aware of Ruth’s gaze switching back and forth between them. Her posture had changed as soon as it became obvious what Newcombe was doing. She’d stood a little straighter, but now that bent, worried tension returned to her shoulders again.
Cam felt badly. He wanted to reassure her, but this was more important. “We can’t set any decoys on this side of the water,” he said. “Not right away. Think about it. When you put them all over downtown, the swarms couldn’t have formed much of a pattern. But if Leadville notices the worst swarms are moving north, they’ll realize we’re causing it.”
Newcombe stared at him. “Okay.”
“C’mon,” Cam said to Ruth, gently touching her good arm. She looked at his hand and then raised her face to his, her busy eyes trying to read him. He nodded once. It was the best signal that he could give her, hidden in his goggles and mask.
They walked. They walked and every minute it got harder. Stress and fatigue poisons left them sluggish and the sameness of the hike was wearing in its own way, the endless cars, the endless dead. Newcombe was the ‚rst to see the few spots of clouds in the west. Cam hoped it would thicken up. A good overcast would be some protection against satellites and planes. Any drop in temperature would slow the bugs, too. More important, their jackets and hoods were individual sweat shells. They were always dehydrated.
It was close to noon before they went to ground, much later than they wanted it to be. At last they found a wide, dry canal that ran beneath the highway. Five minutes later there was an explosion in the distance like a sonic boom.
“Oh, please, God, no,” Ruth said, lifting her head from where she’d curled up to nap.
“You think they tagged us?” Cam asked Newcombe. The soldier only shrugged. They gazed out from their hole in silence. Cam made Ruth drink as much water as she could hold. They all had salty chips and tuna ‚sh and Newcombe quickly updated his journal, looking at his watch twice again. The man took real comfort in the time and date, Cam had noticed. He supposed it made sense. Those numbers were reliable in a way that nothing else could be.
Finally, Ruth and Newcombe settled down to rest again. A pack of helicopters swept through the valley, unseen—a distant rolling thunder. But there was nothing more. The hunters never came closer.
* * * *
“Don’t leave me,” Ruth whispered, her small hand on Cam’s shoulder. He turned and opened his eyes to darkness, unsure if he’d been asleep or only in and out of waking. He wasn’t surprised to ‚nd her leaning over him.
He felt the hair rise on his arms and neck. It was as if he’d expected her and he realized he’d been having his nightmare again, the same nightmare of Erin bleeding out as ten thousand grasshoppers covered the sun. The sky beyond the canal was black, like in his dream, and the two of them were positioned exactly as he and Erin had been, one on the ground, the other kneeling, except their positions were reversed. In his dream he’d been in Ruth’s place, staring down at his lover as she drowned in her own eroded lungs.
Cam sat up, frightened. It was early in the night and the sky really was a solid dark mass, except where the quarter moon radiated light way down on the horizon. The clouds must have come in. Good. He glanced over at the other man, listening. Newcombe was only four feet away, but in the darkness it seemed farther. His breathing was soft and regular.
Ruth had volunteered to take the ‚rst watch, explaining that she’d napped in the boat and again when they ‚rst reached the canal. That was the only reason Cam and Newcombe had agreed, when normally the two of them let her sleep the whole night.
She’d wanted this. She’d wanted him.
“Please,” she said, laying her ‚ngers on his shoulder again. It was about as meaningless as contact could be, her glove on his jacket. She was barely more than a shadow herself, misshapen
Cam felt badly. He wanted to reassure her, but this was more important. “We can’t set any decoys on this side of the water,” he said. “Not right away. Think about it. When you put them all over downtown, the swarms couldn’t have formed much of a pattern. But if Leadville notices the worst swarms are moving north, they’ll realize we’re causing it.”
Newcombe stared at him. “Okay.”
“C’mon,” Cam said to Ruth, gently touching her good arm. She looked at his hand and then raised her face to his, her busy eyes trying to read him. He nodded once. It was the best signal that he could give her, hidden in his goggles and mask.
They walked. They walked and every minute it got harder. Stress and fatigue poisons left them sluggish and the sameness of the hike was wearing in its own way, the endless cars, the endless dead. Newcombe was the ‚rst to see the few spots of clouds in the west. Cam hoped it would thicken up. A good overcast would be some protection against satellites and planes. Any drop in temperature would slow the bugs, too. More important, their jackets and hoods were individual sweat shells. They were always dehydrated.
It was close to noon before they went to ground, much later than they wanted it to be. At last they found a wide, dry canal that ran beneath the highway. Five minutes later there was an explosion in the distance like a sonic boom.
“Oh, please, God, no,” Ruth said, lifting her head from where she’d curled up to nap.
“You think they tagged us?” Cam asked Newcombe. The soldier only shrugged. They gazed out from their hole in silence. Cam made Ruth drink as much water as she could hold. They all had salty chips and tuna ‚sh and Newcombe quickly updated his journal, looking at his watch twice again. The man took real comfort in the time and date, Cam had noticed. He supposed it made sense. Those numbers were reliable in a way that nothing else could be.
Finally, Ruth and Newcombe settled down to rest again. A pack of helicopters swept through the valley, unseen—a distant rolling thunder. But there was nothing more. The hunters never came closer.
* * * *
“Don’t leave me,” Ruth whispered, her small hand on Cam’s shoulder. He turned and opened his eyes to darkness, unsure if he’d been asleep or only in and out of waking. He wasn’t surprised to ‚nd her leaning over him.
He felt the hair rise on his arms and neck. It was as if he’d expected her and he realized he’d been having his nightmare again, the same nightmare of Erin bleeding out as ten thousand grasshoppers covered the sun. The sky beyond the canal was black, like in his dream, and the two of them were positioned exactly as he and Erin had been, one on the ground, the other kneeling, except their positions were reversed. In his dream he’d been in Ruth’s place, staring down at his lover as she drowned in her own eroded lungs.
Cam sat up, frightened. It was early in the night and the sky really was a solid dark mass, except where the quarter moon radiated light way down on the horizon. The clouds must have come in. Good. He glanced over at the other man, listening. Newcombe was only four feet away, but in the darkness it seemed farther. His breathing was soft and regular.
Ruth had volunteered to take the ‚rst watch, explaining that she’d napped in the boat and again when they ‚rst reached the canal. That was the only reason Cam and Newcombe had agreed, when normally the two of them let her sleep the whole night.
She’d wanted this. She’d wanted him.
“Please,” she said, laying her ‚ngers on his shoulder again. It was about as meaningless as contact could be, her glove on his jacket. She was barely more than a shadow herself, misshapen
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