“Oh, it’s you. Made good time this trip,” the guard said, easing his stance. A hand still rested on the grip of his holstered weapon, but a finger was no longer on the trigger. “Any trouble with the muties?”
“Mostly coldhearts. But we saw their work on the road,” he said, keeping to the story they’d agreed upon.
“You don’t say.” Brian studied the vehicle in tow, and the van behind. “This your whole crew, just four folks? Where are the rest of the mercies?”
“We lost a lot in the hills,” Mildred said.
The sec man produced a cigarette and lit it with a match he struck on his pants. “Sorry to hear that. I’ll pass that info along to the shift commander.”
Mildred filed that phrase away. Sounded very military.
“Say, any chance you know a sec man called Daffer?” she asked. “Short guy, brown hair, big nose.”
For the first time, the guard looked at her directly. “Yeah. He was chilled a month ago by a cougar, or so we think. At least, Daffer’s not in the ville anymore.”
She jerked a thumb. “We got him in the rear van. Not in great shape, but he’ll live.”
The sec man’s stern visage softened. “Nice to hear he’s still alive. Was it a cougar?”
“Cannies. He was almost dinner himself when Ry When we saved him.”
Stephen added, “They tortured him for defense info on Front Royal so they could raid the hamlets, but he never talked. Tough little bastard, should be a sergeant!”
The genial expression on the sec man’s face melted away with those words, and Brian stuffed two fingers into his mouth giving out a shrill whistle. Squads of sec men charged out of the cabin and from the woods. Mildred realized that they had been surrounded from the moment they saw the toll. Then she noticed they were wearing crisp blue shirts and carrying AK-47 assault rifles. All of them. There was enough firepower here to start a war, much less protect a ville.
“We have a possible sec breach!” the corporal shouted, drawing his blaster, a 9 mm Beretta in perfect condition. “Double all patrols! Shoot anybody suspicious. I’m going to report to the baron in person.”
The armed men rushed about, and a crew expertly began to set up what looked like a .50-caliber machine gun behind the sandbags. Where the hell had they found that?
“Corporal, this isn’t necessary,” Mildred chided, leaning out the window. “Daffer didn’t talk.”
“Mebbe, mebbe not.” The sec man climbed onto the back of the truck, holding on to the slats. “But until we know for sure, this post is going triple red and staying as hard as a prayer in hell. Baron Cawdor takes military threats very seriously.”
“No shit,” Clem drawled, watching the activity.
The corporal thumped the cab. “Let’s move, the baron is waiting for you.”
Having no choice in the matter, Mildred started the engine with a sputtering roar, and the truck rolled past the checkpoint. In the taped-together pieces of the rear-view mirror, she saw sec men swarm over the cargo van, forcing Hector and his family out at blasterpoint, then carrying out Daffer on his litter.
“Good luck,” she muttered. Beyond the toll, the road evened out, raked smooth for miles. Aside from the occasional piece of predark highway still intact, it was the best road she had ever seen. Then the truck passed by a crew of sec men whipping a gang of prisoners bound in heavy chains, the men and women smoothing out the roadway surface with their bare hands.
“Mighty harsh justice,” Clem said, scowling.
Coming out of the forest, Mildred rode across manicured grasslands before Front Royal rose into view. Granite blocks formed the high walls of the fortification, stones aged to a soft golden color from the acid rains that came every spring. A homemade American flag fluttered from the top of the central keep, while armed sec men walked the parapets.
There were no shanties, huts or tents surrounding the fortress, just acres upon acres of trimmed lawn. The halcyon fields were hideous in their beauty, because Mildred could guess how the grass was maintained in that pristine state. Slave labor, or rather criminals working as slaves.