Dreamcatcher(79)

'Leader, this is Three, I see survivors, repeat, I see Blue Boy Four survivors, at least three no, four I am going down to - '

'Negative, Blue Boy Three, not at all. Resume station plus fifty  -  belay that, station plus one-fifty, one-five-oh, and do it now!'

'Ah, but sir boss, I mean . . . I can see Friedman, he's on f**king fire'

'Joe Blakey, listen up.'

No mistaking Kurtz's rasp, Kurtz who had gotten clear of the red crap in plenty of time. Almost, Owen thought, as if he knew what was going to happen.

'Get your ass out of there now, or I guarantee that by next week you'll be shovelling camel-shit in a hot climate where booze is illegal. Out.'

Nothing more from Blue Boy Three. The two surviving gunships pulled back to their original rally-point plus a hundred and fifty yards. Owen sat watching the furious upward spiral of the Ripley fungus, wondering if Kurtz had known or just intuited, wondering if he and Blakey had cleared the area in time. Because they were infectious, of course; whatever the grayboys said, they were infectious. Owen didn't know if that justified what they had just done, but he thought the survivors of Pay Deforest's Blue Boy Four were most likely dead men walking. Or worse: live men changing. Turning into God knew what.

'Owen.' The radio.

Tony looked at him, eyebrows raised.

'Owen.'

Sighing, Owen flicked the toggle over to Kurtz's closed channel with his chin. 'I'm here, boss.'

9

Kurtz sat in the Kiowa with the newspaper hat still in his lap. He and Freddy were wearing their masks; so were the rest of boys in the attack group. Likely even the poor fellows now on the ground were still wearing them. The masks were probably unnecessary, but Kurtz, who had no intention of contracting Ripley if he could avoid it, was the big cheese. Among other things, he was supposed to set an example. Besides, he played the odds. As for Freddy Johnson . . . well, he had plans for Freddy.

'I'm here, boss,' Underhill said in his phones.

'That was good shooting, better flying, and superlative thinking. You saved some lives. You and I are back where we were. Right back to Square One. Got that?'

'I do, boss. Got it and appreciate it.'

And if you believe it, Kurtz thought, you're even stupider than you look.

10

Behind Owen, Cavanaugh was still making noises, but the volume was decreasing now. Nothing from Joe Blakey, who was maybe coming to understand the implications of that gauzy red-gold whirl?wind, which they might or might not have managed to avoid.

'Everything okay, buck?' Kurtz asked.

'We have some injuries,' Owen replied, 'but basically five-by. Work for the sweepers, though; it's a mess back there,'

Kurtz's crowlike laughter came back, loud in Owen's head?phones.

11
'Freddy - '

'Yes, boss.'

'We need to keep an eye on Owen Underhill.'

'Okay.'

'If we need to leave suddenly  -  Imperial Valley  -  Underhill stays here.'

Freddy Johnson said nothing, just nodded and flew the heli?copter. Good lad. Knew which side of the line he belonged on, unlike some.

Kurtz again turned to him.

'Freddy, get us back to that godforsaken little store and don't spare the horses. I want to be there at least fifteen minutes before Owen and Joe Blakey. Twenty, if possible.'

'Yes, boss.'

'And I want a secure satellite uplink to Cheyenne Mountain.'

'You got it. Take about five.'

'Make it three, buck. Make it three.'

Kurtz settled back and watched the pine forest flow under them. So much forest, so much wildlife, and not a few human beings  -  most of them at this time of year wearing orange. And a week from now ?maybe in seventy-two hours  -  it would all be as dead as the mountains of the moon. A shame, but if there was one thing of which there was no shortage in Maine, it was woods.

Kurtz spun the cocked hat on the end of his finger. If possible, he intended to see Owen Underhill wearing it after he had ceased breathing.

'He just wanted to hear if any of it had changed,' Kurtz said softly.

Freddy Johnson, who knew which side his bread was buttered on, said nothing.

12

Halfway back to Gosselin's and Kurtz's speedy little Kiowa already a speck that might or might not still be there, Owen's eyes fixed on Tony Edward's right hand, which was gripping one branch of the Chinook's Y-shaped steering yoke. At the base of the right thumbnail, fine as a spill of sand, was a curving line of reddish-gold. Owen looked down at his own hands, inspecting them as closely as Mrs. Jankowski had during Personal Hygiene, back in those long-ago days when the Rapeloews had been their neighbors. He could see nothing yet, not on his, but Tony had his mark, and Owen guessed his own would come in time.

Baptists the Underhills had been, and Owen was familiar with the story of Cain and Abel. The voice of thy brother's blood cried unto me from the ground, God had said, and he had sent Cain out to live in the land of Nod, to the east of Eden. With the low men, according to his mother. But before Cain was set loose to wander, God had put a mark upon him, so even the low men of Nod would know him for what he was. And now, seeing that red-gold thread on the nail of Eddie's thumb and looking for it on his own hands and wrists, Owen guessed he knew what color Cain's mark had been.