Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 29 of 150

Joe led them out of the creek at a slant, keeping to moss and flat stone. By midday the ground rose into a stand of old wood. Ben walked with the rope of the chest cutting his shoulder. Inside the chest, the felt held. Three carved boxes sat quiet under the wool. But the felt was thinner than it had been a week ago. Ben had checked it at the last stop. One layer, worn soft, gray at the folds. If the boxes shifted hard, or if he had to open the chest to move a relic, the hum would leak into open air. The blue-scaled creature was still on the ridge behind them. Sandy had counted its sightings. It had not crossed the creek yet. It would. Joe stopped at the edge of a clearing. He pointed. A single tree stood in the middle. Tall trunk, layered bark, a full crown of leaves. Ben saw the knot low on the trunk before Joe spoke. A round dark hollow, cut clean, the size of a man's fist. "There," Joe said. "Wind drops in an hour. Then it hums." Anita knelt by the chest. She pulled back the lid a finger's width and felt the felt. "Thin," she said. "If we open a box out here, and the wind is down, that thing comes running." Ben looked at the tree. He looked at the felt. He had one problem and one hour. "Amber," he said. "Cut the felt lining out. All of it. Wrap it around the new relic the second I have it. We put the wrapped relic in the chest with the boxes. No transfer out here. We do the box work later, under water or under stone." Amber drew her knife. Justin held the chest open. She sawed the felt free in one long strip and folded it into a pad. Ben crossed to the tree. He reached into the hollow. His fingers closed on wood, smooth and shaped. He drew it out slow. A small carved thing, tree-shaped, hollow at the base, a round opening in the trunk. A relic sat inside the opening, wrapped in dry moss. Ben did not touch the relic. He wrapped the whole container in Amber's felt pad, tight, twice around, and lowered it into the chest beside the three boxes. Justin shut the lid. Anita tied the rope. No hum reached the clearing. Joe was already at the tree line, watching the slope behind them. "It moved," he said. "An hour ago. It's coming down off the ridge." Ben shouldered the rope. Ten relics now, by his count. Two still out there. The felt was gone from the lining and wrapped around the new piece. If they had to move a relic again, they would need water over their heads, or walls, or Barb Dwyer's hands, and none of those were close. "Move," Ben said.