Huge thanks to all for the lovely reviews.
Sorry this took so long but summer is a busy time here and in a part of the world experiencing winter, Alaidh , has been snowed under with work to beta.
Of course, as always, humongous thanks to Alaidh for her beautiful beta!
Special thanks to Nose-Only for his input on this case.
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CHAPTER 4
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Logan froze.
Every part of his being stilled while he listened to the shriek that played a concerto of disconcerting notes along the nerve endings at the back of his neck.
The final notes of the piercing cry suddenly ended with the abruptness of a slammed door. New sounds came to Logan's ears – sounds that spoke of careless urgency - the snap of breaking twigs, ruffled leaves as something brushed impatiently and uncaringly against them, then, even more disturbing, the sound of running feet rushing towards him at a hectic pace.
Breaking from his frozen state, Logan twisted to reach for the gun in the bag at the back of his chair, but in that instant a figure rushed around the bend in the trail to stand stock-still and look at him. Max.
Logan opened his mouth, intending to ask her what the hell was going on, when her dark eyes swept over him with a cool, searching glance. Before he had a chance to speak, she'd snapped, "Stay here."
Within seconds, she'd disappeared back around the bend in the trail and was gone.
Logan drew a breath intending to call after her, but realizing the futility of the gesture, he closed his mouth with an exasperated grunt and snapped on his brakes.
It was only a matter of seconds before he frowned, then blinked once, very slowly, as the full significance of her words sank in – he was being relegated to the role of the one to stay in safety 'behind the lines.'
"I don't think so," he muttered decisively as he released his brakes.
Without a moment's pause he dumped his water bottle back in his lap, dropped his hands to his wheels and pushed on after her.
The sound of the shriek still echoed in his mind. He grimaced suddenly. Should he have told Max the secret he'd been keeping from her? ...Well, not secret exactly and besides, if she paid any attention to the world around her she probably would've heard about it herself, he reasoned cynically
Still frowning, Logan bit down on his bottom lip and strained to listen while he navigated his way over the difficult path, this time with far less regard for his own safety. The thought that Max was getting further and further away from him every second spurred him to a new recklessness.
The sharp bend that Max had disappeared around was a bumpy ten yards away, but he covered the distance with surprising ease. It was only when he rounded the corner that things became unexpectedly more interesting. He brought his wheelchair to a complete halt with such a jerk that he lunged forward a little.
As if joined by a puppeteer's string, three faces, in varying degrees of surprise, whipped around to stare down at him.
Logan stared back with surprise to see a wafer-thin girl of about Max's age with insipid blue eyes and straggly straw-like blonde hair, a man with curly brown hair in holed denim who looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, and another man, this time more likely in his early thirties, whose dark, long hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in months.
"What're your gawking at?" the dark haired one growled in an unusually deep voice as he shook his head slightly from side to side, as if he was recovering from some sort of delayed shock.
"Funny, I was about to ask you three the same thing," Logan responded evenly, wondering who they were and what connection they had, if any, to the scream he and Max had so recently heard.
The three continued to look at Logan suspiciously, in between casting uneasy glances further down the path towards the river.
Logan decided it was best to play the innocent bystander – which he was, in any case. "You hear anyone…" he felt for the right words, "cry out?" he settled for.
The fine art of deception was obviously a trait they hadn't studied, Logan noted, as their eyes hopelessly gave them away. Each one of them began looking everywhere except at him with a nervousness that was almost laughable. Logan had to admit that he thought they looked downright scared rather than guilty.
Well, if these three knew nothing about the sound they'd heard, he was keen to press on and see where Max had gone.
"Look, we were just here on this path when my friend and I heard something, so she ran on to check it out," Logan told them impatiently in the hope that jogging their memories might help.
"Now why would she wanna do that?" the younger man asked, his eyes now flaring with the first faint flicker of suspicion.
"I guess she wanted to help," Logan stated slowly, as if talking to a child who didn't understand such a simple concept.
He wasn't sure why, but apparently something he'd said had triggered the wrong response and he now felt distinct feelings of animosity directed towards him.
