Bone Yard by Carl Bowen

Author:Carl Bowen [Bowen, Carl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction; Stone Arch Books; Firestormers; action & adventure-general; science & technology; nature & the natural world-environment; smokejumpers; hotshots; firefighters; 9781496533067; 9781496533104
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2019-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

Stoyko didn’t stay with them long. He took them to a modest cabin in the center of the small village and dropped them off with a hard-eyed woman in her twenties named Natalya. He told her to show the two of them around, answer their questions, and then come get him. Before she could protest, he stomped off to go huddle in conversation with the other men once more.

Natalya didn’t care for Rendon’s presence, if the scowl on her face was any indication, but she took an instant liking to Edwards.

When the ranger admitted he hadn’t eaten lunch, Natalya disappeared into the cabin and returned with a plate stacked with wedges of flat bread, nuts, and dried fruits. Edwards tucked into it as the tour began, earning himself a disappointed glare when he offered some to Rendon.

The tour didn’t actually take very long. There were a dozen cabins spread out in a loose cluster along what had once been the streambed. They were all in decent condition and had been built by hand within just the last couple of decades.

Nowhere in evidence were there signs of any modern conveniences, such as plumbing or electricity, even from gas-powered generators. Sergeant Rendon didn’t see so much as a mountain bike for getting around. The most modern quality anyone showed out here was their clothes and the way they talked. Natalya also made it a point to be sure Rendon knew the bows and rifles the men used to hunt game were the best and newest their money could buy.

What Natalya refused to speak about was why these people were out here in the first place. They survived on hunting, fishing, and growing meager crops in a sheltered garden. Every once in a blue moon, they trekked to the nearest town — miles and miles away — to trade. They rarely brought back anything other than clothes, hand tools, or the supplies they needed to make ammunition for hunting.

As for what, if anything specific, drove them to live so far out here on their own, Natalya remained tight-lipped.

When the tour was over, Natalya told the visitors to wait while she went to find Peter again. Edwards had just finished his bread.

“I’m not sure what to do right now, Edwards,” Rendon muttered when the locals were out of earshot. “These nuts act like they want to get themselves burned up.”

“They’re not nuts just because they want to live out here by themselves,” Edwards replied, looking down at his shoes. “Maybe they’re just big fans of Emerson or something.”

Rendon murmured, skeptically, “‘Simplify, simplify, simplify.’ That sort of thing?”

“Yeah,” Edwards said. “Except, Thoreau said that. Not Emerson.”

“That’s all well and good,” Rendon told him, “but I don’t understand why they’re digging their heels in when we’re here trying to help them.”

“We work for the government,” Edwards said, shrugging as if that answered everything.

“Right,” Rendon said, as if that was her point.

“Well, not everybody’s been treated fairly by the government. Some people like to kick up a fuss about that.

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