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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.
Out of the hills, the drifts grew less and less and finally disappeared entirely. The snow hadn't been as heavy in this part of Kentucky. Valentine put Rover back at the head of the column, but the ice patches were still treacherous.
"Major, Doc says we should pull over," Habanero said, acknowledging a signal. Valentine had taken his headset off so he could think about Ahn-Kha.
"Why?" But Valentine could guess.
"He wants you to look at Rockaway."
Valentine didn't want to stop for anything. "He's symptomatic?"
"Doc just wants to pull over."
Valentine signaled for a stop. Everyone took the opportunity to get out and hit the honeybuckets.
Valentine went to the Boneyard. The nurse silently opened the rear hatch. A red-eyed Mrs. O'Coombe nodded to him, her Bible stuck in her lap, a finger marking her place.
"Well, Doc?" Valentine asked.
He shook his head. "He's symptomatic. Starting to shake."
"You have him sedated?"
"Yes," the nurse said.
"What's the usual medical procedure for ravies?" Valentine said.
