She and Paula exchanged amused glances. Then they moved to embrace.
"You be careful," Mary said.
"Me! You be careful out there," Paula said. "When you get back, your sweetie should be here."
"Something to look forward to," Mary said with a grin.
"C'mon, sport, let's roll."
* * *
Mary's task was to oversee the health and well-being of those resistance workers who lived outside the cave system that housed the majority of the women and children. Many of these outworkers had jobs like foraging for wood, something that often took them far afield. Others collected nuts, herbs, and other wild foods to expand everyone's diet. All of them also worked reconnaissance.
Originally they had been required to report to the base for medical treatment, but it had been found that most people simply lived with a condition or wound until things became so serious that a field visit became necessary. Mary had argued that since she was going to have to visit the camps anyway, why not make it a regular thing? Now, twice a month, she loaded up a mule and traveled from camp to camp.
At least I don't have to fill out forms for HMOs, she thought as the mules clopped along the rocky trail—they took different routes every time, to make things difficult for any HKs working ambush. HKs hated unpredictability, and didn't deal well with it.
Dennis hated it. And though Mary appreciated his protective-Hess, she knew herself to be a capable person, well able to take care of herself. Not that she took chances; she didn't.
But she knew the woods and she knew the people she'd be seeing.
Knew as well that no Skynet/Luddite activity had been reported for months in this area. Otherwise she'd never have taken Kyle with her.
Mary would have left him behind now but for a staff sadly overburdened because of the number of teams out in the field.
And at seven he'd been driving her up the wall with his begging to come. Besides, she didn't like leaving him when Dennis was away. Yet the scavengers relied on her visits, so there was no postponing it.
"Can we sing?" Kyle asked, clearly bored.
"If we sing, how will we hear the Terminators sneaking up on us?"
No answer. Mary glanced back, smiling, and stopped her mule to wait for him to catch up. "There are other things we can do that are quiet," she said. "Count how many oak trees you see, and at the end of the ride, if our counts agree, we'll have a treat."
He looked at her dubiously. To be fair, it didn't sound like much fun to her, either. But it would keep him both quiet and alert.
"C'mon, we'll start now."
"What if we don't count the same?" he asked.
She shrugged, "No treat?"
He shrugged, too. "O-kay." And they rode on.
* * *
It was a several hours' ride to their first destination, a rendezvous with their guide. The place had been arranged during her last visit to their camp. If no one there needed medical attention, Mary would dispense whatever supplies they required and move on to the next meeting place. If no one was there, she'd linger for two hours, then leave.
Carl Vega was waiting for them, hunkered down on his hams beneath an earth-and-rock overhang, where part of a hillside had fallen away in heavy rain a year before.
"Hey!" he said, delighted to see Kyle. "How you doin', chico?"
He nodded and grinned at Mary.
"Hi," Kyle said. He looked at the scavenger suspiciously.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" Carl said. Kyle shook his head. "Well, you got a lot bigger since I last seen you." He held his hand about a foot off the ground. "You were only this tall then, but you were sitting down."
Kyle laughed and Carl grinned, pleased. He turned to Mary. "I miss kids," he said. "Thought I'd have, like, five of my own by now."
"Hostages to fortune," Mary reminded him. "Kyle might be your age before this thing is finished."
The scavenger threw up his hands. "God forbid. Whatcha got for us?"
"Whatcha need?" she countered. "Nobody needs a look-see?"
"Thank God, no. We've done pretty well this month. Just minor scrapes and bruises. We need some aspirin, some antibiotic cream, some of that anti-itch stuff, the diarrhea stuff, and stomach powder."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Cook took a chance on some bacon. Oh boy, was she sorry."
"Everyone's fine now?"
"Yeah, that was two weeks ago."
"Glad I wasn't there for that meal," Mary said fervently. She'd had a couple of interesting reactions to camp food. She efficiently dispensed what he needed, got his signature, and went on her way.
"Mummy," Kyle said, moving his mule up toward her. "What was Carl talking about? What did he mean about the bacon?"
"Sometimes food goes bad, hon, but people don't know it, so they eat it anyway and then they get sick."
"Do they die?"
Mary turned to smile reassuringly at him. Kids both relished and feared hearing about such things. Of course, they never really thought that they could die; it was their parents they worried about, or their friends. She decided to be honest. You're never too young to start learning, she thought.
"Sometimes," she said. "Which is why people should cook their food thoroughly."
"What happens?"
"They get sick to their stomachs and they get diarrhea and then they lose too many fluids and they die."
His face knotted in confusion. "What's dia, dia… ?"
"Diarrhea?" She pursed her lips, then decided to be honest.
"The squirts."
Kyle gave an evil little chuckle. "The squirts," he said, knowing very well what she meant.
Mary rolled her eyes. My God, she thought, what have I done
?
For the next several miles he entertained himself by periodically emitting an amazing range of rude noises. At first she ignored him, which might have worked if he hadn't been so bored. She put up with it for a while, then pulled up the mule and turned to glare at him. Kyle subsided with a cherubic smile, only to start up again before they'd gone fifty feet. Mary stopped, and so did her son.
"If you don't cut it out, Kyle, you not only won't get a treat tonight, you'll get hardtack and nothing but."
Under that threat, Kyle's lower lip came out, but his mouth stayed shut and Mary had to endure, an offended silence every bit as aggravating as the noises that occasioned it.
An hour later they were at the next meeting spot, but their guide hadn't yet appeared. Mary dismounted and helped her son down from the tall animal; they were on the edge of a rocky clearing, but there was a good boulder with a big pignut hickory leaning over it, excellent overhead cover.
"Well," she said, looking around. "I guess we might as well have lunch now while we wait."
Kyle began dashing around; Mary pointed a silent finger upward, and he veered in to make sure that he couldn't be seen.
Not very likely—it was partly overcast—but Skynet might be doing a scan with IR sensors.
* * *
Kyle wasn't speaking to her, but he was a good little kid and he led his mule over to a tiny brook that flowed down the slight hill they were on. Mary took out the box with their lunch in it and led her riding mule and the pack mule over to drink beside their fellow. When she thought they'd had enough, she led them to a row of bushes whose tender green leaves would, no doubt, appeal to them and tied them there.
Then she sat down, offered Kyle a choice of sandwiches, and ate, sipping from her canteen from time to time. "It's nice here,"
she said at last. "Peaceful."
Kyle looked around, his face scrunched up. Birds sang, squirrels leaped from branch to branch, chirruping, sunlight dappled through the leaves. "It's okay. I guess."
Mary grinned. At least she'd gotten an answer. "Someday we'll be able to live anywhere we want," she said. "This would be a nice place. Don't you think?"