Pathways - Jeri Taylor [56]
“Reconnoitering. I haven’t found any indication of people, but there are droppings and tracks that indicate wildlife in the area, including bears and coyotes. And there’s a deep ravine directly east of us that would be difficult to cross.”
Harry stared at him. There was nothing unusual in what he was reporting, nothing to indicate he’d made a mistake that would warrant the removal of one of their band. What were they doing wrong?
He waved at George to follow him and they made their way back to the others. Harry gathered them all around. “From now on, no one goes off by themselves. If you have to leave the camp, take someone with you. We can’t risk someone going off and making an error. If we use the buddy system, we’ll have checks and balances.”
He was aware of T’Passa’s dark eyes fastened on his with what looked like disdain. Suddenly he realized that she was the only remaining female—did she think that she had to perform the necessary bodily functions in the presence of one of the males? He felt himself flush with embarrassment.
“Not, of course, that anyone’s privacy will be violated. That is, privacy in certain . . . uh . . . in those instances where . . .” He felt himself stammering and hated his inability to handle this matter with the proper aplomb. He turned to T’Passa, trying to regain his composure and appear authoritative once more.
“You need have no fears,” he announced solemnly, hoping that would clear the matter up. He was rewarded with an icy stare.
“What could you possibly be talking about?” she asked with that Vulcan aloofness that always made Harry feel about six years old.
“Never mind,” he said ineffectually. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“I do not experience happiness,” she stated, “any more than I experience fear. I confess to being baffled by your statements.” Several of the others, Harry realized, had been stifling laughter, and now couldn’t contain it any longer. Muffled giggles erupted.
Warmth burned on his cheeks as embarrassment flooded over him, and he felt for a moment like a small child who’s made a social gaffe and drawn the bemused attention of all the adults. He forced himself to sound as composed as possible.
“I think we all have the same goal here—to get all of us back to the staging area without anyone else being removed. Let’s pull together on this, all right?”
Four pairs of eyes fixed on him, four young faces nodded solemnly. Harry took a breath, satisfied. He was back in control.
Five days later, only he and Tagar were left. George had been the next to go, followed by T’Passa a day after that. O’Connell had dematerialized in front of them only minutes before, as they were striking their shelter after a meager breakfast of berries and water. Harry had been hungry for days, his stomach mumbling in protest and finally lurching unpleasantly whenever he did put food into it. He knew he had become noticeably weaker, and his mood was irritable.
When O’Connell disappeared, Harry couldn’t contain a furious howl of protest, and he drove one fist into a palm, needing to physicalize his frustration. Tagar regarded him impassively, then continued to sweep the area with a leafy branch, in order to erase any evidence that they had been there.
“What is it?” snapped Harry, pacing the ground in irritation. “What are we doing that’s so wrong? How could we lose this many people?”
“I don’t know,” said Tagar. “But I think in one more day we can reach the staging area. We must keep going.”
“Of course we keep going. Did I say anything to suggest we wouldn’t?” The words came out more harshly than Harry meant, but he didn’t care. He wanted nothing more than to solve this mystery before they reached the staging area and Nimembeh’s formidable presence. He noted that Tagar drew up slightly at the tone in his voice, and for a moment he thought the Klingon might protest, but he locked eyes with his last remaining