Traitors.
Was Virgil trying to tell me that he was involved or was he warning me about the Ameri-Trans driver?
I stumbled into the overhang, the sleeping bag dragging behind me, the distressed book in my hands. I looked at it again and noticed that there was something in it-a marker Virgil had left behind that looked like an owl feather from his lance. I shoved the paperback into my inside pocket with Saizarbitoria’s phone. I had enough to try and think about.
“Who is Virgil?” She had moved as far from the dead man as possible.
“He’s the Crow Indian who was with me. I don’t suppose you’ve seen a seven-and-a-half-foot man wearing a grizzly-bear headdress and bear cloak roaming around here anyplace?”
She looked at me, understandably worried. “No.”
I put the sleeping bag next to her along with the satellite phone and my backpack, took the ascent portion from the top, and detached the straps. “This is all I’ve got.”
She took the sleeping bag and covered herself. “The rest of the task force, the marshals?”
I looked at her, trying to decide what to say. She had nice eyes, smart and resilient.
I spoke looking straight at her, so that there wouldn’t be further questions. “McGroder survived. The last time I spoke with anybody they said that he was being transported down the mountain, but everyone else is dead.”
She was looking at me strangely again.
“What?”
Her expression changed from amused to concerned. “Did you know you’re talking to yourself?”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
I laughed through a yawn and nodded. “I have a tendency to do that, but we’ll be all right as long as I don’t start answering.” I yawned again. “Maybe I’ve been up here too long. Anyway, I’ve got to find sensible conversation somewhere.” There was a hip harness in a Velcro panel underneath the ascent pack, and I pulled the straps loose and connected the buckle. I sorted through the supplies I had, dropping the majority onto her lap. “I’ll take one of the water bottles and a little of the food.” I tossed the Fed phone where she could reach it more easily. “The reception on this thing has been going in and out. Strangely enough, it’s when I’m with Virgil that it doesn’t seem to want to work-maybe he’s tall enough that he’s causing interference. The battery is at about half, but keep trying and maybe it’ll work.”
She took the phone, glanced at the ascent pack and then up at me. “Where are you going?”
“After Shade.”
Her eyebrows collided over her bloodshot blue eyes as she leaned a little to the side. “Are you crazy?”
I turned my head and looked out into the gloom. “I’m beginning to wonder about that myself.”
A couple of moments passed as she tried to decide if she was going to argue with me and which point of attack on my lack of logic she was going to take. This was not a pause I was unfamiliar with in my dealings with women. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Sheriff-you look like shit.”
I placed the supplies in the ascent pack and zipped it. “Thanks.”
“I’m not kidding; do you know that the whole side of your head is covered in frozen blood? Did he hit you with one of those shots?”
I turned back to her, an old pro at hiding wounds. “No, I just fell.”
“Lean in here and let me look at your eyes; I think you’re concussed along with being hypothermic and who knows what else.” I didn’t do as she instructed, so she tried another line of attack. “I don’t know what the ambient temperature is or the windchill.”
I smiled at my boots. “Thankfully, the wind’s died down.”
Her voice took on a little edge. “What’s the elevation up here, something like twelve thousand feet?”
“Probably closer to thirteen.”
She shook her head at me. “It’s nighttime.”
“Yep.”
“You’ll die.”
I threw the strap over my shoulder, pretty sure it wasn’t going to fit around my coat. “ He ’s made it this far.”
She shook her head. “He’s certifiably insane.”
I stared at her. “Look, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know if he’s planning to sacrifice his life to finally stop those voices and visitations, or if he’s got some sort of escape in his head.” I sighed, pulled the strap of the rifle up, and settled my elbows on my knees. “You were his case psychologist.”
“Yes.” The. 40 and the phone were still in her lap. “I wish I knew what he was doing, Sheriff. I was just recently assigned as part of the task force, so I’ve only been familiar with him for about a week.” She reached down, and I imagined she was massaging her ankle. “I’d like to think that he was making progress in coming to terms with what he’d done and what was going to happen to him, but I don’t think he’s suicidal. He initiated the contact with us, no preconditions, nothing. He said he just wanted to show us where the boy, Owen, had been buried.” She took a breath. “Whatever he’s got planned, though, the boy’s remains are key.”
I stood, aware that depleting my reserves with even a short conversation wasn’t wise. “The fellow who was with me, Virgil? He’s got a knack for showing up at some of the most unpredictable places. He’s hurt, and if he appears, keep him here. He’s kind of scary looking but don’t let that put you off.”
She picked up the semiautomatic. “I could stop you by shooting you.”
I yawned again; a big one this time. “You could, but I’m so tired I’m not sure if I’d notice.”
She nodded and then translated it into shaking her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll look for your friend. What else have I got to do?” She pulled at the sleeping bag. “How am I supposed to keep him here if he shows?”
I thought about it. “Tell him stories; he likes stories.” I pulled the goggles down over my eyes and watched the world turn amber-glow again. I wondered how long I could wear them outside in the darkness. I pointed at some of the candy in her lap. “Give him a Mallo Cup; he really likes those.”
I took out my gloves, careful to keep the bone lodged in my jacket. “This whole thing with Shade, it’s kind of gotten personal.”
“Between you and him?”
I pulled up the balaclava, fixed the rolled collar of my jacket, and pushed my hat down on my head. “Well, yes, and between Shade and Virgil; Owen White Buffalo was his grandson, and even with a slug and a half in him, Virgil is some kind of formidable.”
She looked at me, incredulity playing across her face. “You’re worried about Raynaud Shade?”
“At this point…” I reached over to get the dead man’s snowshoes, unbuckling the more modern version of the ones Virgil had left upside down on the trail. “I’m worried about all of us.”
I smiled at her one last time, but with my frozen features, who knew what it looked like. I turned and walked out into the steadily falling snow.
I trudged up the mountain not expecting to find much, relatively sure that Shade had continued toward his final goal, which I assumed was the top of Cloud Peak. There was a slight depression in the snow where he’d made his way, but I couldn’t see any tracks where Virgil might’ve followed.
The spot beside the cairn where he’d lain near the edge was still evident. I knelt and brushed some of the snow away. There was blood, and I could see where the round from my rifle had hit the lip of the rock and had splintered it, effectively turning it into shrapnel. The majority of the frozen blood was near where his head and shoulders would’ve been.
I’d gotten him, but he was still moving.
I readjusted the goggles; it didn’t seem to make much difference with or without them. I knew that if I followed the cirque up the last scree field, I would finally get to the Knife’s Edge, a redoubtable spine about as wide as a city sidewalk that dropped off a thousand feet on either side.
I’d probably take my goggles off for that.
Then it would be a case of simply bulling my way up the incline that led to the lightning-hammered top of Cloud Peak. At that point, there would be nowhere else for Raynaud Shade to go, or me either, for that
