had rabbit before, of course. But never cooked.
While he ate, Rinna walked to the spot that the door occupied when it was visible. He watched her press her hand against the rock to open the door. She stepped out. And he counted the seconds before it closed again. Ten. Not much time.
Haig cleaned up and wrapped the remains of the rabbit in cloth.
"Have you lived here long?" Logan asked.
"That's none of your business."
"Just making conversation."
"Or gathering information."
Logan closed his mouth, and the old man worked in silence for several minutes. Then he raised his head as though he were listening to something.
Logan heard nothing. Was it something subliminal?
Haig set down the bowl he was holding with a thunk and pressed his hands over his ears. Clenching his teeth, he stood rigidly for several moments. Then he paced toward the place where the door had been.
Raising his hand, he started to press the spot. Then he jerked his hand away. Breathing hard, he turned and whirled back toward the cave interior, his hands clenched.
He looked terrified.
"What's wrong?" Logan asked.
His only answer was a low growl. Then he whirled away and rushed toward the wall, where he pressed the rock. As soon as the door opened, he dashed outside.
Logan had only seconds to act. Before the door closed, he sprang up. At the last second he grabbed the knife off the low table. Then he leaped out the door.
When he hit the opening, something stopped him in his tracks, and he felt panic well in his throat. Then he remembered when he'd come inside. Something viscous had held him back, and Rinna had pulled him through.
She and Haig had passed easily through the force field or whatever it was that protected the entrance to the cave.
But the damn stuff must not be tuned to Logan's body—or however it worked. Determined to get through, he kept pushing and finally emerged into the open air. By the time he reached the area in front of the cave, the old man had disappeared.
"Oh, great," he muttered aloud.
Earlier he'd thought about getting the hell out of Dodge. But now it seemed more important to find the old man—for Rinna.
There were many directions the guy could have taken. Logan picked a path that hugged the rocks and disappeared into a trail through the boulders.
Sparing a quick look over his shoulder, he saw the rock where he'd left the cave shimmer and solidify. Going back was no longer an option.
He stayed in the shelter of the boulders for several minutes, getting the lay of the land. Then he wound his way through the rocks until he came out on a flat plain with more of the ruined buildings he'd spotted when he first arrived in this place.
Doggedly, he set off across the open space.
When he heard the sound of many tramping feet, he took off at a trot for the closest shelter—a low, partly burned structure. By the time he reached it, he was breathing hard. Leaping around the corner of a crumbling wall, he leaned against the bricks, trying not to give himself away with any gasping breaths.
From his vantage point, he saw a troop of people walking toward him. Three men at the rear and three men at the front of the column were dressed much like the soldiers he'd seen previously and armed with swords and whips. Between them walked twenty bedraggled men and woman wearing rough tunics. They were dirty and barefoot, their hands were tied, and they were joined together with a chain.
They trudged along, heads down, feet shuffling. When a woman fell, one of the men with whips rushed forward and began to beat her. The woman next to her pulled her to her feet, talking softly to her, and the column staggered on, with one of the guards cracking the whip on a few bent backs as they went.
Logan stared in horror at the scene, hoping he might be caught in the grip of a nightmare. But he was sure that he wasn't dreaming. Were these people the spoils of war? What?
Standing in the watery sunlight, he decided that his best chance of getting
While he ate, Rinna walked to the spot that the door occupied when it was visible. He watched her press her hand against the rock to open the door. She stepped out. And he counted the seconds before it closed again. Ten. Not much time.
Haig cleaned up and wrapped the remains of the rabbit in cloth.
"Have you lived here long?" Logan asked.
"That's none of your business."
"Just making conversation."
"Or gathering information."
Logan closed his mouth, and the old man worked in silence for several minutes. Then he raised his head as though he were listening to something.
Logan heard nothing. Was it something subliminal?
Haig set down the bowl he was holding with a thunk and pressed his hands over his ears. Clenching his teeth, he stood rigidly for several moments. Then he paced toward the place where the door had been.
Raising his hand, he started to press the spot. Then he jerked his hand away. Breathing hard, he turned and whirled back toward the cave interior, his hands clenched.
He looked terrified.
"What's wrong?" Logan asked.
His only answer was a low growl. Then he whirled away and rushed toward the wall, where he pressed the rock. As soon as the door opened, he dashed outside.
Logan had only seconds to act. Before the door closed, he sprang up. At the last second he grabbed the knife off the low table. Then he leaped out the door.
When he hit the opening, something stopped him in his tracks, and he felt panic well in his throat. Then he remembered when he'd come inside. Something viscous had held him back, and Rinna had pulled him through.
She and Haig had passed easily through the force field or whatever it was that protected the entrance to the cave.
But the damn stuff must not be tuned to Logan's body—or however it worked. Determined to get through, he kept pushing and finally emerged into the open air. By the time he reached the area in front of the cave, the old man had disappeared.
"Oh, great," he muttered aloud.
Earlier he'd thought about getting the hell out of Dodge. But now it seemed more important to find the old man—for Rinna.
There were many directions the guy could have taken. Logan picked a path that hugged the rocks and disappeared into a trail through the boulders.
Sparing a quick look over his shoulder, he saw the rock where he'd left the cave shimmer and solidify. Going back was no longer an option.
He stayed in the shelter of the boulders for several minutes, getting the lay of the land. Then he wound his way through the rocks until he came out on a flat plain with more of the ruined buildings he'd spotted when he first arrived in this place.
Doggedly, he set off across the open space.
When he heard the sound of many tramping feet, he took off at a trot for the closest shelter—a low, partly burned structure. By the time he reached it, he was breathing hard. Leaping around the corner of a crumbling wall, he leaned against the bricks, trying not to give himself away with any gasping breaths.
From his vantage point, he saw a troop of people walking toward him. Three men at the rear and three men at the front of the column were dressed much like the soldiers he'd seen previously and armed with swords and whips. Between them walked twenty bedraggled men and woman wearing rough tunics. They were dirty and barefoot, their hands were tied, and they were joined together with a chain.
They trudged along, heads down, feet shuffling. When a woman fell, one of the men with whips rushed forward and began to beat her. The woman next to her pulled her to her feet, talking softly to her, and the column staggered on, with one of the guards cracking the whip on a few bent backs as they went.
Logan stared in horror at the scene, hoping he might be caught in the grip of a nightmare. But he was sure that he wasn't dreaming. Were these people the spoils of war? What?
Standing in the watery sunlight, he decided that his best chance of getting
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