The God of the Hive - Laurie R. King [64]
“Two miles north,” he agreed, “then ten minutes’ walk.”
“Is that all? If those men come after us, they’ll catch us up.”
“Why should they? We could be making for Carlisle, or Newcastle. They’ll turn back to the village.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said uneasily.
“Do you know what they want?”
In truth, I did not. “One of them said something about ‘the girl,’ but I don’t know if that meant Estelle, or me.”
Two miles up the track he had me stop. The head-lamps dimmed, then went dark as I separated the wires; the silence was loud over the tick of cooling metal. Had we come far enough that the men would not notice the sudden cease of motor noise, and renew their pursuit?
Goodman got out, and I quickly whispered, “Don’t slam the door.”
“No,” he said. I was again blind. His feet rounded the motorcar’s bonnet towards me; the door creaked open. “You can’t see?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If we wait a—”
His hand found mine, to lead me again into rough ground; leaves brushed my legs and arms. It required an intense commitment of trust that this man was not leading me off a cliff or into a tree. The earlier run through the dark had been terrifying, but my brief return to control and capability—to say nothing of vision—brought a strong impulse to freeze. Every step was a decision: to trust, or rebel? In the end, the only way I could continue to follow him was by imagining that the hand in mine belonged to Holmes, whom I had followed blindly into circumstances worse than this.
Once I had half-convinced myself of that, the going became easier.
It was probably not much more than the ten minutes he had suggested before we found Javitz and Estelle, although it seemed like an hour. Judging by the relief in his voice, Javitz had felt the press of time, as well, sitting alone in the darkness—thankfully, Estelle was fast asleep. I relieved him of the bundle of child and fur, and heard him struggle to his feet.
“I’ll support you when I can,” Goodman told Javitz in a low voice, “but the path is narrow. Use the crutch and put your free hand on my shoulder. Miss Russell, you follow. Yes?”
“Let’s go,” Javitz said. I shifted Estelle into my left arm and inched forward until my fingers encountered his shoulder, and we moved off.
We walked like a platoon of gas-blinded soldiers. It might have been easier had we been on flat ground and able to march in step, but between the unevenness of the terrain and our various impediments, we stumbled at a turtle’s pace, and made so much noise I could feel Goodman’s disapproval, even with Javitz between us. An entire night passed, longer, a nightmare of stumbling, cursing, tangling, and growing fear.
Finally, our guide could stand it no longer. He stopped, causing us to pile up into him, and spoke. “I will come back for you.”
Before either of us could speak, he was gone. Gratefully, I sank to the ground and let the weight go off my arms. Javitz stayed upright, propped on his stick. Neither of us spoke.
Five minutes went by; eight. Javitz stirred, and said, “He will come back.”
“Yes.” In truth, I did not much care: I was quite prepared to sit here, warm under the fur and the small body, until light dawned.
But Goodman did return, without so much as a rustle before his voice whispered, “All clear. Just a hundred yards more.”
I struggled upright, hushed Estelle’s sleepy protest, and laid my hand on the pilot’s shoulder.
Never have I been more grateful to feel a rustic track underfoot.
With some effort, we folded Javitz into the back of the motorcar, and I deposited Estelle in his lap. I whispered, “You are all right, holding her?”
“I can’t do the driving,” came his voice in my ear, “so I might as well hang on to her. She’s a good kid,” he added.
“Isn’t she just?” I replied gratefully, and resumed my place behind the wheel.
I went less than a mile, then stopped, leaving the engine running.
“Mr Goodman, I appreciate all you’ve done for us, but there’s no reason to take you any farther. I’d suggest you be very cautious about your house for a time, since there’s no knowing if they mightn’t come back,