The back of his neck prickled, and he scratched at it.
A shadow passed over him.
“Everything okay?” a female voice said.
Nate looked up, squinting.
Blue uniform, badge, and a holstered pistol.
Ah, crap, Nate thought.
A cop.
CHAPTER FOUR
Wyatt
“Did I stutter or something?” the Feral Kid asked. “When I ask a question, you answer.”
Wyatt and Ethan gaped at the three thugs. Their sudden appearance in the alley caught the older men off guard. They’d never run into the Feral Kids on their rounds before. Usually this particular kind of scum avoided residential back alleys.
Ethan froze up, his mouth working, but without any words spilling out.
Recovering from his surprise, Wyatt tried to look unimpressed. He knew the Kid who spoke. Went by the name Casket, of all things. He wasn’t the big boss of the Feral Kids, more like a Captain. But assigning ranks to these kind of wild animals was giving them too much credit.
“Your name is Casket, right?” Wyatt asked.
Casket looked at Wyatt and sneered. “Yeah, that’s my name, old man. What’s yours? Dopey?”
His two friends chuckled. One had a scar across his chin and the other was missing all his upper teeth.
Casket grinned. “I mean, really, look at you two. You’re like oversized dwarves or something with those beards and pushing your carts to go do some mining.”
More chuckling from his friends. Wyatt noticed a large knife handle sticking out of Casket’s waistband. Probably a Bowie-Knife judging from its size.
Wyatt very much wanted to get up in this punk’s face. Take him down a peg or two. But he didn’t think Ethan was up to the task of a fight. So he kept any insults to himself.
“Look,” Ethan said, holding up his hands. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just doing our rounds. We’ll get out of your way.”
Ethan started to push his cart, but Scarface blocked him.
Casket said, “What was this shit you were talking about? Bodies? Huh?”
Maybe these guys did it, Wyatt thought. Made sense. Here they were a block away from where one of their own was stuffed in a dumpster. Or maybe they were out looking for him?
Either way, it spelled bad news for him and Ethan. These guys were looking for a fight, now that they had prey in their sights.
“We were talking about the plane crash,” Wyatt said. He hitched a thumb southward. “The one that hit downtown. Lots of bodies. Understand, now?”
Casket blinked at Wyatt’s explanation and shook his head. “What plane crash? There’s no crash. You’re just babbling shit so we don’t stomp your ass.”
Okay, Wyatt thought. So this is on. The icy fear faded away, replaced by anger. These guys expected an easy target. Well, with him, at least, they were in for a surprise. He tensed up.
Ethan’s mouth sputtered to life. “Hey, we were just talking shit, you know. Heard about a crash. Maybe there is, maybe there ain’t. Bodies, no bodies. We don’t give a shit, we just want to go on our way.”
Casket glared at Ethan and pursed his lips, acting like he was considering what Ethan said. “You know what, Sneezy, you’re right. But if you want to pass, you got to pay a toll.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, sceptical but relieved. “No problem. We got, uh, bottles and cans. Take what you want.”
Casket nodded. “An interesting offer. But I’m not interested in your crappy shit, or your carts.” He took a step closer to Ethan. “How much money you got?”
Oh, damn, Wyatt thought. Here we go.
“Money?” Ethan said glancing at Wyatt.
“Yeah,” Casket said, glaring. “Cold hard cash.”
Wyatt’s temper grew red hot. “We work hard for what little we make. Besides, if you’re going to extort us for pennies, do it after we’ve cashed in at the recycler, genius.”
Casket’s eyes widened and flexed his hands into fists.
“Not a problem,” Ethan said, desperate to diffuse the situation. “Lemme just see what I got-.” He didn’t get to finish.
Casket’s arm shot out and struck Ethan in the face.
Toothless was closest to Wyatt and made a move toward him, but Wyatt was already in motion.
From his pocket Wyatt produced a pair of brass knuckles, having slipped them on while he was talking. He connected with Toothless’ forehead as the young man tried to dodge away.
With an audible thunk the Feral Kid then dropped to the ground, out cold.
Ethan, for his part, was doing a valiant job of stopping Casket’s fist with his face. Casket was raining blows on him over and over, driving Ethan backwards.
Scarface charged at Wyatt and tried to tackle him. Wyatt pushed a cart in his way and Scarface rammed into it, losing his balance.
As the Feral Kid tried to avoid falling, Wyatt cracked him in the nose with the brass knuckles. Cartilage crunched and Scarface’s head snapped back. He dropped to the ground squealing in pain and holding his face.
Wyatt turned to Casket.
Casket had Ethan up against a fence, but turned to face Wyatt once he realized his two friends were down.
As Wyatt closed in on Casket, the Feral Kid whipped out the knife from his waistband. So it was a Bowie-knife.
Casket held it out daring Wyatt to get closer. “God damned Ninja-Hobo, huh?” he said with sneer.
Scarface and Toothless had recovered enough to stand, and they hobbled over to hover behind their leader. Neither looked as if they wanted to keep fighting.
Casket glanced at them and then to the determined look on Wyatt’s face. He came to a wise conclusion.
“This isn’t over, shitheads,” Casket said, then slashed at Ethan’s side. The razor-sharp blade easily cut through Ethan’s shirt and made a deep gash. Blood gushed from the wound.
Ethan shrieked and peeled away from Casket to fall to the ground.
Wyatt saw red and took a step closer to Casket, but the knife kept him at bay.
“We’ll finish this later, Dopey.” Casket said, then the three of them turned and fled down the alley and vanished around a corner.
Wyatt knelt beside Ethan. “Are you all right?”
Ethan’s face was cinched up in pain. “No, I’m not all right! That bastard cut me!”
Wyatt looked at the wound. “He got you good, it looks deep.”
“Feels pretty deep to me!” Ethan howled.
“Just a sec,” Wyatt said and went to his cart. He fished around for a few moments then came up with a small first-aid kit.
He returned to Ethan and opened the kit. Inside was a roll of gauze and some cue-tips.
Ethan managed a laugh. “Great. You can clean my ears as I bleed out.”
“You are not going to bleed out,” Wyatt said. He rolled up the gauze and gently pressed it against the wound. “Hold this here a second.”
Ethan sputtered some curses as he held the gauze to his side.
Wyatt grabbed a long thin scarf from his cart. “Sit up, will ya?”
“Sheesh,” Ethan said as he leaned forward. “All these commands you’re giving me. You’re gonna have me moving cinder blocks next.”
Wyatt wrapped the scarf around Ethan’s stomach. “Okay, exhale.”
Ethan blew out an exaggerated breath then grimaced in agony as Wyatt tied the scarf over the gauze, holding it in place.
“Oh, sweet Jesus that hurts,” Ethan said, sweating profusely. “Where did you learn to do this? Were you a combat medic in a former life?”
“Everything I know I learned from tv,” Wyatt said, avoiding the other man’s gaze. Everyone had secrets. He leaned back and looked Ethan over. “That should do for now.”
Ethan wiped at his face, smearing blood over it. “Okay, now what, Ninja-Hobo?”