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“HOW MUCH CHAOS DO YOU think is happening in there?” Don gestured beyond their temporary hiding spot, indicating the Enclave.
They’d chosen the flat rooftop of a nondescript apartment a few blocks from the agreed-upon rendezvous. The view was not expansive. The building was a mere three stories high, small enough that it didn’t have an elevator. The Enclave’s imposing walls were still clearly visible.
“It’s been five days,” Sheila replied, keeping an eye on the Hoarder truck in the intersection below. “I wonder how many Citizens have lined up for their nodes by this point?”
“Like mindless lemmings.” Jane snickered, chewing on field rations as they waited. “It’s too bad we can’t reprogram Trackers to go after the nodes instead.”
Garr knelt by the parapet, binoculars sweeping the streets below. His position gave him a clear view of the intersection without betraying their presence to the waiting Hoarders. He sensed his companions’ tension. He heard in their voices, despite their off-handed banter.
“I doubt the Givers would share their programming tech with us,” he replied to Jane’s half-suggestion. His lenses swept the scene in a slow arc. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to use Trackers to deal with any hold-outs among the Citizens.”
“How much longer do we keep the Hoarders waiting?” Sheila asked with a mischievous smile. “The suspense must be driving them out of their minds.”
“That’s fine by me.” Jane’s opinion was scathing. “Let the Hoarders sweat.”
Garr lowered the binoculars, rubbing his eyes. “We need to give Amos’s team plenty of time to get into position.”
He gestured at the Enclave, wreathed in the low clouds of an impending storm. “There’s a lot of unknown variables—as Sheila said, it’s been five days. We have no idea what’s been happening in there.”
Don uttered an evil chuckle, wringing his hands together in a parody of the proverbial mad scientist. “And if it happens to fray the nerves of our waiting Hoarders, so much the better.”
Jane held out her hand, and Garr handed the binoculars to her. She knelt beside him, poking her head up just enough to get a clear look at the vehicle and its impatient occupants. “It’s just the kid, Connor, and the old guy. No sign of everyone’s favorite psycho.”
Garr knew better than to take her bravado at face value. Jane was as anxious about the prospect of confronting Darcy as anyone.
Like dancing with a scorpion, he’d told Doc the previous evening. It felt like a long time ago.
He and Sheila wore the Hoarder outfits Darcy gave them during their first foray into the Enclave. Don and Jane removed their jackets, stuffing them into their rucksacks. Their outfits weren’t up to Hoarder standards, but were less conspicuous than their jackets. Jane shivered every now and then in the autumn air. Don didn’t seem to notice the chill.
“We won’t all fit into the seats,” Jane said, studying the truck through Garr’s binoculars. “One of us will have to ride in the back, like a piece of luggage.”
“I nominate Don,” Garr said, without any trace of humor. “The Enclave guards will focus on the driver. The less suspicion we arouse, the better. Keep your head down, Don, and try to look non-threatening.”
“Like a daisy in the summer sun, Colonel,” Don drawled.
“We’ve given Amos’s team enough time.” Garr held his hand out to Jane. She returned the binoculars, and he stowed them in his rucksack. “Let’s join our new allies.”
Jane got to her feet, shivering again. Garr knew better than to ask. Sheila brushed dust from her hands, not looking at the Hoarder truck waiting below.
“Next stop, the friendly gates of Hoarderville,” Don said to no one in particular as they descended the dusty stairs.