There was a moment's silence. Nat broke it to say, "We've been doing the obvious. Well then, our next stop must be different!"
They cruised silently toward the hiding place of their time machine until they saw the faint glow of a radioactive crater. A missile missing its target, had gouged a large hole in the mountainside. Nat had hidden the time machine in a cave as close as possible to the crater to lessen the chance of detection by the TIC or casual explorers.
"Just in case they have spotted our machine, and someone is waiting for us, we're going to take the last few miles on foot," Nat said, checking his paralysis gun.
He set the heli down in a clearing and they started cautiously forward on foot, working their way up the mountainside, with all the tension of a hunter stalking game.
A hundred yards from the cave entrance, they spotted a campfire. They approached stealthily, and finally were able to make out the shadowy form of an old man, apparently a war hermit who had set up a mountain retreat.
At the very outset of the Third World War, the expression "take to the hills" had become a reality to many. Afterwards, when a prostrated world had begun painful reconstruction, lone men and women, and sometimes couples, continued to roam through the forests and deserts of Earth. Fugitives from fear in the beginning, many had held to the nomadic existence, liking their new individuality.
"He may be a TIC agent in disguise," Nat whispered.
"Why not use thy paralysis ray now?" Abby whispered back, "And not take chances."
Nat nodded, and silently they crept forward. When they finally were in range, Nat raised his weapon and pressed the stud.
The hermit didn't move a muscle. The dancing flames of the fire cast strange shadows over the camp site, reflecting off his shelter half, lighting the coffee pot sitting on a rock.