When we got to where a second detour sign led us back toward the coast, the needle on the fuel gauge hadn't budged from its initial position. I gave Franny an inquiring look. I wanted to get back on Highway One—as I said before, going inland seemed to me like running out on a fight—but, since her safety was involved, I felt she had a right to be consulted. She leaned forward and looked over my shoulder, shading her eyes. "There's somebody on the detour," she said after a second. "I think I know who it is." "I don't see anybody—" "Look hard." I looked. Eventually I made out a dot, far ahead, moving slowly away from us. After a moment I realized it was a man on a push bike, looking from side to side as he pedaled. "Who is it?" I asked. "It's Bill, one of my tribesmen. He's looking for us." "Is he an Avenger?" I asked. "Hunh-unh." I squinted.
