“Where the hell’s my hat?” J.B. demanded.
It was found and returned, basically intact. The Armorer straightened the rumpled brim and pulled his fedora into its accustomed locale. “What took so long? You ever try a repair job in the dark, upside down, with bullets flying by?”
“Besides,” he added, hitching his belt, “I had to take care of something in case we got captured by those rad-licking scums.”
With a clank, the bolt on the side hatch was released and the hatch slid aside, revealing Mildred, med kit in hand. “Anybody hurt?” she asked, exiting carefully.
“Just them,” Ryan said, ramming home the clip.
She surveyed the carnage. “Better them than us. But still a waste of life.” Mildred hopped to the ground, then walked over and handed Doc a foil pack containing a moistened towelette from an MRE pack.
“Clean that cut,” she ordered. “Don’t want an infection, do you?”
Doc accepted the towelette with a grateful nod.
Busy working the bolt of her Thompson to clear a round jammed in the ejector, Amanda jerked up her head at those words and openly stared at the stocky black woman.
A sharp whistle came from the weeds. Ryan answered, and Jak returned with a stovepipe-style bazooka in his grip and a canvas sack of bulky rockets slung over a shoulder. He deposited the booty inside Leviathan.
“How did they find us?” Dean demanded, sitting on the step of the tank. Even though it was partially depleted, his ammo vest weighed a ton. He was bone tired, but had no intention of showing the fact. “Been following us, or what?”
Ryan rested the butt of the longblaster on his hip. “I think they live here,” Ryan said, studying the bullet-riddled vehicles of the rest stop. The destruction was widespread.
“Lived,” Doc corrected, tossing away the soiled towelette. He winced slightly as the air hit the alcobol in the scrape. “Past tense, my dear Ryan. Past tense.”
“In ruins?” Jak asked.
“Sure. Fuel in the underground tanks, spare parts by the ton and plenty of space to hide lots of folks inside the bigger trucks.”
Wheeling over her BMW, Amanda said, “That makes sense. That way, they could safely hide and decide who they’ll hit and who can pass.”
“Decide?” Dean repeated, reclaiming his Mossberg. A swipe of a cloth removed some human remains from the barrel. “Why wouldn’t they hit everyone who stopped?”
“If they ambushed everybody, soon nobody would stop here, and what’s the point?”
“Gotcha.”
“Yes, very clever,” Amanda stated, kicking down the stand.
“Hey, Ryan. What about those bikes?” Mildred asked, indicating several of the more intact motorcycles. “Couple of them seem in good shape.”
“Might make fine scouting craft,” Krysty added, stepping into view, “and good escape wags.”
“We could strap them to the outside of Leviathan,” Dean suggested, rising wearily, ready to do his share of the work, “We have the mounts.”
“So we do,” Ryan said, running a callused hand over the stands installed by the coldhearts from the redoubt. “Okay. We’ll use the drive chains of the busted cycles to secure the serviceable bikes.”
“Doc, Jak, guard duty,” Krysty said. “I’ll be on the infrared.”
The decision made, two functioning motorcycles were firmly attached to the hull of the tank. Afterward, the friends rooted among the dead, salvaging weapons, ammo, an ax, a can opener, a precious set of binocs only slightly warped and a ring of brass keys.
“Could come in handy,” J.B. said, pocketing the keys.
“What for?” Mildred asked. “We don’t even know what they unlock.”
“Might be something good, might be nothing. But a set of keys always makes fine bait in a booby trap.”
Resting against her BMW, Amanda watched their proceedings with a disinterested air. Her gaze, though, kept darting to the interior of Leviathan.
Krysty noticed her attraction and moved between the stranger and the dashboard console. Curiosity was natural, but she got an odd feeling about the blonde. The woman had clearly been badly beaten. Purplish bruises were slowly appearing all over her body, especially the thighs, and there was a prominent tooth missing. Krysty could guess exactly what kind of trouble Ryan and Dean had rescued her from. Yet the blonde wasn’t angry or humiliated as any normal person should have been. She almost seemed amused. Even pleased.