“I’m catching it too, now,” he said and glanced back at her, crease between his brows. “Let’s leave the packs here.”
“Alright.” Hallie shrugged off her pack and watched while Girard set them at the base of a tree and pulled strands of plant life over them. She knew she would never be able to find the packs again, but with Girard’s magic, it didn’t worry her. Instead, she kept pace with him as he moved on through the trees.
Although they were walking in the forest, they were following the line of the road, she realised, now she was less burdened. She caught glimpses of the dark brown surface from time to time as they moved, and then a gleam of metal ahead of them.
She reached out and gripped Girard’s sleeve, pointing ahead with her free hand. He nodded to show he’d seen it, too, and crouched down. He gave her another frowning look and mimed for her to stay where she was. It seemed to be more of a suggestion or a question, rather than a command. She wondered if she looked worn out again. She shook her head. She had no idea what they would find, but she didn’t want to be left alone in this strange forest, or send him ahead into danger on his own. He nodded once and crept out of their hiding spot, moving slowly and carefully towards the gleam of metal.
As they drew closer, the taste of smoke thickened, although the feel of the air against her skin was still cold. An old fire, Hallie thought. Days old, if she had to guess. Long enough for the flames and heat to die out but for the smell to remain.
A gap between the trees in front of her finally let her see the source of the fire. It looked like a primitive vehicle of some kind, tilted on its side so that her view was the undercarriage and melted tyres. That explained the smell of burning rubber, at least. She couldn’t see the source of the rotting smell. Not yet.
She followed Girard as he made his way in a cautious quarter-circle around the scene, keeping hidden in the undergrowth. Making sure there weren’t any people in sight. Then he glanced back at her again before straightening to his feet and walking out of the undergrowth, onto the road.
“Looks like it’s been abandoned. No one else around,” he said, heading for the overturned vehicle.
The vehicle had flipped so that it was half on the road and as they moved around one end of the buckled metal, she realised that Girard hadn’t been quite right about them being alone. It was just that they were alive. There was a body lying on the ground just outside the vehicle, as if flung out when the crash had happened. A man, Hallie thought, based on the height andbroad shoulders, although it was hard to tell. He’d been burned, quite badly, tightly curled in his death throes.
“Awful way to die,” Hallie said softly.
“I don’t think the fire killed him,” Girard said. He was eyeing the vehicle, Hallie realised, and followed his gaze, frowning as she saw some damage that didn’t look like it had been caused by the crash.
“Are those bullet holes?” she asked. She hadn’t been around guns all that much in her life, but she couldn’t think of another explanation for the distinct round holes in the metal.
“Looks like. Some kind of basic, large calibre weapon,” Girard said. He moved closer to the vehicle. “It’s a junk ATV,” he told her. “This sort of thing gets used on farms a lot. Can go basically anywhere and isn’t that hard to maintain.”
“ATV?” Hallie repeated. “Oh. All terrain vehicle,” she said, solving her own question as some of her television viewing came back to her. “That makes sense for the island. Unless it spun around when it burned, it looks like it was heading the same direction that we were. Away from the small settlement and towards the main one.”
“Yes,” Girard agreed. He was on the other side of the vehicle, slowly walking around it. Hallie didn’t follow. She wasn’t sure her own observations about the vehicle would be of much use. She knew enough about cars to drive one, but little more than that.
Instead, she looked around the area. Whatever had set the ATV on fire had stayed local to the vehicle, melting the tyres, buckling and scarring some of the metal, and burning the body. The afternoon sun poured down on the crash site and raised trails of steam from the melted tyres. There’d been rain as well as wind the night before, she remembered, and took a moment to be grateful for that. If the rain hadn’t poured down, the stench in the air would be much, much worse. Even so, it was a miraclethat the nearby undergrowth and shrubs hadn’t caught fire when the crash had first happened and the tyres were melting. Some chance of the direction of the wind or another downpour of rain, Hallie speculated. Whatever the reason, the fire had been contained and not spread into the forest.
As she assessed the damage, noting where the fire damage had stopped, she saw what looked like a gap in the undergrowth. A trail of sorts. As if a large creature had forced its way through the tangle, or been dragged through.
Curious, Hallie followed the trail of broken branches and pushed-aside foliage away from the road, conscious of Girard following her. Someone had been through here, she realised. She thought that whoever it was had been moving away from the crash, rather than towards it, but couldn’t be sure. Tracking through undergrowth was not her specialty.
The trail led to a point where three old trees, with thick trunks and heavy lower branches, tangled together, the canopies of their leaves providing shelter from the weather. In the midst of the trees, huddled down at the base of one of the thick trunks, was a human shape. Hallie paused as she reached the nearest tree, crouching down to get a better look.
A woman, Hallie realised, with cool dark skin and black hair in tight knots around her skull. Her eyes were closed, head resting against the bark, one arm held close to her side, hand on her abdomen, an ominous-looking stain showing under her spread fingers. She was wearing dirt-covered, stained overalls with heavy, worn boots.
“Hello there,” Hallie said, pitching her voice low and aiming for a friendly tone. Girard had stopped a pace or two away from Hallie, and without looking round, she knew he’d be alert, one hand on his gun in case it was needed. She didn’t think violence would be required. She hoped, at any rate.
The injured woman started, waking with an audible gasp, whites showing all around her dark pupils.
“What? Who are you? When did you get here? Leave me alone. I haven’t done anything. I don’t know anything,” the woman said, words tumbling out in a rush.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Hallie said, staying where she was, still trying for a calm, friendly tone. “I’m Hallie. This is Girard. We were sent to the island to find out what’s been going on here.”
“Sent?” the woman repeated, blinking rapidly as if she was having difficulty focusing, her gaze darting between Hallie and Girard. “Sent by who?”
There was raw fear in that question, and Hallie hesitated a moment, not sure that the answer was going to soothe the woman.
“I’m a Conclave Investigator,” Girard said, in the calm tone he used often when he was working. “The Conclave was worried when it couldn’t contact the settlement.”
“Conclave. Oh.” The woman sank back against the tree trunk, all the tension going out of her.
Hallie frowned. She’d always considered the Conclave to be a formidable force, and one to be wary of, but it was very clear that the woman was not in the least frightened by the Conclave. Something else had terrified her.
“Can you tell me your name?” Hallie asked.
