“You’re going from bunker to bunker.”
Toulalan tossed off a postapocalyptic French-Canadian shrug and considered the one-hundred-year-old wine in his glass by candlelight. “Will you tell me how you got into the bunker?”
Ryan was starting to believe that Yoann Toulalan had no idea what the mat-trans chamber was. “Codes can be broken.”
“The computers are locked.”
“Trade secret.”
“Ah.”
Ryan threw his cards on the table. It might be for an ephemeral moment, but Ontario was green. His rad counter told him this was the cleanest land in North America he’d seen in a while. His friends didn’t want to jump again, and despite his every effort he found himself liking Yoann Toulalan. “What are you proposing?”
“You and your friends can drive and fight a LAV. That’s worth its weight in gold.” Toulalan set his glass on the table. “I’m tempted to offer you a place here in the convoy.”
“But?”
“But I beg of you, tell me something of you and your friends.”
Ryan kept it short and to the point. “I’ve led convoys, guarded convoys and drove convoys. I can drive any wag you got, and I can wrench a little.”
“Very useful.” Toulalan looked up toward the LAV guarding the convoy. “And your pale friend?”
“Jak’s the best fighter I know, and he’s a tracker.”
“Excellent.” Toulalan looked over at J.B. The Armorer was getting deep into his beer. “And your cannoneer?”
“Armorer. He can fix any blaster you got.”
“Excellent.” Toulalan looked at Mildred. “And her?”
“She’s a healer, and you tell Six ‘hands off.’”
“Understood.” Toulalan ran an appreciative eye over Krysty. “And her.”
Ryan smiled. “She’s mine.”
“Ah.”
“She’s a crack shot,” Ryan said.
“Better and better.”
Toulalan looked askance at Doc. “And him?”
Doc was well into his wine and speaking French to a good-looking young woman wearing a coverall and a tool belt. Ryan had to admit the old man was something of a sight wherever they showed up.
The one-eyed man smiled. “Doc’s our…resident scholar.”
“Ah!” Toulalan laughed. “Very good!”
Ryan watched Six walk by. He never stopped walking the perimeter, but each time he passed the feast he cast long looks at Mildred.
“Your man Six doesn’t like muties.”
Toulalan made noise. “Who does?”
Krysty’s body went rigid against Ryan. He kept his tone neutral. “You don’t tolerate them?”
“In the Deathlands, do you?” the man countered.
“Some villes do. Some don’t.”
“Ah. Well, in Val-d’Or those born mutant are culled.” Toulalan shrugged again. He seemed to consider the matter to be of little consequence. “Life is hard enough without nurturing horrors.”
Krysty’s hand clenched Ryan’s knee.
Ryan kept his voice neutral. “What’re you proposing?”
“Accompany us west. As far as you like. My convoy will be far stronger with you among us. As for you, there’s safety in numbers. Alone, even a wag as powerful as a LAV is vulnerable.”
Everything Toulalan said was true. Ryan took another beer. “Authority?”
Toulalan shrugged again. “I’m the leader of this convoy. You’re the leader of your people. If I wish something of any of your people, I’ll ask you. You’ll accept my authority over the convoy and obey my orders until the day you find you can’t. On that day you and I’ll shake hands and part as friends.” Toulalan held up his glass again. “If you join us, the only thing I’ll promise you is food like you have never known until that food runs out. That will be your—how do you say it in Deathlands, jack? And when the bounty of the Diefenbunker runs out…” Toulalan shrugged again. “Well, you have tasted Six’s pig.”
It was a damn tempting offer. “I’ll have to talk with my people.”
“But of course. Take your time. You may give me your answer in the morning, and whatever that answer should be, I insist you and your friends stay for breakfast.”
“Mighty kind, and I’ll think on your offer.” Ryan rose and took Krysty’s hand. He looked over at the mandolin player and the flautist. A young man playing a hand drum had joined them. “Right now I’m gonna dance with Krysty.” The redheaded beauty grinned in delight and stood to join him.
RYAN SIGHED as Krysty collapsed forward onto his chest. He pulled the top blanket back over them both. He handed her the canteen without being asked, and Krysty gulped water thirstily. She gasped and tilted the spout to Ryan’s lips. He drank deeply and relaxed back, staring up into the Northern Lights. “What do you think?”
Krysty sighed. “It’s greener here. The air is cleaner. Open country. Just lying here I can feel Gaia more strongly.”
“Toulalan said the good times don’t last long.”
“Neither does a man’s orgasm, but I don’t hear you complaining much.”
Ryan snorted and got back on topic. “And?”
“Lot of good food. Mildred isn’t going to want to leave until every last crumb is gone.”
Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Mildred so happy. “The sec man, Six, he’s eyeballing her long and hard.”
Krysty chuckled. “Mildred said ‘brother-man’ probably hasn’t seen any chocolate good thing in a long time.”
Ryan got the gist of it. “And?”
“And Doc could use a rest from jumping. Gaia knows so could the rest of us. Besides, Toulalan said we can leave whenever we like, and I think I believe him. He seems like a decent man.”
Ryan knew Krysty’s moods all too well. Despite the wine, the dancing and the lovemaking, he knew she had been simmering since supper. “You aren’t happy.”
“No.” Krysty’s voice grew cold. “I’m not.”
Ryan had a real strong suspicion about what was bothering her. “And?”
