There were two elevated guard towers on either side of the main entrance. Each of them was staffed with tall cowboys carrying rifles across their chests.
A flat six-foot-long table was positioned in front of the fence line. Three guards stood behind it, each wearing Western gear like the others she could see. None of them had rifles, though their stainless steel revolvers were clearly in view, nestled in leather holsters on their hips.
The area between the table and the front of the fence was protected by two dogs—black and brown German Shepherds—pacing back and forth on leashes held by their respective handlers.
Beyond the guard dogs was a set of parallel fences, zigzagging left and right a number of times, much like a first-grader’s maze. She assumed they were designed that way to funnel new arrivals into a narrow, single-file formation as a security precaution.
Summer thought the dogs looked hungry. Certainly agitated, their mouths agape and ears angled back. They reminded her of the Scab gang who tried to eat her before Fletcher showed up, except the dogs had their noses intact.
Just what she needed. More teeth. More hunger. More drooling.
Her stomach began to ache, as she felt the guards in the towers watching her. Did they know who she was? If not, then her first-time presence at this monthly meet might raise a stink with Heston or his men. She wasn’t sure if Edison had to clear her attendance first, or if he could bring anyone he wanted.
Krista joined Summer and Edison at the front of the truck after her men dispersed. Team Three went back to their assigned duty station, while the others fanned out in a wide pattern, taking the lead toward the entrance.
The cargo truck remained parked behind the lead vehicle, its bumper nearly touching the vehicle in front. The chase vehicle was stationed behind the cargo transport that held the balance of Krista’s men.
Summer figured Teams Two and Three would be brought forward later, when the meeting with Frost was over. Probably for some kind of inventory check. Or exchange. Maybe that’s what the dogs were for? To look for explosives or something along those lines.
“I should probably just wait here, Professor,” Summer said, the knot in her stomach tripling in size.
“No, you’re joining us inside.”
“But keep your eyes open and mouth shut,” Krista added, her words tense. “You might just learn something.”
“Shouldn’t I have a gun or something?”
“Not a chance,” Krista said after a huff, her tone fierce as she walked ahead, trailing her men by a few steps.
“That was a bit harsh,” Summer said to Edison, leaning in close to his ear.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Heston won’t allow any of us to carry past the inspection point,” Edison said, shuffling his feet forward. “So it’s a moot point. Just make sure they don’t find anything concealed. If you have something on you, declare it and give it to them. You don’t want to break their rules.”
“I take it that would be bad?”
“Trust me. These men are not to be trifled with. Or underestimated.”
“I thought you had some say here?”
“Not since we put them in charge. They are an independent oversight group with one job: keep the peace.”
“What about Frost and his men?”
“Same rules apply.”
Summer was pleased to hear that fact. If Frost brought that creepy Slayer guy or the other men who wanted a piece of her, they couldn’t do squat while she was under Heston’s protection.
Maybe today might not turn out as bad as she thought. Summer let go of the professor’s arm long enough to move her hoodie into place across the top of her head, pulling the sides forward as far as they would go. She figured there was no reason to let them get a close-up view, in case she needed to make a run for it later.
When Team One made it to the inspection table, the men gave up their weapons and received colored ribbons in return, each a different color, length, and width.
“Ribbons? Seriously?” Summer asked Krista, standing a few inches in front of her.
“Claim checks,” Krista said before moving forward to the table. She gave up her rifle, sidearm, and knife, tying a foot-long ribbon around her wrist. It was pink and about an inch wide.
“Seems kinda silly.”
“You might want to keep those comments to yourself,” Krista answered, her eyes watching the weapons she’d just given up.
The cowboys tied matching ribbons to the rifle, pistol, and knife they’d confiscated, identifying her as the owner of the items. Nobody said a word as the weapons were passed down the line and stored in a shoulder-high safe, its door protected by a gold-colored twist handle.
“All right, step forward. One at a time,” the middle guy said. Like the others, he wore a cowboy hat, heavy jacket, handlebar mustache, and faded cloth pants. Blue in color. Trim fit. Pockets with rivets at the corners.
The skin of the cowboy in charge looked old, like Edison’s, only his eyes were brighter and he stood with the posture of someone much younger.
Summer figured their guard duty had something to do with the premature aging of their skin, forever standing outside in the near freezing temperatures. “Does this place stay open at night?” she asked Krista.
Krista shook her head but didn’t answer.
Summer peered at Edison, who was waddling next to her in line, hoping to glean an answer from him.
Edison shook his head as well.
Did that mean no, it didn’t stay open at night? Or did it mean to shut the hell up, like Krista had snapped earlier? Summer wasn’t sure. Either way, she decided to clamp her lips shut.
Team One began to walk past the snarling dogs one by one, each man unarmed, with his head on a swivel, angling his knees away from the four-legged chomp-fest. It was hilarious to watch grown men, who could probably wipe out an entire village of Scabs in ten minutes, react the way they did.
Krista’s turn was next.
She took two deliberate steps forward. One of the dogs lunged at her, launching its open mouth. Its teeth came together in a snap, just missing the fingers on the hand closest to the beast—the same arm that had the ribbon tied to it.
Krista increased her pace, scooting past the animals in a dodging sidestep maneuver.
“Dogs know assholes when they see them,” Summer mumbled, keeping her voice just above a whisper.
The guards frisked each member of Krista’s team before clearing them for entry, sending them single file into the switchback fence system. The men looked helpless, a stark departure from their normal projection of unending strength.
Summer helped Edison to the table, the professor wincing again as he moved.
“Anything to declare?” the lead cowboy asked the professor, his face rigid like granite.
“Nothing but old bones and wrinkles,” Edison said, his tone cheery. He put a hand on his lower spine. “And I emphasize the word old. The roads around here aren’t doing my back any good.”
Summer could have added to the conversation but choose to keep her mouth out of it. The professor might have been comfortable with all of this after years of monthly meets, but she wasn’t.
The cowboy looked at her. “What about you? Any weapons or contraband? I need to hear a declaration.”
So much for staying quiet. “No, sir. Just my girl parts and these godawful clothes.”
He waved at them to move. “All right, continue.”
Edison turned to Summer as they walked. “See? Nothing to worry about. We are just one big happy family.”
She didn’t respond as they approached the dogs. Both animals were now sitting on their hind ends, panting, their eyes still fixated and ears tucked back.
Edison walked past them without incident. They probably knew his scent, she decided, or sensed the old man wasn’t a threat. Either way, he made it look like the process was no big deal.