Tainted Trail Read Online Free PDF Page B

who I really am.”
    â€œWell, you’re younger than most of them, but I’ve heard this song before.”
    Song? Ukiah tilted his head in puzzlement. “What do you mean? You’ve had a glut of amnesiac wolf boys coming here?”
    The man gave a dry snort of laughter. “More or less.”
    Ukiah considered him for a moment, finding it difficult to judge this stranger. “You’re not kidding.” A horrifying possibility suggested itself to Ukiah; Kittanning might not be the only clone made out of his blood. “Oh, please don’t tell me that they all look like me! Do they?”
    Another laugh. “No. If anything, you’re the only one so far that looks like a Cayuse.”
    So there wasn’t a flood of his violence-born copies like Kittanning. He relaxed slightly. “I don’t know what’s made you so hostile, but I promise you that I mean no harm. I’m only looking for my own identity.”
    There was bored disbelief in the man’s eyes. “We’re sick of you people. You should be ashamed of yourself, preying on the hopes of an old man. Now, I suggest you leave before you find yourself in jail for trespassing and fraud.”
    â€œWhat harm could it be just to let me talk—”
    â€œI said go!”
    Ukiah backed down. “Okay. I’ll go. If you change your mind, just call me at any of those numbers.”
    Red Lion Hotel, Pendleton, Oregon
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
    Their hotel, the Red Lion on South Nye Avenue, sat on the ridge above Pendleton. Ukiah checked the front desk for their room numbers, dropped his bag in the empty rooms, and went in search for Max and Kraynak at the restaurant.
    He found them taking up the corner booth. Maps fought dinner dishes for table space. A tall, lanky woman in her late twenties sat with Max and Kraynak. She wore black-leather hiking boots, tight blue jeans, a black-leather bomber jacket, and her blond hair cropped short. She glanced up at Ukiah in surprise with pale green eyes as he pulled up a chair to sit down.
    Kraynak wearily nodded his welcome, eyes bloodshot and bruised from the vomiting. He carefully ate a bowl of chicken rice soup, several slices of white toast, and a side of rice.
    Max’s dinner of steak and steak fries sat cooling, barely touched.
    â€œHow did it go?” Max asked.
    Ukiah pantomimed an airplane dive-bombing the ground and exploding.
    â€œThat bad?” Max winced. He caught the woman’s look of curiosity. “This is my partner.” Max let Ukiah introduce himself. Establishing a strong presence, Max called it, and they practiced it until it was smooth.
    â€œUkiah Oregon.” He offered his hand.
    The woman startled slightly. “Ukiah? Like the town?” It was weird to get the reaction. In Pittsburgh, no one realized he was named after an actual place. Pennsylvanians thought it was an odd family name, often confused with Uriah, Uriel, and once, by an old Jewish man, Uzziah. (The man went on to tsk over his supposed Jewish parent for marrying outside the religion.)
    Max coughed instead of laughing and said, “His mom named him after the town.”
    She accepted this explanation and Ukiah’s hand.
    Ukiah shook her hand just as he was taught—meet theeyes, give a serious half smile, firm grip but not too hard, and finish with, “Glad to meet you.”
    â€œSam Killington.” Her grip was strong, her skin warm and dry, the touch telling Ukiah a host of disturbing information. Gunpowder from a handgun cuffed the back of her hand under his thumb. Ash from burnt carpet, mattresses, and painted wood was lodged in various creases of her palmprint. With the motion of shaking hands, the cuff of her jacket brushed him, reporting the presence of charred human flesh.
    Ukiah jerked his hand back, and wiped it clean on his pants.
    Max caught the exchange, flared an eyebrow at him, but leaned back slightly, away from Sam. “She’s