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They saw their share of sights on the drive, descending from the Mississippi plateau in central Kentucky.
Valentine would rather not have seen any of them, and it took a while for him to forget them.
As the wind died down and it turned into a still winter day, they saw smudges on the horizon, barns and houses and whole blocks of towns burning.
They saw cars and trucks with doors torn off and windshields punched in, blood splattered on the upholstery and panels.
The column passed huddled figures along the side of the road, sitting in meager shelter afforded by ruins of houses and ancient, rusted shells of cars and trucks. Many of them had frozen to death, fleeing God-knew-what blind in the night. When the column saw a figure floundering in the snow, waving its arms, they slowed and shouted. If it shouted back in English, they let them climb into the back of the Chuckwagon.
If not . . .
Target practice, Chieftain called it.
For the ravies, the snow worked against them.
Valentine tried to turn his mind off, not think about the future. The old Kurian trick might just work again. If that armored column massing outside Owensboro came into Kentucky and plunged into the heartland of the state-and the Kentucky Alliance-bringing order by killing off the diseased and dangerous, the Kur might just be hailed as heroes. At the very least they'd have little difficulty seizing key road junctions, towns, and rail lines. The disease-ravaged A-o-K wouldn't be in any kind of shape to contest the matter.
His own command would be hounded out of the state, and Southern Command, instead of having a quietly neutral bunch of legworm ranchers, would have a full-fledged enemy with access to some hard-to-stop cavalry.
Five circles filled in . . .
"I think I've got a Kentucky contact, sir. Major Valentine, they're asking for you by name. You know somebody called Ankle?"
Ahn-Kha! Even Duvalier bolted awake.
Valentine put on a pair of earphones and cursed when they wouldn't adjust fast enough.
He heard his friend's deep, slightly rubbery tones speaking: " . . . very short of ammunition. Before I lost contact with friends in the Shenandoah, I was told they had military roadblocks in all the principal passes, and there were reports of aircraft flying in the mountains."
"How are you, Old Horse?" Valentine asked, his throat tight.
"My David, can it be that you are caught up in this too?"
"Afraid so. What's your status?"
"It goes . . . hard, my David. There are so few of us left. I sent some of the men away so they could see to their homes and families. I only hope I did not delay too long. We are-Well, best not to say too much over the radio. But a good-bye may be in order."
For Ahn-Kha, always quick to make light of burdens, to talk like this, it turned everything behind Valentine's stomach muscles into a solid block of ice.
"Don't draw attention to yourself. They seem to be drawn by light and noise," Valentine said. "You haven't been bitten, have you?"
Static came back, or maybe the Golden One was laughing and shaking the mike. "Oh, yes, many times. Fortunately I seem to be immune. I wish I could say the same for the rest of my brave men. I will not say more. We have made some hard choices, hard decisions, and more hard decisions are coming. As you said, we too are aware that they are drawn to sudden sounds and sharp flashes and-" His words were lost to static. Habanero adjusted the dial. "We've used blasting explosives to try to draw them up into the mountains, away from our populations. We have, perhaps, been too successful. One might walk across the throng using heads like paving stones. Excuse me, there is some commotion. I must sign off."
"Good luck," Valentine said, wishing for once he had Sime's tongue for a phrase worthy of his old friend.
Valentine watched Boelnitz, an earpiece for the radio in one ear, writing furiously and transcribing the Grog's words.
"Who's writing this passage? Pencil Boelnitz or Cooper Llewellyn?" Valentine asked.
"I don't know, Major. All I can do is try to be accurate about what I'm hearing."
"I hope you're getting it right, sir. That's the hulking, hairy-handed killer I know," Valentine said.
Boelnitz drew away, pencil trembling. Valentine realized he was snarling.
Seven circles filled in . . .
They were getting closer to the Ohio now. The land became less hilly and was filled with more old farms. Someone sprayed the column with gunfire as they passed. It caused no casualties, but Valentine wondered if the person shot because he or she suspected they were from the Northwest Ordnance, or if they shot because they suspected they were Southern Command.
