She didn't move. I blundered on, forcing myself not to jump when a bird launched from some perch out in the dark, cawing noisily.
'Far as you know, it's gone. For good. And okay, that's a shitter, and you'd pay money for it to be otherwise, but what's done is done. You're a realist. You bottle it up, you put it away, you get on. You get by.'
I could see it in her eyes, and in that quiet little instant we were so the same I could have reached out and touched her and felt my own fingers against my own arm.
The silence got a little thicker.
I stared at her. 'And now suddenly there's a chance. One in a million. Defies all logic, as far as you know. No reason to believe it, no reason to give it headroom. But still…
'Just in case.'
She swallowed, lips tight.
'How far,' I finished, 'would you go?'
Her jaw rocked back and forth once or twice.
'Long way,' she whispered.
I nodded.
We sat.
We waited.
I smiled.
'You should go inside.' I said.
She glared. 'Pardon me?'
'You should go inside.' I drew the knife from my belt and passed her the rifle.
'And why the fuck would I do that?'
'Because there are two men approaching the truck from two different directions, and we're sitting ducks up here.'
Even in the gloom, I could see her eyes go big. Disbelief, maybe. Surprise.
'They pulled up a mile out on motorbikes. Probably from that crew that passed by earlier on. Listen.'
'But I don't h…'
'There. A twig. And another bird. Fucking amateurs.'
She just stared.
'Don't worry.' I said, and I smiled again because I couldn't help it, and I couldn't be bothered to stop. 'I won't be long.'
And I slipped off the edge of the truck and onto the concrete, panther quiet, and went out into the shadows with a savage joy.
Don't you fucking give up, soldier!
It snarled. It burned.
Sir, no sir! Etc etc.
When I got back Hiawatha was sitting on the roof, waiting, fiddling with something small and silver.
'You get 'em?' He said.
I wiped blood off the knife and stared.
Letting the humanity come back into me. Slowly.
Reluctantly.
First rule of stealth combat. Advanced training, third year:
Don't fear the predator in the dark.
Be it.
'I can see you,' Hiawatha said, conversationally. 'Properly, I mean. All that… conditioning. All those changes. You're a wolf, mister Englishman. You know that? Inside your head. They made you a wolf.'
The adrenaline was still up. Heart still going. Beast still just below the surface.
I spat on the ground. Couldn't be fucked with any more mystical bollocks.
Hiawatha smiled and said nothing.
'Who were they?' I said, not bothering to sound impressed or spooked-out or anything but bored. My hands were shaking with the desire to hunt and hurt, and this snotty little idiot was getting on my tits.
'Collectors,' he said, after a pause.
'And they are?'
'They're… I mean…' He stopped and scowled, and I could see again the person coming through, the scared kid chipping-away at the 'Know-it-all Straight Jacket'. Then it was gone.
'They're scouts.' He said, voice rising and falling in that same lilting chant. 'Men of money and misery. Mercenary filth. Cells of aggression, unfaithful, unloyal, sent ahead of the crucified god and his robed horde to…'
'Cut the crap, yeah? Just tell me who they are.'
He blinked.
And slowly, boyishly, smiled.
'Fuckheads.' He said.
'Fuckheads. Right. And what do these fuckheads want with us?'
He shrugged.
'Clergy sends them, mostly. Or at least, that's where they get their shit. Trading with the Clergy. They… roam round. Outside of cities. Finding things the Church'll pay for.'
'Things like what?'
'Like guns. Food. And… mostly… mostly kids.' He looked away. Jaw tightening.
'Kids.'
'Yep. No Klans out here, see? No loyal fucking scavs to hand over their own kin. Only the Clergy and the scum they pay, helping themselves. That's… that's what this is all about. You being here.'
'I don't follow.'
'I know. But you will.'
I huffed and shook my head, too tired to push it. 'Whatever. Doesn't explain what they want with us.'
'No… But they came from behind, on the road. From the city, probably.'
'And?'
And then the boy was gone, and fucking Hiawatha was back, smiling and staring and rolling his eyes.
'And perhaps this holy man, this John-Paul, this withered thing… Perhaps he knows where you're headed. Perhaps he sent word to slow you down.'
'How the fuck would he know?'
I remembered the personnel file. The name. The photo.
Cy, staring over my shoulder.
Hiawatha ignored the question and stared off into the night.
'Tomorrow,' he said. 'We'll find the rest tomorrow. They sent out these two to take us in the dark. Explosives, yes?'
I grunted, patting the pockets of my coat. There'd been four sticks of C4 on each corpse, with some surprisingly sophisticated remote detonators. Out in the dark, when the fat fucks had stopped shivering and bleeding and trying to shout with their windpipes torn-through, I'd helped myself.
'So if we're lucky the rest won't know we survived.'
Hiawatha smiled and nodded.
We weren't lucky.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We hit Ohio first thing, and they were waiting for us.
Outside a town called Hubbard, rammed up against the edge of the I-80 like a gaudy reminder of a long lost time, was Truck World. Truck World did exactly what it said on the tin.
