I thought that it could take all day for us to get to Skyline but we reach it by mid-afternoon. Good thing, too, because I don’t think I can handle another meal of cat food. We have plenty of time to rummage through the houses on Skyline for dinner before it gets dark. These houses are nowhere near as close to each other as houses in the suburbs, but they are still regularly spaced along the road. Most of them are hidden behind redwood trees, which is great for surreptitious supply searching.
I wonder how long we should wait for my mother and how we’ll ever find her again. She knew to come up to the hills, but we had no plans beyond that. Like everything else in life right now, all I can do is hope for the best.
Skyline is a beautiful road along the hilltop of the mountain range that divides Silicon Valley from the ocean. It’s a two-lane highway that gives glimpses of both the valley on one side and the ocean on the other. It’s the only road I’ve walked on since the attacks that doesn’t feel wrong in its deserted state. Flanked by redwoods and smelling of eucalyptus, this road would feel more wrong with traffic on it.
Not long after we reach Skyline, though, we see cars piled up crosswise on the road, blocking any potential traffic. This is obviously not something that happened by accident. The cars are angled ninety degrees to the road and staggered for several car lengths, just in case someone decides to crash through them, I suppose. There is a community here, and it does not welcome strangers.
The angel who now looks human takes in the site. He angles his head like a dog that hears something in the distance. He nods his chin slightly, ahead and to the left of the road.
“They’re over there, watching us,” he whispers.
All I can see is an empty road running through redwoods. “How can you tell?”
“I hear them.”
“How far?” I whisper. How far are they, and how far can you hear?
He looks at me as though knowing what I’m thinking. He can’t read minds as well as have amazing hearing, can he? He shrugs, then turns to head back into the cover of the trees.
As an experiment, I call him all kinds of names in my head. When he doesn’t respond, I come up with random images in my head to see if I can get him to give me a funny look. Somehow, my thoughts drift to how he held me during the night, when I dreamt I was freezing in the water. My imagination has me waking up on that couch and turning to face him. Somehow I’m wearing only my…
I stop. I think about bananas, oranges, and strawberries, mortified that he might actually sense what I am thinking. But he continues through the forest, giving no sign that he can read my mind. That’s the good news. The bad news is he doesn’t know what they are thinking either. Unlike him, I don’t hear, see, or smell anything that might indicate that anyone is out to ambush us.
“What did you hear?” I whisper.
He turns around and whispers back. “Two people whispering.”
After that, I keep my mouth shut and just follow him.
The woods up here are all redwoods. There are no leaves on the forest floor to crunch as we walk. Instead, the forest gives us exactly what we need—a thick carpet of soft needles that muffles our footsteps.
I want to ask if the voices he heard are coming our way, but am afraid to speak unnecessarily. We can try to go around their territory, but we need to continue in the same general direction if we are to reach San Francisco.
Raffe picks up his pace downhill almost to a run. I follow blindly, assuming he hears something I don’t. Then I hear it too.
Dogs.
By the sound of their barking, they’re heading straight for us.
CHAPTER 14
We break into a sprint, skidding on the needles almost as much as running over them. Could these people keep dogs? Or is this a wild pack? If they’re wild, then climbing up a tree would keep us safe until they wander away. But if they’re kept…. The thought boggles my mind. They would need enough food to keep themselves and their dogs fed. Who has that kind of wealth and how did they get it?
An image of the cannibalized family comes back to me, and my brain shuts off while my instincts take over.
It’s clear by the sound of the dogs that they’re gaining on us. The road is far behind us now so we can’t dive into a car. A tree will have to do.
I frantically scan the forest for a climbable tree. There are none that I can see. Unlike other trees, redwood trunks don’t split off. They grow tall and straight, with branches shooting out perpendicular to the trunk high above the ground. I'd have to be at least double my height to reach the lowest branch of any of the trees around us.
Raffe jumps up below a branch. Although he jumps much higher than a normal man could, it is still not enough. He slams his fist into the trunk in frustration. He's probably never needed to jump before. Why jump when you can fly?
“Get on my shoulders,” he says.
I'm not sure what his plan is, but the dogs are getting louder. I can't tell how many of them there are, but it's not one or two, it's a pack.