"Keep an eye on her, Doc," Valentine said.
"Understood." Doc lowered his voice. "In all honesty, Major, she does love her son. She loved all her sons. Deep down, I think she was really trying to get him back home, but make it his idea."
Valentine stepped out of Boneyard. "Hey, Major," he heard one of the Wolves call. "There's a plane flying around north of here a few miles. Two-engine job. Looks kind of like it's circling."
Valentine wondered if the plane was part of Jack in the Box's operation. How did he fit in with the divine judgment of war, famine, disease, and death to Kentucky?
Which reminded him. He called Frat over. "Frat, how are you on a motorcycle?"
"Decent, sir. I used one to get around in Kansas."
"I want you to courier something important back to Fort Seng for us. And, if necessary, get it all the way back to the Mississippi-but that'll be for Colonel Lambert to decide."
"I don't want to leave you in the middle of this mess," Frat said.
"You'll do as I ask, Lieutenant. If you want to be addressed as captain in a week, that is."
"Captain!" Frat grinned.
"A platoon of Wolves this far outside Southern Command is supposed to have a captain in charge. I hope you'll be it."
"Not as easy as it sounds. But we should get a sample back to Southern Command as soon as possible."
They gave Stuck's big motorcycle to Frat. Frat grabbed his rifle and his bag and very carefully put Doc's sample freezer in a hard case. Doc added a final blood sample and a note before packing it on the bike.
Valentine shook Frat's hand, and the young man tied a scarf around his face. "I'll get it through, sir."
Valentine wondered just where that Ordnance armored column was. Their own vehicles would be simple target practice for a real-
"Frat, even if we don't get through, these blood samples need to. They're more important to Southern Command than everything in this convoy."
"Understood, sir."
He watched the youth rumble off, trying not to think of his own misadventures as a courier. Maybe somewhere on the road Frat would meet another capable young teen, the way Valentine had long ago met Frat. Part of being in service was helping train talented young people to take your place.
By the time Frat had left, the plane had taken off too, flying back to the north-probably across the Ohio in just a few minutes.
Valentine tried to raise Fort Seng to inform Lambert that Frat was on the way, but he couldn't make contact. With one more thing to worry about, Valentine returned to Rover and put the convoy in motion again.
"See if you can find a road turning north," he told Habanero. "I'd like to see what that plane is up to."
"Looks like a flea market that broke up quick," Duvalier said.
Valentine wouldn't forget the sight of the body field as long as he lived.
Even as an old man he'd remember details, be able to traverse the gentle slopes dotted with briar thickets, stepping from body to body.
You had to choose route and footing if you didn't want to step on some child.
Judging from the injuries and old bloodstains on the bodies, these were ravies victims. Some had torn or missing clothes, and all had the haggard, thin-skinned look of someone in the grip of the raving madness.
"What killed them, Doc?" Valentine asked.
"My guess is some kind of nerve agent. That accounts for some of the grotesque posing. Whatever it was, it happened quickly." He knelt to look at a body. "Notice anything funny about these?" Doc asked.
"There's nothing funny in this field," Duvalier said.
"Strange, then. Look at the ravies," Doc said.