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Didn’t have a choice, me. They kept asking why I was so determined to get to the Sick House; why couldn’t they see the yawning alternative staring me in the face?
“Just give it one more shot, Sunny. We’re getting closer.” We’d kept the truck radio and CB on, hoping to get a lay of the land. Yesterday, we’d picked up the Sick House’s repeating message, offering medical care in exchange for goods.
“Okay. I’ll try.” Sol squared his shoulders and stared in the direction of the roadway. His eyes flickered once, twice, then emitted beams of light. They melted the falling snow into rain. As Sol tottered, the thick ice blocking the Beast turned into mini flash floods.
“All right! We’re good to go.” For another short drive. “Backseat, Joules.”
He climbed out of the driver’s seat as we tossed in our shovels and tire mats in the back.
Rumbling sounded. Everyone went on high alert.
Joules said from the truck, “Richter?”
Gabe scented the air. “I do not believe so . . .” His gaze darted to the sides of the road, to the snow piled high up the valley walls. He hissed, “Avalanche!”
We all dove back into the truck just as snow plummeted. It covered the doors. The windows. The roof.
Finally silence reigned. Too much silence. I couldn’t hear the wind anymore. We must be twenty feet under.
I turned off the engine before we overheated it. “Kentarch, can you take us back fifty or so feet?” Ready to get out of this mess, me. Claustrophobia gripped my throat.
Joules yanked off his gloves to reveal blistered palms. “The fifty feet that we dug through to get here?”
“We’re all hurting, Tower. But we are making progress. We heard the message.” I turned to Kentarch. “You’re up.”
“I will try, but I can’t continue to teleport us like this.” We’d learned that heavy weights and long distances were tough for him, but for some reason, teleporting people proved just as difficult. The Beast plus people equaled one drained Chariot. “Dozens of times in one day is too much.”
“I hear you. We’ll ease up tomorrow.”
He grabbed the dash and closed his eyes. The shivery feeling I got whenever we teleported set in, but we hadn’t moved.
“You okay, podna?”
“I need a few moments to recharge.”
The five of us would run out of air in minutes. QB this, Jack. Doan panic your players. “No worries. Take your time.” Had I sounded convincing? “Sol, can you melt some of this snow away and create an air hole?” I cracked his window.
He looked queasy at the prospect. “Uh, sure thing, Jack.” His eyes glowed, but they didn’t emit light. He slumped back in the seat. “I’m with Kentarch. Even a god like me can’t do this again and again.”
“Enough with the deity bullshite!” Joules, the former Catholic choirboy, wasn’t having it on the best of days. “Just melt the snow or get comfy in our new grave.”
“Everybody stay cool,” I said, even as sweat beaded my forehead. “One of you will recover in time.”
“And if they don’t?” Joules demanded. “Why are we riskin’ our arses over and over? We made two miles yesterday—in twelve hours. And that was a good day, since we didn’t die. Unlike today.”
“I somewhat agree with Patrick.” Gabe was used to soaring through the skies; our current situation had to be punishing for him. “Hunter, we must discuss our path. I fear we will not make another mile, much less the dozens left to reach the Sick House.”
Did they think I didn’t know that? They all believed I was hell-bent on reaching that place for Evie—and I was—but it was more than that.
Because my goal of a settlement in Louisiana was done.
Kentarch quietly said, “There’s something you’re not telling us. In the past, all you talked about was starting Acadiana.” Just that word wrecked me. “We understood diverting from the mission in order to hunt Richter, but now that his trail is cold, this insistence makes no sense. If you do not divulge everything, I won’t keep pushing on.”
“The Sick House might have rockets to defeat Richter and Zara and a doc for Evie.” Dominija was less keen about that prospect as time wore on. Yesterday he’d pointed out that plague victims would’ve journeyed to the fort, and we were running out of time to quarantine any physician.
He’d decided to take on the challenge of delivering Tee, readying for it.
Kentarch said only, “Might have.”
“Look, I know in my gut that we have to get to that fort. Can you leave it at that?” And conserve oxygen?
“No.” The word was a cannon shot over the bow. Kentarch didn’t have to help us; he held all the cards.
And now this sacked Cajun quarterback would have to tell his team about the stark reality of the fourth quarter. “Acadiana’s not an option with this weather. Even with all the castle’s supplies and all your talents, we can’t make it happen.” I’d thought sun, seeds, and Dominija’s fuel would make the difference. I’d been wrong.