Sighing with frustration, he pointed out with more than a slight note of sarcasm, "People usually only scream when they're in some kinda trouble."
His words didn't seem to resolve the issue – the girl and the younger man continued to stare down at him, but now he was faced with the added dilemma of the third man slowly starting to circle around behind him.
Logan took his hands off his wheels and held them up in a gesture of surrender. "Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but if it happens to be your friend in trouble, keeping me here is hardly gonna help things any."
This time, the wisdom of his words seemed to have some effect. The girl's pale face looked increasingly worried. "I say we should go and see if Lucy needs help."
The brown haired man seemed to be weakening too. "Chad, let's get going," he urged his friend, who by this time now stood behind Logan.
"Pretty strange," Chad commented, ignoring their suggestions. He was now standing about two feet from Logan's back.
Logan let his hands drop easily again to his wheels, but he could feel his heart rate quickening uncomfortably.
"What – it's strange wanting to help someone?" he asked, being purposefully obtuse.
"It's kinda strange you'd have a laptop with you way out here," the other expounded very slowly, as if his brain was trying to work out the significance of the discovery.
"You thinkin' he's a Fed after all, Lenny?" the younger man asked quickly, even though he looked at Logan doubtfully, as if he thought the chance was unlikely.
Logan would have laughed outright if he hadn't sensed that the wrong word could go very badly for him. "I'm not a Fed. I'm simply out here enjoying the scenery," he managed to say, being careful to keep his tone as matter-of-fact as possible.
"Well, I don't care what you two think. I say he doesn't look like a Fed," the girl opined with a defiant look towards the other two. "Can't we go see where Lucy and Poggs are?"
"Well, how do we know he's not one? We should check to see if he's packin' some heat," Chad asserted.
"The laptop thing is kinda weird, Chad," the younger man remarked, screwing up his face as if thinking came difficult to him.
Finding the whole discussion ludicrous in the extreme, and becoming more and more frustrated, Logan finally snapped, "Okay, sure…I'm a cop or a Fed or anything else you want me to be. You gotta problem with that?"
He suspected they both had a problem with that when both men suddenly produced guns.
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Max headed back along the path with not quite the speed she'd raced down it, but at a fast pace nonetheless.
She suspected Logan would be wondering where she'd been. In fact, she was surprised that she hadn't encountered him before this. It had crossed her mind as she'd told him to "Stay there," that it was unlikely he was going to sit patiently and wait for her return. Nothing he'd done in the months she'd known him had suggested to her that he did anything sensible in regard to his own safety. She wondered if that made him a hero or just plain stupid.
She was nearly back at the final bend in the winding path where Logan should have been when she stopped as quickly as Logan had some minutes earlier. Her fine-tuned designer hearing easily picked up the sound of raised voices.
Max, ever cautious, stopped and stood perfectly still while she listened. She could hear Logan clearly say, "What – it's strange wanting to help someone?"
Her brow creased in confusion as she listened, trying to make sense of the conversation as it unfolded. Logan some kinda cop? The thought brought a quick smile to her face. Well, he should be able to talk his way outta this one, she mused, for once not keen to rush in and do anything that would attract attention to them both. She didn't want to do anything that would jeopardise her meeting with Zack.
The next words she heard Logan say changed all that.
"Okay, sure…I'm a cop or a Fed or anything else you want me to be. You got a problem with that?"
At that point Max rolled her eyes. "Logan – you'd never get a job as a diplomat," she muttered, her eyes suddenly widening as she heard the unmistakable 'click' of more than one gun.
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"Yeah, man, we do have a problem with that," Lenny started to say, but he was unable to finish his sentence as the gun he was holding was suddenly ripped from his hand and a perfectly timed blow to the back of his head had him sagging to the ground.
Such was the speed of Max's attack that Chad could do no more than stand and watch in amazement as a back flip landed Max at his side. This time she struck a blow to his gun hand making him cry out with pain as his fingers involuntarily let go of their grasp and the gun clattered to the ground. Then, to make sure he had the point, she grabbed the arm he was clutching and gave it a quick twist. He somersaulted into the air before hitting the ground with a thump loud enough to make Logan wince as he landed heavily on his back.
