She was breathing hard, and so was I. She asked me to take out the GPS unit, and we both had long drinks and ate more energy bars while we got our bearings. I checked my watch again. It was 2:30 p.m.
I glanced around, comparing what I saw to the GPS unit’s topographical map. The trail we were on continued up the slope of the fifth peak, which was evident both in real life and on the digital display. However, the GPS showed that we should veer off the trail into unmarked forest to get to the destination that PawPaw had programmed. The trees were fairly thick in that direction and the ground was covered with large ferns, but it wasn’tso dense that an experienced mountain biker couldn’t blaze his or her own trail.
I turned to Hú Dié, who was looking over my shoulder at the GPS. “What do you think?” I asked.
“If the temple is somewhere in those trees, I now understand why I’ve never seen it. I’ve never had a reason to go in there. How far off this trail is it supposed to be?”
“The GPS shows less than a mile.”
“No problem,” she said. “I can ride through that stuff. How about you?”
“No problem.”
“Perfect. I’ll lead.”
“Uh … no. I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?”
“I appreciate you helping me get this far. I really do. But I prefer to go in there alone.”
I thought I could feel Hú Dié glaring at me from behind her sunglasses. “That wasn’t the deal we made,” she said.
“All right, how about you give me a half-hour head start so I can spend a little time there alone.”
“How about ten minutes.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“No. Ten minutes or nothing.”
I set my jaw. “Fine. Ten minutes.” I shoved the GPS unit back into my pocket, took one more swig of water, and tore into the trees.
I plowed through the shadowy undergrowth, the spokes of my wheels shredding waist-high ferns into sticky green confetti. Bits of fern frond stuck to my bare legs and bike frame, while small sticks thrown up by my front tire wedged themselves into my drive sprocket and pedal cages. It was going to take hours to clean all of this gunk out of the bike’s mechanical components.
I rolled and rocked at a breakneck pace around massive elm trees like a soldier running through a minefield. I continued my frantic pedaling, hoping that when Hú Dié began to ride, she would follow at a more reasonable pace. Perhaps I could stretch my ten minutes of alone time into fifteen or twenty. I blasted ahead for another several minutes before I noticed a change in the forest.
The gigantic elms that I’d been riding through gave way to noticeably younger trees that were fewer and fartherbetween. I guessed that this was the work of people, namely someone who lived in temple ruins and burned firewood to stay warm in winter. I had to be getting close.
I slowed to a stop and slipped my left foot out of its pedal cage, resting my foot on the ground. I pulled out the GPS unit and found that I was pretty much exactly on top of the spot PawPaw had identified as being near the temple. I put the GPS away and removed my helmet. I also slipped off the hydration pack, draping both items over my handlebars. With a stealthy approach on foot, I might be able to learn a few things about the man I had been sent to locate, before we met face to face. I looked over my shoulder, listening for signs of Hú Dié and trying to decide whether I should hide the bike, when I realized something was wrong. The forest was absolutely silent.
Normally, a mountain biker ripping through an area doesn’t leave silence in his or her wake. Birds shriek and squirrels chatter angrily, each scolding the intruder in their own language. The animals do this from a safe distance, so even if my stopping had silenced the critters nearest to me, in less than a minute they would have put plenty of space between me and them, and then they would have let me have it. Their silence meant someone else was on the move, and it wasn’t Hú
I glanced around, comparing what I saw to the GPS unit’s topographical map. The trail we were on continued up the slope of the fifth peak, which was evident both in real life and on the digital display. However, the GPS showed that we should veer off the trail into unmarked forest to get to the destination that PawPaw had programmed. The trees were fairly thick in that direction and the ground was covered with large ferns, but it wasn’tso dense that an experienced mountain biker couldn’t blaze his or her own trail.
I turned to Hú Dié, who was looking over my shoulder at the GPS. “What do you think?” I asked.
“If the temple is somewhere in those trees, I now understand why I’ve never seen it. I’ve never had a reason to go in there. How far off this trail is it supposed to be?”
“The GPS shows less than a mile.”
“No problem,” she said. “I can ride through that stuff. How about you?”
“No problem.”
“Perfect. I’ll lead.”
“Uh … no. I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?”
“I appreciate you helping me get this far. I really do. But I prefer to go in there alone.”
I thought I could feel Hú Dié glaring at me from behind her sunglasses. “That wasn’t the deal we made,” she said.
“All right, how about you give me a half-hour head start so I can spend a little time there alone.”
“How about ten minutes.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“No. Ten minutes or nothing.”
I set my jaw. “Fine. Ten minutes.” I shoved the GPS unit back into my pocket, took one more swig of water, and tore into the trees.
I plowed through the shadowy undergrowth, the spokes of my wheels shredding waist-high ferns into sticky green confetti. Bits of fern frond stuck to my bare legs and bike frame, while small sticks thrown up by my front tire wedged themselves into my drive sprocket and pedal cages. It was going to take hours to clean all of this gunk out of the bike’s mechanical components.
I rolled and rocked at a breakneck pace around massive elm trees like a soldier running through a minefield. I continued my frantic pedaling, hoping that when Hú Dié began to ride, she would follow at a more reasonable pace. Perhaps I could stretch my ten minutes of alone time into fifteen or twenty. I blasted ahead for another several minutes before I noticed a change in the forest.
The gigantic elms that I’d been riding through gave way to noticeably younger trees that were fewer and fartherbetween. I guessed that this was the work of people, namely someone who lived in temple ruins and burned firewood to stay warm in winter. I had to be getting close.
I slowed to a stop and slipped my left foot out of its pedal cage, resting my foot on the ground. I pulled out the GPS unit and found that I was pretty much exactly on top of the spot PawPaw had identified as being near the temple. I put the GPS away and removed my helmet. I also slipped off the hydration pack, draping both items over my handlebars. With a stealthy approach on foot, I might be able to learn a few things about the man I had been sent to locate, before we met face to face. I looked over my shoulder, listening for signs of Hú Dié and trying to decide whether I should hide the bike, when I realized something was wrong. The forest was absolutely silent.
Normally, a mountain biker ripping through an area doesn’t leave silence in his or her wake. Birds shriek and squirrels chatter angrily, each scolding the intruder in their own language. The animals do this from a safe distance, so even if my stopping had silenced the critters nearest to me, in less than a minute they would have put plenty of space between me and them, and then they would have let me have it. Their silence meant someone else was on the move, and it wasn’t Hú
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