She traveled alone for a time after that, lost in thoughts of expectations, good and bad. She had been plagued by a sense of foreboding since rising and setting out. She should not have felt that way; in fact, she should have felt renewed confidence following the destruction of the demon. The children were safe again, and the caravan was moving forward. But for reasons she could not explain, her mood was dark and uneasy.
Eventually, Kirisin Belloruus joined her and reiterated his growing concern over his missing sister. Even though a handful of Elves who had escaped the massacre in the Cintra had found their way to the caravan, his sister was not among them. Angel understood. She was worried about Simralin, as well, not to mention the absent and long-overdue Logan Tom. Like the Elven Tracker, he should have been back before this. It was a difficult situation, having both of them missing at the same time and not knowing where to look for either. Nevertheless, Angel promised the boy that a new set of scouts would be dispatched to see if any sign could be found.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Hawk and the Ghosts?” she asked him after a while. “When I tried to talk to them earlier this morning, they made it clear they wanted me to go somewhere else.”
“The halfling, Catalya, disappeared during the night, and Panther went after her,” he said. “The others didn’t want him to go. They tried to talk him out of it, but he went anyway. I think they are afraid they won’t see him again.”
She sighed wearily. “Ay Dios mío.” Her mood darkened further. “Well, I’ll ask the scouts to look out for them, too.”
“I wish we could just get to wherever it is we’re going,” the boy muttered.
Angel nodded but didn’t say anything more.
The morning slipped away, and it was nearing midday when they sighted the dam.
They saw it first as what appeared to be a cluster of dilapidated buildings and collapsed power lines settled within a depression. But as they drew nearer, they saw the smooth curve of a massive concrete wall spanning a deep gorge, and recognized it for what it was: an enormous structure built to hold in check the waters of what was, if the maps could be trusted, the north–south branch of the Columbia River. It appeared that the gates had been locked in place for a long time. Even a cursory glance revealed that the waters above the dam were perhaps two hundred feet higher than those below.
The caravan slowed as it came up on the banks of the gorge, and Angel found Helen Rice and had the bulk of the vehicles and all of the children kept well back while they went forward to decide what to do next. Then she gathered with Helen and the Ghosts on a high embankment and peered down at the dam and the gorge. This close, Angel could see cracks in the dam’s smooth wall, spiderwebs across the whole of its curved surface. Water was leaking through some of the larger splits. The leakage appeared to be steady and had dozens of sources, all of them feeding the waters below the dam wall. Mounds of debris lay clustered along the banks of the gorge, including abandoned cars, pieces of sheet metal, and old appliances, all of it turned to rust.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s come this way in a while,” Helen said quietly. She glanced at Hawk. “Do we have to cross this?”
Hawk nodded without hesitating. “Yes.”
Helen rolled her eyes at Angel. “I’m sending AVs in both directions to see if there’s a bridge somewhere.”
She turned and walked away. Angel stayed where she was, already considering alternatives. The top of the dam wall was clustered with housings for machinery and controls and iron railings, not all of them still in one piece. As well, the flat surface tilted at odd intervals, forming ramps and chutes. While the members of the caravan could probably make their way across, if they were careful and passed in single file, it was too narrow for vehicles. Even so, she was doubtful. She didn’t like the look of the cracks in the concrete wall. The dam looked weathered and old and unsafe, even if it was still holding back all that water.
“Maybe we could build rafts and float the caravan across,” said Helen, coming up beside her once more.
Angel looked around at the barren sweep of the hills and cocked one eyebrow at her. “Out of what? Trash and deadwood?”
They were silent then for a few minutes, all of them staring at the broad span of the gorge, mulling over the problem of crossing. Angel brushed at her short-cropped hair and thought how long it had been since she had washed it. Washed any part of the rest of her, for that matter. Days. She didn’t like how it made her feel, thinking of it. She didn’t care that the others were every bit as ragged and dirty as she was. She wanted to feel clean again.
She shook her head. Well, there was no help for it. She glanced at the gorge and the dam once more. Maybe there was no help for anything.
“Let’s give everyone something to eat,” Helen suggested.
Angel nodded her agreement. “Go ahead. I want to have a closer look at that dam.”