"Sorry, boys – but yah see… I've got a problem with guns…particularly when they're pointed at friends of mine," Max told them both coolly.
The blonde girl cried out, "I don't have a gun," then looked like she was about to burst into tears as she watched her two companions struggling to overcome the pain they felt in various parts of their anatomy.
Max collected their guns, made sure the safety catches were on, then handed them to Logan.
"You ever read the book on how to 'Win Friends and influence People?' she asked him.
Logan shrugged. "Had a boring cover."
"We didn't d…d…do anything wrong," the girl stuttered, completely overawed by Max's prowess.
"Listen, honey, I don't give a damn about how many cops you perps pissed off. Our only aim," and she indicated Logan with a nod of her head, "is to kick back and commune with nature, an' all that crap. So…" and her gaze encompassed all of them, "you just keep your jammed up lives to yourselves and everything'll be sweet."
By this time, Lenny had stood up. Still rubbing the back of his head, he muttered, "What about our stuff?"
"We'll keep your guns safe with us until we leave," Logan told him, holding both guns in his hand. "You keep outta our way and there won't be any trouble."
"By the way, you might want to check out those two chumps down by the river. I take it they're friends of yours."
At her words, the three stared at her with alarm.
"Instead of waving your guns in our faces, looks like you owe us a favour," Max corrected them, "and you might wanna point out to them that whatever candy they're flying on doesn't mix with the great outdoors."
Her words had Logan staring at Max curiously by this time.
The three gaped at her in varying degrees of pain, truculence and, at least on the part of the girl, a fearful apprehension.
"Outta here," Max prompted them.
If they thought they owed her a thank you, they weren't about to show it as they shuffled off down the track.
Logan suspected the boys were acutely embarrassed to be taken out with such ease by a girl younger than themselves.
Max watched them for a minute, until they were around the bend, then she turned to Logan. "Think I'd better make sure they find their peeps," she said lightly.
Logan nodded his agreement. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted them either.
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Left alone, he took a long drink of water while he waited, idly reflecting on the events of the last twenty minutes as he shook the black water bottle in his hand to check that he was leaving enough for the return trek. Something bothered him, until it came to him with a slight start that the three jumpy campers must have cut through to the path he and Max had been on from the forest itself. Otherwise, Max would have come across them as she'd run down to the river.
In light of their near panic at the though that he could have been a cop, Logan's journalistic instincts, which had already been on the alert, immediately kicked in and wanted to know what it was they were trying to hide.
Assuming that it was more than likely that they'd come from the side of the forest that ran away from the river, he checked out that side first.
Sure enough, he found an area leading into the trees and undergrowth where the grass looked as though it had been trampled by feet on a regular basis. He was hindered from entering the area by a large, leafy branch that hung low, but by forcing it up and holding it aloft with alternate hands while his other hand pushed down hard on the wheel of his chair, he managed to get himself through the small opening. Once he'd let go of the branch again, he was amazed when he turned around just how completely it hid any opening to the path.
Logan hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was such a good idea. He didn't know if the three they'd met had any other friends, and people performing nefarious duties don't usually take it too well when their secret is discovered. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure it would be a good idea for Max to think he suspected there was something unusual about Murchison Woods. He knew all she wanted to do was concentrate on meeting Zack. Making up his mind, he made a decision to press on as far as he could in what little time he had before Max came back.
This time, though, he pulled his gun out from his bag and sat it on his lap, just in case, before pushing onward.
He was able to follow, what was for the most part, a reasonably well-beaten path through almost exotically thick undergrowth and towering trees.
Within a few minutes he came across his goal quite unexpectedly, and for a moment he could only sit and stare, not entirely sure of what it was.
The leaves of the plants were thick and wide and tinged with a dark purple – not entirely unlike some of the indoor plants he remembered his Aunt Margo being so fond of. These, he suspected, were far more expensive than anything even Margo had owned, and were definitely not used for merely decorative purposes.
