Gide kept her food down on the next hop. Valentine argued with himself over what to do with the autogyro. Aircraft of any kind were valuable enough that the guerrillas would probably seize it outright. But on the other hand, it might allow him to make more of an impressive entrance.
He opted for showmanship.
What he guessed to be Mount Rainier loomed in the distance. He passed over valleys under thickening clouds, watching his fuel gauge sink toward e.
Apart from herds of goats, sheep, and cattle, and the attendant fires in the shepherds' bunkhouses, he saw little sign of habitation. But then a good guerrilla army wouldn't advertise its presence.
Then he passed over another town, built around a bridge and its patched-over road in a boomerang-shaped valley, and saw what he suspected was mortar pits in the hill above, looking out over the reduced hills to the east. Camouflage-painted four-wheelers were parked in a line like suckling piglets in front of a redbrick building in town, and there were well-used paddocks behind the line of buildings and what looked like houses converted to stables. He marked freshly sheared sheep.
Best of all, a limp American flag hung from a flagpole in front of what looked like the town post office. No Quisling force Valentine had ever heard of flew the despised Stars and Stripes, a symbol of racism and greed according to the histories of the New Order.
Valentine swooped around again, enjoying the feel of the tight turn. Men in civilian clothes and uniform were coming out onto the street now to watch the acrobatics.
"Gide", Valentine said, almost shouted. "This looks like the guerrillas. One thing you should know".
"Yeah?" she said, eyes closed, sounding like she was fighting with her stomach again.
"My name's not Max Argent. It's Valentine, David Valentine. I travel under a false name".
"Okay", she burped. "Land, all right?"
Valentine set the gyro down on the other side of the bridge from the town, where the road widened outside the bridge. He engaged the wheel drive and motored toward town. The road was badly pocked, and they bounced a good deal.
Some armed men in timberland camouflage were walking up the road.
"Ma... David, whatever. Open up!" Gide said.
Valentine popped the hatch as he applied the brakes. Gide jumped out and fell to her knees, bringing up a mostly liquid mess.
Valentine jumped out to aid her, but his bad left leg betrayed him and he stumbled. As he caught himself, his foot slipped in a pothole and he felt something in his ankle give. He sprawled.
Gide turned her head, wiped saliva from her mouth.
Valentine rolled over and probed his ankle. Great, a sprain. So much for showmanship.
"Here they come", Gide said.
A brown-haired man under a wide-brimmed black hat with yellow cording halted the others about ten yards away. He had a long, thick mustache that covered his upper lip.
"I hope you two have good reason to buzz us like that", he said. "Otherwise, your welcome to Brantley's Bridge will end with you hanging from it".
Valentine sat up. "We're not spies. We're here to join up. Can you put me in touch with a recruiting officer?"
He tried to rise, but the ankle hurt too much. He ended up balancing unsteadily on his bad leg.
Gide got to her feet, parked herself under his armpit. "That's right".
"Shit", one of the men behind, a shotgun held professionally but pointed down, commented. "We should just make heroes out of them now. Save a lot of trouble".
"Recruiting officer, huh?" the man with the mustache said. "I don't know that we have any of those. Least not at this depot".
"What do you suggest for recruits, then?"
"You want to die under ol' Adler, we can assist". It began to drizzle. The officer lifted his face to the rain, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead before returning his cover to its place. "First we have to detick you. Then you get questioned. You out of Sea-Tac?"
"No. Opposite direction. We came across the Rockies. The last KZ I was in was the Aztlan Confederation".
"Long trip in that little eggbeater".