connect to the Yara without even trying, or am I going crazy because I took a drug that wasn’t meant for me? I can’t know unless it happens again. Until then, I won’t say anything to Juneau. No need to scare her, too.
21
JUNEAU
WHEN I GET BACK TO CAMP, MILES IS NOWHERE to be seen. But he’s organized everything so well that I can’t believe this is the same guy who sat in the car while I had to set up the tent, make the fire, and cook just over a week ago.
I unstrap my canteen and crossbow and lay them on the ground. Taking a piece of bread from the bag Miles hung from a nearby tree, I munch on it as I use a piece of kindling to draw a map in the dirt. Quickly, before I can forget anything, I sketch a facsimile of the section of fence leading along the mountain through the forest and down to the desert. I mark everything I saw along it: groves of trees, underbrush thick enough to hide in, several streams and the places they spill into ponds. I mark the animals I saw, on both sides of the fence, and the half-dozen metal boxes I spotted hung high up on some of the fence posts.
When I’m done I glance back around the clearing, wondering just where Miles has ventured on his own. And then I notice that the tent flap is zipped shut.
I walk over to investigate, unzipping it in one quick movement. And Miles, who was sleeping, leaps up with an expression so terror struck that I yell and jump back. “Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me!” he says, and pushes his way out the tent.
“ You scared me !” I say, pressing my hand to my heart, which is hammering like a woodpecker. “What are you doing taking a nap in the middle of the day?”
Miles gets this guilty look on his face and says, “I was tired. That’s all.”
“Okay,” I say, and walk away to sit next to my map while I wait for my pulse to slow to normal. When I look back at him, he’s just standing there, staring at me in a weird way. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Nothing!” he blurts out. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Whatsoever. I’m totally normal . . . I mean, fine.”
“Okay.” I turn away from him and scribble a few more details onto the map. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’m not going to force him to. But he’s definitely bothered about something.
“What are you drawing?” Miles says, changing the subject. He stands next to me and inspects my map.
“I surveyed the fence, all of the way from where it enters the woods on one side to where it exits into the desert at the other,” I say, pointing it out on the map.
“Did you find anything helpful?” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“Just a general idea of what is there,” I say. “I wanted to see how far the enclosure goes. It’s enormous, Miles. Two hours, and I just saw a small section of it. But we can definitely move undetected along the entire length of the barrier within the mountain area. I imagine this is where Avery brings his visitors to hunt”—I point out the water sources—“because that’s where the animals are going to be. Where’s the map?”
“In the tent,” he says, and retrieves it. I spread it out so we can inspect the penned-in area.
“It’s hard to know how accurate the gas station guy was with this box he drew. But saying it’s generally right, it doesn’t look like there are many water sources in the ranch. Just our mountain area and then these two rivers coming in from the east on the far side. Most of this is dry land.”
“So what’s that tell you?” Miles says, and his voice once again sounds normal. Whatever spooked him before has passed.
“I didn’t spot any buildings near the foothills. So I’m guessing that Avery’s house is near the rivers. Probably the adobe huts my clan is staying in, too, or else he’d have to bring them daily supplies of water. That means that the area we’re looking for is probably over here.” I trace from where we are on the western edge of the rectangle to the far eastern side where
21
JUNEAU
WHEN I GET BACK TO CAMP, MILES IS NOWHERE to be seen. But he’s organized everything so well that I can’t believe this is the same guy who sat in the car while I had to set up the tent, make the fire, and cook just over a week ago.
I unstrap my canteen and crossbow and lay them on the ground. Taking a piece of bread from the bag Miles hung from a nearby tree, I munch on it as I use a piece of kindling to draw a map in the dirt. Quickly, before I can forget anything, I sketch a facsimile of the section of fence leading along the mountain through the forest and down to the desert. I mark everything I saw along it: groves of trees, underbrush thick enough to hide in, several streams and the places they spill into ponds. I mark the animals I saw, on both sides of the fence, and the half-dozen metal boxes I spotted hung high up on some of the fence posts.
When I’m done I glance back around the clearing, wondering just where Miles has ventured on his own. And then I notice that the tent flap is zipped shut.
I walk over to investigate, unzipping it in one quick movement. And Miles, who was sleeping, leaps up with an expression so terror struck that I yell and jump back. “Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me!” he says, and pushes his way out the tent.
“ You scared me !” I say, pressing my hand to my heart, which is hammering like a woodpecker. “What are you doing taking a nap in the middle of the day?”
Miles gets this guilty look on his face and says, “I was tired. That’s all.”
“Okay,” I say, and walk away to sit next to my map while I wait for my pulse to slow to normal. When I look back at him, he’s just standing there, staring at me in a weird way. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Nothing!” he blurts out. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Whatsoever. I’m totally normal . . . I mean, fine.”
“Okay.” I turn away from him and scribble a few more details onto the map. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’m not going to force him to. But he’s definitely bothered about something.
“What are you drawing?” Miles says, changing the subject. He stands next to me and inspects my map.
“I surveyed the fence, all of the way from where it enters the woods on one side to where it exits into the desert at the other,” I say, pointing it out on the map.
“Did you find anything helpful?” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“Just a general idea of what is there,” I say. “I wanted to see how far the enclosure goes. It’s enormous, Miles. Two hours, and I just saw a small section of it. But we can definitely move undetected along the entire length of the barrier within the mountain area. I imagine this is where Avery brings his visitors to hunt”—I point out the water sources—“because that’s where the animals are going to be. Where’s the map?”
“In the tent,” he says, and retrieves it. I spread it out so we can inspect the penned-in area.
“It’s hard to know how accurate the gas station guy was with this box he drew. But saying it’s generally right, it doesn’t look like there are many water sources in the ranch. Just our mountain area and then these two rivers coming in from the east on the far side. Most of this is dry land.”
“So what’s that tell you?” Miles says, and his voice once again sounds normal. Whatever spooked him before has passed.
“I didn’t spot any buildings near the foothills. So I’m guessing that Avery’s house is near the rivers. Probably the adobe huts my clan is staying in, too, or else he’d have to bring them daily supplies of water. That means that the area we’re looking for is probably over here.” I trace from where we are on the western edge of the rectangle to the far eastern side where
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