‘Here you go, darlin’,’ she said, as she climbed back into the cabin. ‘I knew Dave had this old thing stashed away in his bunk. He’s been using it as a pillow, but it’s okay. He doesn’t have cooties. It’ll keep you a lot warmer than those thin scraps of cotton you’re wearing. At any rate, it’ll do until we can stop somewhere and kit you out properly.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sofia, feeling guilty at relying on the charity of people she was lying to.

For the Burton ski jacket, however, with its thick inner lining – real lamb’s wool, unless she was mistaken – the teenage runaway could only feel desperately thankful. As soon as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, she could tell that it would go a long way towards protecting her from the viciousness of the weather outside. Sofia wrapped the coat around herself and sank back into the soft, warm embrace of the bucket seat. With the heater blowing and Dave’s jacket, she hardly needed the SpongeBob blanket.

‘We’re going to rendezvous down 35 a-ways,’ Cindy informed her, ‘and push on down to Ottawa, Kansas. That’s the first town outside KC’s security zone, Emporia’s the next one. But they’re both close enough to the federal settlement that the scavengers haven’t really picked ’em over. There’s still a fair chance of getting picked off by the Cavalry if they do. We can take a toilet break down at Emporia – which we’re gonna need after those Cokes, girl. See if we can get you a road pack there, too.’

She applied a little shoe leather to the pedals, crunched through a complicated ballet with the gears, and the mighty Kenworth lurched forward.

Sofia frowned. ‘But wouldn’t we be scavenging?’ she asked. ‘If there was a Cavalry patrol down there, why wouldn’t they arrest us, or even shoot us, for looting?’ The last thing she wanted was to fall back into the clutches of the authorities now that she was so close to escaping them.

Cindy smiled. ‘Well, legally, we would be scavenging, yes. And if the Cav swooped down in one of their helicopters, or rode by in a Hummer, and shot the hell out of us, legally – officially – we wouldn’t have a lot to complain about. But unofficially, the Cavalry is well aware that the trucking lines use the two towns as supply depots. They’re well beyond the city limits, and the Cav don’t much care. Anything that greases the axles, you know. Besides, we’re regulars. They come to us for news on the road, and it wouldn’t do to get on our bad side.’