Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 74 of 150

Ben and Millie hit the pine floor and kept moving. The crate rode between them, low and awkward. Millie's limp was worse than she let on. She hopped every third step to save her right ankle. Ben watched her jaw set each time it landed. They had cover now, but the ground climbed again in fifty paces, and he could already hear her breath going thin. He stopped behind a fallen trunk and set the crate down. Millie sat on it before he could tell her not to. She pulled her boot off. The ankle was swelling fast against the wool. "I can still walk," she said. "I just can't run." "That's the same thing right now." A horn sounded behind them. Closer than the last one. The men had turned. Whatever Eileen and the woman had done to lead them east, it was over. Ben counted in his head. If Millie moved at half speed and he dragged the crate alone the other half, they would be caught on the slope before dark. He had seen the math before. It always came out the same. He looked at the satchel slung across Millie's chest. Teal leather, orange trim, a buckle too fine for a girl who jumped off ridges. He had not noticed it in the seam. "What's in the bag." "Whistle." She was already pulling it out. A short bone whistle on a cord. "For her. She doesn't come for anyone else. I've been trying to teach her to catch me." "Teach who." Millie blew. No sound Ben could hear. She waited, watching the gap in the canopy. The creature came down through the pines without touching them. Long body, folded wings the color of wet slate, a tail that cut the air behind it. It landed light on the needles and lowered its head to Millie's hand. She scratched under its jaw like it was a barn cat. Ben did not move. "She carries." "She carries me. I don't know about the box. She's never tried." "Try." They worked fast. Millie fed her cord through the crate's rope handles and looped it under the creature's chest harness. Ben tested the knot with his weight. It held. The creature shifted, took the load, and did not stagger. "She can't fly with it," Millie said. "But she can walk faster than us with it. She's stronger than she looks." "Get on." Millie climbed up behind the wings. Ben led on foot, one hand on the crate, the creature pacing him at a trot he could just keep. The horn sounded again. Farther this time. They were pulling ahead. By the time the light started to go, they had crossed two ridges and the pursuers had lost the line. Ben stopped in a dry wash and let the creature drink from his palm. The crate sat behind her, still sealed, still silent. He had a partner who could carry. He had until morning before the search widened.