“Got crop dusting drones I repurposed,” the rancher said. “Been watching you since you got close to my land here. I got a friend in Rosewater, thought she might be on board. Tamsyn Wendover? Know her?”
“She’s the one who saved us,” Les said. “She sounded the alert when the infected came and got us to the buses. She stayed behind though. I think, I hope, she saved herself. Smart lady. Got a friend of hers on the bus, Devora Sims, and she believes Tamsyn headed out to her own ranch when the shit hit the fan.”
“Don’t know Devora,” the rancher said. “Good to have news of Tamsyn, vague as it is.” Clearing his throat, he seemed to have reached a decision. “There’s an old ranch trail running through the edge of my holdings. My ancestor cut it when he staked his claim, before there were towns or roads out here. Needed it to run crops and cattle up to what used to be a shipping port further north.” He turned and pointed at the foothills. “Runs through there, comes out the other side of Millerville. Pretty straight shot from there to Glastine.”
Les stared at the terrain, seeing no sign of a road, much less a trail. “It’s not on the maps.”
“Of course not. It’s private and my family has kept it that way. Had my boys camouflage the access point to my land but we can guide you there and send you on your way.” The rancher rubbed his chin. “The road may be a tight squeeze for your buses, winding through the hills but I reckon you can make it. It’s a better bet than attracting Ruger’s attention or stirring up the good people of Millerville. They’ll take your vehicles and supplies and draft all of you into service in their war with Ruger. Or kill ya.”
“What if we can’t make it through with the buses?” Les asked. “Can we count on you for help?”
Perry was shaking his head emphatically before Les finished the question. “We put you on the trail and then you’re strictly on your own. I’m doing this for Tamsyn’s sake and my charity stops there. These are hard times.”
“No argument from me. I need to talk to my other driver,” Les said.
“Five minutes and then we’re leaving. You ain’t ready to be guided to the trailhead, too bad.”
“You got any news about Glastine?” Les asked the question which had been bothering him the most during this whole trip. “Is there a functioning camp there or are we headed for another disaster?”
“To the best of my knowledge the place is still there and open for business. Doing a robo broadcast three times a day advising people to come join them. There’s a live broadcast every now and then, encoded, last one was five days ago. It ain’t my business.” The rancher spat in the dust, tipped his hat and sauntered back to the shelter of the massed vehicles.
Les considered for a moment and walked to his bus. He didn’t care for the weapons he knew were trained on him from the barricade as he went but he trusted the crusty rancher up to a point. Devora opened the door for him and got out of his seat. He stood in the aisle and said, “They’ve offered us passage through their land on an unmarked country road the family’s First Landing ancestor dug. Supposedly it comes out of the foothills close to Glastine so the route would allow us to miss Ruger and Millerville. But it’s going to be rough going and he isn’t offering any help once they show us the trailhead. I’m going to take his offer so anyone who doesn’t want to risk it with me can get out and walk now.”
Discussions broke out among the passengers but Les ignored them, sliding into his seat and comming Ethan to update him.
“You think we can make it through those foothills?” his friend asked. “These buses aren’t built for rugged terrain.”
“The rancher thinks we can do it but barely,” Les said. “I figure it’s certain death to go near that Ruger guy and from what Mr. Norwood said, the citizens of Millerville aren’t feeling any more hospitable. Follow me and keep your fingers crossed.”
Once he’d signed off, he turned to Devora. “This guy’s an old friend of Tamsyn’s. He saw the Rosewater signs on our buses and was hoping maybe she was aboard. He’s helping us for her sake, or so he says.”
“She was tight with the other northern ranchers,” Devora told him. ”Small world, I guess. She’s still helping us if this man was her friend and is acting on their friendship, even though she chose not to come along. I sure hope she got away and made it home to her ranch.”
“We’ll probably never know,” Les said. “I didn’t tell him how few actual Rosewater residents there are left on board.”
“Probably a wise move,” she agreed. Pointing at the forward vid, she said, “Here comes someone now. Want me to take the wheel again?”
“Yes. Get the engine started and wait.” Les descended the steps and met the unsmiling woman who’d challenged him when they first arrived at the barricade.
“You ready?” she asked, as if she didn’t care one way or the other. “Dad sent a crew ahead to move the camouflage so we can get you onto the ranch and pointed in the right direction. After that?—”
“We’re on our own, I got it. You riding in the bus with us?”
“Seven hells, no. I’m about to pull out on my AGcycle so follow me. Oh and one more thing, Dad’ll be keeping his drones on you, so don’t try anything funny once you’re on our road. And don’t get ideas about setting up a camp and staying. We don’t want freeloaders. You’ll have to spend one night on the trail, we get that, but no more. His drones don’t only do surveillance,” she said in a veiled threat as she walked away.
An epidemic of the infected sure brings out the worst in people, Les thought as she strutted back to the barricade. At least her father’s willing to give us a chance to avoid trouble.
The roar of an enhanced engine was all the warning he had before the rancher’s daughter shot out from the side of the barricade, which was dissolving as he stood there. The giant agri robos trundled away cross country and the people loaded up into the trucks, which pulled aside. Not happy with his choice, yet knowing there really hadn’t been a viable alternative, Les hustled up the bus steps and took the controls. The AGcycle was already pretty far down the highway so he accelerated to catch up.
About four miles further on the AGcycle started blinking its turn indicators and then the rider pulled over abruptly. Les stood on the brakes and the bus came to a halt.
A crew of ranch hands had just finished removing a bunch of scrub brush and bushes which had hidden the opening to the road Les was to use. It was a dirt road, winding across the open prairie ahead. He wasn’t too pleased with the condition of the road but figured it would do.
The woman brought her cycle to the bus door and he opened the louvers. “Get going,” she said. ”We have to cover the opening up again.”
Chapter Nine
“The road looks rough,” he said.
