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it as far as I could. I didn't bother to respond. There was only one thing for me to do and I did it. The door swung shut behind me. |
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The fog was worse, only now I had to contend with the pitch-black darkness and the penetrating chill of the ghostly Chambers Bay night. |
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On the journey back to Percy's pickup, every movement of every branch, every snap of every twig, every unidentified sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The black, featureless darkness of the northern night was never worse. |
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It was a stumbling, groping trek and took no more than ten minutes, but seemed like an eternity. The flashlight was virtually useless, and my fingers ached from the death grip I maintained on the old Mauser. When I finally stumbled into the side panel of Percy's truck, I uttered a sincere prayer of gratitude. |
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Having to drive five miles an hour with the window open so I could hear the crunch of the sometimes gravel under the tires was equally disconcerting. If anything, it was worse than the journey from the old woman's house to the truck, and it seemed both slower and longer. |
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My mind was racing. I fished the the voice recorder out of the survival kit, inserted a new tape cartridge and started tumbling a |
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