Seen from the sky, the Ford Ranger might have been a mere TONKA toy, following a winding road through a miniature forest.
For Oberon, charged with keeping all four of the Ranger’s wheels on the pavement, that forest seemed anything but miniature. In fact, it seemed down right menacing as the evergreens blew past—each and every one of them a candidate for collision.
He glanced at Nimson. “Don't worry. My pilot’s license is good.”
The truck rocked; the biologist didn’t respond.
Oberon stared forward.
“You know,” he said, “we could’ve done this a lot easier in your car.”
Nimson remained mute, gazing out the window.
“Yeah,” sighed Oberon, “I know ...Fat chance.”
The cab fell silent again.
Oberon checked his speedometer. They were doing about 50. Not bad, considering how tortuous the r
