A wisp of smoke still clinging to the muzzled of the silenced 9 mm SIG-Sauer, Ryan crossed to the corpse and shot it again to make sure the man was dead. Eagerly, Dean claimed the Kalashnikov and the spare ammo. Krysty took the radio.
“We can monitor their communications with this,” she said, inspecting the device. “Help us avoid any more patrols.” The radio was turned on so the sentry could receive reports or instructions. She adjusted the volume to its lowest setting, so as to not give away their position. Ryan glanced at the walkie-talkie. “Air Force model,” he stated. “Very short range, these days even shorter. Probably reduced to line of sight.”
“Unless they use that big antenna,” Doc suggested, entering the woods. Immediately, he felt better with some protective cover around them.
Shifting her med kit, Mildred shook her head, her beaded locks bouncing wildly. “The dish antenna would have to be pointed in the correct direction. Think of it as a radio cannon. It’s got to be pointed right at whom they want to talk with.”
“Useless,” Jak grunted, stepping over a fallen willow tree.
Ducking under a bristly pine branch, Dean asked, “We heading for the redoubt?”
“First we cross the river,” his father answered. “For once those land mines will work for us. No APC or Hummer can follow.”
“Sounds good,” Krysty said. Just then, the speaker of the walkie-talkie crackled loudly. “Sentry Twenty-four, any sign of the intruders?” a male voice asked.
The companions paused as Krysty pulled the device into view and the radio blared, “What is your status, Twenty-four? Are you in trouble?”
“Gaia, he means us,” Krysty stated, turning off the radio with a click. “Ryan, J.B., did either of you see any female sec men?”
“Hell, no,” Ryan growled.
She shoved the radio into his hands. “Then you answer quick, or else they’ll know where we are.”
He chewed a lip for a moment, then turned the radio back on. There came a burst of static. “—entry Twenty-four, where are you?”
Coughing raggedly, Ryan fumbling with the volume. “Raiders…” he gasped weakly into the transmitter. “Gut shot…hurts bad!” Ryan knew there was nothing more painful than a gunshot wound in the belly. He once saw a coldheart stab himself to stop the agony. Any differences in his voice and that of the younger sec man would be attributed to the terrible pain.
Biting his tongue not to speak, J.B. started rummaging inside his munitions bag.
“Where are you, man?” the radio asked urgently. “What’s your location?”
Holding up the map from Georgia, J.B. pointed at the scrawl at the bottom.
Nodding in comprehension, Ryan panted heavily, “Q-quarry…”
A crackle of static. “Shit-fire! Was it muties? Tanner?”
Doc arched an eyebrow, but held his peace.
Coughing some more, Ryan whispered, “Fifty… coming…your way…”
“How fucking many?” the sec man yelled, distorting the words.
Exhaling as if dying, Ryan released the transmit button and tossed the radio back to Krysty. She made sure it was turned off and tucked the device into a pocket of her bearskin coat.
“That bought us a few minutes,” Ryan said. “They’ll have to check the quarry before doing anything else, just in case this was a real report.”
“More than enough time,” J.B. agreed, heading into the bushes.
“Fifty,” Jak said. “Smart. Send all troops.”
Parting some bushes with the barrel of his longblaster, Ryan grunted in reply. “That was the idea.”
The sun was starting to set as the companions moved out of the band of trees. Crouching, they looked for guards, but the river and bridge seemed to be clear. Running across the bridge in pairs, the companions took refuge in the forest on the other side and waited to see if there was any signs of pursuit. The forest and river were placid and calm.
“We’re in the clear,” Mildred stated confidently. “Come on, I’ll feel better once we are inside the redoubt and have a few feet of steel between us and the blues.”
“Wait,” Krysty said, tilting her head toward the river. “Motorcycles are coming our way, six, mebbe seven.”
“Can’t be after us,” J.B. stated. “Must be going toward that quarry.”