From his seated position, it was hard for Logan to estimate how far the crop extended but, hazarding a guess, he assumed there were thousands of the waist high plants.
The plants were surrounded by a four-strand, sturdy looking, wire fence that stood about five feet high. There was no gate in sight, so Logan stretched out a hand to grab a sample of the plant, using his wheel to brace himself as he cautiously reached forward.
Max's cry of caution and his of sudden yelp of pain coincided with the moment Logan's gloved right hand did no more than graze one of the wires.
Max grabbed the back of his chair and pulled him back with a, "Are you whack? The fence is zapped!"
"I know that now, thank you," Logan told her with studied calmness as he nursed his still tingling hand.
"What were you thinking?" she snapped at him, amazed that he could make what was, to someone with her training, an unforgivable mistake.
"I wasn't thinking it was rigged with an electric current, obviously," Logan ground back at her as he took a deep breath.
"Well, at least the crank who rigged this thing wasn't trying to kill you," she muttered thankfully, "but the current is much stronger than is usually used for this kinda thing. This is plain mean. It looks like it's here to deter large animals…deer probably – give them a really big vicious zap so that there's no way they'd come back for more ."
"It certainly deterred me," Logan commented wryly as he stripped his glove off to check out any damage.
"You get a burn out of it?"
"Nope, nothing more than a red mark."
"You sure only your hand touched the wire?" Max asked with meaning.
"Damn. I hope so," said Logan quickly, reaching down to roll up his cargo pants and check both lower legs.
Max watched quietly as he did a quick inspection, struggling to understand what it must be like for him to have to get used to having no sensation in almost half of his body.
"Both okay," he announced with relief as he rolled the legs of his pants down and straightened up.
"So, what is all this and what's with the sneaking off by yourself?" Max asked him suspiciously, her anger only slightly appeased by the fact that he hadn't been seriously hurt.
"I started wondering what it was they were doing that had them seeing cops behind every bush."
Max stared at the plants. "You know what these are?"
"Not a clue," Logan admitted. "You wanna take a look around for me while we're here?"
Max nodded. "You should start heading back to the path though. We don't know if the three green thumbs we met plan on returning. For all we know, the forest may be crawling with more of them," she added in the form of a mild rebuke.
Logan stared irritably at the plants for a moment. At least in Seattle he was able to go about much of his life as it had been before – particularly as he spent much of his time in a spacious apartment with smooth wood floors. Today, however, he saw how much of a disadvantage a wheelchair could be and it irked him that his actions were directed by its limitations.
"You okay?" Max's voice broke into his thoughts.
"Sure. I'll head back to the path while you take a look around," he answered her smoothly enough, but his underlying note of dissatisfaction left her wondering what it was that bothered him.
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Logan had made it nearly all the way back to the main path when he found himself unexpectedly and irrevocably stuck.
Leaning forward, he found that a long vine-like weed or plant had managed to wrap itself around his right front caster. Feeling a rising frustration within himself, he reached down to free it, but found to his dismay that it was wrapped so tightly that he couldn't get it to budge.
"Damn it!" he muttered as he saw how close he was to the main path. If the other three happened to return he didn't have a hope of avoiding them, stuck as he was here on the path, whereas Max, on the other hand, could always merge into the bushes.
Logan tried again to free it, but then stopped and listened intently. Was that voices he heard? His only consolation was that he still had his gun on his lap, but he doubted he'd be able to convince them this time that he wasn't a cop when they found him snooping around something he was obviously not meant to see.
He could feel the blood starting to pool in his head from his length of time upside down. It just didn't seem possible that a piece of vine could get wound around the small wheel so tightly in such a short space of time.
Logan stopped again. This time he was sure he heard voices.
"Come on," he muttered urgently to himself as he went back to the tangled mess that had become his wheel. He just thought he was beginning to make some headway when two cool, strong, hands removed his and started working on the vine.
"I think I heard voices," Logan whispered to her urgently. "Maybe you'd better go. They may have more guns if the two by the river were packing as well."
