It wasn’t until later that day that Chuck learned what had caused the truck to stall. He realized then why Masterson hadn’t been able to get the jeep out of the mud, either. Both vehicles were out of gas.
Originally intended for short excursions within the one-mile area surrounded by the force field, the vehicles had come a long way and now were bone-dry.
They made the discovery when they were ready to start back for the rendezvous site.
“You’ll want us to go back at once,” Arthur said. He glanced meaningfully at Masterson. “I don’t think there are any objections now.”
Chuck merely nodded. He still found allusions to his brother extremely painful. It was only with the greatest effort that he could keep the tears from his eyes. But it was impossible to keep the ache from his heart. He and Arthur went to the jeep and tried to start it. Chuck lifted the hood and checked the engine, while Arthur went to the tank, coming back with a stick that was dry.
“Here’s the answer,” he said. “No gas.”
They walked back to the truck and checked the fuel in it. The results were the same.
“We’ll walk,” Chuck said simply.
“What?” Gardel protested. “All the way back…”
“Chuck said we’ll walk,” Pete put in. He was holding a large skillet in his hands. The freckles on his face stood out in angry red blotches.
“This is crazy,” Gardel said. “Just because…”
He saw the look in Chuck’s eyes-a cold, menacing look. He shrugged and sighed deeply.
“We’ll need supplies,” Chuck said. He started for the rear of the truck and was suddenly aware of something that had eluded his grasp up to now.
At first the thought was overwhelming. He almost turned and said, “Look, fellows, this is all a mistake. I cant…”
Then he thought of Owen and he knew why they had turned to him for leadership. It was an automatic thing, he supposed. Owen had been their leader and now Owen was gone. It was natural to turn to Owen’s brother. The thought frightened him because he had never been in such a situation before. It frightened him even more because he had no idea where the rendezvous site was. He took a deep breath and climbed into the back of the truck, fervently wishing Owen were there to tell him what to do.
“Arthur,” he called. “Pete! Want to take some of this stuff? We’ll each have to carry packs. I’ll hand the equipment and food down and you can get it ready.”
He got to work, trying not to think of Owen or of what lay ahead. Methodically, he passed most of what they’d need down to Arthur and Pete. He kept moving toward the front of the truck as he worked his way through the piles of canned food. Outside, Arthur and Pete arranged the food in heavy packs, fully realizing this would have to last them for a long while. Chuck began moving material, trying to get at the food stacked near the cab of the truck. It wasn’t until he’d moved several shovels, pans and a large battery-driven power drill that he realized he was handling mining equipment. A puzzled frown crossed his face. What on earth was mining equipment doing in the truck? He dug a little deeper, shoving aside a half-dozen picks. And then he came across the box of dynamite. Surprise gave way to shock. He scratched his head worriedly. Why? Why had…
“Hey, Chuck,” Arthur called. “Any more stuff coming?”
Chuck came to his senses. “Just a moment,” he said. He stopped thinking about the dynamite and attacked the stack of food, carrying the cartons to Arthur’s waiting hands. In a little while the truck was almost empty. They were leaving a lot of material behind, but they were taking all they could carry and they could do no better than that.
Chuck jumped down to the ground and swung a heavy pack onto his shoulders, tightening the straps across his chest. He saw Masterson lift a pack and slip his arms through the canvas loops. Gardel helped him with it and then picked up his own pack. There was one thing Chuck had forgotten. He climbed to the back of the truck to correct his memory. “Arthur.”
“Yes?”
“Here,” he said.
He held out his hand, and Arthur looked up at the rifle Chuck was holding. “What’s that for?”
“The animals around here are treacherous,” Chuck said. He glanced significantly at Masterson and then handed Arthur another rifle. “You’d better give one to Pete, too.”
Arthur nodded, taking the rifles.
“How about us?” Gardel asked.
Chuck’s eyes remained cold and impersonal. “I think maybe you’ve both done enough hunting for awhile.”
“See here, youngster…” Masterson protested.
Arthur grinned good-naturedly, his teeth flashing white against his brown skin. “Your license has been temporarily revoked,” he said softly. At the same time he pulled back the bolt on his rifle, and the click of the cartridge sounded a dull warning.
Masterson eyed the gun with contempt. “You’re still working for me,” he said, his voice ominously low.
“I quit, Mr. Masterson,” Arthur said. “I quit a long time ago.”
“Why, you ungrateful…”
“I don’t work for you any more,” Arthur said, his eyes level.