Page 30 of Dark Sky

Then Jacketta ran headlong into a tree trunk and smashed into it so hard the only thing he could see were orange orbs exploding in front of his eyes. He knew he’d opened up a gash on his forehead and he wiped the blood away and tried to get his bearings. For a few seconds, he lost his sense of direction.

As Kirby closed in, Jacketta bolted away, stumbling eastward.

The slice of the blade through the back of his leg felt cold, as if he’d been raked by an icicle. The cut itself wasn’t painful—yet—but he was sickened by the feeling of his untethered hamstring retracting up into his thigh.

Jacketta went down. When he turned over and looked up, he saw Kirby standing over him with the big knife in his hand.

No guns, Jacketta thought. Earl didn’t want anyone in themountains—the hunting party—to hear a shot and know they were up there.

“Damn,” Kirby said after taking gulps of air, “you can run like a motherfucker. I didn’t think I’d catch you.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jacketta said. “Don’t let me bleed out.”

“Naw. I just had to stop you.”

“I won’t say anything to anybody,” Jacketta said. “Just let me go to my camp and pack up.”

Kirby seemed to be considering it for a moment. Then: “No dice. I’ll help you up and we’ll go back and get you patched up. We’ll talk to Dad and see what we can figure out. You just ran away so damned quick we were afraid you got the wrong impression about us. You didn’t give us a chance to explain why we’re up here.”

Jacketta didn’t think he had a choice. He reached down and could feel hot blood pulsing from the wound. He knew his femoral artery had been cut.

“Maybe we could put on a tourniquet,” he said. “You could use my belt.”

“We’ll do that when we can see what we’re doing,” Kirby said, extending his left hand. “Here, grab on.”

Jacketta reached out and Kirby pulled him to his feet. He couldn’t feel his right leg or foot, so he balanced on his left boot. Kirby stepped under Jacketta’s extended arm and folded it at the elbow around his neck to support him.

“Can you walk?”

“Barely.”

They stumbled out of the trees into the starlit meadow. Kirby was surprisingly strong, Jacketta thought. He could lean all of his weight on the man.

“Too bad you saw our faces,” Kirby said. “Too bad you knew Brad and Dad. That’s where things went off the track.”

“I don’t know why,” Jacketta said. “What in the hell is going on?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“No.”

“Family business, I guess you could say.”

Jacketta looked over to try and get a better understanding. The last thing he saw was Kirby flattening the blade of the bowie knife and positioning the point of it under his armpit. Before Jacketta could react, Kirby thrust it to the hilt between two ribs and into his heart.

Aidan Jacketta died on his back, looking up at the wash of stars. There were a lot of them.

Monday

Green / Red Day

For a successful technology, reality must take precedence over public relations, for Nature cannot be fooled.

—Richard P.Feynman

NINE

At four-thirty the next morning, Joe shouldered on his pack in the dark and left Price and Rumy in a tangle of downed timber at the head of a dry wash. They were hunkered down. Rumy had kept completely silent all morning as if he weren’t yet awake and alert, and Price was just the opposite: anxious, excited, curious about what might happen next.

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