Free The Fireman by Ray Bradbury Page B

the pursuit rode the Electric Hound up and down stream to see where a man named Montag had stepped ashore.
     
    Whether or not the smell of Faber would be strong enough, with the aid of the alcohol, was something else again. He pulled out a handkerchief he had saved over, doused it with the remainder of the liquor. He must hold this over his mouth when stepping ashore.
     
    The particles of his breathing might remain in an electronically detectable invisible cloud for hours after he had passed on.
     
    He couldn't wait any longer. He was below the town now, in a lonely place of weeds and old railway tracks. He rowed the boat toward shore, tied the handkerchief over his face, and leaped out as the boat touched briefly.
     
    The current swept the boat away, turning slowly.
     
    "Farewell to Mr. Montag," he said. "Hello, Mr. Faber." He went into the woods.
     
    HE FOUND his way along rail-road tracks that had not been used in years, crusted with brown rust and overgrown with weeds. He listened to his feet moving in the long grass. He paused now and then, checking behind to see if he was followed, but was not.
     
    Firelight shone far ahead. "One of the camps," thought Montag. "One of the places where the hobo intellectuals cook their meals and talk!" It was unbelievable.
     
    Half an hour later he came out of the weeds and the forest into the half light of the fire, for only a moment, then he hid back and waited, watching the group of seven men, holding their hands to the small blaze, murmuring. To their right, a quarter mile away, was the river. Up the stream a mile, and still apparent in the dark, was the city, and no sound except the voices and the fire crackling.
     
    Montag waited ten minutes in the shadows. Finally a voice called: "All right, you can come out now."
     
    He shrank back.
     
    "It's okay," said the voice. "You're welcome here."
     
    He let himself stand forth and then he walked tiredly toward the fire, peering at the men and their dirty clothing.
     
    "We're not very elegant," said the man who seemed to be the leader of the little group. "Sit down. Have some coffee."
     
    He watched the dark steaming mixture poured into a collapsible cup which was handed him straight off. He sipped it gingerly. He felt the scald on his lips. The men were watching him. Their faces were unshaved but their beards were much too neat, and their, hands were clean. They had stood up, as if to welcome a guest, and now they sat down again. Montag sipped. "Thanks," he said.
     
    The leader said, "My name is Granger, as good a name as any. You don't have to tell us your name at all." He remembered something. "Here, before you finish the coffee, better take this." He held out a small bottle of colorless fluid.
     
    "What is it?"
     
    "Drink it. Whoever you are, you wouldn't be here unless you were in trouble. Either that, or you're a Government spy, in which case we are only a bunch of men traveling nowhere and hurting no one. In any event, whoever you are, an hour after you've drunk this fluid, you'll be someone else. It does something to the perspiratory system — changes the sweat content. If you want to stay here you'll have to drink it, otherwise you'll have to move on. If there's a Hound after you, you'd be bad company."
     
    "I think I took care of the Hound," said Montag, and drank the tasteless stuff. The fluid stung his throat. He was sick for a moment; there was a blackness in his eyes, and a roaring in his head. Then it passed.
     
    "THAT'S better, Mr. Montag," said Granger, and snorted at his social error. "I beg your pardon —" He poked his thumb at a small portable t-v beyond the fire. "We've been watching. They videoed a picture of you, not a very good resemblance. We hoped you'd head this way."
     
    "It's been quite a chase."
     
    "Yes." Granger snapped the t-v on. It was no bigger than a handbag, weighing some seven pounds, mostly screen. A voice from the set cried:
     
    "The chase is now veering south along the river.