"Tempting, isn't it?" Salsa said. "But forget it, the Jaguars will have him by dark".
"How long would it take us to get to where he landed?" Valentine asked.
"I ain't even guesstimating. We're not risking the Rover".
"Then stop, please", Valentine said, feeling light-headed. "I'll go on foot".
"You're nuts", Swell shouted down from the gun.
"Now he can hear", Salsa said. "What about your contract, Argent?"
"I've got the option of breaking it. Please, stop the car".
Zuniga honked and the vehicles slowed, then stopped.
"You don't get paid, then", Salsa said.
"I'd appreciate an extra canteen and some of the freeze-dry", Valentine said.
"Hey, if this is about those bodies, I didn't mean to step on any religious practices. Running my mouth is just how I get to know a man. Nothing to kill yourself over".
Valentine got his gun, sword, and pack and tucked a few extra odds and ends in from the Rover's supplies: freeze-dried veggie packs - about as appetizing as a bathroom mat but full of vitamins - beef sticks, dried fruit...
"Guy's nuts", Swell called to a grizzled mechanic leaning out of a tow truck window to watch. "He's going to go rescue that cloud jumper. Wants the ten grand in gold".
"Big money isn't worth getting dead over, kid", the mechanic advised.
Been a long time since anyone's called me kid, Valentine thought. But the strange clarity that came over him sometimes, the one that infected him when he went into Chicago after Molly, or struck off into the Nebraska sandhills to warn the trekkers against the general, or pushed him to save a wounded Grog who would become his best friend - Valentine felt his eyes go wet at the memory of Ahn-Kha - told him he was doing the right thing.
Sergeant Patel used to talk about a third eye capable of perceiving the invisible. Valentine wondered if there was a third ear, hearing the whispers of guardian angels.
A motorcycle engine blatted and Loring sat his bike next to him as Valentine marked a reference point for the fallen aircraft. The bike growled like a threatening watchdog.
"You're not", Loring said.
"I am. Interested in making a Troy?"
"I'm not parking three butts on my bike for an off-road trip to Neverland".
"I just want you to get me to that airplane".
Loring looked at the sun. "Let's see the color of your gold".
Valentine reached into his belt and palmed one of his coins. He passed it over.
"That thing with the bodies wasn't an act, I hope. If this is some fancy plan to get me out so you can debit my bike..."
Valentine checked the buckles on his pack and the strap fixing his legworm pickax. "I arranged for the plane to go down just so I could get your ride?"
"Right. Sorry. Paranoid is the best way to stay alive when you road it for a living".
"No offense".
"Give my regards to Lautenberg", Valentine told Salsa. "I'll either meet you guys tomorrow when you run the valley or dog southwest".
"You a crusader, Argent, or just greedy?"
"A little of both", Valentine said.