Chapter 3
Troy returned to his group to find that the sexual interlude with Willa had cost him his command. Jefferson Burns had been playing politics and had by dint of sheer lung power, swayed the people into accepting him as leader. In any other situation Troy would have shrugged off the little man's egoism with a laugh, but inexperience here could be serious.
The low, impenetrable curtain of smoke had contributed to panic, and Troy's absence had left the group susceptible to the little man's inept persuasion. Evidently he had blamed Troy for the fire, burned-out bridge, and the present uncomfortable predicament, because Troy was greeted by sullen stares that amounted almost to hate. Burns singled him out with a pointed finger.
"What are you going to do now? Are we gonna sit around here on our rumps and wait our turn to be burned up? You punk college kids think you know it all, but by God, us old timers can teach you a thing or two. We're gettin' the hell and gone outta here. You're gonna get in that bus an' take us up there where there's nothin' to burn."
The man was pointing through a temporary rift in the smoke blanket to the mountain top.
From a distance it looked as though the crest of Virgin's Breast Mountain above the tree line was bare. Troy know that that was not the case. He had been up there enough times to know that the whole top was a dry tinderbox of combustible material. He knew that he was disbelieved when he tried to tell them so. He gave up the futile effort to convince them as Willa joined the group and was brought up to date.
Helene Barry, Willa, and one other girl drifted from the crowd to stand beside him, and he knew that he had lost a majority vote. Burns continued to harrangue the people, and Troy felt an overpowering rage grow as he listened to the man's twisted knowledge lead them into more peril. He drew the three girls aside.
"Look, this guy is dangerous, and he could get us all killed. I've got to try to stop him one way or another. Whatever happens, they can't leave the safety of the bus, so we'd better see that the blankets and food go with us. Show the girls where they are Willa, and load up as much as you can. I'll see what I can do here."
Troy waded through the small crowd, and his way was impeded by grudging sullenness. He had scant hope of gaining a chance to speak his piece, and he was shouted down every time he opened his mouth. Burns had a smug grin of satisfaction on his face, and Troy wanted to knock it off with a satisfying feel of fist on flesh. The only thing that held him back from hitting the man was size. He knew that he would lose any chance of regaining respect if he swung.
The thing went badly from the start. Troy had come too late, and the groundwork that Burns had laid down had been too persuasive. He made the mistake of expressing his frustration by raising a clenched fist and saw, too late, the beginnings of a blow by a young, bearded hippie that knocked him unconscious.
He awoke with a splitting headache, blurred vision, and a knowledge that the bus was moving again. A cool hand stroked his forehead, and he found himself cradled in Helene Berry's lap on the back seat of the bus. He sat up slowly and saw the hippie eyeing him warily. Troy grinned wearily at the sight of the hippie's ready club. Helene laughed.
"You're not a popular guy to be friends with, you know? We didn't get all the stuff loaded, and Burns is taking us back up the mountain. Relax, Troy. There's nothing you can do about it right now. Angela Holmes has a bottle of snakebite medicine in her purse, and you look snakebit to me. I'll go get her."
She was back in a moment with the girl he had eyed in the rear-view mirror, and Troy accepted the offered brandy bottle with thanks. A long gulp brought his head back into focus, and he matched the girl's grin with a shaky one of his own. Helene left them to begin a long argument with her husband, and the hippie relaxed his vigilance a bit. Troy asked the girl what it looked like ahead. She shrugged pretty shoulders and grimaced.
"Bad. All bad. I think that the wind has shifted again, but you can't really tell with this winding road. That ass up there driving won't listen to anyone. I should have stayed back at Casper's Crossing. We wanted to, you know the three of us wanted to stay behind with you. They wouldn't let us. Talk about police brutality...."
The bus stopped with a sideways lurch, and Troy felt the instant panic that traveled through the bus like electricity. The smell of fresh smoke was heavy and hot in his lungs, and Troy stood up to find out what had gone wrong.
The hippie raised his short club to swing, and Troy brushed him aside with a sweep of his arm that sent the young man spinning between seats. Troy made his way through the aisle-milling people and found Burns staring out of the front window with an open mouth. Troy knew before he looked that the fire had caught up with them. He bent low and shouted over the confused noise.
"What the hell do you do now, little man?"
Burns was incapable of speech or action. It is doubtful whether he even heard Troy's question. Troy caught him by the padded shoulder of his suit and heaved him clear of the driver's seat. He flung Burns into the stairwell and took his place. His mind sped over a map of the area, and he identified their position by a process of elimination. A furnace-hot wave of air billowed across the road directly in front of the bus, and Troy knew that only seconds separated them from cremation. A glance in the rear-view mirror told him that there was no hope of going back. The fire had already trapped them.
Troy tramped on the accelerator pedal and slammed the gear-shift lever into low. He spun the steering wheel, and the old bus lumbered lazily straight up the steep slope at the roadside. Troy gritted his teeth and realized that he was praying out loud. There was an abandoned logging road above them. Would the old bus have guts enough to take them there?
The bus slewed sideways, and he wrestled with it as it hung for a long second with a front wheel spinning on air. The rear wheels found new traction, and there was a bump as the bus leveled itself. Troy drew in a hot, thankful breath as he saw the grown-over slash in the brush that was the logging road.
