The Marcus clan’s bus was approaching a section of reddish brown valley, some thirty miles from the bridge. The reason Kyle hadn’t been sent along ahead was that Borgoff had calculated the speed of the carriage and the time left until daybreak, deciding that the bus itself would be sufficient to catch up with their foe. Added to that was the fact that, if Kyle left, he would have had to look after Leila and Groveck himself. Plus, he had reservations about letting Kyle tackle the situation on his own. He was also worried about Nolt, whom he’d sent to dispatch D. Though considering his brother’s special skills with that staff, the task of finishing off a Hunter who’d almost certainly drowned should be easier than busting a baby’s arm. Once they’d wrapped up their work here, they could always just shoot off a flare and call him back. “Hold on. That’s a flare,” said Kyle, squinting to see it while he kept his grip on the wheel.
