know.”

Chapter XVI: A Night in the Woods

(Jackson County, Georgia—Sunday, June 15—very late)

Five hours after leaving Calvin's Power Wheel, whatever apprehensions David might have had regarding the salvation of either his friends or his World had been sublimated by a much more immediate concern: staying awake. In spite of having slept through the morning and most of the afternoon, fatigue had caught up with all of them again in the last little while and was making its presence known in no uncertain terms—either that, or their biorhythms were screwed up something awful, or maybe it was the simple fact that having your body taken apart and reassembled took as much out of you as a hard day's work, and having your consciousness out flying around had much the same effect.

Unfortunately, it was the middle of night and he was driving to Atlanta.

He'd been fine when they'd decided to press on that evening, hoping to get as close as they could to the real-world analog of Fionchadd's prison under cover of darkness, since none of them were certain what they might
have to do or where, except that whatever it came down to would best be accomplished without any unwelcome scrutiny. And he'd still been okay while they'd packed and plotted and putzed around the house far longer than he liked. But now he was beginning to regret not having pushed harder for Sandy to drive, as she'd volunteered to do before Calvin reminded her that she had a post-planning session at her school the next day that she absolutely could not afford to miss. Her peculiar living arrangement had raised some eyebrows over the previous year, and though she was a good and highly regarded teacher, some folks in her local school system disapproved of her lifestyle and would avail themselves of any opportunity to ostracize her, so she had to be careful not to rock the boat too much.

So it was that David found himself piloting the Mustang-of-Death down the long, empty stretches of 1-85 between Commerce and Jefferson at just shy of midnight, with Liz and Alec cutting heavy Z's in the right side shot guns, and Calvin only fitfully awake behind him. The trunk was packed with an assortment of gear assembled for a variety of contingencies, but immediate reality had narrowed to the rush of white line across the dark pavement and the harsh whip of wind through all four lowered windows—the car, a '66, had no A.C., and they were in rather close quarters. The noise also helped him stay awake, aided by the lively beat of the B-52s' latest album being tracked on the University of Georgia station they'd been listening to ever since they'd come in range fifteen minutes before. Alec had still been functional then, and it had been his suggestion. He was asleep now, and David was considering several alternatives. He'd have put in a tape, but the humidity had got to his cassette player sometime lately, and after it had eaten the new Midnight Oil, he'd called it quits.

And what he
really
wanted to call quits to was driving. His eyes were about to go: they were burning like crazy and he'd been blinking them far too often, and not because of the Sight. Worse, he had more than once caught himself on the ragged edge of veering off the road. Fortunately there was coffee that Sandy had sent along, but that only made him want to pee again—and they'd made two pit-stops already, to his chagrin. To take his mind off his bladder, he put himself to wondering about it all once more, about Calvin and Sandy—about how in the world they were going to rescue Finno. And with that came not awe, but dread: dread of the pain of the transfer, fear of shapeshifting, of losing himself. The horror of failing and knowing that though his World would probably survive, others might very well not. It was too much, he realized, too much for a guy to have to put up with when he was only five months past eighteen.

He tried to exile the notion, to concentrate on the situation at hand: white lines and a reflective-silver-on-green sign that hove suddenly out of the darkness bearing the legend JEFFERSON: 5 MILES. He started: hadn't the last one said eight? Where had the last three minutes gone? He blinked, shifted position, stuck his head out the window to try to wind-whip himself back to full alert. And cranked the radio louder. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Calvin finally sacked out. So what was the deal…? “We'll go to Atlanta,” they'd said, and this was the quickest way. Only which way now? There were several routes to Atlanta, so if they stayed on the interstate, they'd hit the perimeter in about forty-five minutes. The IBM Tower was smack in the middle of town, but what was the best way to get there?

The left side tires crunched gravel and David jerked reflexively, aware he'd faded out while actually making a conscious effort not to. He wrenched the wheel to the right and swore softly. One or the other shook Calvin from his stupor. “Damn, Sullivan, you tryin' to get us
killed
?”

“It'd solve some problems,” David retorted wearily.

“Want me to drive?”

“You're no better off than I am, Fargo. But you can talk to me if you want to, help me stay awake. We've only got another hour or so. “

“Only takes a second to splatter us across four lanes,” Calvin yawned back. “But I've been thinkin'. I hate the idea of any more delays, but it's not gonna do any good for us to try this when we're dead on our feet. Besides, there's something else we need anyway, so I was just thinkin'…let's see, we're nearly in Jefferson, so why don't you turn off there?”

“Ask and it shall be given,” David chuckled wanly, pointing to the exit sign that had obligingly appeared on the horizon. “US 129, to Jefferson, Athens, and Gainesville. Which way now, mon?”

