Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 59 of 150

Ben watched the smoke thicken above the pines. It rose in a steady line, not a cook fire. A scout had picked the ridge on purpose. From that height, the shrine roof would show through the trees. Whoever lit the fire was signaling. Reinforcements were coming, and Ben had maybe an hour before boots reached the clearing. "They saw the cart," Joe said. He was still barefoot in the frost, yellow eyes fixed on the ridge. "Or the door opening. Doesn't matter which." "I can't outrun them with the crate." Ben set the crate back down beside the shrine wall. "And I can't hide it here. They'll search the shrine first." Amber came out with her pack on. "Then we give them something else to chase." "With what? We have no decoy left. Justin took the humming box east days ago." Sandy pushed through the brush at a run. Her breath came fast. She held a pale ceramic jar against her chest, leaves painted around the belly, waves along the base. "I found this in the shrine's back nook. Under a board." Ben took it. The lid was sealed with old cord. He shook it once. Dry leaves rattled inside. Tea, or what had been tea a long time ago. Useless for drinking. But the jar was thick clay, round, and it fit in two hands. "That won't sound like the crate," Amber said. "No. But it will look like it under a cloth." Ben's mind moved fast. "They saw the shrine door open. They didn't see what came out. If they see me leave north with a wrapped bundle, they follow me. The crate stays here with you." Joe shook his head. "They'll check the shrine anyway." "Not if the shrine looks empty when they get here." Ben pointed at the crate. "Move it into the brush behind the wall. Cover it with the tarp and leaves. Then leave the door open. An open shrine reads abandoned. A closed one reads hidden." A soft shape moved at the tree line. A round, gray-blue creature with half-closed eyes padded out and sat by Sandy's boot. She had brought it down from the ridge without saying so. It yawned and leaned against her leg. "That's the one you followed here?" Ben asked. Sandy nodded. "It walks slow. It leaves prints. Big ones." Ben understood. "Then it walks north with me. Two sets of tracks. Mine and something heavier." He wrapped the tea jar in his coat and shouldered it like weight he cared about. Joe and Amber dragged the crate into the brush and pulled the tarp over it. Sandy scattered leaves across the shrine floor and left the door wide. Ben started north with the calm creature padding beside him. Within a minute he heard voices from the ridge turn and follow. The crate stayed behind him in the brush, silent, and the scouts came after the wrong man.