He had won a temporary victory over the fire, but it was an uneasy victory. They were still pursued, and they were still vulnerable. He had no choice but to follow the road, and it did not lead to any place of real safety. He wished long and hard for the brush-cleared sanctuary of Casper's Crossing.
Burns got out of the stairwell and brushed himself off. Troy could almost feel the little man's self-assurance rebuild itself, and he destroyed it by shoving the man back down. He had neither the time nor the inclination to brook any more interruption.
The logging road was in bad shape, and Troy had his strength tested again and again in trying to hold the awkward bus in the right direction. He was breathing easier after two or three miles and several backward glances. He had temporarily won his race with the fire. He pulled to a stop and turned around to check on his passengers.
He grinned as he saw that Helene's husband, Jay, had given his unexpected help by keeping the hippie quiet under the duress of the short club. Burns climbed back to his feet, and Troy was glad to see that the man no longer constituted a challenge to authority. The brash little man also sensed his loss of face among the passengers.
"We're not out of the woods yet," Troy said, "but it does look better. We can't turn back and there're the old building of the lumber camp ahead. I can't think of a better place to hold up in. Hang on and we'll see if the road holds out."
He went back to the wheel, and he knew that the tension was relieved because passengers started to chatter. Burns gave him a look of sheer hatred as he walked sullenly back to a seat.
Troy did notice that Bums chose to sit with the hippie instead of his wife. Troy guessed that there would be trouble later.
The lumber camp was in sad disrepair, but the few remaining buildings afforded shelter of a sort. The brush had been cleared out far enough to give them some protection if the fire should pursue them here. Troy unloaded his people, and this time he delegated them to do several chores that needed doing. The clearing was combed clean of dried branches and leaves, and one of the larger buildings was roughly housecleaned for use as their shelter.
Troy knew that their chances of quick rescue were slim, and he had begun to suspect that the helicopter had run into trouble. Of course, news that they were trapped would eventually bring out all available search planes and parties, but their detour from the normal tour route would slow things up considerably. He went into the old lumber-camp office to check on the condition of a discarded radio set that he had seen there on a prior visit. Helene followed him. One glance told him that the radio was of no use to them. He turned to go, but Helene stopped him.
"The others are busy, Troy. We won't be missed for a while. I owe you something, you know?" She leaned against the corner of an abandoned desk and raised her skirt. Her hands tugged down the sheer panties, and she pulled one foot free of a leg hole as they dropped to the floor at her feet. She leaned back, and one of her hands held the rolled skirt at her navel. She waited.
She made a very seductive picture there. A long, tapering leg was on either side of the desk corner, and she had tucked her rounded buttocks forward so that her eager body was ready to accept him. Troy opened his zipper and moved to her as he freed himself. Her hand came out to part the waiting lips at her groin, and she entered the head of his member as though they had done this a hundred times.
As they achieved unions, she did something with her bottom, and he was aware of a rolling motion that massaged him. He had little to do except stand there and feel her slipping up and down on him. She tensed, and he knew that an orgasm was sweeping over her. Her stomach muscles contracted and relaxed as the spasms ran through her, and he could definitely feel the constriction of her passage. He expected her to pause for a breather, but she didn't miss a stroke, and the party was still on.
She climaxed twice more before he loosed his passion in her. The only bad thing about the whole business was that it had been done too fast for full enjoyment. He stepped away from her and saw that speed was what she had needed. The play that they had indulged in before had only heightened her need, and now she was temporarily satisfied. She smiled lazily as she finally let go of her skirt. It unrolled slowly, and he hated to see it cover her.
She slid from the corner of the desk and bent over to insert her foot in the panties again. She made a good show of it for him when she wriggled the undergarment into place again. Her legs were sleek and sassy in invitation, and he knew that the thing between them was not finished yet. She came very close to him and he felt her hands caress him intimately.
"If Jay were built like that, I wouldn't have to go out looking for it, Troy. I just can't feel him in me, and it's no good that way. God, it's getting hard again. Did I get dressed too soon?"
He glanced at his watch and shook his head. They had been gone from the others more than fifteen minutes, and someone would surely be looking for him soon. He cursed the unasked responsibility that limited his time and actions.
Still holding him intimately, Helene said, "So that you'll hurry back to me, Troy, I'm going to kiss you right there next time." She had a hard time tucking him back into his trousers, and she laughed as he winced when she had to bend it almost double to make the opening. She pulled up the zipper and patted the full bump before she raised her face to be kissed. She gave him her tongue to play with as a further enducement to hurry back. He stepped out into the open to allow her to make repairs to herself and her makeup.
One of Willa's girlfriends saw the bump of his slacks, and her eyes went wide with either disgust or shock. He was in no mood for either emotion, and passed her quickly. He did notice that her breasts were cute for all their small size. She had nice, slim legs also, and he cursed time again for taking away an opportunity to explore her and her attitudes.
He called the group together and passed out even portions of the lunch that had been prepared in town for the noontime stopover. Lunch was late, and there was no delay in gulping down the slim sandwiches, potato salad, and cole slaw. Several of the passengers were eyeing the small hoard of canned goods that took up two seats of the bus and he made a mental note to set a guard over them. He couldn't have any hoarders stealing from the slim stores.
He heard their gripes and complaints and then delegated them to grubbing out additional firebreak. Angela Holmes worked silently and diligently by his side, and he found himself memorizing her supple figure as she bent and stooped to pull out dried weeds. The bend of her butt was particularly provocative.