She left the others and walked along the embankment to where steps led down to a catwalk that opened out onto the top of the wall and the buildings beyond. She stood at the top of the steps and studied the structure. She didn’t know anything about dams, so she didn’t have any idea what she should be looking for, but she looked anyway.
Waste of time, she thought.
She looked beyond the dam wall to the waters trapped behind it. The river was thick with deadwood, and an ugly slick covered its surface where it brushed against the concrete. She wrinkled her nose. She wouldn’t want to wash herself in that. She was still studying the morass when Kirisin appeared unexpectedly at her elbow. Wordlessly, he pointed skyward. When she looked, she saw a pair of winged creatures circling the caravan.
“Skrails,” she said at once, a dark sense of inevitability sweeping through her.
“Candle sensed their presence even before we saw them,” the boy said. “There were more in the beginning, but some flew away south.”
“To warn the others. They must be close.” She tightened her grip on the black staff. “They’ll be coming for us.”
“Helen Rice said to tell you she’s getting the children and their protectors ready to cross the dam if the scouts don’t find a bridge. She said we’ll pack what we can carry on our backs and leave the rest. Even the vehicles.”
It was an unpleasant prospect for more reasons than Angel cared to consider, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She gave him a brief smile. “I’m not sure. Come along. We’ll find out together.”
They descended the steps, stepped onto the dam wall, and walked out to the cluster of machinery housings. The doors were locked, but she was able to use her staff to burn away the locks. Inside, it was dark and close and thick with cobwebs and dust. The machinery consisted of banks of consoles that had long ago ceased to function, even with the aid of solar panels. The turbines that had fed water-generated electricity to the cities were silent, as dead as the cities themselves. Stairs led down into rooms embedded in the dam wall where it adjoined the gorge embankment, and here they found a series of huge wheels and connecting gears that probably allowed for the gates of the dam to be opened. But the wheels were locked in place by rust and time and perhaps by mechanical means that neither could comprehend.
Nothing here that will help, she thought.
With Kirisin in tow, she walked back out into the sunshine. Hawk was still meandering along the upper embankment, stopping every so often to kneel and feel the ground. His concentration was so intense that he didn’t even notice them. She watched him for a moment, Kirisin beside her.
“What is he doing?” the boy asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“He seems to be searching for something. What would he be looking for up there?”
Hawk dropped suddenly to his knees, both hands on the ground, head bent forward, eyes closed as if he were stricken physically. He stayed where he was for long moments, unmoving. Then he straightened, climbed slowly to his feet, and stood gazing south.
“Let’s go find something to eat,” Angel said, turning away.
She had rejoined Helen Rice and the others, collected a plate of food, taken her first bites, and was just thinking that things might work out despite the odds when the scouts Helen had sent north and south along the Columbia drove in, one right after the other. Those who had driven north reported that the only bridge they had found was collapsed into the river. The southern patrol had gotten less than ten miles before encountering the forward elements of the demon army, moving toward them at a rapid pace.
Helen was on her feet at once. “Get the children together. We’re crossing the river right now.”
FARTHER TO THE WEST, deep in foothills swept clean of all but the hardiest scrub by the dust storm of the previous day, Logan Tom was nursing the Ventra 5000 along with a mother’s gentle touch. The big AV, having survived the dust storm with its moving parts intact, was on its last legs. Logan and Simralin had started out the day with the expectation of catching up to the caravan by nightfall. Buried under almost three feet of sand and dust, they had dug their way clear at sunrise, with the storm gone past and the air clear once more, and set out. At first, everything had seemed fine, but then Logan had noticed that the indicator lights on the dash were showing no power flowing from the solar panels to the cells, and the cells were almost empty. He stopped long enough to confirm that the panels were both cracked—either by windblown debris or heat—neither panel repairable, and used the spares to replace them. But the indicator lights still showed no exchange between the fresh panels and solar receptors, and he was forced to admit that the problem was more complicated.