Grunting from the effort, Alan and Robert Rogan swung aside the disguised gate, and a dusty Edward rolled into the woodsy glen on his motorcycle.
Directing the purring machine across the compound, Edward skirted the campfire, circling once around Lily and nearly knocking her into the flames. But the sullen girl concentrated on stirring the taters frying in an iron skillet and gave no reaction to her tormentor. Revving the bike, the laughing man drove away at a slow pace.
Placing the frying pan on a flat rock set near the fire, Lily took a stick with some cloth tied to the end, dipped it into a plastic bucket of honey and shine and swabbed down the sizzling haunch of meat roasting above the flames. Pretending to ride her down was their second favorite game. But after the first few days of being their slave, she really didn’t give a nuking damn about anything that happened anymore. Their brutality was beyond words. Dirty tech lovers. When she was sure her brothers weren’t looking, absolutely sure, the girl would liberally season their food with spit. The coffee was especially good for that.
But not this night, Lily added privately. There was a large bone running through the hindleg of the griz bear, which meant that she might get something to eat after they were done stuffing themselves. Mebbe. Hopefully.
Braking to a halt near the concrete bunker, Edward pushed down the kickstand and climbed off the dirty two-wheeler. Reaching into the saddlebags, the barrel-chested man pulled out a leather eyepatch and a human scalp dripping with long silvery hair.
“Was it them?” John asked, glancing up from his work. The tall man was sitting on a rock covered with the furry hide of a recently chilled bear. On the metal table in front of him was a clean piece of white cloth covered with a disassembled combo rapidfire.
“Nope, another bust,” Edward said.
“Good.” John smiled without warmth, his hands moving with intimate sureness as he lubricated the recoil spring of the rapidfire and slipped it into the housing. “I want to be the one who puts Ryan on the last train west.”
“Not going to happen,” Alan said, puffing on a hand-rolled cig as he walked over. “Unless they’re stupes, these outlanders will run for the end of the world once they hear that the Rogans are hunting them.”
Making a detour past the campfire, Alan slapped Lily on the rear, the blow causing the girl to stumble and almost go into the flames. With a gasp, she drew back and started to turn toward the man with the basting stick brandished in her fist as if it were a hatchet. He grinned at the action, and Lily slumped, turning back to work with an expressionless face. If she only had a knife, or a blaster…!
“Well, bro, Delphi says that once this Ryan hears about what has been happening here in the Zone, the one-eyed bastard is going come after us with every blaster firing. And right behind him will be the real prize. Tanner,” John commented, glancing down the inside of the barrel. “To find Tanner, we hunt Ryan. Easy pie. And so far, Delphi has been right about everything else.”
“Yeah, sure, makes sense,” Alan grudgingly admitted. “But the son of a bitch is sure taking his sweet bloody time getting here!”
“Ain’t nobody in a hurry to get aced.” Edward chuckled, going to the waterfall. Dipping a bucket into the pond, he went back to the bike and started to wipe it down with a cloth. The water flowing off the front fender began to run crimson as the dried blood washed off.
“Food’s ready,” Lily announced, demurely stepping away from the campfire.
The girl stayed out of the way as the four coldhearts gathered around to use their eating knives to slice off thick pieces of the bear, and fill their tin plates with mounds of taters fried in lard, and canned beans.
“Mebbe we need to take the chilling up a notch,” Robert suggested in his horrible voice, using the blade to scoop up the beans dripping with hot fat.
“Whatcha mean?” John asked, biting off a piece of meat. The animal had tried to get into their base through the trees and gotten tangled in the barbed wire. He and his brothers had first cut the tendons so it couldn’t fight, or run away. Then they had skinned the bear alive. Damn, that had been fun, the griz had lasted a hell of a lot longer than any man or mutie.
“How about we don’t just scalp the corpses, anymore,” Robert croaked, taking a sip of the coffee. “We could do worse to them first. A lot worse. You know, to help spread the news around faster.”
“Now, you’re making sense, bro.” Alan grinned, a knife slipping out of his sleeve and into a waiting hand. He turned the blade in the firelight, inspecting the edge. “The bloodier the tale, the more often it gets told.”
“Sound good to me,” Edward agreed, smiling, picking up a sizzling tater with his fingers. He ate it slowly, as if the heat meant nothing. “By the time we’re done with him, the chilling of Ryan will become a nuking legend that folks will tell for years!”
“Forever!” Alan laughed, his insane eyes twinkling at the unspeakable visions of bloody torture.
Raising their tin cups, the Rogan brothers toasted the idea and drank to seal the deal.
“More coffee, bitch,” John said, tossing his empty cup at the girl. “And if you spit in it again, we’ll do you like we did the bear.”
Going deathly pale, Lily rushed to obey.
Grinning at her response, John went back to the meal. Hmm, a spectacular chilling. Something so horrible that the news would spread across the Zone and force Ryan their way. A red night of screaming worse than getting caught by stickies, and even more terrible then being captured alive by cannies. An interesting problem. Could it be done? Then the answer came to him in a flash.
Yeah, John Rogan thought, looking skyward at the merciless sun. That’ll do just fine.