"You travel at night?" Valentine asked.
"We don't go fast enough so it's dangerous", Walker said.
"I take it the Reapers don't get this far into the mountains, then?"
"No. We give them too much to worry about in the basin. The tower's men are the ones who fear the night. Not us".
Valentine couldn't tell if this was just rear-area bravado, propaganda, or confidence born of experience.
"I don't suppose I can have my carbine back".
"Sergeant Coombs, what do you think?"
"If he's who he says he is, he doesn't need a gun to kill us".
Walker giggled. "The sergeant has a dark streak like the Columbia River. But let me keep the hardware for now. It'll save questions at the stops, as you don't have so much as a militia cap".
Their gear stowed beneath the seats, Valentine helped Gide up into the open carriage, then climbed up himself. It had iron-rimmed wheels and a camouflage-netting top.
"Sorry for the rickety transport", Walker said. "As a lowly lieutenant, I don't rate a gasoline ration for my duties. Our supply line for fossils stretches way up into Canada, and it's not altogether reliable". He took off his glasses and nodded to the sergeant, who set off.
They stopped three times on the journey, twice at checkpoints outside of settlements and once for an exchange of horses. Passwords were swapped and orders and identification examined. The fresh horses made a difference, and they creaked and rattled on the iron rims into an electrically lit military camp a good half hour before the lieutenant's prediction.
Gide sneezed a few times on the ride.
The sign read camp dew, and the town looked to be built around an old high school. There was a hospital just down the highway, and many of the houses had electrical lights.
"Back to civilization", Walker said. "We'll put you in the Lodge-pole Motel for now. I'm afraid you'll have to stay under guard".
"For the gal's cold", Sergeant Coombs said, slipping a flattened bottle into Valentine's pocket as he waved over help with the horses and luggage.
Valentine surreptitiously examined the quarter-full bottle. It was hard to tell the color of the liquid in the dark, but Valentine smelled whiskey.
"Nice of you, Sergeant, but I'm trying temperance until I find my feet here".
"I'm not", Gide said, and Coombs passed her the bottle.
As they got settled in, Walker showed up with a camera and took their pictures, both from the front and in profile. Two more days passed while various orders wandered up and down the chains of command. Gide's face turned red from her cold, or maybe the back-mountain whiskey, and they got sick of washing their clothes and darning socks.
The motel had a water heater that they kept fired up from six until nine in the morning, so Valentine enjoyed hot showers every day. They "exercised" for two hours in the afternoon on a chain-link-fenced basketball court that had replaced the motel's pool, bringing back
uncomfortable memories of his time in the Nut. The rest of the time they filled in companionable silence. Though Gide relished stories of his travels and descriptions of the effect Quickwood had on Reapers, Valentine had turned moody and taciturn when not even Walker visited on the second day; he wondered if he'd be sentenced in Washington for crimes committed in Arkansas.
"It's not fun, you know", Valentine said when she asked about the Wolves, and how many women made it into the ranks. "You'll be tired and bored most of the time. Then there's a lot of noise, and you'll look around with your ears ringing and realize half the people you know are dead".
"I don't expect this to be fun", she said. "I just want a chance at them. I'm sick of standing around watching it happen. I can hack it".
"A couple of tattoos don't make you hard", Valentine said, and instantly regretted it.
She crossed her arms and turned away, looked out at a patch of blue sky through the barred window from the front chairs.
"I'm sorry, Gide".
She studied the street. "Whatever".
"Being cooped up with nothing to do gets on my nerves".
"I've killed a man, you know. Two men", she said.