Prying a bit of food from between his stained teeth, the fat man behind the sandbags inspected the morsel and popped it back into his mouth to chew and swallow. His splotchy face was marred with acne scarring, and his fingernails were shockingly long, with unidentifiable filth embedded underneath.
“We’re not eating anything served here,” Krysty stated flatly. “Even if it comes in a sealed can.”
“I want to boil the air,” Mildred added.
Scowling darkly, Ryan started for the desk. If this was where guests of the baron stayed, he wondered what the jail looked like. “You in charge?” he said gruffly.
“Yep, and you’re the outies I heard about,” the man drawled. “I’m Sparrow, and welcome to my place.”
“Sparrow,” Mildred repeated in disbelief.
“That’s me!” He laughed, then paused to belch and scratch under an arm. “Shoot, and seven of ya at once! Never had the place so full. An’ I see ya got your own sluts. Mind if I ride one when yer done? Might try the redhead myself. House rules, ya know. He-he. Sparrow rides free, ya know.”
In cold fury, Ryan started for his blaster, but Krysty stepped in close to shove the snub-nosed S&W Model 640 under his chin and forced his head back until he looking at the ceiling.
“Want to try that again?” she demanded, grinding the muzzle into his flesh. “And get it right this time, feeb!”
“W-welcome t-to Rockpoint, madam,” Sparrow stuttered, his greasy face damp with sweat. “Hey, I didn’t mean nothing, just talking.”
“Then shut your stinking mouth,” Krysty ordered, removing the blaster and tucking it away. “Say anything like that again and the dogs will be chewing your bones.”
“Yes, ma’am, sorry,” he blubbered in apology, trying to force a grin.
“How did you know we were coming?” Ryan demanded, his hand still on the grip of the SIG-Sauer. The urge to kill was taking a long time to leave. He knew that his nerves were on edge from the lack of sleep, and it was becoming difficult to think clearly.
“Sec men sent a runner, told me to get some rooms ready. I chased out the lizards and put in a clean night soil bucket,” Sparrow said in a rush of words. “Ya gotta empty that yourself, ya know. I run this place. Ain’t got no slaves. Ain’t allowed. Not enough water to spare.”
“Hurrah for the baron,” J.B. stated. On the wall was a honeycomb of letter slots, each with a hook for a key, but none was in sight. “Where are the keys?”
“Done need any,” Sparrow said. “None of the locks on the first floor work. We had to bust ’em down to get in and never saw the way of fixing them.”
“And what room were you told to prepare for us?” Ryan demanded.
“The big one on the first floor, way in the back, near the garbage dump,” Sparrow said, rubbing a hand across his soft belly. “Now if ya want something better on the second floor, we got that. Door got a lock, and the window overlooks the barn so ya can watch your stuff. Curtains, nice and cool during the day. Best we got!”
There was a pause, then he added, “Of course, that costs more.”
J.B. grunted at the news and Ryan narrowed his eyes. So that was it, eh?
“How much for the clean room?” he asked.
Smiling with greed, Sparrow said, “Half your water ration. We got a deal?”
“No,” Ryan said, turning away and heading for the door. “We’ll stay in the barn.”
“But you can’t do that!” Sparrow cried out. “The baron said ya gotta stay here!”
“And we shall be sure to tell him about your hospitality,” Doc added. “Perhaps he would be interested in how you obtain extra water from travelers. I wonder if that falls into the category of stealing water?”
“Hey, now,” Sparrow whispered, going pale. “No need for that. Man’s got a right to earn a little water now and then. I was just, like, ya know… Help me Jed!”
There was a creak as the office door started to swing open, pushed by the barrel of a longblaster. Moving fast, Ryan fired twice into the wood, slamming it closed. There came a muffled cry of pain and a thump from other side.