Epilogue

 

 

Ryan sat and watched the sun come up. During the night the companions had managed a few hours of sleep in the uninhabited redoubt they'd arrived in. He'd set up shifts and they'd rested as well as they could.

 

The redoubt was small, already raided. They'd been unable to find anything worthwhile and had been forced to rely on the self-heats and ring-pulls they were already packing.

 

Now, though, Jak was roasting some trout he'd caught before first dawn in a nearby stream coming out of the mountains over an open fire pit that only gave off a thin stream of ash-gray smoke. Ryan had figured it safe. No one was around for miles from the look of things.

 

The big man sat on a rocky outcrop, watching the horizon take shape as the shadows lifted. There was nothing to fear from Conte or the White Sands coldhearts. After their arrival, Doc had rigged the controls in the mat-trans unit to send on any new arrivals to another destination. The old man hadn't a clue where Conte and his people would end up if they did use the one back in Wildroot, but he was certain it would be nowhere near.

 

"Trouble, lover?"

 

Ryan looked up and saw Krysty coming toward him. Her hair was mussed and her eyes looked haunted. She'd had nightmares about the Other that had tried to crawl inside her brain.

 

"Mebbe,"he said.

 

"What?"

 

Ryan gestured at the landscape. "Know where we are?"

 

Krysty stared outward.

 

Using his fingers, Ryan stripped more meat from the fish Jak had cooked. He ate without appetite, fueling the machine.

 

"East coast."

 

"Yeah. Got a long hike ahead of us to get back where we started."

 

"Might not be so bad," Krysty said hopefully, "if Nathan Freeman's still Lord Cawdor and we're somewhere close."

 

Ryan wasn't sure about that. Too many memories of his father and his treacherous brother, Harvey, remained for him to be comfortable with the thought of being anywhere near the family estates. All the old debts had been paid, all the old fears and doubts laid to rest.

 

But it wasn't home.

 

And Nathan Freeman, now called Cawdor, Baron of Front Royal? Mebbe it would be good to see him, time permitting. But Ryan didn't hold out any hopes. Things changed in the Deathlands. The only certainty was death.

 

When Krysty sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist, seeking warmth from the early morning chill, though, it was hard not to hope for something more. He threw the fish bones away and put his arms around her. For now, they had the sunrise, and somehow at the minute, it seemed like enough.