“You peel, you name.”
A smile. “I see your point, Young Jak. Taters it is.”
The albino teen grunted in victory.
Curiously, Dean reached out to touch one of the baskets stacked nearby. It was made of reed and seemed to be filled with live lizards. “Meat, too,” he said, astonished. “But where did it come from?”
“We caught the lizards,” J.B. said, snuggling next to Mildred. “It’s easy once you know how.”
“And we traded with the local baron for the vegetables,” Krysty said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“Oh, yeah. The blasters.”
“Actually, no,” Ryan stated, starting the engine. “He had lots of those. We traded with something he didn’t have, and wanted very much. J.B.’s formula for smoke bombs.”
“Knowledge is power,” the wiry man beamed, adjusting his glasses.
“So we staying here for a while?” Dean asked.
Ryan eased off the brake and slipped the wag into gear. “Can’t. There was some trouble. We’re not on a chill list, but we aren’t welcome any longer, either.”
“Oh.” The boy thought about that. “So what about the mutie? Is it dead? Who runs that ville? Did we… could—”
“Enough. Sleep,” Mildred ordered, pressing a finger to his lips. “We’re going to the redoubt for a while, let you rest and get your strength back. Tell you all about it there.”
“Still have no idea where we are,” Krysty complained, staring at the cloudy sky.
“A bastardization of the military term ‘ground zero,’ I would assume,” Doc rumbled, wincing as his shoulder wound throbbed.
“Mebbe after a couple of years, when things calm down,” Ryan stated, putting the Hummer in gear and pulling away from the curb, “we’ll come back and ask them.”
LYING ATOP an old horse blanket spread on the white sand beach before the azure ocean, Harold felt himself rising again from the electric touch of Laura’s naked breast on his chest. But his wife was asleep, and the man forced his passion to cool. There had been a lot of sec men in the gaudy house that night, but oddly nobody attacked when he appeared with his blasters. They simply watched as he took the young woman from her bed and departed. So much preparation for nothing. Carrying her in his arms, he had raced through the sewers and taken a boat he had built himself down the dirty river to the sea. There he rowed for hours until finally reaching a small island where nobody else lived. Deep in the lush greenery was a hut built by the old baron, the cellar full of food, ammo and tools. His secret escape place was now their honeymoon oasis. That night under the stars, they kissed like adults and did many other wonderful things.
As he gazed at the sleeping woman, Harold’s heart swelled with love for his tiny bride. The naked goliath gently stroked her long flowing hair, so soft to the touch of his massive scarred hands. He didn’t care about her many scars. She was his angel, and nobody would ever harm her again.
Shifting position in her sleep, Laura pressed warmly against the man and reached out to stroke his misshapen face with fingers as gentle as a prayer in church. A single heartfelt tear flowed down his ravaged cheek, and the deformed man closed his eyes in complete contentment.
“Good doggie,” the woman murmured softly. “Good boy.”
Lost in reverie, Harold never heard the words and he fell asleep with a smile, happily dreaming about how fine and strong their many children would be.