I can barely find the Hummer again even though I saw where they stopped. Obi's men know their camouflage all right.
I wonder what’s their mission that makes them risk getting caught on the road? It can’t be us. We're not worth the risk, at least, not that they know. So they must think there's something important near or in the city. Maybe recon?
Whatever it is the angels are looking for, they don't find it. They swoop up and disappear into the horizon. The air rushing past their ears as they fly must dull their hearing. Maybe that's why it has to be so good to begin with.
I let out a deep breath. The Hummer below finally restarts its engine and resumes winding its way north toward the city.
“How did they know the angels were coming?” he asks, almost to himself.
I shrug. I could make some random guesses, but I don't see any reason to share them with him. We’re smart monkeys, especially where survival is concerned. And Silicon Valley has some of the smartest, most innovative monkeys in the world. Even though I escaped Obi's camp, I feel a pang of pride at what our side might be doing.
Raffe watches me carefully, and I wonder how much of what I'm thinking is on my face.
“Why didn’t you call out to them?” I ask.
It's his turn to shrug.
“You could be getting medical assistance by sunset,” I say.
He pushes himself off the ground and brushes off. “Yes. Or I could be delivering myself back into the hands of my enemies.”
He starts walking roughly in the same direction as the road again. I follow on his heels.
“Did you recognize them?” I try to keep my tone casual. I wish I could just ask him directly how many of them there are, but that's not a question he could answer without betraying military secrets.
He shakes his head but doesn't elaborate.
“No, you didn’t recognize who they were? Or no, you couldn't see them well enough to recognize them?”
He pauses to dig the remaining cat food out of his pack. “Here. Please stuff this in your mouth. You can have my share.”
So much for my information mining. I guess I’ll never be a spymaster like Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
CHAPTER 26
“Can you drive one of those things?” he asks, pointing to the road.
“Yeah,” I say slowly.
“Let's go.” He turns downhill toward the road.
“Um, won't that be dangerous?”
“It's unlikely there will be two units flying in the same direction within an hour or two of each other. Once we're on the road, we'll be safer from the road monkeys. They'll think we're Obi's people, too well armed and too well fed to attack.”
“We’re not monkeys.” Hadn't I just thought we were clever monkeys? So why does it sting that he just called me one?
He ignores me and keeps walking.
What did I expect? An apology? I let it drop and follow him down to the freeway.
As soon as we step onto the asphalt, Raffe grabs my arm and ducks behind a van. I crouch beside him, straining to hear what he hears. After a minute, I hear a car coming toward us. Another one? What’s the chance of another car just happening to be on the same road only ten minutes behind the first car?
This one is a black truck with a canopy over the bed. Whatever is under there is big, lumpy, and somehow intimidating. It looks a lot like the truck they were filling with explosives yesterday. It rumbles by, slow and full of purpose towards the city.
A caravan. It’s a very spread out caravan, but I’d bet the contents of my pack that there are more cars ahead and behind. They’ve spread it out to be less noticeable. The Hummer probably knew about the angels flying toward them because they got word from the cars ahead of them. Even if the first car was taken out, the rest of the caravan would be all right. My respect for Obi’s group goes up another notch.
When the sound of the engine fades, we get up from our crouch behind the van and start looking for our own ride. I'd prefer to drive a low-profile, economy car that won't make much noise and won't run out of gas. But that's the last car Obi's men would drive, so we start looking at the large selection of beefy SUVs on the road.
Most of the cars don't have their keys in them. Even at the end of the world when a box of crackers is worth more than a Mercedes, people still took their keys with them when they abandoned their cars. Habit, I suppose.
After looking at half a dozen, we find a black SUV with tinted windows with the keys on the driver's seat. This driver must have pulled the keys out of habit, then thought better of dragging the worthless metal with him on the road. It has a quarter tank of gas. That should at least get us into San Francisco, assuming the road is clear that far. It’s not enough to get us back though.
Back? Back where?