Chapter 16 Jordan
SIXTEEN
JORDAN
They watch. They listen. They track. We are all under surveillance. Always.
—@notparanoidatall
Jordan zipped his cell into a pocket and locked his vehicle.
Then he walked along the tree line until he found a narrow game trail.
The bushes lining the road were thick, but once he got through them, the woods opened up and the trail was easy enough to follow in the glow of his headlamp’s red light.
The haze of smoke in the sky blocked almost all the starlight and moonlight.
He walked slowly, placing his feet carefully and listening for any unexpected sounds ahead. Blundering along at speed would have only made his own movements easier to hear. Ahead, eyes gleamed and then winked out as an animal, probably a fox, scurried away.
The trail led more or less in the direction he wanted to go.
Half a mile in, the sawing of crickets started getting drowned out by the white noise of rushing water.
He guessed it was China Creek. Even the smaller waterways were still swollen with spring runoff from the slowly melting snow in the higher parts of the Sierra.
Banks were eroding, bridges had washed out, and at least one hundred-year-old cabin had been washed away.
He began walking more quickly as the noise got louder: if he couldn’t hear her, she wouldn’t be able to hear him, either.
Jordan swiveled his head, searching for movement in the trees, but suspected he’d find her at the creek’s edge.
She would be thirsty, and if she had half a brain, she’d know rushing water was safer than stagnant pools.
The rushing stream was as good as a wall at her back.
Jordan knew from experience that the icy water’s pull was so strong that it was difficult to stand even thigh-deep without being swept away.
Or maybe she hoped to follow China Creek to the Fresno River and down to the valley floor, where she could disappear in Fresno.
And good luck with that, he thought. Although that route would skirt the fire, it would lead her right to downtown Oakhurst, where her orange jumpsuit would cause her problems. If she made it through, traveling the steep and thickly wooded banks of the winding river would be an extreme test of endurance.
Soon Jordan was close enough to see gaps in the trees that indicated the creek behind.
He turned off his headlamp and let his eyes adjust to the darkness before creeping forward, trying to spot anything that could indicate the presence of the fugitive.
The water’s steady rumble swallowed all other sounds.
He stopped in the tree line. Against the frothing whitewater, he was able to make out boulders, snagged tree trunks, and a deadfall at the creek’s edge.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he hid its glowing screen inside his windbreaker as he checked the screenshot again.
The Snap Map showed city streets in detail, but here it recorded only the obvious landmarks, the road and the river, showing the forest as a featureless blob of black.
It was hard to tell how far off course the game trail had carried him, but he guessed her last location had been within several hundred yards of where he stood.
Upstream? Or downstream?
His mental coin toss came up heads.
So he headed downstream.