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He did. Some inner warning system sometimes let him know when there was a Reaper around-the "Valentingle," his comrades in the Wolves used to call it. First as a joke. Then they learned to trust it.
"I can ask around." Post was right; he had a couple of tenuous contacts at the Miskatonic-the main scholarly center for research into the Kurian Order-and with Southern Command's intelligence. But that was pre-Solon. For all he knew they were dead or lost in the chaos civilians were already calling "the bad spell."
"Let me know the truth, whatever it is, Val."
"Can I have these?"
"Sure. I copied down everything in my journal."
Valentine rested his hand on Post's forearm. "Listen to the doctors and get better. The Razors need you back, even if you're stumping around on a piece of East Texas pine."
"I heard they were breaking up the Razors," Post said.
"From who?"
Post shrugged, and the effort left him red-faced. "Some doctor. Asked me what outfit I was with."
"Probably a rumor. Lots of stuff floating around military hospitals."
"Yeah, like turds in a bedpan," Post's neighbor said.
"A regular Lieutenant Suzy Sunshine, that guy," Post said. Lieutenant Suzy Sunshine was a PoUyannaish cartoon character in one of the army papers-Freedom's Voice-who turned any misfortune into a cheerful quip.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Valentine said.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Valentine left, upset enough to forget the ice.
* * * *
The sun had vanished by the time Valentine returned to the Accolade. The Razors had set up some old car upholstery in the overgrown parking lot, and had gathered to drink and watch the sun go down.
"Bump, Major?" Ruvayed, the communications officer from the control tower, hollered as he passed. She looked off-kilter, like a dog back from the vet-part of her skull was shaved and a dressing blossomed in the bare spot like a white flower. She held out a tall glass.
"I need a major bump," another man added, flat on his back with a tepee of gnawed roasting ears, holding a lit cigar clear of the grass.
"Just have to check in," Valentine said as he passed, regretting the forgotten ice.
Meadows and Nail, the Bear leader, were going over personnel sheets, trying to work out store consumption and medical requirements for the men stabled at the Accolade.
"Wish staff hadn't snatched Styachowski back," Nail said, looking at the broken end of his pencil. "She went through paperwork like quicklime. Hey, Val."
"Maybe we need a piece of that blue blob they pried off the Kurian capsule," Valentine said. "I heard they're keeping it at Brigade. It eats paper."
The "dingleberry" was the only survivor of the Kurian capsule's trip through the defeated Dallas forces. The last Valentine had heard the Dallas Quislings were almost to Houston, being shepherded on blistered feet by mounted Rangers.
"Nail, can I have a moment with the colonel?" Valentine asked.
"Gladly. I'll grab a piece of twilight while I can." Nail drew a utility knife and went to work on his pencil point as he walked out the door.
"How's Will?" Meadows asked.
"Came through fine. I spoke to one doctor and two nurses. He's feeling a little low, but physically he's doing well."
"Send Narcisse over to have a chat with him. She's got a way of putting things in perspective."
"He said there's a rumor floating around that the Razors are through," Valentine said. His voice broke a little as he spoke. The Razors were a cross to bear, but also a matter of some personal pride.
