Nightmare journey

and he said, “I'm still one step ahead of them.”
    “Of whom?” Jask asked.
    The mutant did not respond. The crate that drew his interest was stacked atop another exactly like it, in a row of fifty that matched. He reached up, put his thick arms around it, tilted it back against his chest, tottered backward and set it down in the middle of the aisle. Moving swiftly now, still grinning, though the grin appeared to be more of a rictus than evidence of genuine amusement, he slipped his wickedly sharpened claws beneath the plank lid and, straining upward, his muscles bunched mightily beneath his musty coat of fur, tore the crate wide open. He tossed the nail-studded lid aside as if it were a scrap of paper; it clattered loudly on the stone floor.
    Curious as to what the box could possibly contain that might have any bearing on their predicament, Jask stepped forward and peered into it. In the dim gray light that filtered weakly down from the loft windows he could see nothing more than a dark, formless lump.
    For a terrible, brief moment he thought the crate contained a dead man.
    The bruin reached into the box, wrestled with the contents, and lifted out an enormous rucksack that appeared to be packed tight with all manner of gear. He put it down on the floor between them and checked the many straps and buttons. “Seems okay.”
    “What's in it?” Jask asked.
    “Food, tools, maps, a book or two-just about everything you'd need to survive in the Wildlands.”
    “No one can survive in the Wildlands,” Jask said.
    The mutant did not deign to answer.
    “You knew that you might have to run for it?” the Pure asked, slightly perplexed by the manner in which the tainted being seemed capable of dealing with any eventuality.
    “Of course,” the bruin said. “Didn't you?”
    “No, I-”
    The tainted bear-man did not wait for Jask to finish his reply. “I knew, when the talent first came to me-gradually at first, then with more power-that I wouldn't always be able to conceal it.” He wiped a huge hand across his wrinkled, dark face, pushing at his blunt nose and snuffling as if to clear his head and think more soundly. “The talent becomes second nature to you. It would be just as easy-or difficult, rather-to hide the fact that you had two legs or eyes.'' Satisfied that the rucksack had gone unmolested, he stood up and stretched. “Besides, the power's like-a compulsion, a need. I tried to ignore it, because I knew it could ruin me, make me an outcast. But I learned it would never go away and that I couldn't suppress it. When it's not used, it sort of builds up, a heavy pressure inside-and then it manifests itself when you're not expecting it.”
    “I know,” Jask said, sadly. He looked at the rucksack again and said, “Why did you hide your provisions here, in a warehouse?”
    “It's my warehouse,” the bruin said. “Or-it was. I doubt they'll permit me to go on with my business.” He laughed sardonically. “If they hadn't come upon me by surprise, I. would have been gone six hours later.”
    “Where will you go, though?” Jask asked.
    “I've already said.”
    “No one can survive the Wildlands,” Jask said. “Nature isn't in charge there. She's been put out by the Ruiner.”
    “No theology, please,” the bruin said. “We have to pack your supplies, and quickly. I don't imagine it will take them long to break in here on the off chance that we-''
    “You expect me to go into the Wildlands?” Jask said, incredulous.
    The bruin rooted industriously through a few nearby baskets, found a small, gray cloth sack, emptied its contents onto the floor and handed it to Jask. “I'll choose the stuff that goes in it,” he said. “Come along, now.”
    Jask followed down the aisle and into another one, numbed but able to speak. He cleared his throat and said, “I am not going to go with you.”
    Casually the bear-man tore open another crate, which proved to be packed full of paper-wrapped lengths of dried, salted meat, the ends of the packages tied with larded string. He lifted out handfuls of this and put it in the sack Jask held. “This gets to be pretty damn boring as a regular diet, but at least it's nourishing.”
    “Look,” Jask said, “I can't possibly-”
    The bruin waddled off to another batch of containers, opened several baskets and poked around in them, came up with half a dozen pieces of fresh fruit, dropped those into the Pure's sack. “Now, let's see… a few tools… certainly a knife…”
    Jask dropped the sack.
    “What's this?” the mutant