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As you watch the town shrinking in your rear-view mirror, the shock of your encounter, especially the death of Long Jake, makes you shiver despite the burning midday heat. ‘D’you know those guys?’ you ask, anxious to make some sense of the situation.
‘Yeah,’ replies the girl, her voice shaky, ‘though not by choice.’
As you race back along the highway to McKinney, the girl, whose name is Kate Norton, tells you about the events leading up to your meeting. She comes from Kansas City and was one of the lucky few who managed to survive there since the holocaust. A month ago her colony was attacked and wiped out by a gang of motorcycle renegades called ‘the Lions’. Their leader, who calls himself ‘Mad Dog Michigan’, took a liking to her and spared her life. He was once a high-ranking HAVOC agent who had escaped from Pontiac Deep Pen near Detroit, and he and his gang, most of whom were also HAVOC escapees, were heading for the Fort Hood Military Reserve near Killeen, the largest armoury in the whole of the United States.
‘He hopes to find enough weapons and ammunition there to equip the other HAVOC clans who are in control of cities all along the eastern seaboard. Once he’s armed his army he’ll take over the rest of the country,’ she says, her blue eyes brimming with tears. ‘Three days ago the Lions reached Oklahoma City. They were desperate for food, so Mad Dog decided to camp there and forage the surrounding area. Until then I’d always been kept closely guarded, but while most of them were away I managed to steal a bike and escape. I was beginning to think I’d made it. I was wrong. I ran out of fuel just north of Sherman and had to ditch the bike. I met up with your friend this morning when he walked into town. Soon after he’d told me all about you and your colony and your plans to head west, those guys back there arrived. Mad Dog sent them to find me.’ She pauses to wipe her tears and brush the tangle of windswept blonde hair away from her beautiful face.
‘I’m really sorry about what happened to Long Jake. It’s all my fault.’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ you say, trying to console her. ‘It’s over now. Once we get back to DC1 and take off for Big Spring, Mad Dog and his gang will be just a bad memory.’
‘I hope you’re right, Cal,’ she says, unconvinced.
‘Sure I’m right. Killeen is south o’ here an’ we’re headin’ west. He’ll miss us by miles.’
‘Maybe,’ she replies, her voice wavering and hesitant, ‘but there’s something else you ought to know.’
