“Thirty or so,” Ryan replied, going to a punch bowl full of water and washing his hands and face. Krysty joined him, and the water was almost black when they finished.
“Any chance you were followed?” J.B. asked, finishing his meal. He tilted his head to listen for any noises outside, but only heard the soft moan of the desert wind and Doc humming that damn Caruso opera song again.
“They were too busy dying to worry about us much,” Ryan stated confidently, using his wet hands to brush back his unruly crop of black curls. “We hid and waited at a couple of locations, never saw a soul.”
“Besides, we did a loop into the desert twice,” Krysty said, drying off with a piece of a yellow towel. “Went over a few walls, and through that burned-out high school. Nobody could follow that trail.”
“Unless they got dogs,” Mildred agreed.
Lowering his arm, Jak sat up and frowned. “Or wolves.”
“Those were trained wolves,” Mildred said slowly. “And we never met the females of the pack.”
“Think any are still around?” Krysty asked, instinctively going for her blaster.
“Sure as bastard hope not,” Ryan grumbled, taking a pencil stub from a pocket and drawing a map of the ruins on the smooth stone floor. “But just in case, we better concoct a battle plan. We got them scared, but when the sky clears, the baron and his men will come boiling out of that bank hot for revenge.”
“We can set up an ambush,” Krysty said. “Certainly enough locations in these ruins for us to stage one hell of a firelight.”
“Thirty to five? Bad odds.” Jak frowned, lacing his shoes.
“Agreed,” J.B. said, disposing of the remains of his meal. “So how do we change them?” With explosives, J.B. knew no master, but strategy was Ryan’s field of expertise.
He stabbed a finger at the crude map. “We’re here, the baron there. So we send out Jak in the Hummer to swing past them real slow, dribbling oil out of a puncture can.”
“Breadcrumbs,” the Cajun said, rubbing his unshaved chin.
“Exactly. You leak a trail away from us and into the desert dunes.”
Mildred paused for a moment, listening to the sleeping boy, then said, “These guys are pretty smart. Do you really think they’ll fall for that old trick?” Then her expression changed. “Oh, I see, they’re not supposed to believe.”
“Right. But the baron will still have to check it out anyway, just in case,” Ryan said. “I estimate he’ll send ten, mebbe half his men after Jak to double-check.”
“I’m bait,” the teen said, slowly grinning. “But not trap. Lure away driving slow, hurry back.”
“Could buy us another day,” Mildred said, massaging the back of her neck. “And hours count at this point.”
“Still leaves the rest for us,” Krysty stated.
“I’ve done the best I can with this building,” J.B. said, coming over closer and sitting on the edge of the fountain basin. “It’s tight, but I sure don’t want to have a major fight here.”
“Not here,” Ryan countered. “We’ll make it a fallback.”
“We can’t move the boy,” Mildred reminded them.
Adjusting his eye patch, Ryan frowned. “Not that kind of a fallback. There’s a ton of weapons in the pawnshop. We choose a good location and arm it with the useless blasters. Then mine the place with boobys. Jam the barrels of the blasters so they explode.”
“Yeah, might work just fine,” J.B. added, glancing at the kitchen he had converted into a weapons lab. Bottles were stacked everywhere, several of them bubbling away softly, steadily building pressure that would soon demand to be released.
“Yeah,” he repeated with a smile. “I got some stuff brewing that will ace the bunch of them if we can gather them in one tight area.”
“Poison gas?”
“Not quite, but close.”
“Fuses?”
“Nope. Just break the glass and the chems mix.”
“Good. Bastard fuses give away too much.”
“Check.”
“Sounds okay,” Mildred admitted. “It’s us or them, so you know my vote.”
Krysty pursed her lips, then nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“Anybody got a better idea, speak now,” Ryan said gruffly, glancing at the barbed wire and curtains of the makeshift roof. “From the sound of the wind and thunder, the storm is almost gone, so we have to move fast.”