Max knew full well that the other two had guns – she'd seen them herself.
"Hold tight," was all she had to say as she ripped the last bit of the troublesome plant away from his wheel.
Grabbing the back of his chair, she shoved it forward over the rough path with enough force to make Logan grab at his seat for balance. He vaguely heard Max mutter, "Sorry," then she was holding up the branch for him so that he could wheel through the narrow opening.
Sure enough, they could both hear the voices now – the deep, booming voice of Chad was unmistakable and it sounded disconcertingly close.
Max checked that the branch was correctly back in place, then she quickly scuffed over the telltale wheel marks from Logan's chair while Logan pushed as hard as he could along the path.
"I tell yah, there's something really weird about them."
The voice carried clearly, but Logan and Max drew a sigh of relief – they'd made it around at least two bends in the trail away from the hidden entrance.
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Both Logan and Max wore thoughtful expressions as they made their way back to their campsite.
"So, you wanna tell me what the scream was all about?" Logan asked her as they headed back up the path.
"A coupla their peeps were playing Tarzan down by the river – only they were too stoned or high or whatever to see that the rope swing they were on was tied to a branch that was about to break."
Logan nodded his understanding. "I take it 'baby' didn't wanna fall?"
"Yeah – screamed like she was being tortured and her boyfriend just stood there and stared at her. Really weird – I mean, the worse thing that coulda happened was that she'd get wet."
"Maybe she can't swim."
"Either that or completely paranoid about water or drowning," Max suggested thoughtfully. In her mind she could clearly see the look of sheer terror on the face of the girl as she dangled over the river on her rope swing. "I mean…why would you even go on a rope swing over a river if you were afraid of falling in?"
"A dare?"
"It would be like you bungee jumping when you don't like heights," Max elaborated.
"Let's not go there," Logan said with a grimace, finding her analogy far too vivid for his liking.
"So, what did you find out about the plants?" he asked instead.
"There must be hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. Along with the electric fence there's a sophisticated irrigation system that's definitely not pre-pulse technology. It looks to be pumping water from the river at an amazing rate and irrigating the crop."
Logan raised his eyebrows. "Hardly your backyard 'grow-your-own marijuana' set-up."
Max looked surprised. "You think they have some sorta narcotic use?"
"There've been rumours for some years about experimentation with hybrid narcotic plants. Looks like you weren't the only ones who were genetically engineered."
Max ignored his analogy. "Those two down by the river were sure strung out on something."
They continued on without a word for a while – two hikers quietly appreciating the beauty of dappled sunlight weaving its way through a canopy of leaves. Yeah, right, brooded Max as she stole a look at Logan's profile, at the moment he wouldn't even notice a bear unless he'd wheeled smack into it.
She wondered with a dark look how it was that things always seemed to get so complicated when Logan was around. She certainly had no intention that anything would get in the way of her meeting Zack. The only reason for this meet that made any sense was that he had some information for her about Brin.
Brin. We have to help her, she promised herself. How often had she seen the picture in her mind of Brin, frail and weak, huddled on the park bench, the disease that was Manticore invading her every breath?
"You've gone very quiet," she said at last. "I guess we know now why they're seeing cops behind every bush?"
"Yup. Guess so," Logan murmured distractedly.
"Well, just as long as they stay out of our hair, I don't care what their dealio is," Max stated firmly, stealing a sideways glance at Logan's profile as she spoke. "You've got that 'Eyes Only smells a rat' look on your face," she added accusingly.
Logan looked up at her in surprise. "I was just thinking," he protested.
"I've got nothing against you thinking…just as long as you're not thinking about those boneheads and Eyes Only hacks about the evils of revved-up plants. I'm here for one thing only and that's to meet with Zack," she pointed out in no uncertain terms. "I'm not screwing up my meet with him by getting involved in some Eyes Only caper."
"I haven't asked you to do anything," he pointed out pedantically.
"Good, cause you're not doing anything about them either," she added with a decided edge to her voice. "We have one more afternoon up here and I aim to make the most of the country life while I'm here. I intend to swim in that crystal clear river water, and lie in the sun."
Logan just looked at her. This was all news to him.
"You wanna join me?" she grinned at him, raising her eyebrows invitingly.
"No," was the short reply.
"Okay," she answered in tone that said, you don't know what you're missing, "but it's gonna be pretty warm by this afternoon."
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Lunch was a low-key affair. Logan hadn't brought along a huge amount of food, as the original plan had been to stay for one night only. There were still plenty of eggs and bread and cheese but he suspected they'd soon tire of that if they had to eat it morning, noon and night.
Once again, Max headed down to the river with a container to collect some water to wash their dishes while Logan put the food away and made coffee.
Max was gone a little longer than he'd expected, and he had nearly finished his coffee by the time she returned.
"Thought you'd got lost," he commented mildly as he poured her a cup then picked up his own again.
"Nope. I was organizing your afternoon for you," she told him blithely as she put down the container of water, "and solving the problem of dinner."
Logan looked up with raised brows, coffee mug poised halfway to his lips – he wasn't sure he liked the sound of this.
Max moved across to him and held her hand out low enough for Logan to clearly see what she held in her palm.
"They made you eat worms at Manticore?" he asked her uncertainly as he looked at the writhing slimy brown mass in her hand, wondering if this was some barbaric Manticore ritual she hadn't told him about.
"Logan, it's your bait! You're gonna go fishing," she retorted impatiently.
"What makes you think I like fishing?" he asked her carefully.
"Logan, all men like fishing. I've seen it in the movies – you know, they wear those funny hats and boots and overalls an' stuff."
Logan looked less than impressed.
"And then they cook it for dinner," Max finished, her lips curling at the thought of freshly caught, cooked fish.
"Max. I hate fishing."
His statement brought her down to earth with a thud. Even more galling was the way the full force of her scornful glare seemed to have little or no effect on him.
"Right, I shoulda known. On the Eyes Only list of evil things to do it probably rates right up there with hanging out at cafes?" she suggested sarcastically. "I guess hanging around a river bank hardly fits your 'no time for fun, gotta save the world' persona."
Logan sat back and directed one of his dark looks at her from under his lashes.
"Logan…why do you have fishing rods and fishing gear if you don't like fishing!" she asked him in frustration.
"Because my uncle's theory in life is that if he likes something then everyone around him has to like it as well."
"Why didn't you just tell him you hated it?" she shrugged, wondering what the big deal could be.
"If you'd met my uncle you'd know that telling him anything like that would be a complete waste of time," he told her dryly as he added his dirty cup to the small pile of unwashed dishes. The water they were heating for washing was now hot enough, so he took it off the burner and emptied it into another container to wash the dishes.
Max simply left him with an ultimatum: "Well, if we wanna eat anything other than omelettes or beans…"
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So it was, sometime later, that a disgruntled Logan sat by the riverbank, fishing rod in hand, a wriggling worm firmly attached to the other end. He wondered ruefully how he'd ever let Max talk him into this.
He'd become doubly suspicious when she declined the offer of the other rod – no doubt the thought of sitting still and quiet for hours on end by a riverbank wasn't entirely to her liking, either.
The time had passed relatively quickly, aided by the work he was able to do on his laptop. He'd sorted through some files and information he hadn't had a chance to thoroughly read through. It had been a little awkward juggling laptop and line but somehow he'd managed this feat.
He certainly felt mildly more satisfied with life when he looked at the three large fish flapping around in the pail of water beside him. He had no idea what variety they were, but they certainly looked edible to him.
He wasn't entirely sure where Max was. She'd gone for a walk once she'd seen him established by the riverbank. It turned out she'd already reconnoitered when she had dug for worms and found what she'd said was 'the perfect spot' for fishing. It was a high, grassy bank not far from their campsite that dropped about three feet to the river. The water here was deep and relatively still as the bend sheltered it from the fast flow of the river.
