100
‘My name’s Brent Jaeger,’ he says, and tentatively offers his hand in friendship. Rickenbacker hesitates, and then shakes it, and at once the man seems to relax, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
‘For a minute there I thought you two were clansmen,’ he says. ‘You can’t be too careful in these parts.’
‘Where you from?’ you ask.
‘I’ve made my way up from Panama, mostly on foot. I’ve got the blisters to prove it, too. I was working on the canal when HAVOC pulled the plug. I was lucky; I found a safe zone in the jungle and waited there for spring to come around again. It’s sure been a long time comin’. Since things have settled I’ve been making my way north. I’m lookin’ to get back home to San Francisco.’
‘You’re lucky you’ve got this far on your own,’ you say.
‘There were three of us when we started out, but the heat and the clans did for my friends and now I’m the only one left. I’m gonna make it, if only for their sakes.’
To avoid the sun, you and Rickenbacker accept Jaeger’s offer to share the shade of his makeshift tent while he continues his story. ‘I heard about the scene in California from some survivalists I stayed with for a while, down in Alamos. Sounds like they’ve gone an’ turned the state into one big fortress. The army’s in charge and they’ve got things locked down tight. They’ve kicked all the troublemakers out into the desert and slammed the door. In the south, I hear they’ve drawn up a new state line, from Pine Valley to Banning. All the old roads in and out are guarded and I hear they’ve got real picky ’bout who they let in.’
He reaches over to a tattered denim jacket lying on the ground, and takes an equally tattered map from an inside pocket. ‘I plan on going in here,’ he says, pointing to a part of the map that is so worn that it has become almost illegible. ‘It’s a place in the mountains, north of Lake Henshaw. I figure that the army can’t have enough men to patrol that area too well. If you two’d take my advice, you’d think ’bout doin’ the same.’
You tell Jaeger how you survived the post-holocaust years. You also tell him that you are acting as scouts for a convoy that is equally determined to reach California, only they are now so short of food and water that, unless fresh supplies are found soon, few of them are likely to survive the 400 miles that separate you from the Pacific.
‘Man, you guys have got problems,’ he says, shaking his head slowly from side to side. ‘And you’re headin’ slap-bang into even more. Ain’t you heard—Yuma is a clan base. And believe me, the guys that are holding that city are heavy-duty bad news. If you’re thinkin’ of crossing the Colorado River there, forget it. You’ll never make it. They’ll blow you off the road.’
Concerned by what Jaeger has said, and anxious that he tell everything he knows about the clan base at Yuma, you ask him to return to the convoy with you. After some thought he decides that at least there is safety in numbers, and agrees to join the colony. When you get back to Dateland, Macy and Langdon are shocked to see three people squeezed into your roadster, but you soon explain Jaeger’s background, and they offer to transport him in their Trans-sol, which at least has the luxury of rear passenger seats. During your absence they have managed to forage some food, which you divide between you before you return to the convoy at Aztec.
