“Go ahead, try them on,” Kyle said with a smile.
The old man put on the first pair, blinked repeatedly and looked around. He grumbled and donned the second. He looked up at Kyle and asked, “Where’s that can?”
“In my pack,” Kyle answered.
“Let me see it,” the old man barked.
Kyle gave it to him.
The old man held it at arm’s length and read, “Tuna in olive oil, hmm.” He spit out some chew, gazed over the lens at Kyle and said, “I’ll take these.”
“Deal,” Kyle said reaching for the tuna.
“And this,” the old man said holding the can tight to his chest.
Kyle cocked his head and said, “Then you better doubly watch my rig. Anything happens, I’ll skin you alive with this.” Kyle tipped his head towards the sheath knife on his hip.
“That’s a good-looking blade you got there. Looks legit, what kind”
“A Jake Hoback, got it years ago.”
“I’ll take that instead of these glasses,” the old man said taking the glasses off his face.
“No, we made our deal.”
The old man grunted. “Fine. And don’t you worry. Your truck will be fine,” the old man said as he nodded to his hip.
Kyle looked and saw the man had a Model 1911 holstered. He laughed and said, “With those glasses, you’ll be able to see what you’re shooting at.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have you know…”
“Listen… what’s your name?”
“Conrad.”
“Listen, Conrad, I’m tired and in need of a hot shower, we can chat later,” Kyle continued and turned away to walk in. He took two steps and stopped when he saw the large sign posted on the door.
NO FIREARMS. CHECK THEM WITH THE GUARD
Kyle turned and declared, “I’m not checking anything.”
“Those are the rules.”
Knowing how the world worked, Kyle pulled out two more cans of tuna and offered them to the old man.
“How do I know these cans aren’t hot,” Conrad asked referring to radiation.
“They’re not.”
“Regardless, I can’t be bought,” Conrad said.
“Fine, I’m over this bullshit,” Kyle said. He shoved the cans back in his back, ripped the glasses off Conrad’s face and hurried back towards his truck.
“Hold on, hold on!” Conrad called out.
Kyle stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Give me the glasses and those extra cans. I didn’t see a thing,” Conrad said nodding towards the back door.
Hearing what he wanted to hear, Kyle whipped around, gave everything back to Conrad and stepped inside. He was instantly greeted by the sweet smell of marijuana. Tobacco was just about impossible to get, but marijuana was easily grown indoors with limited space, making it a perfect crop and replacement for tobacco. He waved his hand in front of his nose and pushed his way past a menagerie of interesting looking characters until he reached the bar. He looked at his reflection in the large mirror that stretched the length of the wall behind the bar.
A potbellied man strutted over and asked in a raspy voice, “Whatcha drinking?”
“Rye whiskey,” Kyle answered.
The bartender reached behind, grabbed a half full clear bottle and placed it in front of Kyle with a small glass. “You look like you need more than just a single drink.”
“That bad, huh?” Kyle asked rubbing his fingers through his thick dark stubble.
“Name is Frank, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Frank said.
“Passing through,” Kyle replied.
“We don’t get too many passing through, mostly locals is all,” Frank said.
“Why?”
“On count of the proclamation.”
“What proclamation?” Kyle asked before tossing back the entire glass of whiskey. “Ahh, that’s good stuff, you distill that yourself?”
“Yep, in the back,” Frank said.
“Pour me another?” Kyle said sliding his glass towards Frank. “And tell me about this proclamation.”
Frank poured another double and answered, “The president declared all cross-border trade shut down until further notice.”
“Why?”
“Who knows, that fat fuck always makes overreaching proclamations. Many ignore, but the word has spread around enough that we get only a small percentage of the traders coming in now.”
“I’m sure he had good reason,” Kyle said and tossed back his second drink.
“Will you be needing a room?”
“Rooms, you have rooms to rent now?” Kyle asked surprised to hear of that amenity.
“Yes sir, when I took over management of this place I put in about seven rooms. It’s not the Ritz but they have clean sheets. I rent them by the hour.”
“Tempting but all I need is a shower,” Kyle said.
“Well we have you covered, we have six showers. I believe they’re all open, so take your pick.”
“How much?”
“We deal in Republic dollars,” Frank replied referring to the standard currency of the RMR. He looked both ways, leaned over the bar and whispered, “But if you have anything of value, I’ll take that instead.”
“You need food?” Kyle offered.
“I’m good with food. I could use some batteries but I could really use some sanitary wipes if you have any. You know the wet wipes that you use to wipe baby’s asses with would be perfect.”
“I don’t have any, but I do have the little individual packaged ones. The little square ones,” Kyle said using his hands to show the size.
“That’ll work, how many you got?”
“A pack of five hundred,” Kyle replied.
Frank held out his hand, “You got yourself one hot shower and two drinks.”
Kyle took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”
“So, will you be needing some company?”
“No. But maybe you can help me find someone.”
“Who might that be?” Frank asked, a curious look on his face.
“Two men, one a driver with The Collective and his partner. They’re in their late twenties.”
“Nope, sorry, I haven’t seen a driver from The Collective in here, ever."
“Know anyone who might be in the know?”
“Say who are you anyway, some sort of marshal?” Frank asked referencing the republics wandering law enforcement members.
“I’m no one, just looking for my friends.”
Frank nodded and asked, “You sure you won’t need any company? We have some real tight pussy here.”
Kyle gave Frank an odd look and asked, “Just a shower, nothing more.”
Frank laughed and said, “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ve got more than a few girls just waiting in the back.”
“You’re running hookers out of here? Boy this place is sure different than it was ten or so years ago.”
Frank leaned in and whispered loudly, “We even have some young ones if that’s your speed.”
Kyle froze. His grip tightened around the glass.
“Since we don’t get too much traffic and you seem like a nice guy, I’ll give you a discount on one of the young ones, they’re coveted by some of the locals on the count of being tight,” Franks snorted.
“These young ones, they yours or your bosses?”
“I am the boss, this is my joint.”
“You don’t say,” Kyle said.
“Yep, took over management a few years back. The old owner had a run in with a bureaucrat from Logan,” Frank proudly said.
A large green door opened to the far right of the bar. Moans, whimpers and cries came from the dimly lit hallway beyond.
Kyle could feel rage building inside him. He knew prostitution made a roaring come back not long after the bombs dropped. What turned him off was the human trafficking, and child sex slave trade that blossomed in the power vacuum quickly after the United States government fell. How quickly mankind reverted to their old barbaric ways.