Read The Eye of Moloch for Free Online Page B

in their hunt, most of these diversions would be for naught.
    The hard fact was, in all likelihood they were fleeing down a one-way road to nowhere. The near strangers Molly had been hoping to meet would have little reason to risk waiting this long in the open, especially if they’d gotten word of how badly things had fallen apart for her out here. Even if those supposed allies were still waiting, with such primitive tools of navigation the odds of actually finding them were slim to none, much less of evading capture along such an obvious route. But there was no backup plan, and the group had all agreed that this path seemed to be their best hope among bleak options.
    Of course, it could be worse, Hollis thought. It could be raining.
    •   •   •
    The downpour commenced about an hour after sunrise. What started as a gentle April shower rapidly angered and darkened into a legitimately violent thunderstorm. Before long the blowing sheets of frigid rain had reduced visibility to near zero, making hazardous business of even careful walking on the uneven, stony ground.
    He pressed forward into the teeth of the gale, the drawstring hood of his jacket cinched down to a crumpled keyhole, every gained yarda struggle just to plant solid footing and hold his line. All the while he was imagining the assault of these same perils on those up ahead. In the midst of such a storm they could easily become separated and lose their way, walk into the rush of a sudden mudslide, or simply take one errant step and be lost over the verge of a ravine.
    Concern for them was all that kept him going. The fatigue was getting worse; several times his legs simply failed him, his mind seemed determined to give up and wander off into a fog, and his arms felt barely capable of pushing him back to his feet when he’d fallen, time after time.
    After an endless, treacherous downhill crawl that stretched on to late morning, at last the weather commenced to ease somewhat as the worst of it blew on southwesterly. Though the trailing rain continued, the sky gradually smoothed and lightened as the sun began to reassert itself beyond the thinning clouds.
    Before too long Hollis caught sight of the rest of his party, taking refuge near a hillside beneath the overhang of a natural grotto. The storm had taken its toll on them but they all looked little worse for the wear. Despite his relief he didn’t approach them right away. Instead he watched them for a time from a distance, from under the imperfect shelter of a tall evergreen.
    They were huddled together against the cold, one obviously recounting some story from their deliverance with great animation, another catching a stream of rainwater with a length of curled birch bark and passing it to others for a sloppy drink, another tending the trail aches and injuries of those less able.
    After a few minutes he came forward and joined them, accepted and returned their greetings, and took a seat on the ground near Molly’s side. Hollis touched her shoulder and spoke a word to let her know he was near, but it seemed she knew already. She leaned to him and hugged him tight around the neck.
    “Thank you,” Molly said.
    “For what? For getting you out of the frying pan, or back into the fire?”
    “For everything.” She sat back, smiling, fished something from the pocket of her jeans, and held it out for him. “For this, especially.”
    He took the damp, crumpled wad of stationery from her hand and carefully unfolded it: a half page of typewritten text, crossed out from corner to corner with a heavy black X, with a bullet hole near the middle.
    He took a closer look at the condition of his target. While it had been a fair shot it was also far from the perfect bull’s-eye he’d pictured as he pulled the trigger. Depending on whether she’d held the paper upright or inverted, his aim had been off either high and left or low and to the right. But well off it had certainly been.
    “You’re damn lucky you