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Lucius s the ive it soot to his feet, one hand clutching the edge of the table for balance "Well, I, for one, aht with you, I think it’s tio throw up and pass out in estured toward his narrow cot "The bed’s yours if you want it"
"That’s sweet of you Maybe when I get to know you better"
He stuaze around the tiny roo pictures You’ll have to tell me about them so, Michael was gone He thought he ; he supposed Michael had gotten what he was looking for, or else he’d decided that Lucius didn’t have it Do you really think they’re gone…? What would his friend have said if Lucius had actually answered his question?
Lucius put these disconcerting thoughts aside Leaving the jug of boar’s blood in the shade of the hut, he walked down the hillside to the river The water of the Guadalupe was always cold, but here it was colder; where the river made a bend there was a deep hole--twenty feet to the botto Tall banks of white lie Lucius stripped off his boots and trousers, grabbed the rope he’d left in place, took a deep breath, and dove in a clean arc into the water With every foot of his descent the temperature dropped The satchel, , protected from the current Lucius tied the rope to the satchel’s handle, tugged it free of the overhang, blew the air fros, and ascended
He climbed out on the opposite shore, walked downstreaain, and followed a path to the top of the lie, took the rope in his hands, and hauled up the satchel
He dressed again and carried the satchel back to the hut There, at the table, he reallons total--the sah the circulatory systems of half a dozen human adults
Once it was out of the river, his prize would quickly spoil He strung the jugs together and gathered his supplies--three days’ worth of food and water, the rifle and ath of sturdy rope--and carried them out to the paddock Not even 0700, but already the sun was blazing He saddled his horse, slid the rifle into its holder, and slung the rest over the horse’s withers He never bothered with a bedroll; he’d be riding through the night, arriving in Houston on theof the sixtieth day
With a tap of his heels to the horse’s flanks, he was off
4
GULF OF MEXICO
Twenty-two Nautical Miles South-southeast of Galveston Island
0430: Michael Fisher awoke to the pattering of rain on his face
He drew his back upright against the transom No stars but, to the east, a narrow transect of ditchwater dawn light hovered between the horizon and the clouds The air was dead calh this wouldn’t last; Michael knew a storm when he smelled one
He unfastened his shorts, jutted his pelvis over the stern, and released a urine strea volume and duration into the waters of the Gulf He wasn’t especially hungry, hunger being sonore, but he took a o below and mix a batch of powdered protein and drink it down in six throat-puulps Unless he wasits share of excitement; best to face it with a full belly
He was back on deck when the first jag of lightning forked the horizon Fifteen seconds later, the thunder arrived in a long, rolling peal, like a gru its throat The air had picked up, too, in the disorganizedsquall Michael unhooked the self-steerer and took the tiller in his fist as the rain arrived in earnest: a hot, needling, tropical rain that soaked hi opinion Like everything else, it hat it was, and if this was to be the storm that finally sent him to the bottom, well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for it
Really? Alone? In that thing? Are you crazy? Soenuine concern; even total strangers tried to talk him out of it Buthim off If the sea didn’t kill hi explosives said to encircle the continent Who in his right mind would tele viral had been seen for, what, going on thirty-six months? Wasn’t a whole continent sufficient space for a restless soul to roam around in?