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Back The Nest Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright page
  3. Introduction by Will Errickson
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. TREMORS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. SUSPICIONS
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. DREAD
  19. 1
  20. 2
  21. 3
  22. 4
  23. 5
  24. 6
  25. WITNESS
  26. 1
  27. 2
  28. 3
  29. ALERT
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. ENCOUNTER
  36. 1
  37. 2
  38. 3
  39. 4
  40. 5
  41. 6
  42. HAVOC
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. SEARCH
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. CLASH
  56. 1
  57. 2
  58. 3
  59. 4
  60. 5
  61. 6
  62. 7
  63. COUNTERATTACK
  64. 1
  65. 2
  66. 3
  67. 4
  68. 5
  69. 6
  70. 7
  71. VICTORY
  72. 1
  73. 2
  74. 3
  75. 4
  76. 5
  77. 6
  78. 7
  79. 8
  80. 9
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. About the Author

Amos Tarbell was walking in a circle, eyes hard on the ground. “Wouldn’t they leave some sign, some track?”

“I doubt they’d travel on the surface,” Hubbard said. “Not if they have a tunnel down there under that mess.”

Tarbell’s face crumpled in sheer disgust. “You mean somebody has to go down there to see?”

“If we want to be sure.”

The sheriff uttered a sigh of concession. “Okay, somebody go get me a rope.”

Peter Hubbard regarded Amos Tarbell with new respect. There were many forms of bravery. This task was worse than Hercules cleaning the Augean stables, and the sheriff was taking it to be the responsibility of his badge.

Elias Johnson stepped forward, putting a hand of comfort on his friend’s shoulder. “Before you need to do that, Amos, there’s another place we might check. What about that old pirate cave between the dump and Dickens Point? You know the one . . .”

Life came back into all the Yarkie faces. “Hey! Could be!”

“Well, let’s go see!” Russell Homer started running as fast as he could.

An explosion of flame in the trees blasted him back. The return of the blustering storm winds had fanned hidden embers to a new blaze. In only a moment, there was a wall of percussive, roaring fire, impenetrable, between the group and the cave Johnson had recollected.

The new home of the killers, if it was out there at all, would have to wait.

Racing back to the road, Craig Soaras grabbed at the sheriff’s radio to call out the volunteer firemen again. Among the Task Force there was a quick council. Russell Homer wanted to stay and use their carbon dioxide tanks on the new fire. Ben Dorset scoffed, without regard for the presence of the women, “Might as well piss on it!” The fresh blazes had raced up the trees, which had hardly been moistened by the sparse earlier rainfall. Fire was leaping higher than a three-­story house. Johnson gave quick orders, mindful of how puzzling the diving outfits would be to the firemen, who had been told nothing of the roaches. “Back to the lighthouse and change! Then we can come up again and lend a hand!” the captain commanded.

4

FOUR

When the haggard group entered the lighthouse, the telephone was ringing insistently. Amos Tarbell ran for it, and handed it over to Johnson. “It’s the Coast Guard, Elias. Commander Schweitzer wants to talk to you.”

Johnson took the instrument quickly. Schweitzer was an old friend, one of the savviest sailors on the Coast, a gold braid man all around.

The officer reported that his Coast Guard ship had checked the Tub and couldn’t do anything for it in the storm. Nobody seemed to be aboard. The passengers must have made it safely to shore—or it was possible that all hands had been lost.