They gathered firewood and got a blaze going. By then they were all famished and eating became the next order of business. Even the canned food tasted delicious at that point.
While they ate, Dustin and Olivia relayed everything that had occurred when Aaron had nearly drowned. Malachi and Abby nodded, asked questions and, after they’d finished eating, were shown the routes taken by the different players during the event.
“Tomorrow we should act it out. Count the seconds each movement takes, and so on.” Abby yawned. “I wouldn’t mind if I got to sleep first,” she said.
“Everyone go ahead. I’ll take this shift,” Dustin told them.
Olivia rose with Abby, obviously feeling a little awkward. She turned to face Dustin; he gazed back at her, meeting her eyes.
It’s up to you, he tried to tell her silently. I’m not afraid of Malachi. He’s sleeping with his partner—well, beside her, anyway. In separate sleeping bags.... So I think it’s okay if we do the same thing!
She didn’t say anything, but joined Abby and they entered the tent.
Malachi studied him across the fire. “Don’t underestimate my cousin’s strength,” he finally said. “She may not carry a weapon, but she’s a powerful personality.”
“I never doubted that for a minute.”
“And she’s beautiful. She might be my cousin, but she’s still one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree. I... Well. Hell. I care about her. A lot.”
Malachi said nothing further, but he grinned. Maybe that was what he’d wanted to hear. “Okay. I’m going to get some sleep.”
He got up and went into the tent. Dustin shifted, wrapping his arms around his chest. It was chilly. He didn’t want a blanket, though; he wanted to stay awake.
The flames grew small. The embers barely burned anymore. There was still light above him from the moon, and in the distance, a coyote howled. A branch snapped on the fire.
He stared out into the dark woods, but saw nothing.
He could hear the trickle of the nearby stream.
And then, walking toward him out of the trees, came the general.
General Rufus Cunningham.
He stopped across the fire from Dustin, then sat down to join him.
His voice was gruff when he spoke. “I’d help you—God knows I’d help you. But I didn’t see enough!”
“Thank you. I understand,” Dustin told him. “But, please, tell me whatever you did see. Anything— anything at all might help.”
The general sat back, gazing into the darkness.
And then he began.
16
Olivia wasn’t sure what had awakened her.
At first she’d thought she’d never sleep, but she’d closed her eyes and drifted off with surprising ease. Maybe it had been a release of tension; so much had happened. Aaron had almost died and been saved—and now he was actually dead. The Horse Farm was falling apart. But two armed agents rested nearby and Dustin was just outside. She felt...safe.
But just as easily as she’d slept, she awoke.
She lay there for a minute, trying to ascertain what had wakened her, her heart beginning to beat too fast. Fear set in so quickly these days.
But then she realized she heard Dustin’s voice and that it was calm and relaxed. She saw movement near her; Malachi had risen and crept to the opening of the tent. Abby was awake, as well, watching Malachi.
Olivia inched silently toward Malachi. He turned to her in the darkness. She could barely see his features but he whispered, “Move slowly.”
She nodded. Malachi eased himself out of the tent. She saw that he stood motionless for a few seconds and then moved toward the rock-circled fire, where the embers still burned with a soft glow.
Olivia glanced back at Abby, who rose carefully and together they stepped out of the tent. Malachi had just taken a seat near the fire by Dustin.
Across from them sat the general. He was in his cavalry uniform and appeared as he surely had in life. Olivia felt as if she’d stumbled upon a campfire meeting after a reenactment.
She hesitated, and then moved very slowly, coming around the fire to sit cross-legged on Dustin’s other side, facing the general as the men were doing. A second later, Abby joined her. The general nodded to them each in turn. When he spoke, his voice seemed raspy, like a wind on leaves, and she thought again that he didn’t speak often, that he saw his role in the afterlife as something that didn’t require words.
“The dog cried out and I hurried to the sound,” the general said. “A fine dog, a loyal animal. When I reached him, he was trapped. There was a large rock at his side. It must have been thrown at him and shoved him into a tangle of brush. It was all I could do to ease the tangle so he might run on. When I emerged from the trees, I saw someone wearing clothing in earth colors, greens and browns. In one of those short coats that covers the head.”