Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 42 of 150

Ben carried the felt-lined crate out of Ollie's yard at dusk. Anita walked at his shoulder. Amanda and Justin followed with the sealed chest between them. Joe brought up the rear, barefoot, watching the trees. The small screaming box sat inside the crate, quiet for now. Ben had a route. He did not yet have a reason to trust it. "Stop a moment," Ben said at the first bend. He set the crate on a stump. "Anita. I need you to tell me straight. When you wrote the note, was the herbalist in the room?" Anita's mouth tightened. "She was in the next room." "Could she see the paper?" "No. But she gave me the names. I wrote what she said." "Then you wrote what she wanted me to read." Anita did not argue. She rubbed her thumb along a callus. "I thought I was faster than her. I ran east and I ran back. But she let me leave. I know that now." Joe crouched by the crate. "Ground's soft here. Two sets of boot prints came through before us. Both heavy. Both fresh." "Whose?" Ben said. "Not ours." Ben looked down the track. The cider press stood half a mile north. He needed a test before he committed the group. A thin figure stepped from behind a trunk. Gray hoodie, dark hair, small hands pushed into the pocket. Ben knew her from the stone shelter south of the creek weeks back. Sandy Beach. She had counted a creature three times without rounding once. "You," Ben said. "How long have you been on this road?" "Since noon," Sandy said. "I came up from the water." "Did you pass the old cider press?" "Yes." "How many men?" "Four. Two at the cellar door. Two in the trees on the east side. One has a crossbow. One has a horn." Ben felt the air go tight. Ollie's scout had seen no men. That had been three hours ago. Four men had moved in since. "You're sure it was four," Anita said. "Four," Sandy said. "I counted twice." Ben looked at Anita. She did not look away. "She wrote it honest," Ben said. "The herbalist filled in the trap after." Anita nodded once. "So the note's clean. The ground isn't." Ben lifted the felt crate off the stump and set it back on Amanda's cart. He did not open it. The screaming guard was still the herbalist's weapon, not his. "We don't walk the ridge road," Ben said. "Joe, find me a way in from the west slope. Sandy, stay with us until we're past the press. I'll pay you in the morning." Sandy nodded. Joe was already moving. Ben had his answer. Anita's hand was true. The cellar was a killing ground. Now he had to enter it from a side the herbalist had not staked.