Chapter 5 Cora #2
Renn picked the two Vampyren up at the overlook ridge.
He was on the radio for twenty minutes. The two Vampyren turned out to be Bay-area-aligned, anti-Council in the leave-us-alone sense rather than the hunt-us-down sense, and they had picked up the convoy's scent at Vegas and had been paralleling east because they had a small barter cohort that operated on the Texas-New Mexico line and had wanted to know whether we were friendly.
Renn was friendly. The two Vampyren rode in.
We exchanged a small amount of fuel for a small amount of news, which was the way the Bay-aligned cohort operated.
The news was: Hess had moved south of his last known position and was now somewhere between Amarillo and Tulsa, with a force of fifteen, including six full Vampyren and nine human anti-Council irregulars. Fifteen.
Fifteen was a number I had not been ready for.
"Cora." Renn's voice was even. The Vampyren-warrior pitch.
"Yes."
"This is bigger than I projected."
"It is."
"Two-on-one against Hess himself was always the plan. Two-on-one against Hess plus fifteen is a different operation."
"It is."
"We have three options. One. We turn back. Tell Loren the corridor is closed. Wait until Hess moves north again. Loren will hate this option but it is the safe option."
"Two."
"Two. We reroute through the northern Oklahoma line. Adds three days. Avoids Hess's main force. Hess's outriders will still pick us up but the outriders are scout-class. Manageable. We arrive at Urbana with the team intact but three days late."
"Three."
"Three. We push through the Hess corridor at speed, hit Urbana before Hess can consolidate, do the extraction, and run home through the Sierra Nevada. We will probably take casualties. We probably will get most of the team home."
I looked at Drew.
Drew was looking at the map.
"Cora."
"Drew."
"Three days late could be the difference between Deedee alive and Deedee not alive."
"It could."
"Two of the team taking casualties could be the difference between two of us alive and two of us not."
"Yes."
"What's the call."
I looked at the map.
I looked at the carving.
I looked at the photograph in my chest pocket.
I keyed the radio.
"Renn. Cruz. Sylvia. We go option two. Northern Oklahoma line.
Three days late. The Bay outriders will broker safe passage on the northern corridor.
They owe us a favor for the fuel we gave them.
We will arrive at Urbana on day twelve instead of day nine.
We will take the casualty risk down to almost nothing for the road leg.
We will save the casualty risk for the extraction itself, which is the place where we cannot avoid it. "
"Copy." Renn.
"Copy." Cruz.
"Copy." Sylvia.
"Drew."
"Yes."
"You disagreed."
"I did."
"Why didn't you press it."
"Because you are the lead and the lead makes the call."
"That's not the answer."
"It is the answer."
"Drew."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Because the count of the team is more important than the count of the days.
If I had pressed it and you had agreed and we had taken three casualties on the road, I would have been responsible for the casualties.
You would have been the lead but I would have been the one who pressed.
I am not yet trusted to press. I am still earning press-rights.
Press-rights come with the time. I have not put in the time. I will not press until I have."
"Drew. You have put in the time."
"Cora."
"Yes."
"That is what the lead says to make her team feel better. It is not the same as me actually having put in the time. You and I both know the difference."
I looked at him.
He looked at the map.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay."
"Northern Oklahoma."
"Northern Oklahoma."
He rolled up the map. He set it back in the dashboard pocket.
He picked up the carving. The 7 was still facing up.
He set it down again. The carving had not moved on the dashboard since Tess had given it to him.
He had not moved it. The convoy had not moved it.
The carving sat where it had been at oh-six-thirty on day one.
We drove.
The Bay outriders peeled off at the next ridge. Renn waved them off. They waved back. They turned north into the scrub.
The northern Oklahoma corridor was the new plan.
The weather was the next thing. The weather would not arrive for three days.
The weather was Oklahoma in May, and Oklahoma in May after eleven years of post-invasion climate degradation was a system that did not always know it was supposed to be a thunderstorm and not a hurricane.
The weather would arrive on day seven. The storm was coming.
I did not know that yet. Renn did not know that yet. The Bay outriders did not know that yet.
Drew might have known. Drew did not say.
We drove.
* * *
We made camp that night at a former oil-services lot outside what had been a town called Borger.
The lot had been a place where pipeline crews kept their trucks.
The crews were long gone. The lot had a small fence, three corrugated sheds, and a working artesian well that the convoy refilled the water cans from.
Cruz had been here before. The lot was on his cache map.
The watch rotation went up. Renn first. Cruz second. Sylvia third. Drew off.
I sat at the back of the lead truck with the route map and the new northern Oklahoma overlay.
Drew sat next to me.
We did not talk for a long time.
The northern sky was clear. The Texas stars were the stars I had not seen at Mojave because the Mojave camp's perimeter lights washed out the small ones.
These were the small ones. The Milky Way ran north to south, a thick pale band, the kind of clear I remembered from being a kid in Illinois when my father had taken me to the Indiana Dunes for the meteor shower in the August before everything.
My father.
I had not thought about him in two years.
I had not thought about my father since Talia's name had gone into the box in my chest where Talia lived.
Drew said:
"Cora."
"Yes."
"There is a thing I have been thinking about."
"Tell me."
"The carving has a 7 on it."
"Yes."
"The team is 5."
"Yes."
"Auriel and Deedee and Mira are 3. Plus you and me, if we count, is 5. That is the same number as the team."
"It is."
"I do not know what to do with the coincidence."
I looked at him.
"Drew."
"Yes."
"You just counted yourself."
"I did."
"You counted yourself with us. With Auriel and Deedee and Mira."
"I did."
"That is the first time."
"I know."
"You counted yourself."
"Cora. I have been counting myself for two days. Since Tess told me about the seven. I have not been able to count myself in nine months and now I count myself. I do not know what to do with it."
"You count yourself."
"That is what I am saying. Yes."
I looked at the carving.
I looked at him.
"Drew."
"Yes."
"Welcome to the count."
He did not say anything.
I let the silence sit.
The Milky Way ran north to south. The Texas stars had not changed in eleven years.
The convoy was at rest. Renn was at the perimeter, doing his unit's small low pre-dawn chant.
Cruz was asleep in the second truck. Sylvia was asleep in the third truck.
Drew was beside me at the back of the lead truck.
The carving was on the dashboard. The Polaroid of Deedee was in my chest pocket.
The route map showed the new northern corridor.
We were on day four of nine. Or day four of twelve, now. We were on the count.
Drew leaned back against the truck.
"Cora."
"Yes."
"Thank you for signing the paper."
"You are welcome."
"You are welcome is a Cora answer."
"It is."
"Cora answers are not common."
"I know."
He closed his eyes.
I closed mine.
I did not sleep yet but I sat with my eyes closed and I let the count settle.
Two hundred and fourteen humans at Mojave.
Eleven Vampyren. One half-Vampyren adult, here.
Six Lucian who'd stuck, there. One baby, there.
Five on the team, here. Six in Urbana, waiting.
Three children we are counting: Auriel, Deedee, Mira.
Two adults who are counting them: me, him.
One photograph in my chest pocket. One carving on the dashboard with a 7 burned into it.
One name in the box in my chest that I am going to say out loud in nine days in a bathroom in Illinois.
The count was holding.
I opened my eyes.
The sky was the clear that Tess would have liked. I made a note to tell Tess about the sky when we got home.
I closed my eyes again.
I slept.