Chapter Three
The first evidence that we are at last approaching Kyle’s promised civilisation is when we hit the road. Although there is no asphalt or white lines or even barriers visible, I can tell it is (was) a road because it’s cut unnaturally into the side of the line of hills we’ve been awkwardly following for the last two hours. Finally, after miles of walking with my boots pressed at a painful diagonal, the flat is blissful respite for my maligned ankles. I sigh as I stride out a little, easing the tightness in my calves. My relief is so great I twist to flash a grin at Millie, who, after a whole afternoon, is still clutching tightly to my hand.
She doesn’t smile back and pity swells in my chest. I can see she’s uncomfortable. She hasn’t said anything about pain, but every now and then her free hand drops to her stomach to massage the cramps there that I know from experience will be like stabbing needles. She’s also limping slightly. She’s never had to walk this far before, but I can well understand why she doesn’t want to accept any piggyback rides today. Lt. Graham has finally told Rodgers to stop asking, cottoning on to the way Millie’s shoulders kept hunching in embarrassment at every good-natured offer.
“A road,” I tell her, on the off chance she hasn’t noticed.
She jerks her chin in a way that tells me she doesn’t care if we’re on a road or the surface of the moon.
“That probably means we’re almost there,” I add, hoping this will cheer her, although I say it quietly in case I’m wrong. I don’t want anyone to contradict me and pop Millie’s – and my – bubble.
“Oh,” Millie says, and I hope there’s a little brightness there.
Shortly after we hit the road, we come across a much more obvious signal that our torture is near an end: a sign! It’s covered in a blanket of dirt, but as Kendrick passes it he gives the metal pole attached to it a good solid kick and the thick coating drops, engulfing Kendrick in a cloud of dust. I try not to laugh as he emerges spluttering and sneezing, but it’s hard and everyone else is letting loose, Lopez barking in a high-pitched yelping that sounds like a strangling hyena, a sound that’s abruptly cut off as Kendrick smacks him hard round the head.
As the soldiers continue to laugh at their Lance Corporal’s misfortune, I eye the now revealed town Welcome sign.
“Cripple Creek,” I read. Then I flick my eyes to Kyle, who’s sobered more quickly than the rest. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Yeah,” he replies, looking further along down the road.
I look too, but I don’t see anything except the road, the hills, the sandy dirt and the sun, now at last ebbing in strength as it sinks from the sky.
“Where is it?” I ask. Further down the slope, out on the plain, I can just make out a tiny shack and an old, rusting oil rig frame. Surely that’s not it?
Kyle catches my dubious look and smiles.
“The road curves round the hill,” he assures me. “You’ll see it in a minute.”
“Oh.” Then a thought hits me and my excited anticipation is doused by a healthy dose of apprehension. “Will there be people there?”
“Possibly,” he says.
Hmmm. I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing; I’ve experienced both in the past, with the soldiers and before, when it was just Millie and me. I play with my tongue between my teeth, reminding myself that I’m with eight highly trained soldiers and I’m as safe as I can be. I’m not given too much time to dwell on it. Lt. Graham comes up to stand in front of Millie and me.
