other side of a wall. When Tony didn't answer immediately, Veronique went on, "I mean, if I'm still not pregnant. If we settle down there, I'd like to raise a family."
"So would I. You wouldn't want to bring up kids on the road? Like Remy did with you and Max?"
"We weren't born on the road. I was in my teens when we set out into the bad lands."
"So, settle down for a decade and then take our brats into the wild?"
"Perhaps."
"I'll go wherever you want to take me." Tony said, with a kiss.
"Once more around this lovely bed?"
"That seems like a good place to start."
* * *
Pickers could park their wagons in a square toward the edge of the buildings still in occupation. They were inside the area watched over by the town guard, but, ominously, the guns in their bunkers could turn to shoot into the square just as easily as out.
Veronique and Tony had found a room in a boarding house, for obvious reasons, and Maxine was lost in thought about something, working on weapons in wagon one. Meanwhile, Remy was talking to the other pickers in town. The brandy they had brought with them was particularly fine, and they were good company he spent time with at most once a year. "It is time for me to go home again, I think. The girls have been ten years away from where they were born, I should take them back. Have either of you been over the Pyrennees in the last year?"
Robert looked like he had stood on the highest peak and let the cold, dry winds desiccate him. His face was a study in lines and wrinkles, but with surprisingly clear eyes and steady gaze. Remy felt such a fool talking about getting old whilst sat across the table from this man. Agnes had been a one woman crew, but had just teamed up with Robert. Short and round, with unruly white hair, she always appeared ready to jump up and run off to complete some job or other. Robert looked to her to provide the answer. She shook her head.
"I tried two passes, but was turned around both times. They told me I wouldn't be allowed back over if I did find a way into the country. They were turning people back who were trying to head this way. There were rumours, just rumours, nothing certain, that they have been having bad harvests. There might be a blight, or it could just be one bad season." She gave a very Gallic shrug.
"It does not sound like you want to be heading home this year. A bad harvest always leads to a very bad time." Robert said, pouring out more brandy.
"A shame." Remy said, taking a sip. "We are going to get to the foot of the hills as well. We'll just have to look up at them." He didn't like lying to other pickers, but they were sitting on something too big to risk word getting around.
"I have family in France." Robert said, tutting. Robert had family everywhere, if what he had said over the years of their meetings could be believed. No wonder he looked so worn.
"I did not try the goat path." Agnes offered. "There have never been any guard posts on that."
"With reason." Robert said, "No guard would dare send anyone back down that.... Road." The last word was added with a dismissive tone. "Mind, those wagons of yours might just make it up without killing any of you."
"No doubt they could. It is almost the sort of trek they were built for." Remy tried not to sound as if he were gloating over the superior abilities of his two trucks.
"You never did say where you found them." Robert said.
"There was never any point. They were the last ones in the warehouse."
"Military?"
"Not quite. It seemed to be some rich man's private security force. But no-one had ever shown up, so everything was abandoned."
"I once found the wreck of a gigantic yacht, run aground in a bay it was impossible for me to get into." Agnes said, sensing a rare finds competition starting. "It must have been beautiful, before the side was torn open and it tipped over."
"There's an aeroplane graveyard in Portugal. Full of military planes. For a few months after I found it, I was driving around with
"So would I. You wouldn't want to bring up kids on the road? Like Remy did with you and Max?"
"We weren't born on the road. I was in my teens when we set out into the bad lands."
"So, settle down for a decade and then take our brats into the wild?"
"Perhaps."
"I'll go wherever you want to take me." Tony said, with a kiss.
"Once more around this lovely bed?"
"That seems like a good place to start."
* * *
Pickers could park their wagons in a square toward the edge of the buildings still in occupation. They were inside the area watched over by the town guard, but, ominously, the guns in their bunkers could turn to shoot into the square just as easily as out.
Veronique and Tony had found a room in a boarding house, for obvious reasons, and Maxine was lost in thought about something, working on weapons in wagon one. Meanwhile, Remy was talking to the other pickers in town. The brandy they had brought with them was particularly fine, and they were good company he spent time with at most once a year. "It is time for me to go home again, I think. The girls have been ten years away from where they were born, I should take them back. Have either of you been over the Pyrennees in the last year?"
Robert looked like he had stood on the highest peak and let the cold, dry winds desiccate him. His face was a study in lines and wrinkles, but with surprisingly clear eyes and steady gaze. Remy felt such a fool talking about getting old whilst sat across the table from this man. Agnes had been a one woman crew, but had just teamed up with Robert. Short and round, with unruly white hair, she always appeared ready to jump up and run off to complete some job or other. Robert looked to her to provide the answer. She shook her head.
"I tried two passes, but was turned around both times. They told me I wouldn't be allowed back over if I did find a way into the country. They were turning people back who were trying to head this way. There were rumours, just rumours, nothing certain, that they have been having bad harvests. There might be a blight, or it could just be one bad season." She gave a very Gallic shrug.
"It does not sound like you want to be heading home this year. A bad harvest always leads to a very bad time." Robert said, pouring out more brandy.
"A shame." Remy said, taking a sip. "We are going to get to the foot of the hills as well. We'll just have to look up at them." He didn't like lying to other pickers, but they were sitting on something too big to risk word getting around.
"I have family in France." Robert said, tutting. Robert had family everywhere, if what he had said over the years of their meetings could be believed. No wonder he looked so worn.
"I did not try the goat path." Agnes offered. "There have never been any guard posts on that."
"With reason." Robert said, "No guard would dare send anyone back down that.... Road." The last word was added with a dismissive tone. "Mind, those wagons of yours might just make it up without killing any of you."
"No doubt they could. It is almost the sort of trek they were built for." Remy tried not to sound as if he were gloating over the superior abilities of his two trucks.
"You never did say where you found them." Robert said.
"There was never any point. They were the last ones in the warehouse."
"Military?"
"Not quite. It seemed to be some rich man's private security force. But no-one had ever shown up, so everything was abandoned."
"I once found the wreck of a gigantic yacht, run aground in a bay it was impossible for me to get into." Agnes said, sensing a rare finds competition starting. "It must have been beautiful, before the side was torn open and it tipped over."
"There's an aeroplane graveyard in Portugal. Full of military planes. For a few months after I found it, I was driving around with
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