rocky summit and safety. They followed the old Buck’s Lake Road, bypassing the two burned-out towns they found on the way. The road was steep, and in some places, entirely washed out. They went slowly upward, fighting the mountains, the elevation, and the gathering cold. Soon they would strike south, they told themselves, along the crest to Gold Lake and the community where they would be welcome, where they could help guard the residents from harm. The Gold Lake community was famous for taking in people with special knowledge, who wanted to rebuild the world without making the old mistakes. It would be good to be at Gold Lake. It would be worth the long, agonizing trek.
The third day out they knew they would not reach Gold Lake before the snows came, for the first light snow had already fallen, and the skies promised another fall in a little while.
There had been strip mining at Buck’s Pass. Great slices of mountain had been washed away leaving raw scars against the precarious line of pines. Many of the trees had fallen, their roots exposed and dead where the sluicing had robbed them of their precious topsoil.
To avoid the muddy wreckage of the mining, Thea and Evan took to the trees that flanked the cut in the earth, but found even this was uncertain going. The ground shifted underfoot and they got too near the exposed earth too often. Many of the trees around them, though standing, were dead, habit alone keeping them vertical. As the new snow weighted their branches, they would fall as the others had fallen, widening the swath of destruction across the front of the ancient mountains.
When they reached the crest of the range the air was biting, taking life from their faces and finger tips. Thea pulled her hood closer about her face and wished for heavier mittens and a more substantial sweater. Evan tugged their tarpaulin from his pack and with branches rigged a kind of umbrella against the snow for their night shelter, and wished for some means to carry more of the ruined wood with them as they went on in the morning.
It was sunset when they came at last to Buck’s Lake. They could see the ice gleaming in the slanting cold rays of the dying day, lighting the lake with an eerie greenness. On the south side of the lake stood the remains of an old resort, the roof partially collapsed and many of the windows empty of glass; beyond that, a stamp mill from an old mine. In the fading light the buildings looked like headstones, dark shapes without dimension standing as markers to a ruined world.
“Where? The resort or the stamp mill?” Thea asked breathlessly. The wind was cutting through them, touching them to the bone and slowing their pace.
“The stamp mill. It’s more recent. And I bet it hasn’t been touched.” Evan was rubbing his hands together, the new fingers taking a paler color now, though whether from growth or cold, he could not tell. He tested it and found the joints were stiff. “Another thing,” he said after a moment, “if we have heavy snows this winter, the stamp mill is higher-roofed. We’ll dig out more easily, if we have to.”
“But we should see if there’s anything left in the resort we can use,” she said.
“If it’s safe to go in—that roof looks unsound.”
“And there could he animals, using it as a den,” Thea warned. In her years of traveling alone she had come to fear animals, and knew what hunger could do to them.
“I have a crossbow,” he said with a smile. “lt’s an excellent crossbow.”
Thea glared at him. “I don’t make bad crossbows. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give one to you.” She tugged her own crossbow loose from its straps, fixing her dark eyes on the lake. “We might get fish there, but others will be wanting fish, too. This is going to be a bad winter. The ground is getting hard early. There was too little rain, and there’ll he too much snow. A lot of plants will die. And a lot of us will die.”
As he pulled at his beard, Evan pondered
The third day out they knew they would not reach Gold Lake before the snows came, for the first light snow had already fallen, and the skies promised another fall in a little while.
There had been strip mining at Buck’s Pass. Great slices of mountain had been washed away leaving raw scars against the precarious line of pines. Many of the trees had fallen, their roots exposed and dead where the sluicing had robbed them of their precious topsoil.
To avoid the muddy wreckage of the mining, Thea and Evan took to the trees that flanked the cut in the earth, but found even this was uncertain going. The ground shifted underfoot and they got too near the exposed earth too often. Many of the trees around them, though standing, were dead, habit alone keeping them vertical. As the new snow weighted their branches, they would fall as the others had fallen, widening the swath of destruction across the front of the ancient mountains.
When they reached the crest of the range the air was biting, taking life from their faces and finger tips. Thea pulled her hood closer about her face and wished for heavier mittens and a more substantial sweater. Evan tugged their tarpaulin from his pack and with branches rigged a kind of umbrella against the snow for their night shelter, and wished for some means to carry more of the ruined wood with them as they went on in the morning.
It was sunset when they came at last to Buck’s Lake. They could see the ice gleaming in the slanting cold rays of the dying day, lighting the lake with an eerie greenness. On the south side of the lake stood the remains of an old resort, the roof partially collapsed and many of the windows empty of glass; beyond that, a stamp mill from an old mine. In the fading light the buildings looked like headstones, dark shapes without dimension standing as markers to a ruined world.
“Where? The resort or the stamp mill?” Thea asked breathlessly. The wind was cutting through them, touching them to the bone and slowing their pace.
“The stamp mill. It’s more recent. And I bet it hasn’t been touched.” Evan was rubbing his hands together, the new fingers taking a paler color now, though whether from growth or cold, he could not tell. He tested it and found the joints were stiff. “Another thing,” he said after a moment, “if we have heavy snows this winter, the stamp mill is higher-roofed. We’ll dig out more easily, if we have to.”
“But we should see if there’s anything left in the resort we can use,” she said.
“If it’s safe to go in—that roof looks unsound.”
“And there could he animals, using it as a den,” Thea warned. In her years of traveling alone she had come to fear animals, and knew what hunger could do to them.
“I have a crossbow,” he said with a smile. “lt’s an excellent crossbow.”
Thea glared at him. “I don’t make bad crossbows. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give one to you.” She tugged her own crossbow loose from its straps, fixing her dark eyes on the lake. “We might get fish there, but others will be wanting fish, too. This is going to be a bad winter. The ground is getting hard early. There was too little rain, and there’ll he too much snow. A lot of plants will die. And a lot of us will die.”
As he pulled at his beard, Evan pondered
Similar Books
