the structure seemed large. “Well, it’s not what I expected. I was thinking of something more comfortable.”
“Let’s review your situation, shall we? You’re running for your life from superintelligent entities, a killing machine named Hermes, and a bunch of superstitious townspeople. Your family just met an unfortunate end at the business end of a weapon with unbelievable destructive power, and you just missed being killed there yourself. Without my help, you’d just wander around in the hills sleeping under logs and piles of leaves until one or more of your enemies came along to pick you off. Are you seriously complaining because I’ve found you a safe place to sleep for the night?”
Tom looked down at his boots and shrugged. “Well, if you put it that way—”
“That’s what I thought,” Magnus said, grabbing the long rope that hung down from one of the lower redwood branches about thirty feet up. Tom was amazed to see the old man haul himself up the rope, hand over hand, apparently without effort as his legs dangled free. When he reached the top, Magnus sat down on the branch in a lotus position, not even winded, and looked down at Tom. “Your choice, boy. Sleep down there tonight or climb the rope.”
Tom squinted at the long rope as one of the vultures descended through the tree canopy and lightly touched down on the branch beside Magnus.
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Magnus yelled. “If you fall, Rocco will clean up the mess.” Rocco tipped his bald head to get a better look at Tom.
“That’s a comforting thought,” Tom said, testing the rope.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He gripped the rope and pulled himself up, looping his ankles around it to keep from sliding backward. From the way his muscles were straining, he knew he didn’t have a chance of repeating Magnus’s climbing performance. With a grunt, he started to climb, figuring Magnus would help haul him up if he had any trouble.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” Magnus said as he stood up. He glanced down at Tom and climbed up to the next branch. At a wide space between the branches, Magnus hopped lightly across the gap into the tree house entrance, where Tom could no longer see him. As Tom struggled up the rope, Magnus poked his head out through the doorway again and grinned at him. “I hope you like nuts and berries. Haven’t had a chance to stock the pantry lately.”
Tom grunted in reply, about a third of the way up the rope now, and Magnus’s head disappeared again. He was on his own. If he fell, the vulture would pick apart his dead body while Magnus sat around inside the tree house eating nuts. His life was not going well, and he wanted to start it over again. Perhaps he’d get it right the second time around.
The wind howled through the big trees, causing the branches to creak as they swayed. The stand of redwoods was perched atop a long slope that faced west, and Tom caught glimpses of blue ocean in small gaps between the trees. The air smelled of musty wood, dust from the forest floor, and the sweaty odor from his own clothes. His head was spinning, and he wished once again that he’d been able to get some sleep during the night. His arm, shoulder, and inner thigh muscles screamed with pain, and he was starting to wonder if he should just end it all now when he reached the top of the rope. Clambering onto the branch was tricky, but he managed it with a swinging motion that allowed him to loop a leg over the top so he could hook his heel into the bark. A final lurch left him flat on the branch, gasping for air, his shaky arms dangling over the edge.
“Quit fooling around,” Magnus said. “I’m an old man; I could go at any minute. Then where would you be?”
Happier, Tom thought. “I’ll be right there. I just need to catch my breath.”
“Catch it up here. We have things to do.”
Glancing down at the long drop to the forest floor, then at the vulture eyeing him with hope, Tom edged
“Let’s review your situation, shall we? You’re running for your life from superintelligent entities, a killing machine named Hermes, and a bunch of superstitious townspeople. Your family just met an unfortunate end at the business end of a weapon with unbelievable destructive power, and you just missed being killed there yourself. Without my help, you’d just wander around in the hills sleeping under logs and piles of leaves until one or more of your enemies came along to pick you off. Are you seriously complaining because I’ve found you a safe place to sleep for the night?”
Tom looked down at his boots and shrugged. “Well, if you put it that way—”
“That’s what I thought,” Magnus said, grabbing the long rope that hung down from one of the lower redwood branches about thirty feet up. Tom was amazed to see the old man haul himself up the rope, hand over hand, apparently without effort as his legs dangled free. When he reached the top, Magnus sat down on the branch in a lotus position, not even winded, and looked down at Tom. “Your choice, boy. Sleep down there tonight or climb the rope.”
Tom squinted at the long rope as one of the vultures descended through the tree canopy and lightly touched down on the branch beside Magnus.
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Magnus yelled. “If you fall, Rocco will clean up the mess.” Rocco tipped his bald head to get a better look at Tom.
“That’s a comforting thought,” Tom said, testing the rope.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He gripped the rope and pulled himself up, looping his ankles around it to keep from sliding backward. From the way his muscles were straining, he knew he didn’t have a chance of repeating Magnus’s climbing performance. With a grunt, he started to climb, figuring Magnus would help haul him up if he had any trouble.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” Magnus said as he stood up. He glanced down at Tom and climbed up to the next branch. At a wide space between the branches, Magnus hopped lightly across the gap into the tree house entrance, where Tom could no longer see him. As Tom struggled up the rope, Magnus poked his head out through the doorway again and grinned at him. “I hope you like nuts and berries. Haven’t had a chance to stock the pantry lately.”
Tom grunted in reply, about a third of the way up the rope now, and Magnus’s head disappeared again. He was on his own. If he fell, the vulture would pick apart his dead body while Magnus sat around inside the tree house eating nuts. His life was not going well, and he wanted to start it over again. Perhaps he’d get it right the second time around.
The wind howled through the big trees, causing the branches to creak as they swayed. The stand of redwoods was perched atop a long slope that faced west, and Tom caught glimpses of blue ocean in small gaps between the trees. The air smelled of musty wood, dust from the forest floor, and the sweaty odor from his own clothes. His head was spinning, and he wished once again that he’d been able to get some sleep during the night. His arm, shoulder, and inner thigh muscles screamed with pain, and he was starting to wonder if he should just end it all now when he reached the top of the rope. Clambering onto the branch was tricky, but he managed it with a swinging motion that allowed him to loop a leg over the top so he could hook his heel into the bark. A final lurch left him flat on the branch, gasping for air, his shaky arms dangling over the edge.
“Quit fooling around,” Magnus said. “I’m an old man; I could go at any minute. Then where would you be?”
Happier, Tom thought. “I’ll be right there. I just need to catch my breath.”
“Catch it up here. We have things to do.”
Glancing down at the long drop to the forest floor, then at the vulture eyeing him with hope, Tom edged
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