Free The Seeds of Man by William C. Dietz

Four
    Near Jackson, Wyoming, USA
    A fter hiding the cache of weapons upslope from the cell site and napping through the day, Tre faced an important decision. Should he stay in the metal shed that night or hit the road in spite of the attendant dangers? A wan, barely seen moon helped make up his mind. There wasn’t a lot of light, but the snow seemed to amplify what there was, making it possible to travel, and it would be good to put some distance between himself and the highly visible shed.
    So Tre hurried to prepare a hot meal, ate it, and put all his belongings in the pack. Then, with the .410 in its holster, snowshoes on his feet, and a trekking pole in each hand, he set out. Traveling was easier now thanks to the downhill slope and the fact that he wasn’t burdened with the heavy gun case. But with a pack full of books and canned goods, Tre knew he would soon start to feel the strain. He wasn’t about to jettison anything, however, so all he could do was tough it out.
    Once on the highway, Tre turned south. The tracks he had seen earlier were still visible and could serve as a guide. The only sounds were the crunch of his footsteps, the swish of fabric as he moved, and the rasp of his own breath. He had a companion, though, and that was fear. Anything could be hiding along the side of the road waiting to attack, and bandits were as common as fleas. But, Tre reminded himself, waiting next to a highway hoping someone would come along in the middle of the night wasn’t much of a strategy. So why was he scared? Tre smiled grimly, paused to listen, and couldn’t hear a thing. The march continued.
    The next hour passed without incident, but as Tre arrived at the top of a long slope and paused to rest, he heard a primal howl. Seconds later it was echoed by more howls and he felt his blood run cold. Wolves? They were common and could be dangerous. But Tre feared a pack of feral dogs even more. Unlike wolves, they knew all about humans and were attracted to them.
    Tre looked up at the sky. Scattered clouds were drifting across the moon, which would set soon. That, plus the possibility of a run-in with a pack of dogs, suggested that he hole up till morning. But where? Someplace with a door would be nice. All he could do was push on and keep his eyes peeled.
    So as Tre made his way down a gentle slope onto a flat stretch, the quickness of his movements reflected a new sense of urgency. Slide-step, slide-step, slide-step. All the while wondering if he would see the sudden rush of furry bodies and hear a chorus of deep-throated growls before the dogs attacked. He would fire the .410 and the revolver as well, but there would be too many of them and he would go down. Tre remembered the shed, cursed his decision to travel at night, and eyed the road ahead.
    That was when his nostrils detected the scent of wood smoke and the situation became even worse. Humans were in the area, so there was another type of predator to worry about.
    Tre continued to advance but more slowly now. What lay ahead? The bandits he had dismissed earlier? That would serve him right. Then he heard a snorting sound, followed by a muffled voice, and threw himself off the highway. There was no time to do anything more, so he lay perfectly still as three men on horseback rode past. Surely they would see Tre, stop, and blow his brains out. But no, they passed him by.
    Once the riders were gone, Tre stood. Moving quietly, he left the verge of the road for the trees. Maybe more riders were on the way and maybe they weren’t, but he didn’t plan to hang around to find out.
    The trees took Tre in, and he was looking for a place to hole up when he saw a flicker of light. A campfire, probably, and a dozen steps confirmed it. A crackling fire was visible in the middle of the clearing, and a large wagon could be seen in the background. A man was seated by the fire taking occasional sips from a mug.
    Tre looked around. Where were the horsemen? Had they continued south or