We kept on the move, unsure of Mephisto’s surveillance capability. Most nights were spent in that wretched tent, but occasionally we risked barns and outhouses. I didn’t notice anything suspicious but my side knew me well enough and would be cautious.
Theresa said very little; ever since the angels’ song she seemed drawn into melancholy. I don’t think she slept much but then neither of us needed to – it was just a concession to our human clothing and something to stave off hallucinations.
‘They won’t let me back, you know.’ She’d come to join me on one of my watches and we were looking out over a wooded valley. ‘I’m too much part of here, too much flesh. I’m beginning to forget having been anything else.’
I wished I could have said the same. Hell always welcomes its troops home with open arms (and mouth).
She turned to me. ‘Your mission, Sam – let me help.’
I looked back at her, weighing up a lot of things.
‘We’d need internet access,’ I said, trying to hide how little I knew.
The lights of a small town glimmered in the distance. Mephisto would be watching closely but it was worth a try.