Americans, but now he found them bunkered in their homes and neighborhoods, with their cities under siege. Airlines were going bankrupt. The tourist industry was in near collapse.
Just beyond the reach of the light, night animals were scavenging the joint, rustling about, hunting down every human remnant. He could conjure up their feast: the crumbs from trail snacks, the cigarette butts, chewed gum and Band-Aids with XMen and Disney creatures, the backing peeled off new bumper stickers declaring “Yosemite—The Best of the West” and “Go Climb a Rock,” and dropped yen notes, and even the salt off discarded hiking sticks. That reminded him of Joshua.
Where are Lewis and Rachel?
He crossed his arms. The sleeves of his fancy new all-weather shell crackled and whisked. He uncrossed his arms, self-conscious, and saw the Nike trail hikers with their royal purple ankle sleeves. Should have stuck with the old gear, he thought. Things that showed pedigree and the violence of high places, like his rucksack. Instead he’d gone shopping.
An animal squealed suddenly, a tiny, piping shrill. Hugh held his breath and listened. The piping rose and fell, then ebbed to silence. He imagined fur being ripped open.
He felt impaled.
Dawn would break the spell, of course. The crystal forest always thawed. The mist burned off. The birds sang again.
A pair of headlights materialized. Hugh picked up his rucksack. He half-expected Lewis to be hanging from the passenger window like a bird dog, but the window was shut. When Hugh opened the back door, the signal went ding-ding-ding.
Rachel was driving. She didn’t greet him. Lewis twisted to give him a smile, but by the green dash light he looked weary and awful, as if he had not slept for nights.
They left behind the few lights of civilization. The fog opened in rags. Hugh peered through the window and found stars blinking like sniper fire.
They took a bend in the road. A vast darkness blocked the lower two-thirds of the night sky. That would be El Cap’s shoulder. More trees swooped in, blotting it out. But Hugh could feel it, like a magnetic force, a great northern presence hanging above them.
There are objects so large and forbidding they become benchmarks, giving scale to the world. El Cap was like that. The closest thing to it that was man-made, that wasn’t a force of nature, was war. But when all was said and done, war seemed to Hugh mostly a matter of failed imagination, and El Cap was just the opposite.
Abruptly, a big meadow opened to their left. The meadow lay stark and frigid, like a bad Polaroid shot. Autumn grass poked up, white and reedy. There was a cluster of people and vehicles up ahead. From a distance, they looked like another team preparing to embark.
“So much for solitude,” Lewis muttered.
“It’s a big rock,” Hugh said. There were dozens of routes spread across the face of El Cap, and the odds were slim these others were heading for Anasazi. But it would be a mess if they were. Even the idea of competing for his own route soured Hugh. He hadn’t come from around the planet to dodge dropped gear and share ledges with strangers.
Then Hugh recognized the green park trucks and some of the faces. “It’s the SAR crew,” he said. Rachel slowed to a halt along the gravel shoulder.
“They’re still looking?” she said.
They got out and walked ahead. There were a couple of National Guard troops among the rangers. Hugh could tell which ones were the eighties hires this morning. They weren’t wearing guns and Sam Brown belts.
“Glass?” said a short, sturdy man, one of yesterday’s rangers. He had a pair of binoculars, which Hugh thought curious. It was pitch-black out there.
“Morning,” said Hugh. They shook hands. “Still nothing?” He smelled fuel. They were tinkering with an engine back there.
“Bastard hid her body good,” the ranger said. “But some tourist called in a sighting.”
Rachel edged closer. Lewis tried to block
Just beyond the reach of the light, night animals were scavenging the joint, rustling about, hunting down every human remnant. He could conjure up their feast: the crumbs from trail snacks, the cigarette butts, chewed gum and Band-Aids with XMen and Disney creatures, the backing peeled off new bumper stickers declaring “Yosemite—The Best of the West” and “Go Climb a Rock,” and dropped yen notes, and even the salt off discarded hiking sticks. That reminded him of Joshua.
Where are Lewis and Rachel?
He crossed his arms. The sleeves of his fancy new all-weather shell crackled and whisked. He uncrossed his arms, self-conscious, and saw the Nike trail hikers with their royal purple ankle sleeves. Should have stuck with the old gear, he thought. Things that showed pedigree and the violence of high places, like his rucksack. Instead he’d gone shopping.
An animal squealed suddenly, a tiny, piping shrill. Hugh held his breath and listened. The piping rose and fell, then ebbed to silence. He imagined fur being ripped open.
He felt impaled.
Dawn would break the spell, of course. The crystal forest always thawed. The mist burned off. The birds sang again.
A pair of headlights materialized. Hugh picked up his rucksack. He half-expected Lewis to be hanging from the passenger window like a bird dog, but the window was shut. When Hugh opened the back door, the signal went ding-ding-ding.
Rachel was driving. She didn’t greet him. Lewis twisted to give him a smile, but by the green dash light he looked weary and awful, as if he had not slept for nights.
They left behind the few lights of civilization. The fog opened in rags. Hugh peered through the window and found stars blinking like sniper fire.
They took a bend in the road. A vast darkness blocked the lower two-thirds of the night sky. That would be El Cap’s shoulder. More trees swooped in, blotting it out. But Hugh could feel it, like a magnetic force, a great northern presence hanging above them.
There are objects so large and forbidding they become benchmarks, giving scale to the world. El Cap was like that. The closest thing to it that was man-made, that wasn’t a force of nature, was war. But when all was said and done, war seemed to Hugh mostly a matter of failed imagination, and El Cap was just the opposite.
Abruptly, a big meadow opened to their left. The meadow lay stark and frigid, like a bad Polaroid shot. Autumn grass poked up, white and reedy. There was a cluster of people and vehicles up ahead. From a distance, they looked like another team preparing to embark.
“So much for solitude,” Lewis muttered.
“It’s a big rock,” Hugh said. There were dozens of routes spread across the face of El Cap, and the odds were slim these others were heading for Anasazi. But it would be a mess if they were. Even the idea of competing for his own route soured Hugh. He hadn’t come from around the planet to dodge dropped gear and share ledges with strangers.
Then Hugh recognized the green park trucks and some of the faces. “It’s the SAR crew,” he said. Rachel slowed to a halt along the gravel shoulder.
“They’re still looking?” she said.
They got out and walked ahead. There were a couple of National Guard troops among the rangers. Hugh could tell which ones were the eighties hires this morning. They weren’t wearing guns and Sam Brown belts.
“Glass?” said a short, sturdy man, one of yesterday’s rangers. He had a pair of binoculars, which Hugh thought curious. It was pitch-black out there.
“Morning,” said Hugh. They shook hands. “Still nothing?” He smelled fuel. They were tinkering with an engine back there.
“Bastard hid her body good,” the ranger said. “But some tourist called in a sighting.”
Rachel edged closer. Lewis tried to block
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