“You thought more about paying a visit to the outers of Seattle, Ryan?”
The harsh voice made him jump. “Yeah. I thought about it. Rather get started on the road home to New Mexico, Trader. But I’ll come along for a day or so.”
“Not far,” Abe said. “If the horses are Sod and buggery!” Some hot fat spat from the pan onto his wrist. He splashed cold water on the burn. “Horses,” he repeated. “One thing you gotta watch out for when you’re in them old mean streets, is that a horse isn’t just a way of moving. It’s some food for a tribe of thirty muties for a day.”
They heard J.B. stamping snow off his boots on the back porch.
“Cold as a gaudy slut’s soul out there,” he said, rubbing a crust of ice from his eyelashes.
“Ryan’s just agreed to spend some time in the ville.” Trader was grinning like a fox in the henhouse.
“For a day or so,” Ryan added quickly. “Want some bacon and grits?”
J.B. nodded. “Sure. Then we’ll all go out into the smallest of the barns.”
“Why?” Trader asked suspiciously. “What you find out there? Gas wag?”
“No.” J.B. took off his glasses, wiping away the smears of melting snow. “Wait and see.”
“WELL, I’LL BE” Trader’s voice faded away into the freezing silence.
J.B. had thrown back the door with a gesture like a traveling magician revealing that his lovely assistant had mysteriously vanished. “Been locked in here for the best part of a hundred years,” he said.
Ryan whistled, his breath hanging like ragged ribbons in the gloom. “That is something.”
Abe was rubbing his hands together, his mouth slightly open because of his cold. “Yeah, but what the fuck use is that to us? Tell me that.”
“We can carry plenty of supplies in it. Better than pack animals. And it’s big enough for all of us to sleep in at night. Better than no shelter at all.” J.B. turned to Ryan and Trader. “What do you reckon?”
It was a hearse. Not just any old hearse, but a beautiful Victorian horse-drawn vehicle.
It was covered in dust and bits of windblown straw, but they could all see its amazing state of preservation.
“Near perfect,” J.B. said. “Got a full set of harness on the wall yonder.”
The woodwork was ebony, the sides and back made from fine etched glass. It was ornamented all around the top with carved plumes and tiny turrets and crenellations. The large wheels were also painted black, with a fine line of crimson around the rim and along each of the hand-turned spokes. The four friends moved in out of the wind, Abe pulling the door partly shut. But even in the poor light it was impossible to miss the quality of the rig. “Take a team of four to pull it,” the Armorer said, “plus another four saddle horses and a couple of pack animals. They’re all out there, waiting for us. Could get them hitched up and be on the road in an hour. Or less.”
Abe rubbed his sleeve over the glass, shading his eyes against the reflection from the doorway, and peered inside. “Hey! There’s a coffin in there.”
Ryan joined him. “Real pretty one, too. Brass handles and nice workmanship.”
“I didn’t see that,” J.B. said. “isn’t it?”
“Put in a blanket or two and I could travel in that.” Trader tried the catch on the rear, which opened as easily and silently as if it had only been closed an hour before. “Keep out the chilly winds. Abe! Climb in and take a look. See if it’s going to be big enough for me.”
“Sure, Trader.”
The little gunner hopped up, sliding inside the hearse, alongside the coffin. Ryan realized that the wag was amazingly roomy. Abe was able to crawl along on hands and knees with no risk of bumping his head on the high roof.
Ryan thought it wasn’t a bad idea to take the rig along with them. “Get that little box of pine out of there and it’s plenty big enough for us to bundle into.”
“Yeah, that is nice.”
The door behind them creaked in the wind, making all three men swing around.