The Tribes, Chapter 30

Ryan had to take a couple of detours, but he eventually managed to reach Jack’s destination – the old zoo. At the main gate, Jack jumped out of the pickup truck and used bolt cutters to cut the padlock from the chains that had been wrapped around the gates. Jack held the gates open while Ryan eased the truck through. As Ryan waited for Jack to swing the gates closed and climb back into the truck’s cab, from the corner of his eye he thought he saw something large and gray lope across the road ahead, but when he turned to look the road was empty.

Instead of climbing back into the truck, Jack ran about twenty yards ahead to one of those “You Are Here” maps and began studying it. Putting the truck in gear, Ryan eased the vehicle along the wide pathway to where Jack was closely examining the map. The empty zoo was creeping Ryan out – it was strange to be standing among all the empty habitat exhibits. Ryan shook off the creepy feeling and climbed out of the truck to join Jack at the map.

“You know where we want to go?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah – all we have to do is follow this road we go past the little snack bar and then take the first road to the right and follow that to the rhino paddock,” Jack said.

“Uh huh, that sounds easy enough,” Ryan said, looking around uneasily. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the creepy feeling, he just couldn’t do it. The feeling was more intense now that he was out of the truck. “So, is this going to take long?”

“It shouldn’t,” Jack said absently as he examined the map one last time. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah – this place creeps me out, Jack, and I don’t mind admitting it. The sooner we’re out of here the happier I’ll be.”

Jack looked around at the unnaturally silent habitat exhibits and had to admit that the sight of them was a little creepy. Like everything else in the world when the Bad Times began, the zoo was abandoned and the animals left to fend for themselves until they died. And for some unexplained reason, the survivors steered clear of the zoo – maybe they were afraid that some of the animals were wandering around. Or, maybe they were worried because there were so many good ambush locations in the park. Whatever the reasons, Jack was counting on the average survivor being too frightened of the place to venture as deep into the park proper as he planned to go.

Once back in the truck it wasn’t hard to find their way along the wide paths. At the rhino paddock, Jack told Ryan to turn left and follow the road until he came to the next right turn. That seemed easy enough and about a quarter of a mile further on, Ryan found the turn easily enough. Padlocked gates prevented him from making the turn and he was forced to wait until Jack had snipped the lock away and opened the gates. Climbing back into the truck, Jack told Ryan to just follow the road. The farm boy followed Jack’s directions and about five minutes later found himself in front of a large, ultramodern-looking building.

“What is this place?”

“Right where we want to be,” Jack said with satisfaction. “This is the main veterinary building – with any luck I’ll find everything I need in there.”

“Cool,” Ryan said as he pulled the truck into one of the empty parking spaces near the front door. “Do me a favor – find that shit fast so we can get out of here. It’s even creepier back here.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Jack said slipping out of the cab and grabbing his canvas bag from the bed of the pickup. He reached into the bag and produced two heavy-duty lanterns, handing one over to Ryan. “I doubt we can expect the power to still be on in there,” he said by way of explanation.

Ryan took the lantern and hurried up the steps to the door and gave the handle a jerk. Nothing happened. Ryan turned back to Jack in dismay. “The door’s locked!”

Jack grinned and dug a crowbar from the bag. “Not a problem – I brought a key.”

Ryan couldn’t help laughing as he took the crowbar from Jack and forced the door open. The two of them turned on their lanterns and entered the building. The air inside was musty and cobwebs hung from the ceilings. Ryan milled around aimlessly wondering what treasures Jack expected to find in the place. He watched quietly as Jack shone his lantern along the walls as if searching for something. Suddenly, he stopped moving the light around and hurried over to what looked like a map on the wall.

“Not great as maps go,” Jack said over his shoulder. “It’s more of a fire exit location map than anything else – but it’s enough to give us an general idea of where to look.”

“For what?”

“For the labs, of course,” Jack said as if the answer were obvious. Without waiting for Ryan, he raced down the corridor and turned right at the first intersection. Tightening his grip on the crowbar, Ryan followed.

