The firelight illuminated Susan’s face from below. She shrugged. “Country girls know how to survive. Enough about my adventures. Tell me about the Sentinels—and my brother.”
Yeah, the voice said. Tell Susan about me.
Capelli stared into the flames. “You know he’s dead.”
“Yes,” Susan said soberly. “That’s what I figured. But I never received anything official.”
“That’s because the Sentinels were top secret,” Capelli explained, “and all of us were listed as KIA. Then the government collapsed and millions of people were buried in unmarked graves. Or not buried at all.”
Susan blew steam off her mug of tea. “How did Nathan die?”
Capelli tried to meet her eyes but couldn’t. “Your brother was infected while fighting in England. The virus should have taken over his body, should have turned him into a Chimera, but for some reason it didn’t. Not right away.
“Then a scientist named Malikov injected experimental subjects with the Chimeran virus as part of Project Abraham. Later on he developed an inhibitor treatment to keep the virus under control. All of the Sentinel troopers received it, including your brother, but there were signs that he was beginning to change in spite of the injections. And, as the fighting grew even more intense, he refused treatment in order to battle the stinks.”
Capelli’s words were followed by a moment of silence as tears began to roll down Susan’s cheeks. “What are you saying? That my brother turned into a Chimera?”
Capelli forced his eyes to make contact with hers. “No. He was beginning to change. I thought so, anyway. And if he had, the entire team would have been in danger. So I shot him.”
There was an audible gasp as Susan took a deep breath. “You-you shot my brother?”
“Yes,” Capelli said woodenly. “I thought it was my duty to do so. Some people agreed with me. But most of them didn’t. So I was thrown out of the Sentinels—and I’ve been wandering around the badlands ever since.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed as she wiped the tears away with the back of her left hand. Suddenly Capelli found himself looking down the barrel of a .22 pistol. Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I should shoot you.”
Capelli nodded. “That would make sense. Sometimes I think I should shoot myself.”
Ten long seconds dragged by. Suddenly the pistol disappeared under her jacket. Capelli’s eyebrows rose. “You aren’t going to shoot me?”
“Not tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Possibly. It’s too early to say.”
“Okay, then! Would you like some more tea?”
“Yes, please.”
The fire crackled, their shadows loomed against the cliff, and Rowdy yawned. He was content.
When Capelli awoke it was to a cold, gray morning. A front had moved into the area overnight, and judging from the look of the pewter-gray sky, it was going to rain. But that was okay with Capelli, because after weeks of imprisonment he was free! And thanks to Rowdy’s presence he’d been able to sleep well.
So Capelli was in a good mood until he rolled out of the sack to discover that Susan had left. It wasn’t surprising. Not after what he’d done to her brother. But, unlikely though such a scenario was, he’d been hoping that she would manage to forgive him.
Oddly enough, the voice tried to console him. Look at it this way, Capelli! She could have shot you. The fact that she didn’t is forgiveness of a sort.
He spent the next half-hour brushing his teeth, taking a chilly sponge bath, and starting a fire. The water was boiling, and Capelli was about to pour some oatmeal into it, when Rowdy bounded into camp, his tail a-wagging.
“Is that hot water for me?”
Capelli’s head came up. Susan was standing about ten feet away. “I took a look around,” she announced. “The area is clear. For the moment at least.”
So saying, Susan shrugged her pack off, put it down, and opened the flap. Two minutes later she was crouched on the other side of the fire, drinking tea.
Had she really been out looking around? Or was that a cover story? What about the possibility that Susan left, changed her mind, and doubled back? There was no way to know—and Capelli wasn’t about to ask. “It looks like you have a new friend,” he said with a nod towards Rowdy.
The dog was lying next to Susan, looking up at her with worshipful eyes. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said. “He reminds me of the dog I had back home. So where are we headed?”
Capelli felt a rising sense of hope. There had been no discussions, no negotiations, just the casual use of the word “we.” Did that mean what he thought it did? That Susan had chosen to remain with him for a while? The possibility of that made him unexpectedly happy. But the situation was delicate, he could sense that, so he chose his words with care.
“I was on my way to Haven, Oklahoma, when the circus people captured me.” Having told her that much, Capelli went on to share the rest of the story, including the deal with Locke, and the way the big man died. “So I can’t take him to Haven,” Capelli concluded. “But I can deliver this. He wanted his sister to have it. And, thanks to you, I was able to take it back.”
Capelli removed the money belt from his open pack, went around the fire, and gave it to her. When Susan peeked into the pocket and saw the coins, she gave the gold back. She was impressed by Capelli’s determination to deliver what he could easily have kept for himself—as well as his willingness to trust her. Maybe the decision to turn back hadn’t been so stupid after all. Even if she should hate him. But Nathan was stubborn. Very stubborn. And, if he refused treatment, then Capelli might have been correct. Either way, he’d been honest about it—and that was worth a lot.
“And there’s something else,” Capelli said, as he returned the belt to his pack. “Locke believed that Haven is special. A place where he could settle down. I’d like to find out if he was correct.” Their eyes met across the fire. Susan sipped her tea. “So would I.”
Days passed. Then a week, as they circled the city of Wichita, and continued south. There had been sightings, and a run-in with some Grims, but the strategy had been successful. Now, after a long day of walking, the twosome had arrived at an airfield outside the small town of Wellington. It consisted of a three-story control tower, a single runway, and three hangars. Two were empty and a dusty Piper J-3 Cub occupied the third.
“So what do you think?” Susan inquired. “Should we camp here?”
“It looks deserted,” Capelli answered. “But I saw some Leaper scat on the way in, and we’d be very exposed. What if they swarmed us?”
“How ’bout the tower?”
Capelli eyed the structure. The glassed-in control room would provide them with a good view of the surrounding area and make it easier to stay warm. But once inside the structure it would be impossible to leave if they were surrounded. Of course, perfect camping spots were nonexistent. “Let’s find some water, top off the canteens, and go for it. We’ll use Sterno for cooking.”
The airport had its own water tower and the faucet outside the tiny terminal building was still functional. It wasn’t long before the pair were up in the tower making themselves at home. They even brought Rowdy inside, closing the door behind him.
Capelli and Susan were used to each other by that time and went about their various chores with very little discussion. Because of the tower’s height, and the flat country all around, they knew that even the least bit of light would be visible through the windows. So as the sun went down, the couple went to considerable lengths to minimize the use of flashlights as they cooked a simple dinner and got ready for bed. And it was then, just as they were about to turn in, that the Chimera began to arrive.