“Guys are always trying to escape from the mines. Sometimes they survive. When they do there’s always some message from her. When they go she tells them how to get to us. But they have to promise to destroy the note if it looks as though they won’t get through.”
“She didn’t say anything like that to me,” Rod flared.
“She had faith in you,” Williamson said shortly, “besides she knew you knew.”
“If you say so, Bill. I admit I missed the boat.” Rod’s thoughts were veering crazily.
“But to get back to business, Rod,” Bill Williamson said, “I don’t know how long we’re going to be safe here. Our one lucky string is the tetrarch’s principle of the Hunt.”
“I was going to ask you about that.” Rod was now alert. “Why don’t the tetrarchs account for every human that escaped?”
“Well, boss,” the barrel-chested Bunny spoke, “they figure, how can they lose? All of us are due for the torch parade once we hit twenty-five.”
“Further,” Williamson added, “from the info I’ve gotten from Mona, the tetrarchs use the Hunt to test themselves. For each quarry caught without aid of any kind a tetrarchian guard gets promoted. If the guard himself is overcome—on his home field—so to speak—the idea is they’re well rid of him. That means a constant process of self selection.... And it leaves us facing highly dangerous adversaries.”
The canvas covering the cave entrance rippled and a Survivor entered. “Look alive, pals,” he said, “there’s another guy looks like he’s going to get through to us.”