XII.
The grasp on Blair's arm gradually became less shakey and desperate, Jim's steps more even. Finally, after a couple of go-rounds of the campground, Jim let go and tried to walk completely normally. He almost pulled it off.
"No more sleeping on the ground," said Blair, hoping he sounded firm.
"We don't know how many more days we'll be out here."
"Like you can't afford fifty bucks a night for a Motel 6," said Blair.
"Let's see how my leg does today," Jim said. Trying for wiggle room, to give up without giving up. Blair could work with that.
Could even push things a little. "Want to find a motel tonight? It's not too late..."
"In what universe is 1 a.m. not late?" asked Jim. He squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Thanks, but my leg's great now. Can't even tell it was cramped up."
Yuh-huh.
They paused, and Jim held up a hand for silence. Blair touched his elbow - yeah, Jim was sensing something. A shrug, though, told that Jim didn't know what it was, but that it wasn't striking him as being an immediate threat. Maybe he was hearing the same thing as the night before? But Blair heard and saw nothing, and after a moment Jim shook his head. "Just act natural," he said softly. "If there's someone there, he's probably more cautious of us than we are of him."
They covered five miles before noon, then had sandwiches Josiah had prepped before striking camp. The afternoon seemed to hold more of the same - more slow slog through the underbrush that marked forest edge.
After a few hours, the highway hit an incline, the first real one since the outskirts of Cascade. Not a hill you'd notice in a car, but on a bike...
Damn, yeah. He'd been here, or some place just like it. Hill cut on one side, guardrail on the other. Sanding on the pedals to get the chain to turn. Almost losing his balance, afraid if he fell that the gun would go off and shoot him in the back. Thinking, then, that he should at least get rid of the gun. It had seemed like good protection at first - just a good thing to have on you if you were out at night alone in the middle of nowhere. If the cops'd stopped him, they'd be trying to pin the murder on him anyway, and having the gun wouldn't change that.
But now he was miles from Cascade, and they might not even have heard about the shooting way out here. A gun would sure be suspicious, though. He had to get rid of it.
Yeah, it was all clear to Vin, just how he'd felt then. He hopped into the Suburban and Jim drove them both until the highway was back in forest. Still rising, and narrower than it had been, with only a few yards of grassy median. And there was that yellow sign: "Trucks use low gear." Man, that sign had pissed him off. He'd hopped off and noticed one of the wheels was getting mushy... How much further had he gone after that?
They pulled over and waited for the rest of the guys to catch up. "It's near here," he said.
"Which side?" asked Chris.
Vin shook his head. "The shoulder was pretty cracked up on both sides. I switched back and forth all night trying to find a stretch that wouldn't wreck the tires."
Josiah pulled out a couple of metal detectors. "We should probably look for the gun as well, since the bike may not be..."
"This it?"
And Buck, trotting back from 100 yards or so up the road, was holding up the most dumb-ass-looking bicycle that Vin had ever seen. Man, if he was going to steal a bike...
He was giggling - yeah, giggling - so hard he couldn't answer for a minute. Blair called, "Yeah! I'd forgotten, it wasn't even a 10-speed."
Buck plopped it at their feet and stepped back, looking very proud.
"Banana seat? High-rise handlebars? Space Invaders on the chain guard?" That was Jim.
"Wow, yeah, they're still there!" said Blair, kneeling to get a better look. "I bet this is considered a classic now. Know any kid that wants a bike?"
"Focus, people, we're not done yet," said Chris. Then, more softly, right next to him, "You okay, cowboy?"
Vin wiped a hand across his eyes. "It's just a really dopey-looking bike," he explained.
"Hey, I was eleven when I got it," said Blair. "And you can't say it wasn't durable."
Vin was giggling again.
Blair, walking by, paused to swat him with his baseball cap.
Chris let the guys take their time choosing which metal detectors they wanted. There were only five good ones, so Chris allocated them to Buck, JD, Josiah, Nathan, and Ezra. They moved the vehicles closer to where Buck had found the bike, and Vin pointed out where, roughly, he though he might have stashed the gun. He really didn't seem all that certain, though, so Chris directed the guys to search diligently everywhere. The forest receded a bit from the road surface here; this could take a while.
Jim and Vin stayed leaning against the Suburban. After a few minutes, Blair joined them, Jim laying a hand on his shoulder. "Almost over," Chris heard Jim murmur. Sandburg just nodded.
For his part, Vin was biting his lower lip hard. Chris decided he'd better camp out next to Tanner, in case he decided to chew off a limb or something next.
In the end, it took another hour, then Ezra called, "Could someone document this please?" and the other searchers were converging on the base of a smallish ponderosa pine.
"Come on, please..." said Sandburg; Ellison drew him close, circling Blair with his arms from behind.
Chris shot a look at Vin - tense, anxious, hands balled into fists, back to chewing his lip. "Easy there," said Chris. Vin looked at him like he was insane. Chris smiled and put an arm around his shoulder. It felt awkward, but he squeezed a little anyway. "What will happen will happen. You just stay put a minute more."
A few moments later, Josiah called out, "The number's a match!"
Vin turned and gave him an honest-to-God hug before dashing with Blair to the site.
