She found her old clothes. She dressed in the shadows. T-shirt, multiply patched jeans. Boots. She checked her backpack. Shotgun shells still there. She would refill her water bottle from the lake. Some food would be good, but Astrid had long since adjusted to extended periods of hunger.
Hopefully this trip wouldn’t take too long. If nothing happened, she could make the walk to Perdido Beach in what, five hours? She sighed. Walk to Perdido Beach through the night or crawl back into bed with Sam and let him wrap his strong arms around her and entwine her legs with his and…
“Now or never,” she whispered.
She had the letters. The ones Mohamed had failed to deliver. She folded them and stuck them into her front pocket, where they couldn’t possibly fall out or be dropped.
The whole plan rested on what she found when she went up on deck. The houseboat was still moored at the dock—a symbolic defiance—but someone would be on watch.
She emerged on the dock side. Maybe whoever was on the top deck wouldn’t notice. Maybe she could just walk away.
“Freeze,” a voice said. Dekka.
Astrid cursed under her breath. She had made it about six feet down the dock. She was well within Dekka’s range, which meant Astrid had zero chance of getting away. Dekka would cancel the gravity beneath her feet, and it was hard to run while floating in the air.
Dekka stepped to the edge of the top deck and then off into space. She canceled gravity for a split second, just enough to allow her to make the drop silently.
“Heading out for a snack run?” Dekka asked dryly. “Pick me up a pack of Ho Hos.”
“I’m going to Perdido Beach,” Astrid said.
“Ah. You’re going to be the big hero and deliver Sam’s letter.”
“Minus the ‘big hero’ snark, yes.”
Dekka jerked her thumb toward the land. “Drake’s out there. And the same coyotes that ate Howard for lunch. No offense, honey, but you’re the brains, not the muscle.”
“I’ve learned a few things,” Astrid said. Without taking her eyes off Dekka’s she swung the butt of her shotgun up and sideways. The wood stock caught Dekka on the side of her face. Not enough to knock her out, but enough to make her drop to her knees.
Astrid moved quickly to get behind Dekka and take advantage of her momentary weakness. She shoved Dekka facedown on the rough planks.
“Sorry, Dekka,” she said, and wrapped a length of rope around her wrists. She stuffed an old sock in Dekka’s mouth. “Listen to me, Dekka. We need Caine, Caine needs us, so this has to happen. And I’m not necessary here.”
Dekka was already straining against the rope and starting to spit the gag out of her mouth.
“If you wake Sam up, he’ll send Brianna after me.”
That quieted Dekka’s struggles.
“I know this sucks, and later you can punch me back,” Astrid said. “Give me twenty minutes before you get Sam. Tell him you were knocked out. You’ll have a nice bruise to show him. He’ll believe you.”
Astrid stood back. Dekka wasn’t struggling. “Tell Sam I said I need to do this. Tell him I won’t stop until I get it done.”
Dekka had managed to spit out the gag. She could yell now and all would be lost. Instead she said, “Cut into the woods; stay away from the bluff. For my money Drake’s in those caves and cracks in the bluff. Breeze cleared the woods pretty well.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else you want me to tell Sam?”
Astrid knew what she was asking. “He knows I love him.” Then with a sigh she said, “Okay: tell him I love him with all my heart. But tell him also that this battle isn’t on him alone. I’m in this, too.”
“All right, blondie. Good luck. And hey: shoot first; think about it later, huh?”
Astrid nodded. “Yeah.”
She walked quickly away. A part of her was cruelly disappointed that she’d been able to get past Dekka. If she’d been stopped, she would have gotten some credit for making a brave effort. And she’d be back with Sam instead of walking, tense and fearful, toward the line of the woods.
Diana hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep out on a sailboat. It wasn’t like there were waves, but she still had powerful memories of the days of morning sickness. And she was not happy about anything that might upset the delicate peace she’d achieved with her stomach.
But she had fallen asleep on one of the narrow, cushioned bench seats in the stern of the sailboat.
On the boat were Roger and Justin and one of Justin’s friends, a little girl with the interesting name of Atria. They were asleep. Or at least they were quiet, which, from Diana’s point of view, was just as good.
Diana had watched Roger earlier with the two littles. She wondered if she would ever manage that kind of patience and playfulness. Roger had found some chalk somewhere and had kept the kids calm by drawing funny characters on the deck. Justin and Atria seemed to think it was all a sort of picnic.
The other occupant of the boat was Orc. He had decided his place was up on the front deck, the bow or whatever they called it. His weight lifted the stern so it was at an angle that threatened to spill her out of her seat. But she wrapped one arm around a chrome upright and the other arm uncomfortably around a cleat, tucked a blanket up close to her chin, and sure enough she fell asleep.
But it was one of those strange sleeps. Not complete unconsciousness, but a sort of drifting, smiling, pleasantly cloudy sleep that hovered right on the edge of consciousness.