*****

Tyler curled up in a corner of what had once been a coffee shop and cursed Cullen for about the thousandth time. He was sure that Cullen and his team were out there lost somewhere, he couldn’t imagine any of the punks in The City being able to really put up a serious fight against a Werewolf team. No, Cullen and the other two idiots with him were lost. But, Prometheus refused to listen to reason – he decided to play it safe and move from the previous lair to one of the backups they had chosen. And, on the off chance that Cullen or one of the others had been captured, Prometheus had decided to send Tyler and his team to a third location.

Tyler hadn’t minded at first – the less time he spent around Prometheus, the happier he was. The Werewolf leader didn’t cut anyone too much slack. The simplest mistake was worth at least ten lashes with a crop. Serious mistakes could earn a trip to Gull’s dungeon – and no one returned from there. His pleasure at being out of Prometheus’ presence was short-lived once he and his team settled into the coffee shop. The floors were hard, cold tile that sapped the warmth out of a body in no time. Denton and Bumper were pressed close together in a pathetic attempt to share body heat. There weren’t any padded booths in the shop – just broken round café style tables and hard chairs. Cursing Cullen one more time, Tyler curled himself into a ball and tried to get some sleep before the hunt later that night. Just as he drifted off to sleep, Tyler hoped that Prometheus’s sleeping arrangements were as bad as his.

*****

Zoot looked over the maps of the sectors where he had people searching for the Werewolves. He had turned the Loco Headquarters into Command Central for Operation Wolf Hunt, as he called it. He had a dozen search teams scouring the sectors for the hiding places of the Werewolves. The teams had specific orders to locate the hiding places and confirm the presence of the attackers and then send a runner back to HQ. Once Zoot knew where the Werewolves were holed up, he’d dispatch his soldiers to capture them. Zoot had no doubt that his men would be successful – regardless of how well-trained the Werewolves might be, the sheer numbers of Locos attacking them would overwhelm them. He turned to Ebony who was waiting silently in the shadows on the other side of the room.

“How are the preparations going at the club?”

“Everything is progressing smoothly,” she said with a feral smile. “When I left to report here, the workers were almost finished erecting the scaffolding.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Zoot said. “It’s going to hold up, won’t it?”

“Don’t worry, the scaffolding is made up of pipes and locking connectors. In the old days, scaffolding like that used to be used at rock concerts to hold huge speaker columns and lighting. It’ll hold up,” she assured him. “I don’t understand why you don’t just have your soldiers kill them where they find them, though. It would be a lot easier and more efficient.”

Zoot shook his head. Ebony was about as ruthless as anyone he’d ever met was, but she lacked the sense of showmanship and flamboyance that was necessary to be an effective leader. “Ebony, Ebony, Ebony how many times must I explain that easy and efficient aren’t necessarily the best things. You need to give the people a show – let them see the consequences of crossing you.” He stood and crossed the room to her. “Anyone can kill another person – that’s done more times a day than I care to count. But, take that victim and make him a part of a spectacle before a crowd and you’ll own that crowd.” Zoot took Ebony by the throat and pulled her closer until their faces were almost touching. “The rabble need entertainment to keep them happy, and they need a sense of fear to keep them in line. Mix the two and you have them eating out of your hand.”

Zoot leaned closer and ran his tongue up the side of Ebony’s neck, tracing the curve of her jaw until his mouth reached hers. Their open mouths met and the two began kissing and biting each other. Their lovemaking was always an animalistic mixture of passion and violence that never failed to energize each of them. Zoot dragged her to the chaise lounge on the other side of the room and pushed her down while he straddled the lounge and slowly began unbuttoning his tunic. Ebony’s dark eyes burned with hunger as she watched him slowly strip, revealing his hard, muscular body. Smiling, Ebony reached up and began to seductively unlace the leather bustier she wore, teasing Zoot as she slowly opened it more and more. She lowered her eyes to Zoot’s well-developed chest that still bore the signs of the last time they made love. Zoot dropped his shirt to the floor and leaned down over Ebony.

