mean shit,” Conn rumbled.
“That’s for her to decide, man,” Topper said. “Ernie, go tell the sheriff. We don’t need any more fuckin’ baby snatchers sneakin’ up on us.”
“She’ll just bitch slap me for not checking it out at the time,” Ernie pleaded, his voice coming out of his red-tipped nose. “How come you kiss her ass so much, Topper?”
“You gotta learn the difference between rimming and being polite,” Topper replied, and heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll tell her. You owe me a beer.”
You owe me a beer was the expression people said to mean you can never repay me for this , because there was no beer left in the world, except the occasional tub of sour home brew.
7
T opper walked through the Tribe’s stronghold from campfire to campfire—they were kept going all night, in all weather—to the outer perimeter, nodded to the nearest sentry, and stepped off the pavement onto the dirt and into the darkness.
Topper located the interceptor, parked at a distance from the rest of the convoy in the gravel area reserved for overflow parking, now knee-deep in weeds, not far from the low perimeter fence. They usually arranged the Tribe’s vehicles in a long crescent, so both ends of the line were visible from the center;certain vehicles were set a little apart, like the Courtesy Bus, fuel storage trucks, and the like. Danny always parked farthest from the rest, outside the range of firelight and voices. Most folks assumed it was because of the monster she rode with. Topper thought it was more likely she just didn’t want to be around people.
The police Mustang squatted like a lion out at the edge of the property. He could see Danny doing something with the Leper—Kelley, he knew her name to be, but “Leper” was far more fitting. Sister or not. Ernie was half right about the ass-kissing: The sheriff could hold a grudge like nobody else. Better not to piss her off. She wasn’t a physical threat to Topper, but she could turn disapproval into a painful weapon.
“Is there a problem?” Danny asked, when she saw who approached.
“Ernie thinks we’re being paced by somebody in a Chevelle SS.”
“And it didn’t occur to him to hunt them down?” she said.
Now that Topper was close, he could see Danny was winding fresh bandages around the Leper’s head. He caught a glimpse of matted hair and nothing else; her face was lost in shadows. He almost wanted to see her clearly without the wrappings. See what a tame thinker looked like up close. Almost.
“That’s what I told him,” Topper said. “You know how he is, he can’t improvise unless I tell him how to do it. But the thing I’m wondering is why some asshole would be following us in the first place. Anybody can tag along. That’s well known by anybody that’s heard of us.”
“Ernie’s sure about this?”
“Yeah.”
“Could be linked to those motorcycles I heard. Got to investigate that shit.”
Danny said something to Kelley that Topper couldn’t hear, and the gaunt undead girl walked away through a gap in the fence into the deep dark. She went straight out into the wild grass like there was nothing to fear. For her, of course, there wasn’t. Then Danny went around to the trunk of the interceptor and Topper heard the clink of bottles.
“Drink?” Danny asked.
“Why the fuck not?” Topper said, although he could think of a dozen good reasons why not. Like Danny’s temper got worse when she was drunk. But a couple of slugs wouldn’t hurt.
She threw him a full bottle of Jim Beam and took one for herself, then went back around and sat on the hood of the car. “It’s cold out,” she said.
“Winter’s almost here, I guess,” Topper said, and took a couple of burningswallows of liquor. He let out his breath in a hoo as if he’d just eaten something spicy.
“Water?” Danny offered him her canteen. Topper wasn’t sure if the Leper drank from it or not, so he declined it, and took another blazing pull of
“That’s for her to decide, man,” Topper said. “Ernie, go tell the sheriff. We don’t need any more fuckin’ baby snatchers sneakin’ up on us.”
“She’ll just bitch slap me for not checking it out at the time,” Ernie pleaded, his voice coming out of his red-tipped nose. “How come you kiss her ass so much, Topper?”
“You gotta learn the difference between rimming and being polite,” Topper replied, and heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll tell her. You owe me a beer.”
You owe me a beer was the expression people said to mean you can never repay me for this , because there was no beer left in the world, except the occasional tub of sour home brew.
7
T opper walked through the Tribe’s stronghold from campfire to campfire—they were kept going all night, in all weather—to the outer perimeter, nodded to the nearest sentry, and stepped off the pavement onto the dirt and into the darkness.
Topper located the interceptor, parked at a distance from the rest of the convoy in the gravel area reserved for overflow parking, now knee-deep in weeds, not far from the low perimeter fence. They usually arranged the Tribe’s vehicles in a long crescent, so both ends of the line were visible from the center;certain vehicles were set a little apart, like the Courtesy Bus, fuel storage trucks, and the like. Danny always parked farthest from the rest, outside the range of firelight and voices. Most folks assumed it was because of the monster she rode with. Topper thought it was more likely she just didn’t want to be around people.
The police Mustang squatted like a lion out at the edge of the property. He could see Danny doing something with the Leper—Kelley, he knew her name to be, but “Leper” was far more fitting. Sister or not. Ernie was half right about the ass-kissing: The sheriff could hold a grudge like nobody else. Better not to piss her off. She wasn’t a physical threat to Topper, but she could turn disapproval into a painful weapon.
“Is there a problem?” Danny asked, when she saw who approached.
“Ernie thinks we’re being paced by somebody in a Chevelle SS.”
“And it didn’t occur to him to hunt them down?” she said.
Now that Topper was close, he could see Danny was winding fresh bandages around the Leper’s head. He caught a glimpse of matted hair and nothing else; her face was lost in shadows. He almost wanted to see her clearly without the wrappings. See what a tame thinker looked like up close. Almost.
“That’s what I told him,” Topper said. “You know how he is, he can’t improvise unless I tell him how to do it. But the thing I’m wondering is why some asshole would be following us in the first place. Anybody can tag along. That’s well known by anybody that’s heard of us.”
“Ernie’s sure about this?”
“Yeah.”
“Could be linked to those motorcycles I heard. Got to investigate that shit.”
Danny said something to Kelley that Topper couldn’t hear, and the gaunt undead girl walked away through a gap in the fence into the deep dark. She went straight out into the wild grass like there was nothing to fear. For her, of course, there wasn’t. Then Danny went around to the trunk of the interceptor and Topper heard the clink of bottles.
“Drink?” Danny asked.
“Why the fuck not?” Topper said, although he could think of a dozen good reasons why not. Like Danny’s temper got worse when she was drunk. But a couple of slugs wouldn’t hurt.
She threw him a full bottle of Jim Beam and took one for herself, then went back around and sat on the hood of the car. “It’s cold out,” she said.
“Winter’s almost here, I guess,” Topper said, and took a couple of burningswallows of liquor. He let out his breath in a hoo as if he’d just eaten something spicy.
“Water?” Danny offered him her canteen. Topper wasn’t sure if the Leper drank from it or not, so he declined it, and took another blazing pull of
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