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".
"You'll hear the whole story, if you want", Valentine said.
"Tell you what, Mister, we support some garrison militia right here in town. I'm going to hold you here for now, warm and cozy, but we have to keep you to visitors' quarters. We'll turn you over to them and they'll feed you until someone from Pacific Command can get down here. Hope that goes well for you - the alternative isn't pleasant".
* * *
After a warm disinfectant shower and a quick physical, the captain put them in a rather moldy house. They had running water, though it was cold. Tallow dips offered smelly light at night, and there were some old books to read.
The windows and door were barred from the outside. Valentine watched off-duty men inspect the autogyro, everything from the still-smelly cockpit to the tail rotor. Valentine's weapons and gear were all locked up in the "armory", what had formerly been the modest post office in the middle of town.
Gide silently fretted. Being locked up, in her experience in the Kurian Zone, meant doom.
"They're just being careful", Valentine said.
Finally a tired-looking young lieutenant driven by a heavyset sergeant with a maimed right hand pulled up in a two-horse carriage and visited the redbrick headquarters building.
In a few moments they emerged, accompanied by the mustachioed Captain Clarke and the militia staff sergeant, who inspected their lodgings daily for signs of damage or mischief.
Clarke knocked and entered without waiting for a response: "You two got a visitor. He'll figure out what the hell to make outta you".
The captain and the militia sergeant waited outside the locked door while the newly arrived lieutenant sat down and opened a folding notebook. He had ink stains on his fingers thanks to a problematic pen, and the frames of his thick glasses looked like they'd originally been intended for a woman.
"My name is Lieutenant Walker. This is Sergeant Coombs. You are ... ahh, David Valentine, I take it?" he asked, looking through the bottle-bottom lenses.
"Yes", Valentine said.
"So you're Gide. No other name?"