“Meaning?”
“If any of us calls the sentry Roger, then he gets the hell out and leaves us. Roger means run.”
“Gotcha.”
“Adam means let us in, but kill whoever we’re with.”
“Adam is an ambush, check.”
“Charlie means it’s clear.”
“And if you use his real name?”
Ryan stared at his son hard. “That means they broke us, kill everybody, including us, and do a Roger.”
The boy nodded.
“Let’s get moving,” Krysty said, jacking the Ruger for action. She didn’t really care for automatics. You had to load and unload the clips every damn night, or else the springs would weaken and they’d jam, usually when you needed them the most, unlike a revolver, which could stay loaded for decades and still function perfectly in combat. But it would do until she got a replacement revolver.
Removing his panga from its sheath on his belt, Ryan tucked the blade into his boot “Stay alert, people.”
Easing open the side hatch, J.B. and his Uzi waited for something to happen. Cicadas faintly chirped in the weeds. When nothing else occurred, he stepped down and moved aside, the stubby barrel of the submachine gun sweeping for targets. The others closely followed, spreading out so as not to offer a potential sniper a group shot. Doc was the last out Jak then closed and bolted the door.
“Get busy,” Ryan ordered, crouched low. “Hit and git We’ll be back in ten.”
“Understood,” Mildred said, her .38 Czech target pistol held in an expert tournament-style grip. “Ten and counting.”
Moving stealthily through the jumble of trucks, the two Cawdors disappeared behind an oil tanker, its cylindrical body rusted full of holes. The weeds waved at their passing, then went still.
Going to his hands and knees, J.B. inspected the refrigerator truck next to them. “Hey, beginners’ luck. Tranny has no holes. Here’s hoping.” Lying flat, he rolled underneath, and there were some metallic bangs and muffled curses. A few seconds later he rolled out, his face streaked with grease.
“Get any?” Doc asked, cradling the LeMat in his arms. He and Mildred were standing back to back, just far enough from each other that a dropped net wouldn’t get them both. Lessons learned hard were long remembered.
“About half a cup,” J.B. said, slosbing the canteen with his bleeding hand. “A few more of these and we’re back in business.”
“Excellent.”
Agreeing, J.B. checked under the flatbed. “Dark night, the whole undercarriage is gone on this one.”
“No engine here at all,” Mildred said, looking into the empty engine compartment of a garbage truck.
“The next one is flat on the ground,” Doc noted. “Let’s try the bulldog,” J.B. decided, and they moved on to a Mack cement mixer with an apple tree growing out of its top hole.
“I’M ON POINT,” Ryan stated as the others went out of sight. “Single file, yard spread. Don’t shoot unless you have to.”
Dean acknowledged, his Mossberg held smartly at quarter arms.
Loose grit and windblown gravel on the concrete apron made every step crunch as father and son walked through the collection of wrecks. Dean was fascinated by the sights. It was the exact opposite of the redoubt. Those vehicles had been in perfect shape, deliberately disassembled by mechanics. These were merely rusting hulks abandoned by their owners.
Dean had never known there were so many different types of transports in the predark world. He was more used to rebuilt military vehicles, designed strictly for utility. These civilian trucks came in a hundred faded colors, some with leather seats, others with silhouettes of women on the mud flaps. And the cars were even more outrageous. Some had fringe, fuzzy cubes hanging from rearview mirrors, or huge birds painted on the hoods. There wasn’t a sign of a single weapon mount or armor plating.
Cresting a rotting pile of tires, Ryan held up a hand and closed his fingers into a fist. The boy froze. Faintly, they could hear the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh, low laughter and muffled gasps of pain. Ryan circled his fist and pointed to the left. Running on his toes, Dean went to the wall of the white building, hugging the Mossberg. His father joined him, and they both stole a peek around the corner.