Ryan knew that Dean had led a hand-to-mouth existence with his mother, Sharona, for several years. He’d faced a lot of adversity in his short life, and now he had a chance to settle down to a regular life for a year or so, in relative peace and quiet. He’d gain some education and acquire some life skills. Ryan couldn’t deny his son that, though it tore at his heart to leave him behind.
“In a year, if not sooner,” he said, and closed the door firmly behind him.
AHAB AND JOEL WERE both back on duty, and they escorted him for a couple of miles along the road away from the school. As Brody had said, it was a fine morning, with a few bunched clouds to the northwest that held the possible threat of a storm later in the day.
They recognized that Ryan wasn’t in a talking mood, and the three of them walked along, mainly in silence.
At the crest of a rise in the trail, Ryan turned and took one last long look at the buildings. He thought that he might have glimpsed a little figure waving something white from a second-story window, but he couldn’t be sure.
“LEAVE YOU HERE, outlander,” Ahab said. “Get back to our patrolling.”
“Thanks. Guess I feel all right about leaving my son in the school. Seem like nice kids and teachers. And Brody himself. Real bad cough he’s got, though.”
The sec men exchanged glances. Ahab answered him. “Worries us, as well. Head was supposed to be seeing some top doctor back east could have been Kansas City way. But he never went. Some days he seems fine, but on cold, wet days it can grip him.”
Joel nodded, whistling between his teeth. “Days when there’s a blue norther. Bad as well.”
“Brody told me a bit about this gang of norms and muties,” Ryan said.
“That’s what we heard,” Ahab agreed. “Pickin’ on some of the frontier pestholes and taking them over. Suck them dry and move on. Like fuckin’ locusts they are.”
“Think twice about coming our way,” Joel said. “Need sharp teeth to bite us off.”
“You know a ville called Harmony?” Ryan asked.
Ahab looked puzzled. “That up Nebraska way?”
Joel shook his head. “No, that’s the place beyond the divide, couple of valleys over east. You know that swank old ski place, Breckenridge?”
“Oh, yeah. Head of the valley there, isn’t it? Beyond, what do you call it?”
“Fairplay,” Ryan suggested.
“Right on the money, stranger. Fairplay. Harmony’s beyond that. Is that the ville you’re heading for?”
“Yeah. Meeting friends there.”
Joel patted the Steyr rifle on Ryan’s back. “Need that and some more like it if that gang sees you.”
Ryan nodded. “You’re right.”
After shaking hands with the two men, he turned eastward and began the long, lonely walk back onto the main trail.
MILDRED WAS LAST of the companions to enjoy the deep tub, brimming with hot water. She poured in the contents of one of the many bottles of subtly colored, scented foaming oils.
Each successive bath seemed to take longer for the water to heat properly, and Krysty was beginning to get edgy at the delay.
J.B. and Doc reassured her.
“Ryan’ll likely spend a little time at this school before he leaves Dean there. We know they were both safely through that ambush. And we’ve got a place fixed for a rendezvous.” The Armorer had been reading through a pile of magazines from the predark days and he picked up another Reader’s Digest . “He’ll be fine, Krysty. You’ll see.”
Doc had been listening to some classical music on headphones. Now he took them off and smiled at her. “Worry not, dear madam. The bullet has not been cast nor the blade forged that bears the name of Ryan Cawdor. Another couple of days and we shall all be reunited together once more. Will we not?”
Krysty had been reassured by that.
All of them had noticed that the electricity had begun to fail. Several lights had gone out, though replacement bulbs from a bag in the garage had kept some going. The microwave oven and stove had both ceased to workin the case of the former, with a loud bang and shower of orange sparks that had nearly taken Jak’s hand off when he tried to heat a mug of coffee.