Revenant Rising Read Online Free PDF Page A

you somethin’,” Bill says.
    Nate refuses all but the mug of coffee now warming his hands. Impatience has to be coming out of his pores by now; he’s compelled to get to his feet and pace if he’s ever going to get through telling this ruddy-skinned old guy with the big gut how and where the accident happened.
    “Know how that can be. There’s many a time when I have to be on my feet to get my thoughts collected,” Bill says, checks the notes he’s taken and then, and only then, activates the CB radio. With an admirable economy of words he relays to the sheriff’s department everything Nate told him.
    While the transmission takes place, Nate slows down enough to start thinking about aftermath. Sooner or later, whether mega rock star Colin Elliot lives or dies, this story will dominate the world press. How soon and to what extent is up to him. Reason enough not to tell this Bill character who it is that’s languishing out there in the woods. Another good reason is because Bill and his sheriff pals are not likely to give a flying fuck about a major celebrity—saying they even recognize the name.
    Bill signs off and directs Nate to go outside and help gather supplies. “Most of the gear’s in the rig, but you’ll want that coat hanging over there in the shed. And bring those coils of ropes you’ll find on the hooks next to it. Oh, and you’ll see a bundle of road flares—bring those along. I’ve got matches, extra batteries, and the portable trouble lights. Whoops, almost forgot extra flashlights and blankets.” Bill detours from the Suburban back toward the house. “Won’t be long, then we can get goin’.”
    Nate shoots the big old guy a dark look when he returns with the almost overlooked essentials; he’d already be gone if he had even one full-sized flashlight in his possession.
    “Might help to know I’ve got a CB in the rig, so I can stay in touch with the sheriff,” Bill says as he climbs into the Suburban.
    It did help to know, and it also helped to know the emergency vehicles would be traveling at high speed on improved roads the majority of the way to the accident scene, something learned while monitoring Bill’s end of the radio transmission. With his grip on the situation improved, Nate drives back to the crash site at a relatively sane speed.
    But although he’s caught a break, he can’t help wonder how much of a break it is. What’s to prevent another deer from jumping in front of him, or another set of see-all-blind-all headlights from appearing on the wrong side of the road? He’s been away from the wreckage for over an hour now, and what’s to say Colin’s been able to hang on that long, alone out there in the pitch dark?
    He crowds those thoughts out of mind and replaces them with more practical concerns. He checks his mileage to be certain the bridge he’s approaching is the one associated with the accident—as though it won’t always be part of his permanent memory—and the odometer confirms that it is. With Bill’s Suburban closing in fast, he parks well away from the ripped guardrail to leave room for emergency vehicles. He checks his watch one more time and is encouraged to register that the return trip took less than half the time spent looking for help.
    Once they’ve fastened a guideline to an undamaged section of guard rail and uncoiled the rope down into the darkness, Nate suits up in the jacket from Bill’s shed and discovers it has a flashlight integrated into the chest area; two more large flashlights are in the deep utility pockets, and there are all manner of loops and clips to facilitate carrying other items.
    “Turn-out gear. I used to be a volunteer fireman before I got too old,” Bill explains while securing tightly rolled blankets to Nate’s back. “There’s heavy gloves in there, better put ’em on,” he cautions as Nate prepares to go over the edge.
    Equipped as he is now, this descent is a relative breeze. Halfway down he’s optimistic