Chapter 2 — The Road That Ends

The taxi driver from Gopeshwar was named Bhim Singh Rawat.She knew this because she had specifically requested him — his name was in Rajan Sood's notes as the last person to drive anyone toward Sunderkhal. She had found him through the district transport association. He was fifty-three now, heavier than the wiry man Sood had described, with a careful manner and eyes that did not hold a gaze for long.He took the Pahari Foundation's authorization letter and read it twice. He said nothing about Sood. She did not mention Sood.He drove her as far as the broken concrete barrier and stopped the car."From here you walk," he said."You won't come further?""No." He said it without explanation. He was looking at the road ahead with the attention of a man looking at something he had decided not to look at.She got out. She had a backpack: documentation materials, a medical kit, a recorder, her phone, the satellite phone Devraj had insisted on, two days of food. She was planning to stay one night."Dr. Vashisht." Bhim called from the car.She turned."The children," he said. He was looking at the steering wheel now. "Do not touch them." He paused. "However — however it seems. Don't let them touch you."She stood on the road for a moment. "Why?"He started the car."My father drove a man up here in 1998," he said. "He said the man came back white-haired. Everyone always talks about the man." He put the car in reverse. "They don't talk about my father. My father stopped sleeping that year. He would sit in the kitchen at three in the morning and when my mother asked what was wrong, he said he kept seeing the children's faces." Bhim paused. "He died in 2004. He never slept again. Not one full night in six years."She stared at him."Six PM check-in," she said."I will be here," he said. "Waiting at the bridge."* * *