“Left,” Calvin instructed. “I know a place near here where we can chill out for a while.”

“You got it,” David sighed, and shifted to third as he braked and changed lanes to head up the gentle exit ramp. “Left, you said?” he asked at the top, pausing to vent a yawn of his own.

“Yeah.” Calvin yawned back offhandedly.

“Where are we?” Alec muttered from the right side of the back seat where he'd been curled into a cramped and rather angular ball, his long legs a problem in spite of Liz having moved her seat all the way forward.

“Close to our goal,” David told him, “Closer, anyway.”

“Wake me up when we're there,” he slurred back softly, and closed his eyes once more.

“Just go south,” Calvin told David. “It's only 'bout fifteen more miles.”

The distance passed quickly and fairly painlessly. David had finally begun to acquire his second wind, and, now that there were some curves in the road, was finding more to occupy both his hands and his reflexes.

They trundled through tiny, rustic Jefferson and even tinier Arcade, which was hardly even a town; still heading south, traveling through rolling hills that were about an even mix of farms and forest. As they crested a low hill roughly ten miles out of town, Calvin leaned up and spoke into David's ear. “Okay now, slow down, it's up here somewhere, just let me find it—off on the right.” David eased off the gas, but still had to brake hard to catch the road that suddenly darted out from behind a stand of pines. The tires squealed in protest. Liz squealed in irritation at having been so inelegantly awakened.

“Where are we?” she mumbled grumpily.

“Just what I was about to ask,” Alec chimed in from the back seat. “For that matter,
when
are we?”

“Nearly midnight, and south of Jefferson,” David replied. “And closer to bed.”

“Not bed, precisely,” Calvin corrected. “Let's just say closer to
sleep.
”

“Where to now, Fargo?” David wondered, as they puttered down a narrow paved road between ranks of scruffy pines. A small church and graveyard slipped by on the left, a house on the right, one light burning. Somewhere a dog yipped.

“Couple of miles on, dirt road, lefthand side.”

David shrugged and followed Calvin's directions into what was now purely forest, and at last turned onto what looked suspiciously like a well-maintained logging road—until it became progressively more overgrown.

“Here,” Calvin said at last.

David took in their surroundings: a small clearing almost overgrown with bushes and long grass, surrounded by more of the tall, stringy pines. He could see sky through their sparse branches, though—and bright stars. The only sounds were the hiss of air through needles and the distant cry of an owl.

“You know the owners?”

“Know their son, met him at Boy Scout Camp once. Don't think they'll mind if we camp out here for the night, long as we don't hurt anything—'specially if we don't leave any sign we were here, which means we can't risk a fire. The north may be soggy to the core, but not this part of the country.”

“Didn't know you were a Scout,” David observed, as he shut off the car and climbed out.

“Wasn't,” Calvin replied, as he followed suit. “Grandfather took me down to their big set-up at Rainey Mountain a couple of years ago to do a demo. Met this guy there. Visited him again last year while I was roamin' around.”

“What kinda demo?” This from Alec.

“Medicinal herbs.”

“Oh, right, I'd forgotten about that.”

“So where do we sleep?” Alec wondered.

“We've
got
bags,” David noted with a touch of sarcasm. “And the ground looks pretty soft over there where the moss is. We can sack out there. Or you can crash in the car if you want to.”

“No thanks,” Alec protested, stretching again. “I'll take the ground. I've had enough of the M-of-D lately.”

“And I'll take wherever you are,” Liz whispered, seizing David's hand.

“It'll be the ground then,” he said, digging a pair of nylon bags from the trunk. “How 'bout you, Fargo?”

“I'm gonna wander around for a bit,” Calvin replied absently. “Be back when I get back.”

“Take it easy,” David called.

“You got it. Just remember: save me some food. And
no
fire!”

“Right.”

David watched, but was never certain when Calvin passed from view among the trees.

“Lord, I'm tired,” Alec groaned, as he unrolled his bag and stretched out on a flat, mossy spot.

“You got it,” Liz agreed, following his example. David slipped his bed roll between his friends, then returned to the car for the cooler Sandy had lent them. “There's a little coffee left, and some hot cocoa. Got some cokes, too.”

“Cocoa,” Liz decided instantly, “to soothe our nerves.”

“What's to eat?” Alec inquired.

“Venison sandwiches and tater chips,” David replied. “We should've stopped at that last Golden Pantry.”

“And called out for pizza?”

“I wish,” David sighed, applying himself to a sandwich—homemade bread, as it turned out.

They ate in silence, too burned out for conversation. David wondered again where Calvin was, but knew he could take care of himself. The wild was his turf, after all, and Calvin had essentially been on his own for several years.