Hellbenders

“But isn’t Al worried about you or Correll or anyone?”

Lonnie gave a twisted grin. “He thinks we all bought the farm when we left. In his world, no one survives without Baron Al…which is kinda useful for us, when you think about it. C’mon, let’s go.”

He came out from cover and led them across the few hundred yards of desert soil that ended abruptly with the beginning of the ville, in the shape of a few old adobe buildings that were quiet.

“Residential. No one’s up yet,” he commented as they walked past and begin to hit the old tarmac and pavement of the preDark town.

This area of Charity was all quiet, and as they walked along the paved sidewalk, Dean wondered if they would be noticeable as being the only people out on the streets at this hour.

“‘S’okay,” commented Lonnie, “we’ll head for the drag. That’s never quiet.”

It took them only a few minutes’ walk to negotiate the back streets of the ville and reach the town center, Lonnie knowing exactly where he was headed. Dean realized that they knew nothing of Lonnie’s personal history, and he wondered what the man’s grudge was against Baron Al. Whatever it was, now that they were here he seemed as fired up against the ville as Correll had been when they first encountered him a few days earlier.

“C’mon, let’s blend in,” Lonnie suggested, steering them toward a saloon.

“What about sec wags for convoy?” Jak questioned.

Lonnie shrugged. “I know where they’ll be, all right, but we need to leave that till later in the day, when there’s some action on them. The yard’ll be empty by now. We’ve got till nightfall—yeah, if we get separated, we rendezvous where we camped last night, okay? Now,” he added with a malevolent glee as he pushed open the doors of the saloon, “it’s time to shake some action.”

As soon as the doors were opened, the noise increased to a deafening volume. A long, makeshift bar constructed from old shop counters and covered with chicken wire was being propped up by a number of men and women with prominently displayed blasters. They were all downing home-brewed spirit at a rapid rate, and the smell of the grain used for the brew permeated the room with a decaying stink. The boom box behind the bar, guarded by the bartender, a fat man with a graying beard as long as his belly was large, was playing an old song with soaring guitars that seemed to be about a man leaving home, feeling he wouldn’t be remembered, but that he would rather be a free bird than tied down. A sign proclaimed that each drinker was limited, due to shortage of brew and shortage of grain to make it, to three drinks only. A quick head count of those sunk into corners, either unconscious or near to it, suggested that the brew was strong enough that very few drinkers would not reach their limit.

Lonnie strode across to the bar, and the fat man looked at him with a curious stare, as though he half recognized him.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Drinks for all of us, Jem,” Lonnie replied with a grin.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed at the use of his name. There was also something about the voice that reminded him…

“Say, I’ll give you the drinks if you’ve got the jack,” he said slowly, “but mebbe I shouldn’t. There’s something a mite too familiar about you, boy. Something that rings a danger bell in my head.”

“My friend, the only thing that rings bells in your head is that brain rot you’ve been serving for too long. Always said that you shouldn’t drink your own brew.”

The bartender said nothing for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Wouldn’t have recognized you, Lon. Never did see you without a beard or all that hair. But voices don’t change, do they?”

“They don’t,” Lonnie agreed. He put some jack on the bar. “Now, how about you do the business and give us what I’m paying for?”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *