“And now to the point. Garth, I would like a word with you, if I may. And your father should hear it, too, so that he knows my mind and what I’m asking of you.”
“Of course, sir,” Garth had answered, and nodded. And Zach had added:
“Go on then, Jon…what is it?”
“Lad—” Big Jon had begun, grasping Garth’s upper arm in a huge hand “—or perhaps ‘lad’ is more than a little demeaning, for I’ve had my eye on you and you’ve certainly proved yourself as worthy a man as any of the best of the clan’s men—but anyway: you’re just recently wed; what, all of three or four days? And you and Layla have scarcely been having the best time of it together. What with outriding when we move by night and patrols and night-watches when we’re camped up—as right now—well, it hasn’t been an ideal beginning for a young couple just starting out. I know there’s been one hell of a weight of responsibility on your young shoulders, and a whole world of worry, too; especially on Layla, when you’re out there in the dark guarding the convoy. And now here I go, proposing to add yet more weight and responsibility!”
Again Garth’s nod as Big Jon had paused, and: “Tell me what you want,” he said, “and whatever it is I’ll do the best I can as long as I’m able, just as long as it helps to keep Layla and the convoy safe.”
“Which is exactly how it should be!” The leader had at once replied. “But I’m about to ask a great deal of you, and you being so young and all—and if Zach Slattery’s good blood wasn’t running in your veins—then I wouldn’t dream of asking so much. Anyway, let me tell you what I’m talking about:
“You see, I’m far from happy with the way things stand, and there are changes I must make. For example, now that Ned Singer is gone we’re short of one scav boss…no, hold—let me try that again; for scavs as such are now things of the past. We’re short of one team boss, a man to patrol and control the outriders on the move, and the night-watch when we’re at a standstill. Singer had the biggest team; his crew worked very well together before your bust-up and I believe they should stay together. So it’s Ned’s old team that will be guarding the eastern flank tonight, and which will be performing most of the tougher jobs in future. So as a member of that team, what do you say to that?”
In answer to which Garth had offered a puzzled shrug, answering, “Well, it’s only what I expected, what I’ve been getting used to, and what’s best for the convoy and clan, I’m sure. And even after suffering that attack back in the ruined town, still I think the team has held together—but how best to put it?—as well as can be expected, maybe; and at the very least reasonably well, under Peder Halbstein.”
“Hmmm!” Big Jon had nodded thoughtfully. “Reasonably well, eh? Loyal to the last! But as for Peder Halbstein, well that’s something else. Are you saying you’ve seen no change in Peder? Ah, but no—you don’t need to answer that, Garth—for I sense that in this case the truth wouldn’t sit well with you. And the truth is that Peder Halbstein’s no longer the man for that kind of pressure. To be honest, he simply can’t handle it; he hasn’t fully recovered from the doings of that terrible night. And the few hours of sleep he gets, Peder nightmares, wakes up shouting, crying out to his old pal Dan Coulter. His hair is going white, and he’s rapidly losing weight; his face is grey and gaunt, and he gets the shakes, trembles and stutters. No, he’s been a scav, an outrider and night-watchman for too long; he’s done his fair share. So let me ask you once again—not only for the good of the clan, you understand, but also for Peder’s—are you really saying you’ve seen no change in him?”
To which Garth had answered: “I…I didn’t realize it was quite that bad. So what will you do?”
“No Garth,” the other had replied, giving his head a shake. “It’s not what I’ll do but what you must do! I want you to take over as boss of the team—that’s as of now—and you’ll be the youngest clansman who ever held such a responsible position. As for poor Peder: I’ll find something a little less demanding for him. So then, now what do you say?”
For a moment Garth was lost for words; he had looked at his father, who stood silent, expressionless.
“Well?” said Big Jon.
“But it’s like you said,” Garth had finally answered. “I’ll not only be the youngest ever boss, but the youngest man in my own team! And there are others in the team who—”
“—Who’ll probably be glad that the weight doesn’t rest on their shoulders!” The leader had anticipated him. “As for being young: haven’t you noticed, Garth, how there’s no such thing as a truly ‘old man’ in the entire clan? Me, your father, and head tech Andrew Fielding—oh, and a very small handful of others—we’re just about the oldest you’ll find! Quite a few old ladies, it’s true, but damn few old men! Then again, there’s never been any female scavs. Which probably says it all…”
At which Zach had spoken up. “And of course, that’s what’s wrong with Peder Halbstein. He knows it’s only a matter of time. He’s seen friends die, far too many of them, but this last time Peder himself came much too close…”
And still uncertain, Garth had said, “It sounds like you’re warning me off!”
“No!” Zach shook his head. “Never! If you take this on I’ll be able to advise you, even come out now and then if things are looking especially rough, but the decision has to be yours.”
“I have no desire to be ‘volunteered.’” Garth had faced Big Jon squarely, determinedly.
“I would never do that to you—if only because I know your father would never forgive me!”
“But it won’t come to that—” Garth had made his decision, “—because I’ve already said I’ll do it. And so I accept. Well, with one condition.”
“Oh? A condition?” Big Jon had raised an eyebrow.
And Garth had nodded. “Yes, but just the one. Which is that you’ll be the one who tells Layla Morgan—er, Layla Slattery! —exactly what you’ve asked of me. Or better still, what you’ve ‘ordered’ me to do…?” And after a moment’s silence:
“Damn!” The leader had said, then chuckled along with Zach. But in another moment and far more seriously: “Which just might be the most difficult thing I’ve done in quite a long time. But there again I married you, so how can I refuse?”
VIII
Peder Halbstein was scarcely alone in his nightmares. As told, many of the travellers suffered in this way; and both Garth and Layla, during snatches of sleep, they also knew bad dreams. But mainly, having finally come together, their dreams were plagued by a single, recurrent theme: the fear of losing each other…Garth’s of being snatched away from Layla into a hellish, mindless half-world, unable to return to her, and Layla’s of losing him to the fly-by-nights—amounting to much the same thing.
But in fact since leaving the Southern Refuge contacts with the mutated vampires had on average been limited to just two or three per week: many sightings of individuals and small groups, half-a-dozen skirmishes and kills by the outriders, four savage attacks in which five men had lost their lives…all of which culminating in the massed onslaught by the swarm in the ruined town: the clan’s worst ever losses, which once again had woken up every traveller anew to the never-ending threat of the fly-by-nights.
Garth had learned several valuable lessons that night, not least from Singer’s malicious, vengeful behaviour: the way the bully had left him short of equipment, out of contact with his colleagues, utterly alone and vulnerable in the dark of night. Well, things would he different now; Ned Singer’s ways weren’t Garth’s. Each member of his team would receive the same treatment: there would be no favourites, and no one taken advantage of or victimized in any way.