33
Cutter and Kate leave the bus and come forward to find out what is wrong. ‘I’m not sure I like the look of this place,’ you say, pointing along the road towards Coahoma.
Cutter produces a pair of binoculars from a leather case slung over his shoulder, and presses them to his eyes. ‘Your senses are servin’ you right, Cal,’ he says, quietly, as he scans the town. ‘Here, take a look at this.’
You take the glasses and, when you focus on the town, you can see over twenty motorcycles parked along the highway. The riders are looting the stores and houses nearby, and much of what they have found lies heaped beside their machines. Suddenly a pinpoint of light climbs into the sky and explodes with a brilliant white flash that illuminates the surrounding landscape. ‘What do you make of that?’ you say, uneasily.
‘It’s a signal flare,’ replies Kate. ‘I think they know we’re here.’
