Sofia nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘No problemo,’ Dave said.
Cindy circled around from the driver’s side, chatting with another female trucker, who also wore a furry creature hat. A rabbit of some sort, thought Sofia. Perhaps Bugs Bunny.
‘Mel, where’s Brian?’ Cindy asked the other woman.
‘Feeding the bunnies,’ this Mel said. She was about the same height as Cindy French and seemed rather too refined to be a trucker. With her unusually straight posture and precision of movement, Sofia wondered if she might be a veteran. They all moved the same way, she thought.
‘You keep the rabbits for food?’ Sofia asked. ‘I had my share of them. I could cook a pot for you if you’d like.’
Mel actually took a step back as a wash of pale horror fell across her features.
‘
‘No,’ the woman in the bunny hat replied, recovering herself but smiling a little awkwardly at Sofia. ‘I’ll take him something. Let’s go eat.’
Inside the Flying J’s government-run canteen, it smelled of fresh paint, disinfectant and greasy food. As she joined the line of diners, Sofia kept one eye on the television suspended from the ceiling in a corner of the dining area, but it only seemed to be playing re-runs of some pre-Wave show hosted by a man called Jerry, where fat people attacked each other in a TV studio. Sometimes they wore costumes that made them look like perverts. It was incomprehensible and eventually she gave up.
Soldiers and civilians moved down the queue, each clutching a metal tray. Occasionally they’d glance over at the TV screen too, but mostly they busied themselves scooping up piles of the usual bland but plentiful government food. Stiff, dry potato bake, frankfurters, bacon like jerky, fatty ham, and the always popular shit on a shingle. In front of her in the line, thin Dave Bowman shook his head at it all, deeply unimpressed.
‘Give me an apple and a whole-wheat roll,’ he said.
‘Don’t want much, do ya?’ the man serving behind the counter replied. He tossed a sad-looking yellow apple over. ‘Bread’s over at the bench, dude.’
Dave noticed Sofia focusing again on the television and elbowed her gently. ‘Sure you want to go to Fort Hood?’ he asked. ‘They’re all like that down there, you know.’
‘My sister’s there,’ Sofia lied, yet again. ‘I have to help her. What do you know about the place, Mr Bowman? Anything you can tell me would be useful. I’ve heard it will be difficult for me, because I’m from Mexico. Although, that seems unfair. I don’t remember anything of life before the boat journey to Australia. I am from nowhere now.’
Bowman gazed off into the distance for a moment, apparently able to see through the clouded windows of the canteen as Sofia filled a bowl with beans and bacon chunks. He worked at slicing his mushy apple up into manageable components before they took a seat at the table with the others. But not Cindy yet; she was still in line, picking over the sad, grey franks.
‘Fort Hood’s not what Seattle says it is,’ Dave said. ‘On the other hand, not everything Seattle says is wrong either. It isn’t the old Unreconstructed South, for instance.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ Sofia asked, confused.
‘I mean, it isn’t a bunch of rich white folks owning everything, including other people. A lot of army vets live down there. The other services too, but mainly army. Drawn there by money, benefits and the kind of jobs Seattle can’t or won’t provide.’
‘What about Mexicans?’ she asked. ‘My sort of people.’ She wondered if Dave wasn’t someone who agreed with Blackstone. Perhaps even supported the tyrant.
‘I’ve seen them down there as well,’ he said. ‘Normally, if they aren’t in the military, they’re stuck doing the menial jobs in town, in Killeen, or labouring on the big farms. That isn’t all that different from before the Wave, is it? Or down under, where you were, from what I’ve heard tell.’
‘No,’ Sofia admitted. ‘Although, the farm my family worked on in New South Wales was not a prison either. And the homestead killings - are they truly as people say, the work of Blackstone’s agents?’
Bowman regarded her warily now. ‘Well, there’s some that say that, of course. But I wouldn’t be so free with my opinions when I reached Fort Hood if I was you, young lady.’
‘Well, it’s a hell of a thing when a young woman can’t feel free with her opinions, don’t you think?’ interrupted Cindy, having arrived from the chow line hauling a tray loaded up with cheesy taters and franks. Almost as large a stack as she’d had of chicken when Sofia first met her.
‘No politics at the table,’ Melissa called over, adopting a warning tone.
Thin Dave Bowman’s face had been clouding over, but that seemed to pass now like a single cloud on a clear day.
Cindy hooked out a plastic chair with one foot before sitting herself down next to Sofia. ‘Old Dave here is quite the fan of Governor Blackstone,’ she smirked.
‘Now, you know that’s not true, Cindy …’ he protested. ‘I have issues with the man, too. Serious issues. But I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone makes out back in cloud-cuckoo-land.’
‘Where?’ Sofia chimed in, looking to her friend for a translation.
‘He means Seattle, hon.’ The trucker turned back to Bowman. ‘Now then, Dave, Sofia here is heading down to Fort Hood to rescue her sister from a brothel - as you well know, because I explained it to you, chapter and verse, back in KC. A government brothel, Dave. Of the sort that is utterly illegal back in cloud-cuckoo-land. So you can see why she might have
He had the decency to look mildly embarrassed, going so far as to take off his baseball cap and sweep it in front of him while performing a half bow. ‘You’re right, I was being an ass,’ he said by way of apology.
‘It’s all right,’ replied Sofia, even though it was not.
Dave leaned forward slightly. ‘Was there something specific you needed to know about Fort Hood? Out of all these reprobates,’ he added, indicating his fellow drivers, ‘I’ve probably hauled more loads into and out of the Hood than anyone.’
Sofia swallowed a mouthful of beans and tried to forgive the man opposite her for not thinking ill of Jackson Blackstone. If this Dave Bowman could be of help, she would take his help, just as she’d taken his jacket.
‘I will need to find this bordello where they are holding my sister,’ she said. ‘How will I do that, and how will I get there from Temple without getting into trouble myself?’
Bowman grinned. ‘Well, I’m not at all familiar with the brothels of Fort Hood,’ he said, to the scoffing laughter of some of the other truckers. ‘But if I were you, I wouldn’t be going there alone. I think you’ll be fine getting around town without someone holding your hand, but a girl of your age really doesn’t want to be heading into the red-light district on her own.’
She nodded appreciatively. She had no interest at all in the red-light districts of Fort Hood, but a great deal of interest in how much attention she might draw to herself while wandering the streets of the town on her own. Back in KC, people had made it sound as though Fort Hood was completely segregated. Sofia Pieraro resolved to put aside any resentment she felt at finding out that Dave was a Blackstone supporter. Instead, she was determined to pick him clean for every useful detail on Fort Hood that he might provide.
26
NORTH DARWIN, NORTHERN TERRITORY
Narayan Shah had done well for himself, much better than Julianne, since they’d last met. It was obvious he was pivotal to the everyday running of his private security firm, that much was clear from the second they had walked in here, with the appearance of four of his underlings, bearing news they thought he must hear or documents he must see. More impressive, from her point of view, was the man’s enduring grace and calm under pressure. Shah dismissed them all courteously but firmly, instead instructing that tea be served upstairs for his English guest and himself.
The old soldier had partitioned off at least half of one shipping container as his private office. This particular giant metal crate sat atop the L-shaped arrangement of identical, faded-orange containers that formed the entrance to his compound. A quiet young Nepalese woman was performing the duties he’d requested, filling two coarse- looking stone mugs with piping-hot green tea. She was dressed in western clothes, but carried herself with the
