Codename: Night Witch by Cary Caffrey Page A

shoulders, she stumbled on.
    The freeway was only a few hundred meters away through the trees. Half-delirious, Sigrid weaved her way toward it. When she got there, she was surprised to find it wasn't much of a freeway at all. The cracked and potholed pavement didn't look like it had been resurfaced in years, and there were only six lanes running in each direction. It was barely a highway at all.
    Long-hauler transports dominated the traffic. These were massive cargo trains, some of them hauling as many as eighteen flatbeds. The scream of their massive engines mixed with the roar of their three-meter-tall studded tires. The sound was deafening, especially standing there on the shoulder. Sigrid held up her hand, trying to flag one of the transports down. One after another they roared past. Great wakes of snow and ice swirled around her and blasted her in the face.
    Behind her, she was very aware of the closeness of the two new Thunderhawks . They were circling the scene of the battle. It wouldn't take them long to figure out her body wasn't among the dead.
    She was just about to give up and make for the woods when she heard the blast of an air horn. Sigrid spun around in time to see a particularly large transport swerve onto the shoulder. Like a charging bull, it barreled toward her with its long train of fourteen cargo carriers snaking behind it. The driver hit the brakes, teetering on the edge of control. Sigrid saw the wheels lock up, all 148 of them. The entire train of carriers appeared to spasm violently, threatening to jackknife and sweep over her.
    It stopped just short of plowing into her—it would have too, if she hadn't taken four steps back. Opening one eye and then the other, she found herself staring up at the towering chrome grill of the truck's engine cowling. Two enormous headlights stared down at her expectantly. Warm blasts from its exhaust washed over her like hot breath.
    The entire front of the rig was jury-rigged with armored plating: someone had taken thick plates of heavy steel and bolted them on to protect the engine and wheel mounts. Even the windscreens were made from reinforced permaglass. She didn't fail to notice the many dents on the armored plates either, nor the scars and scorch marks. Clearly, the highways of Earth were a treacherous place and not to be traveled lightly.
    The side door opened and a hand waved her forward. "Well, come on, sweetheart, I ain't got all night."
    With one last look behind her at the Thunderhawks circling in the distance, Sigrid climbed the ladder to the cab. It was time to get the hell out of here. It was time to go home.
     

CHAPTER FIVE

Jaffer
    She was only halfway inside when the driver of the truck hit the accelerator. The transport gave a great lurch that sent Sigrid tumbling headlong into the cab as the door slammed shut behind her. She was too exhausted to move. In fact, she was quite happy to lie there face down on the floor. It was only when Sigrid heard the unmistakable click of a weapon's firing hammer being drawn back that she looked up.
    Her hair had tumbled over her face, and she pulled it back only to find herself staring down the twin barrels of a sawed-off shotgun.
    "Are you all right?" the man with the gun said.
    Sigrid glared at the twin muzzles pressed against her forehead. "I suppose that depends on whether or not you're planning on using that? Perhaps you should ask me after you blast a hole through my skull."
    Her answer seemed to satisfy him and the trucker snickered. "Sorry, sweetheart. Can't be too careful in these parts." In one motion, he flipped the shotgun over his shoulder, depositing it in the wall-mounted rack behind his seat.
    "Jaffer," he said, thrusting a meaty hand toward her, and she supposed "Jaffer" was the man's name. He was rather large and wore a long-billed cap. The down-filled vest he was wearing had seen better days and only half-covered his immense paunch. But his face was pleasant, and she caught an unmistakable