Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 63 of 150

Full dark came slower than Ben wanted. He, Joe, Amber, and Lolly moved the crate out of the fold on a strip of canvas, four corners, four hands. The ground west of the fold went up before it went down. After the first rise, Joe took point. After the second, Amber fell back to watch their trail. After the third, Ben's arms were shaking. They rested behind a deadfall. Lolly set her end down last. Water ran off her wrists onto the canvas and beaded there. Joe came back at a crouch. "Half a mile more and the slope drops," Joe said. "After that it's open till the pines." "How open?" "Two hundred paces. No cover." Ben looked at the crate. He looked at his hands. Amber was breathing through her teeth. Lolly's shoulders were up around her ears. "We can't cross that tonight," Ben said. "Someone will fold." "We can't stay here," Amber said. "New men on the road by morning." Joe crouched by the canvas. "There's a cottage below the drop. Lit windows. One woman I saw." "Ours?" "No. But quiet. No dogs. No watchers." Ben thought of Paige's cottage weeks back, the woman who had let them open a container on her table and asked nothing after. He did not know this one. He knew he could not carry the crate another mile without dropping it. "Amber, with me. Joe, stay with the crate and Lolly. If we're not back inside an hour, move south." Ben and Amber went down the slope on their heels. The cottage was small, one window lit yellow. He knocked once. The woman who opened the door had brown hair loose over a pale sweater and bare feet on cold boards. She looked at Ben's face, then Amber's, then past them into the dark. "You're carrying something," she said. "Yes." "And people looking for it." "Yes." She was quiet a moment. Ben saw a low chair by the hearth, a cup on its arm, a shawl folded on the seat. A room set up for one person to sit and not be found. "I came here to stop running errands," she said. "I'm Paige. One night. You leave before light. You don't tell anyone the door." "Agreed." They brought the crate down in two trips on the canvas. Paige held the door and did not touch it. Joe slid it under a bench along the back wall. Lolly stood on a folded rag by the hearth so the boards would not warp. Amber sat on the floor and did not get up again. Ben leaned against the wall. His arms would not stop shaking. The crate was inside four walls. His people were inside with it. By first light he had to be gone, with new men already on the road and a host who had asked for one thing and would not ask twice.