Barely healed scratches crossed his smooth pectorals where she had gouged him with her nails. A couple of them might even leave a scar, she decided. Her cat-like smile widened as she raked her long nails down Zoot’s back. The gasp that escaped Zoot’s mouth was one of pleasure rather than pain. He grinned down at Ebony and she raked her nails down his back again. Zoot straightened and unbuckled the riding breeches he wore, pushing them down to the tops of his riding boots freeing his erection. Ebony greedily stared at her lover’s thick, heavily veined eight-inch dick. She reached out one painted fingernail and lightly ran it around and around the purple mushroom head that hovered over her.

Zoot threw his head back, sighing with pleasure as Ebony teased his dick with her scarlet fingernails. Leaning forward, Zoot reached out and began kneading Ebony’s small, pert breasts working his thumbs over her nipples. The guttural sound that escaped Ebony was more like the purr of an aroused tigress than any sound made by a human. Zoot knelt on the chaise and spread his legs wide as he eased closer and closer to her vagina. He continued kneading her breasts and working her nipples, listening to the guttural sounds coming from her mouth grow more frequent and more intense. He waited until Ebony’s breath began to grow ragged and then he thrust his tool into her.

Ebony’s back arched when Zoot entered her and began a slow, rhythmic thrusting that brought her as much pleasure as it did him. She reached up and dragged her nails over his chest, teasing his nipples. Seeing Zoot grit his teeth as she scraped her nails over his sensitive nipples only served to increase her mounting pleasure. Zoot began to increase the speed of his hip thrusts when someone began pounding on the door.

Zoot’s eyes snapped open. “Later,” he yelled over his shoulder, never slowing his momentum.

“Boss, it’s important,” Oliver White called through the door, his voice plaintive.

Zoot continued to thrust in and out of Ebony as he looked over his shoulder. “I said later!”

“It’s about the Werewolves, boss,” Oliver shouted. “You said I was s’posed t’ tell ya the second I got any news.”

“Get your ass in here!” Zoot bellowed as he continued to pump away at Ebony.

Oliver charged into the room and stopped short when he saw what Zoot and Ebony were doing. He ran a hand over his rat-like face and stood with his back to Zoot and Ebony. “Weasel Kincaid has found the lair of some of the Werewolves, boss.”

“Don’t fucking stand behind me when you talk,” Zoot growled. “Move your skinny ass to the head of the chaise so I can see you.” Oliver moved to the top of the chaise and faced the Loco leader, nervously running a hand through his parrot green hair. “Tell me what Weasel found,” Zoot ordered.

“There’s an old coffee shop over in Sector Twelve on Hammond Street, he sent a report back that there are three of the Werewolves in there,” Oliver reported. “He said they appear to be using the shop as a place to hole up for the day and get some sleep.”

“Three, huh?” Zoot mused. “According to what Jack learned there were ten Werewolves and one leader, making eleven in all. The Shiprats accounted for three … Weasel found three … that means that there are still four more out there.”

“Exactly, boss.”

Zoot paused conversing as he felt the first stirrings of the mutual orgasm he and Ebony were about to share. The muscles in her love canal were involuntarily flexing, squeezing his dick as his balls churned. He began thrusting harder and faster, leaving both of them panting in pleasure just moments before Ebony arched her back, her ass coming completely off the chaise as Zoot emptied his load inside of her. As soon as his orgasm died away, Zoot pushed himself to his feet and ordered Oliver to get him a towel.

Zoot casually cleaned himself off while Homer waited for orders to relay. “Is there a back entrance to this place?”

Oliver stared up at the ceiling as he thought. Finally, he shook his head as he looked back to Zoot. “No, according to Weasel’s message the only way in and out is through the front.”

“Okay – I want one hundred soldiers sent to take those assholes,” Zoot said as he began dressing. “Make it clear that I want each of the Werewolves brought back alive – they can slap those creeps around all they want so long as they remain alive and conscious.”

“Got it, boss.”

“After they capture those Werewolves, have them delivered to the Square in front of the Inferno,” Zoot ordered.

After Oliver dashed from the room to carry out Zoot’s orders, Ebony raised up on one elbow and regarded Zoot coolly. “Isn’t a hundred and twenty-five soldiers a bit of overkill for just three men?”

