CHAPTER 18
“There he is,” Dice said to his boss from the driver’s seat of their truck, pointing at a trail of dust heading their way.
The broken-down buildings on either side of what used to be the gateway to the Interstate cradled the billowing dust, keeping it trapped inside the brick-lined corridor that ran straight at them. “Looks like he made some changes since the last time we met.”
“That’s an understatement, even for Craven,” Fletcher added.
“I guess they had to eat the horses,” Dice said after a half-chuckle, counting a team of twenty Scabs with ropes around their necks, pulling Craven atop an old-fashioned covered wagon. “Scab power. The gift that keeps on giving.”
Fletcher laughed. “So much for that trade last year.”
“Where does he come up with these ideas?”
“Who knows? But they always seem to work.”
Dice knew the one-eyed scientist was eccentric, but using Scabs for horses was a new twist he never saw coming. “I get that he hates modern technology—”
“Except when it suits him,” Fletcher said, popping the passenger door open with the handle and swinging it ajar. “Lucky for us, he feels that way.”
Dice nodded. “Otherwise, things would be a whole lot different right about now.” He, too, opened his door, sliding past the steering wheel and planting his feet in the dirt.
A flap of wind smacked into him from the side, kicking up dust that landed on his face. When it worked its way into his eyes, tears came next, lots of them, filling his vision with squiggly lines of blob and light. He turned his head and wiped the skin around his eyes with his sleeve, focusing more on the corners than the middle.
He knew there would be more dust. It never stopped on days like today, but he couldn’t wait for his eyes to rid themselves of the irritant. He needed his sightlines clear for this meet. Especially with a herd of Scabs headed their way. “Maybe we should have brought the repellant?”
“Agreed. Needs to be part of our standard load out from now on,” Fletcher said, pulling his sidearm and making sure a round was in the chamber of his semi-automatic. “Eventually, I’d like to see each man assigned a supply.”
“If Craven ever gets us the rest,” Dice said, checking his pistol as well, seeing a .45 caliber bullet ready to be fired. He put it back in his holster, but kept his hand on the leather, just in case this meet wasn’t friendly like all those that came before.
Fletcher was now out of the truck and had moved past his open door, taking a position next to the hood. “Next time, we expect the unexpected. Bring an extra team, too.”
Dice agreed. “Seems like he’s getting worse all the time.”
Fletcher advanced, his voice changing in tone to one of cynicism. “Like they say, the lights are on, but nobody’s home.”
Dice also took a step forward, matching Fletcher’s new position next to the front bumper. “Actually, I think it’s more like the lights are flickering on and off, ready to set themselves on fire.”
“Gotta love his ingenuity.”
Dice agreed. “The man knows how to think outside the box.”
“An insane box.”
“Or a Scab box.”
Fletcher nodded. “But his shit works.”
“I’ll give him that.”
“Just need to start taking precautions until his resourcefulness is no longer of use to us.”
“You got it, boss,” Dice answered as Craven’s old-time convoy arrived after a wide swing around and pull in.
“Well, hello there, ladies,” Craven said, dressed entirely in black, except for the red, white, and blue patch he wore over his right eye. “Miss me?”
Fletcher pointed at the man’s covered eye. “Feeling a little patriotic, are we?”
“Thought I’d go old school. You know, in a star-spangled banner sort of way,” Craven answered, turning his attention to Dice. “You getting taller?”
“Not hardly,” Dice said, holding back the words he wanted to say about Craven getting crazier. “But thanks for asking.”
Craven lifted his patch, giving Dice a clear view of the empty socket underneath. “Remember, boys and girls, don’t play with explosives when you’re shitfaced and feeling silly.”
Dice laughed, even though he’d heard the same gag a dozen times before. No reason to upset the one-eyed pirate by not going along with his worn-out joke. “Good safety tip, Craven, though I don’t think that will ever be a problem.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“What do you mean?” Dice asked.
“Lipton’s moonshine. One-eighty proof. Impressive.”
“How did you hear about that?” Fletcher asked.
“Oh, a little birdie told me,” Craven said, tying the leather leads controlling the Scab team to a curved hunk of metal under his seat. The man rose to his feet, then climbed to the ground, plopping his feet in the dirt.
“Tired of horses?” Fletcher asked.
“Actually, trying something new,” Craven replied, motioning to the team of Scabs standing in a loose huddle. “They eat less and pull almost as hard.”
“Except it takes five times as many,” Dice said.
“True, but got an endless supply. Almost.”
Fletcher stepped forward and shook Craven’s hand. “Breeders working overtime, I take it?”
“What’s left of them.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Seriously, if there’s something we should know about, now’s the time,” Fletcher said.
“Got it under control, Fletch. Just a little setback, that’s all.” Craven yanked on his waistline, pulling up his sagging pants. “You guys wanted to meet, so let’s get on with it.”
“It’s time for your services again,” Fletcher said.
“How many?”
“Couple hundred ought to do it.”
“We’ll make sure the targets are easy marks,” Dice added. “Keep your losses down.”
“When?”
“Soon,” Fletcher said. “We’ll know more after we meet with our source and firm up our plans. Gotta make it all seem natural, though. That’ll be key. Dice will coordinate, since he will be leading the mission.”
Craven raised one eyebrow, leaning back a bit on his hips. “It’s going to cost you boys.”
Fletcher’s voice dropped in tone. “I figured as much. Name your price.”
“Well, with the Trading Post out of commission, I’m going to need to boost the meat supply some other way.”
“Damn it, I was right,” Dice said, shooting a look at Fletcher. “I figured that’s what happened to the horses.”
“And the stragglers Heston didn’t want,” Fletcher added.
Craven paused. “True on both counts. Some things can’t be helped, not when my army has to eat.”
Dice couldn’t hold the words back. “Something other than themselves.”
“You are correct, my red-haired friend. At some point though, that becomes counterproductive. In the end, it was a simple choice. Those fifteen-hundred-pound slabs of horse went a long way.”
A memory of the Scab attack on the Trading Post flashed in Dice’s mind, filling his thoughts with images of blood and guts.
Fletcher spoke next. “The indigent supply will resume again, once we get the Trading Post back up and running. Plus, you can keep whatever bounty remains from the new mission.”
Craven paused before he spoke. “Assuming you’re able to make the targets easy marks, as you say.”
“Won’t be a problem,” Fletcher replied.
“At least you won’t have to deal with Heston anymore,” Dice said. “Acquisition will be a snap now. So will delivery.”
Craven seemed to like those statements, his eyes perking up. “I take it things went well?”