Free Pickers 3: The Valley by Garth Owen

The child curled up on Veronique's lap had gone to sleep, and now she didn't know what to do with it.
    It, she reminded herself, was a he, though she didn't know his name. They had found him trying to reach up to the steps into wagon two's cabin. The other kids were being rounded up and loaded back into their trucks, but this little one was determined to go somewhere else. He stretched out chubby fingers and was still a long way away from the hanging steps. Then he tried a clumsy little hop, but he didn't get very far off the ground.
    Tony and Veronique had watched him for a while, trying not to laugh. They must have made some noise, because he turned to them. Serious little blue eyes stared from the mucky face under matted hair, and studied them. He turned back to the wagon and pointed up at the open door.
    "Yeah, why not." Tony said, and scooped the child up, depositing him in the cab of the wagon.
    "Really? What about the folks in those trucks? Won't they be looking for him?" Veronique asked.
    "Just please don't leave him anywhere." said a voice from behind them. One of the women from the middle truck, Veronique realised when she turned. "I know where he is now, so we won't panic when he's not in the truck."
    "Oh, okay."
    "Problem solved." Said Tony, as he clambered into the cab.
    When Veronique climbed into the cab, she found Tony looking around, confused. "You've lost the child, haven't you?" she said.
    "He can't have gone far. Can he?"
    There was light bump from somewhere in the rear of the cabin. They turned slowly, but couldn't locate the source of the sound. After a moment, a mop of untidy dark hair started to appear from behind the weapons rack. Those serious blue eyes looked them up and down again, then he squeezed out of the narrow space he had found to hide in. He studied the rest of the cabin, looking for other places he might fit into.
    Veronique knelt down and held out her arms. "If you're going to ride with us, we'll need to know where you are. Come here and ride up front with us."
    The little boy looked at her, and she wondered if he understood a single word she was saying. Perhaps he did, or maybe her body language was welcoming, because he waddled over and held out his arms to be picked up.
    The little boy had sat on Veronique's lap as the trucks were refilled with children and refugees and the militia vehicles turned around. He had watched as the convoy crawled up the road, travelling as fast as the nearly dead motor in the middle truck would allow. Then he had studied Tony's driving, almost as if he were memorising how the machine worked. But, when they entered the long, dark tunnel through the mountain, he had curled up and closed his eyes. Even the swaying as they worked their way around the chicanes of barricades and demolition charges hadn't roused him.
    Up ahead was an inverted U of light. The end of the tunnel. Veronique had a strange sharp, burning feeling at the top of her throat, and the pin pricks of heat around her eyes that signalled the possibility of tears. When they drove out of the tunnel, she would see the Valley again for the first time in a decade. She wouldn't quite see where she was born, not immediately. The town itself was still several kilometres away. She was nervous and emotional in ways she couldn't put into words.
    Maybe she should wake the kid up, so he could share the first view with her. Not that he was old enough to understand its importance, but it might distract her. She turned matted strands of hair over and revealed the peaceful sleeping face. With a clean up and a hair cut, the little man might be cute, she decided. He was certainly too settled to wake. She tried to sit up in her seat without waking him, and braced herself for whatever emotions hit her as they entered the light.
    Veronique had never been through the tunnel before, though she had been up to the Valley side entrance several times. The barricades they passed had been made of wrecked vehicles piled high