"Trying to keep as quiet as possible as we got away, obviously, sir. That fury on a motorcycle came roaring up and said you'd had some difficulty. Colonel Lambert sent me back for you and Captain Ediyak ahead with the dependents, and then organized the rest into a Mike Force to support either if we ran into trouble. She's a better than fair tactician, sir."
"Where'd you get the bicycles?"
"We found them in a warehouse in Owensboro. Ownership seemed to be a matter of some dispute, as they were meant for transport to a purchaser in the Ordnance, but said trader was in no mood to fulfill his end with ravies in town. Colonel Lambert made him a generous purchase offer."
"What was that?" Valentine asked, but he suspected he knew Lambert's bid.
"He could ride along with the rest of the civilians, provided the bikes came as well." Patel looked at the stuporous ravies gathered around the musical truck. "What are we going to do with this lot?"
"Give them back to the people who created them."
"An excellent idea, sir, but just how do we do that?"
"We're going to need some noise, Patel. A whole lot of noise."
"I'm sure that can be arranged. Music or-"
"I have three vocalists in mind," Valentine said. "My radio's wrecked. Can you put me in touch with Fort Seng?"
They cleaned out the armored car's cab and brought the engine to life. Valentine put Ma at the wheel, as she understood both the armored car's controls and the volume and direction controls on the loudspeakers. Valentine had them turn down the road toward Owensboro. According to Patel, the city had been hard hit by ravies.
Bee with her Grog gun, the techie Wolf, Boelnitz for the sake of his story, and Chieftain just in case rode in back. Valentine road shotgun, squeezed onto the seat with Duvalier, who was clinging to him like a limpet.
"I'm worried about those bites," she said. "First sign of trembling, you go into handcuffs."
Valentine wondered if the bites were taking their toll. He was so very tired. But he had to see this through before he succumbed to either exhaustion or the disease.
They passed through the beltline of the city and drove among the Woolies like wary naturalists intruding on a family of gorillas. They thronged thicker and thicker around the armored car.
Suspicious, bloodshot eyes glared at them. Nostrils flared as the Woolies took in their scent.
"A little more soothing music," Valentine said.
Ma fiddled with her thumb, rolling it back and forth across the ancient, electrical-taped device. Harsh, synthesized music blared.
The Woolies startled.
The music hushed, stopped. A big Woolie, his mouth ringed by a brown smear of dried blood like a child's misadventure with lipstick, lurched toward the speaker, head cocked.
Ma said something under her breath-Valentine had no attention to spare for anyone but the big Woolie-and a soothing cello backed by violins started up.
The speakers ratcheted up, filling the main street with noise.
More Woolies emerged from alleys and doorways, some dragging dead dogs or more gruesome bits of fodder.
"They like that," Duvalier said, peering out a firing slot.
"Just like the Pied Piper," Valentine said. "Now to teach Hamelin a lesson."
Soon his followers filled two lanes and the verge to either side of the highway leading out of Owensboro and to the east.
They found a slight hill from which they could see the bridge and watch the fireworks. Valentine signaled Ma to stop the soothing music.
Valentine's trio of iron throats opened up. Guinevere, Igraine, and Morganna began to sing, and their notes fell upon the highway in brilliant flash and thunder.
The ravies ran toward the bridge.
"There go the Woolies!" one of the artillery observers reported over the radio. The Wolf's moniker had spread quickly.