“Because if the redoubt has been trying to contact the wag, won’t they think it a little suspicious if it suddenly springs back into life when it’s headed toward them. Won’t they want to ask questions about what happened, and why it’s been silent for so long?”
“Not necessarily. They may just be glad to be back in touch. They may assume that their own people have just done exactly what Dean’s doing—sorting it out when they’re safe away from the ville. And anyway, even if they can contact us, will they know it’s up and running again unless we answer? We’re not being forced to respond, after all.”
“No, that’s true enough,” Mildred pondered. “But what if there’s an automatic tracker that comes to life when the comp is booted up? That’ll betray us, sure as shit.”
Ryan furrowed his brow, considering this. Finally, he said, “Assuming that it does come up functional, and assuming that they contact us, we can use it to our advantage. A confused message, saying something garbled about injuries and damage, and they’ll be prepared to receive a group of incoming injured, rather than an unknown quantity.”
Krysty interjected, “Okay, lover, but how the hell are we supposed to disguise our voices?”
Ryan chuckled. “Okay, okay, but let’s just see if it actually works first.”
At that point, it didn’t seem likely. After its brief flowering, the comp had stayed dead while Dean groped under the desktop in an effort to get it going.
He was, possibly, more surprised than anyone else when the comp suddenly spluttered back to life, beeping as the safety scan began to run. Even more so when a disembodied voice came from the radio.
“Evan, what the hell are you guys doing still out there! I thought your beacon flashed a few minutes back. You’re still alive? Respond, dammit, respond.”
THE CARAVAN OF horse drawn wags that made up the Gate and Crossroads war party followed the wag as it progressed down the blacktop, then followed it with an equal ease as it left the road and traveled across the fields, using a turnoff to access the field areas and avoid the treacherous ditches that ran alongside the blacktop itself.
“Been easy so far,” Cat said to J.B. as they sat at the front of the armory wag.
“Make the most of it,” the Armorer replied quietly. “It sure ain’t gonna be that way for long.”
“I know that. Think I’m stupe or something?” The Armorer looked at her, taking in the indignant note in her voice, and opted to refrain from reply.
“Oh, shut up, you asshole,” Cat said huffily, turning away.
“I didn’t say anything,” J.B. teased. Like the Gate warrior, he was reveling in the laid back atmosphere that seemed to permeate the caravan. There would be enough tension later, without adding to it at this early stage.
On the wags behind, Crossroads volunteers for the war party were getting to know those they would fight alongside, and the prospect of making new acquaintances had lightened the grim atmosphere that had permeated the ville. The fact that most of the Crossroads fighters were men, and they lusted after the lithe Gate warriors, was certainly a help.
“Make merry while you can, children,” Doc murmured to himself as he watched from another wag. “The real work will come soon enough.”
The Illuminated wag passed the hill, and was soon at the edge of the wood. From here it would take less than an hour to reach the redoubt using the route mapped by the Gate. It would be hard for the motorized wag to go this route—through the woodland itself—so it had been arranged for the wag to drive around, slowing to give the Gate and Crossroads fighters enough time to make their way on foot through the woods.
The last thing J.B., or anyone, expected was for the wag to come to a complete halt.
“Dark night, what the fuck could have gone wrong already?” the Armorer breathed.
“SOMEBODY HAD BETTER SAY something,” Mildred remarked as the disembodied voice on the radio spoke again, requesting information on the condition of the wag crew.
“They’ll know it’s not the real crew as soon as someone does speak, though,” Tammy said.