Page 125 of Crocodile Tears

“No. I’m going to let you take the convoy to Geneva while I take Liz to Hanover on foot. You can tell the ‘Thorities’ whatever you want about my absence.” He grinned as he self-consciously used the Quarterlands term.

“I won’t ask you to lie for me,” he continued. “When I’ve delivered Liz safely, I’ll return to Geneva and hand myself in. I guess my time smuggling indies to safety is nearly over. It was always going to happen at some point.”

“You’ll be court-martialled and serve time in jail,” Josiah pointed out, aghast. “Or, more likely, you’ll get sold as an IS yourself – they won’t want to waste prison space on you for a crime like this.”

“Well, there’s a fitting irony to that.” Hunt gave a wry grin and leaned down to pat Hattie. “Just take care of this young lady for me when I’m gone, will you? You’re the only one she likes, apart from me.”

“No,” Josiah said firmly.

Hunt looked up in surprise.

“I’d take Hattie in a heartbeat, but I can’t see you forced to wear an ID tag, injected with a chip, owned…”

His hands were trembling, and Hattie gave a concerned whine, nudging him with her nose. He tangled his hands in her thick dark fur to calm himself.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“Yes,” he responded without hesitation. “I’ll take Liz to Hanover. The commanding officer of the convoy can’t go missing and turn up a week later without a good explanation, but his sergeant can.”

“And how will I explain your absence?”

“Make something up. Say you sent me on a mission.”

“Alone? Without backup? What the hell kind of mission would that be?”

“I don’t know – tell them I went missing in a scav skirmish. It’s far easier for you to cover for my absence than it is for me to cover for yours.”

“No.” Hunt shook his head. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t approve of this. It’s my risk, and one I took willingly – I can’t ask you to get involved.”

“Bugger that, Peter,” he snapped. “Iaminvolved, whether you like it or not – and if you think I’ll stand by and watch them court-martial you, strip you of your rank, and sell you into servitude…” He paused, breathing heavily. “Well, then you’re a bigger bloody idiot than you are a bleeding heart. Sir.”

“And you’re exactly the man I always knew you were,” Peter said softly. “Thank you, Joe.”

He left early the following morning, before the unit was awake, carrying a big pack of food and bedding on his back, with Liz at his side. Peter and Hattie walked with them for the first mile, and then Peter wrapped Liz in a farewell hug.

“Joe will see you get there safely,” he told her as she clung on to him, snuffling softly into his shoulder.

“I know. I’m being silly. Thank you, Peter. Thank you so much.”

“Shh. It was my privilege.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Good luck, Liz. Have a happy life – that’s the only thanks I want.”

She smiled. “I will. At least, I’ll do my best.”

Hattie licked Josiah’s hand, then she and Peter turned back. Josiah watched them go, aware of a tight feeling in his chest as theydisappeared from sight. Liz cleared her throat, and he pulled himself together.

“Here.” He gave Liz a gun. “Just in case.”

“I’m not much of a fighter,” she said.

“Well, hopefully we won’t run into any scavs between here and Hanover, but we might. If we’re attacked, use it on them. If they win, then use it on yourself.”

She stared at him.

“That’s if you don’t want to end up as the prize of one of the local warlords,” he said gruffly. “You know the way you look, and if you think your houder was a shit, you haven’t met these guys.”

She tucked the gun into her belt and kept her hand on it at all times after that.

They didn’t speak much on the first day. Liz struggled to keep up with Josiah’s pace, but she didn’t complain and trotted along valiantly by his side. They stopped for meals, and when it got dark he found them a good spot off the road where they could rest for the night.

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