Epilogue
As morning came, words were few and the mood was solemn as the people picked through the steaming wreckage of the destroyed war wag to find anything they could salvage. It would be a very long drive to the closest depot and their next cache of supplies. The decision had already been made in the morning light to accept a deal from an Ohio trader who needed help reclaiming a huge war wag from the side of a mountain. How it got there, nobody could say, but it was packed with weapons and in prime condition. With their share, they could be back in business again, and there would be some trading along the way. Some chilling, too, most likely, but then that was life.
“That everything?” Jak asked, strapping the water can to the side of the motorcycle. The air was clean this morning, the stink of the acid long gone with the sun, leaving the desert feeling clean and renewed.
“Everything I can think of taking,” Ryan answered, checking the hoses on the big Harley. The hog needed a good cleaning, but aside from that it was fit for travel. Whoever the recent owners were, they had taken excellent care of the bikes.
“Nice of the Trader to let us have these,” Dean said, wiping off the seat with a damp rag. The saddlebags were full of food and water, and even a few of the pipe bombs. They would be able to reach the redoubt on the Grandee without any real problems.
“Nothing courteous about it—the bikes let us leave faster,” J.B. explained, checking his Uzi machine pistol. “I guess he loved her a lot. Mebbe too much. Damn fool should have said something while she was still around.”
“‘Love oft ties the tongue as steel can bind a hand,'” Doc rumbled.
Spread before the companions, the Texas desert was flattened into a mosaic pattern of raindrop hits, the landscape even more barren and desolate than before.
“Looks like the surface of the moon,” Mildred muttered, hefting her med kit. She had shared what she could of the recent acquisitions from the city with Matilda, who was now the healer for the convoy. It left them both short on supplies, but each came away with a few items they didn’t have before. A fair exchange.
“How know moon?” Jak asked, topping off the oil in his machine.
“Saw it on TV.”
“Vid?”
“Live broadcast.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re all here and still breathing,” J.B. said with a warm smile. “I guess that doomie was wrong, eh?”
Krysty gave him a grin, but didn’t comment in return. The message in blood had only said what would happen, not when. She still felt the hand of death among them and knew it would strike soon. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.
Several techs and sec men for the convoy were inspecting a tire on the small cargo van, Fat Pete among them, so Ryan took the chance to walk over to the giant who now called himself Trader. The name was being passed around a lot these days, but the two so far had been worthy of the title.
“We’ll be leaving now,” Ryan said. “Heading south to the Grandee.” The one-eyed wanted to say more, but knew it wouldn’t be accepted well.
“Good,” the giant replied gruffly.
With a shrug, Ryan turned, but the man stopped him.
“Hellfire, look, there’s no blood lost between us, outlander, so if we cross paths again some day, there won’t be a bounty on your head. Might even be welcome, if enough time has passed.”
Ryan said nothing, merely nodding, knowing this speech wasn’t for him, but for the man giving it, a way to say things he couldn’t say in private. Nothing special about it: wounds needed to bleed before they could heal was all. Exhaling deeply, the Trader went on, “But right now I can’t stand the fragging sight of you. Go while you can, and I do mean now.”
“Guess I’d feel about the same if you got aced,” Ryan said as Krysty climbed onto the rear of the bike. Holding open the door to the war wag, Jake offered a hand to Jessica, and the woman smiled as he climbed inside. The hatch closed with a bang, followed by metallic thuds as the bolts were thrown, sealing it tight. “At least some folks learn from the mistakes of others,” Mildred said. “I wish them good luck.”