He suspected she'd then gone to check on the whereabouts of, as Max had called them, their 'punk-ass' neighbours. The thought of them brought a frown to his face as he dropped the rod by his feet for a moment so that he could shift his position. He couldn't see how they were connected in any way to the rumours he and Bling had heard, but there was no doubt in his mind that the crop he and Max had discovered was an illegal one.
The question was, how far to push it? Max was clearly not interested in finding out what their game was, which made things difficult for him if he wanted to do some investigating. Without her help, and with no other informants in the area to call on, there was virtually nothing he could do. Save for that one, relatively cleared path, every other one was a nightmare for him to navigate. All the same, he couldn't help wondering…
Coming back to the present with a start he realised the rod at his feet had jerked several times as if something was tugging at it. In fact, it was in danger of slipping right over the edge of the bank if he didn't grab it quickly. Releasing his brakes, he propelled himself forward about 6 inches and grabbed it, quickly reeling it in to see what was on the other end of the line.
Maybe this fishing thing isn't so bad, after all, he mused with a small grin.
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Max located the campsite of the five other campers she'd met that morning with surprising ease. They certainly weren't trying to hide their presence. She found them further along the riverbank, a brisk five-minute walk for her from where she and Logan had set up camp.
Their campsite turned out to be a couple of sad-looking, domed, three-man tents, and a VW van that had certainly seen better days.
Max approached warily – there was no sign of life outside – just plenty of empty tins, bottles, old newspapers and various other items of garbage that they hadn't bothered to bag and dispose of. She wrinkled her nose with disgust – it was one thing to see a scene like this in the streets of Seattle, but up here in an area untainted by post-Pulse filth, it was a veritable crime.
Max stepped over the garbage without a noise and made her way to the singularly unattractive, rust-riddled orange van. She noted at once rutted tire marks in the grass that indicated the van had been driven some time in the not too distant past.
Squatting low beside the driver's side front wheel, Max blocked out the enticing sounds of what should have been just a lazy afternoon by the river and listened carefully.
When she heard nothing she looked in one of the grime-streaked windows – apparently the morning's activities had left them exhausted. All five were crammed in the van, lying either on a stained futon or simply flaked out on the floor as if they'd collapsed mid-sentence.
Max curled her lip with disgust – to someone who always liked to be in control, drugs were a total turn-off.
Moving around a little further, Max ducked under a sagging awning that had the dubious honour of protecting four or five broken down chairs – their once bright stripes barely discernible on the faded canvas. On a shaky table, whose attractive centerpiece was an overflowing ashtray, a greasy pack of playing cards lay face down in various piles, as if the game had been abandoned mid-stream. Gingerly picking up one of the stubs, she put it to her nose and breathed in. She had to admit that the smell wasn't like anything she had ever smelt before and Crash could be filled with all kinds of unusual and highly illegal clouds of smoke. On impulse, she stuck two of the stubs into her jeans pocket, then satisfied that the 'gardeners' were unlikely to cause any fuss for quite some time, she crept away and headed back to her own camp site.
It took her only a minute to change into a singlet and a khaki pair of cargo shorts and grab her towel. She wondered how Logan was doing – she hoped he wasn't so obsessed with the work he was doing on his laptop that he hadn't noticed his line jerking when the fish went for the worm. She felt a little guilty – she hadn't admitted to him that fishing had been on the Manticore curriculum under survival skills, but not with the luxury of a fishing pole – they'd had to use their bare hands.
Enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her shoulders, Max walked barefoot across to the river. She couldn't see Logan from this part of the river, as he was further around the bend. The thought crossed her mind that he may be wondering where she was - she'd merely told him that she was going to have a swim.
Deeming it wiser to swim a distance away from where Logan was fishing so as to disturb the fish as little as possible, she dumped her towel at the bottom of one of the trees that grew by the bank, then stepped across the smooth pebbles to the cold, refreshing water.
Better not disturb Logan too soon, she decidedly thoughtfully as she prepared to plunge into the water's icy depths. She certainly wanted to give him plenty of time to catch a decent haul – she was feeling ravenous for freshly caught fish.
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TBC