Jak’s red eyes focused on the screwdriver, and he brought up his left arm, tight to his body and moving at the elbow. The fingers of his left hand opened and splayed, like wraiths of white mist.
To Rysh, it seemed like the screwdriver had vanished from the very air itself as Jak plucked it from its flight, the metal shaft grasped between his second and third fingers, his arm whiplashed downward to dispel the momentum of the flight.
Rysh couldn’t help it. His mouth hung open as he gaped at Jak.
“Next time just pass it,” Jak said softly, displaying the screwdriver to Rysh as he lifted his arm. Without waiting to see the workman’s reaction, Jak turned his back and began to fit the first bracket.
THE PROJECT WAS completed after two and a half days. Crow had instructed the sec man Petey to oversee Krysty and Mildred, in order to keep some distance between the women and the workmen. In addition, he had set them to work on the tidying and clearing of the work sites, which mostly entailed the areas free of the other workers. It had been done without comment, but all the companions could see that the Native American was as good as his word. As each group finished its tasks, so Mildred and Krysty would move in and clear up the mess. By late afternoon, the workmen were bathing and relaxing while the women put the final touches to the clearing up process.
“To think they used to protest against this when I was a kid,” Mildred said with heavy irony.
“Mebbe we should start again,” Krysty returned with a grimace.
But finally they had finished and joined their companions. Crow came over to the group, which had stayed separate from the workforce.
“This is good,” he said simply. “We’re way ahead of schedule, and the bonuses will be good. I’ve sent to Salvation and Baron Silas will be sending wags for us tomorrow. He’s interested in meeting you.”
Ryan and J.B. exchanged glances. “So you’ve been in contact with Salvation?” Ryan asked.
Crow allowed himself a smile around the eyes, even if the rest of his face stayed impassive. “One of the things Baron Silas has traded with his collaborators is a series of predark two-way radios. They’re erratic, like all his machinery right now, but they keep him in touch with all his work parties. And you didn’t really think I’d tell you that I had one, did you?”
Ryan shook his head. “Guess you’re too smart. So we get to see Salvation tomorrow.”
Crow assented. “But first you’ve got a possible problem. The boys’ll want an end-of-work party. We have some brew, and I know for a fact that some of them have jolt, even though they’re not supposed to. But they’ve worked hard, so it’s their concern. And yours. There are scores to settle, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Then give us back our blasters,” J.B. said simply.
Crow shook his head. “I can’t do that. But I’ll be around, and I’ll make sure that the sec keep on their guard. Just watch your backs is all.” Before any of the companions could answer, the giant turned and walked away.
THE WORKMEN WAITED until the sun had fallen before they started the party. The companions left the shelter and set a fire some distance away, figuring that the best course of action would be to give the workmen a wide berth until they had drunk and jolted themselves insensible.
After a couple of hours, the light from the lamps within the workers’ shelter was suddenly spread across the desert dust as the sheeting was cast aside. “Hey, muthafuekers,” yelled a voice that was unmistakably Hal’s, “you gonna come and join us or just be plain unfriendly?”
“A paradoxical statement from those gentlemen, I think,” Doc murmured.
Hal continued, “You gonna let those lovely ladies come and give us a little pussy to celebrate. Molloy here, he’s hung like a mutie horse and he’ll make them scream…”
“I wish I had a blaster,” Dean muttered.
“Leave it,” his father said softly.
But the companions weren’t allowed to leave it.
The light spread farther as the sheeting was parted, broken by the shadows of the workmen as they spilled out onto the desert.