His voice trailed off, the possibilities were damn near endless. And after what they had seen traveling the Deathlands, the man knew that almost anything was possible these days.
In reply, Ryan shook his head. There were too many questions and no bastard answers at all.
Darkness was starting to cover the ville, so Krysty lit a candle. Out the front windows, Ryan could see the bright light coming from the barn next door.
“Now what?” Mildred asked. “Somebody is going to eventually miss those fools, so the sooner we leave, the better.”
“We can’t leave at night,” Ryan said, starting to pace. “Not without acing some folks, and then we’ll have a war party chasing our asses across the desert.”
“Tomorrow should be good. Got to remove that sticking thermostat anyway,” J.B. said, slipping on his glasses again. “A few hours of work could triple our speed across Texas. Six hundred miles is a long way to the next—” he paused and glanced up the stairs to the closed door “—to the next, ahem, waterhole.”
Stopping near the fountain, Ryan grunted at the discretion. They knew better than to even say the word redoubt among others. Some people knew of the legends, but the fewer that number stayed, the better.
“Engines have their use, madam,” Doc rumbled. “But I have yet to see a car that can reproduce itself.”
Horses, eh? There was a thought. “How much ammo do we have?” Krysty asked, rummaging in her pocket. “I have a box.”
“Total of three more boxes of the .22 cartridges,” J.B. replied. “More than enough to buy horses. The locals have plenty, so the price shouldn’t be too high.”
“Unless the baron owns all of the horses.”
“Not going reach Grandee on horses,” Jak said. “Need wag. Bad land down there.”
“Besides, we don’t know how to find the Trader,” Krysty stated bluntly. “His supply bases are secret, even if it is the same person.”
“We used to know them,” J.B. added. “But he was always changing the locations in case of a traitor.”
Ryan frowned deeply. A traitor, that was something he hadn’t considered until now.
“But how find?” Jak demanded, brushing back his long snowy hair.
Pulling a map from his munitions bag, J.B. smoothed it across the counter and the companions gathered around, the combined candlelight almost making the document readable.
“Now we came from the east,” Ryan said, “which leaves north, south and west. South of here is the Grandee, north is New Mex and the west is unknown.”
“Three choices, none of them guaranteed,” Mildred said, using her butane lighter to start a lumpy candle on the front counter. The tiny flame constantly jerked as the fatty wax spit and popped.
“And a million combinations mixed in between those three. This is hopeless!”
“Damn straight. We need more info,” Ryan agreed, smoothing out Texas with his hand. “Bastard lot of territory to recce blind.”
“Sec men know truth,” Jak grunted, glancing upstairs. “Those tubs lard might be spinning shit-webs.” The teenager knew that he could easily force the two men to spill their guts with a hot blade, but that was something he would hold off doing until there was no other choice.
“Hey, we passed a gaudy house down the road,” J.B. said, tilting his head. “There’s always sec men there. It’s only a couple of blocks away, and we do have free rein inside the ville.”
Glancing out the door, Ryan started to speak, and Doc cut off the man. “I shall stay with Dean,” the old man offered. “The establishment in question is too far away for any response from us to be of effective use if there was an altercation.”
“Thanks. Save the MRE packs,” Ryan ordered. “We’ll bring you something for dinner.”
“Anything but dog,” Doc muttered, glancing at the silent office door.
Checking the street outside for any suspicious movement before leaving the motel, Ryan motioned the others forward and they split apart in the deepening darkness. As silent as a ghost, Doc melted into the shadows along the side of the building and was gone from sight. Krysty nodded in approval. The old fellow was getting good at that.