“Amen to that,” said Erin quietly.
The stranger scowled some more, taking this in, and then gave another shrug.
“Well, whatever,” he finally said. “Don’t matter anyway. Here’s the deal, folks: I decided I won’t kill ya.”
There was a long pause as they all absorbed this announcement and the man stood and nodded as if in appreciation of his own largesse. Finally the Old Man found his voice.
“Well, gee whiz, Mr. Psycho,” he said acidly. “That’s mighty magnanimous of ya! You hear that, gang? He ain’t gonna kill ya! Now isn’t that nice of this charming gentleman?”
Justin ignored the outburst; he was suddenly too relieved at the prospect of not being shot to death to care. He blinked at the stranger.
“But,” he said. “If you leave us here like this, tied to this girder, we’ll starve to death!”
“I ain’t gonna do that,” said the man. “I’m gonna tranq ya, then cut ya loose. You’ll be out for, oh, eight hours or so. And that’ll give me plenty of a head start.”
Justin thought for a second about asking why the man had had this change of heart, but then, reminded of the old gift horse in the mouth adage, decided against it. His glance flitted to Cornell’s body, now going a ghastly purplish-gray color as the blood settled and lividity set in, and then back to the stranger.
“I understand,” he said, “but is there nothing that can change your mind? If it’s money you’re after, I’m sure that the people in California would reward you quite handsomely. Even more so than… who are you taking Mr. Lampert to, anyway?”
“I already told you,” said the man, “ain’t none of your business. And anyhow, that ain’t what this is about. I gotta job to do, see? And that’s it. The money’s just the icing on the cake. Now hold still; I don’t wanna dart ya in the eye.”
Justin made a few more noises of protest, but the stranger ignored them completely, took careful aim with a strange, rod-like device and then Pfft! shot Justin smack on the thigh. There was a sting, like a bee, and then he could feel the toxin ooze from the dart into his system. In a matter of minutes, as he watched the others get similarly zapped, his legs and arms went numb, his head grew very heavy, and his eyes couldn’t seem to stay open. The world around him went brown around the edges as his vision narrowed to a tunnel and a strange roaring noise began in his ears. His last glimpse of reality was the Old Man’s wrinkled, shriveled face, hovering above him and, though it might just have been the drugs, Justin could’ve sworn he was babbling something about flying monkeys. And then nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chopping at the sun-baked dirt with a long-handled hoe, sweating in the heat and desperately bored, it occurred to Teresa that maybe Baron Zero’s House wasn’t for her after all. Hell, when they’d handed her this thing, she hadn’t even known what a hoe was! To her, the word meant a slutty woman, someone who put out for anybody or anything. She’d become acquainted with the other kind quickly enough, though, as she’d been assigned a work detail on the Farm, weeding the soy bean plants. Hard, dusty, hot, boring. Not an acquaintance she needed.
There were plenty of other things she was having trouble getting used to as well. They wouldn’t let her carry a gun, for one thing, or even a knife, which made her feel vulnerable. She couldn’t smoke whenever and wherever she felt like it, and she wasn’t yet allowed to use any of the House vehicles, which meant that simple joy-rides, something she liked a lot, were out of the question. Plus, she had to share an apartment with some silly, air-headed girl named Susan who talked too much and wore stinky perfume, there was only “healthy” (which is to say, bland, home-grown, mainly vegetable) food to eat, which she found as palatable as mud and which gave her gas, and the vaunted school she’d been so eager to attend, while instructive, moved at such a slow pace that it was starting to make her bored enough to scream.
Of course, she saw the obvious plusses to the House, the security—or rather, the absence of constant worry and alertness—and the community aspects of it all, but with every new little regulation or rule or historical date to memorize, she wondered if life with the Bloodclaws had been so bad after all. At least they weren’t boring!
With a muffled curse, she slashed at the hated weeds once more and then took a short break to lean on her hoe, wipe the sweat from her face, and glare up at the boiling sun. What was the point, anyway? As far as she’d seen, no one even liked to eat these rotten soy bean things! Why didn’t they just go out and raid a store or some other gang, get themselves some decent, can food from Before? Just thinking about a nice can of stew or maybe some noodles and red stuff (the cans with the little red-faced dude in the funny white hat were the best) made her stomach gurgle. Even one of those little cans of Cat or Dog would be better!
She’d also found that the single straight men who lived at the House were no different, no more immune to her body and looks, than had been any of the hetero male Bloodclaws. They were a whole lot less direct about it and tended to mumble and act like idiots when they approached her (as opposed to simply walking up and asking if she wanted to go Do It), but the attraction, the effect she had on men, was no different. Already she’d had to fend off, albeit easily, the attentions of six different men. Still, she found that it was becoming annoying.
She also missed her former traveling companions, especially Justin Case and Mr. Lampert. Sure, maybe they were on a suicide mission and they were kind of doopy and old and stupid about some stuff, but they were, for lack of a better word, interesting. The things they said and the adventures and trouble they got into were exciting. Not at all like weeding soy beans.
And, she had to admit, she missed Case in another way, a way she didn’t quite understand or particularly even like, that she suspected was what people meant when they used the word love. She couldn’t stop thinking about the big dumb greep, for one thing, and when she did, something sort of melted in her chest, she started to breathe funny, and would suddenly want very much to simply see his face, even if it was only one more time. Problem was, she had no previous point of reference for these bizarre feelings. Hell, maybe she was just going crazy! But she’d heard people talk, about how they loved this or that person, how they’d do anything for them, how the other person meant the Whole World to them, all of that. Could that be the trouble? Was she actually in love?
With a grunt, she tried to shake these mushy, girly thoughts, lifted the hoe, and went back to work, but in the back of her head all of these little misgivings were starting to pile up; maybe she should start thinking about leaving.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Kid had decided, after the small, mean man had departed, along with two of the other Big People, that he’d been right all along about these creatures; they really were crazy. After all, who in his right mind would kill something for no apparent reason? Heck, the man hadn’t even chopped up the body for food! Now that was crazy. He had to admit, though, that the man’s weapon, whatever magical thing it represented, was something to be envied; it sure would come in handy dealing with Howlers and Rippers!