“Of course it is, don’t be such an ass,” Zoot said coolly. “I want those Werewolves taken alive – the sheer volume of numbers will ensure that that happens. Even if I lose some soldiers in the process, I’ll get the prisoners.” Zoot finished buttoning his shirt and began pulling on his tunic. “By tonight, the word will spread that the Locos under Zoot’s leadership captured the bogeymen and put an end to their reign of terror.”

“That won’t hurt your reputation any,” Ebony observed.

“Of course not, which is the whole reason for putting on a show tonight,” Zoot smiled.

*****

The refugees from the Lost Boys Tribe had finally fallen asleep a little after dawn. Keith wandered down the rows of beds shaking his head in a strange mixture and sadness. Some of the cots held four Lost Boys in a tangled heap. The only ones who slept alone were the catatonic kids who seemed to have fallen asleep right where Keith had last seen them. As he quietly walked around the cots, Keith made some mental notes. All of the kids could use some clean clothes – and a bath. He figured that he might have to settle for just making them endure having their faces and hands washed.

Heather slipped into the ballroom and joined Keith. “They look so innocent, don’t they?”

“They are innocent,” Keith said. “I just wish they were all carefree, too. D’you think it would be too much trouble to have some breakfast foods available for the kids at lunchtime?”

“I don’t see that as a problem,” Heather said. “What were you thinking of?

“Oh some oatmeal and maybe scrambled eggs, although they’ll probably all just eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Keith chuckled. “We’ll settle for just washing their hands and faces before breakfast. After they eat, I’ll have to figure some way to get them properly bathed and into clean clothes.”

“And they could all use haircuts,” Heather said. “You can hardly tell the boys from the girls and their hair is so tangled and knotted.”

“Maybe Bubba or Alice will be up to seeing the kids for a little bit,” Keith mused. “It might help everyone feel a little better to know they’re all safe.” He stared at the kids for a few moments, rubbing his head as he thought. He brightened as an idea came to him and turned to Heather. “Look I need a long length of rope – at least a hundred feet or so, can you get that?”

“I suppose,” Heather replied.

“And, I’ll need a couple dozen carabiners.”

“What?”

“Um, D-rings,” Keith said. “Do you think you can find them?”

“No,” Heather said as she headed towards the door. Before pushing the doors open, she stopped and added with a smile, “but Dal could.”

Heather and Dal returned about twenty minutes later with the things Keith had requested. He took the rope and began knotting loops into the rope every three feet or so. Heather watched him in confusion, but Dal caught on and began grinning.

“You know, I kind of put two and two together and figured out what you had in mind,” Dal told Keith.

“Oh?” Keith looked interested.

“So, I brought you a couple dozen of these,” Dal said smugly as he produced web belts from the bottom of the box the rope had been in. “They’re adult sized, but all we have to do is move the buckle and cut off the excess.”

About a half-hour before lunch, Keith and Heather began waking the Lost Boys up and taking them to the restroom off the ballroom to let them relieve themselves and to wash their faces. The two of them had stacks of hand towels and washcloths stacked up on the counter beside the sinks. Reactions from the kids ran the whole gamut of total resistance to eager acceptance and everything in between. By making as much of a game of the face washing as he could, Keith did manage to get more giggles than protests. He and Heather contented themselves with just finger combing the tangled mops on each of the kids. The catatonic kids were the last ones to get cleaned up. Keith took them as a group to the bathroom and saw to their needs before washing their faces.

With all the kids kind of washed, Keith stood in the middle of the ballroom and asked who was ready to have an adventure. Several heads turned excitedly in his direction, eyes shining with excitement. When Keith repeated the offer, at least six of the kids charged him jumping up and down, clamoring to share in the adventure.

“Okay, okay – we’re all going on a great adventure,” Keith promised. “But first, each of you needs to be fitted with a safety belt.”

One by one the kids were fitted for their belts and Keith got them lined up in a straight line. He went down the line slipping a D-ring on the left side of each child and then held up the rope. He showed the kids how to snap their D-rings onto a loop in the rope.

“See – now we’re all attached to the rope just like mountain climbers and no one can get lost,” Keith called picking up the first loop in the rope. “Now, it’s time to move out. Let’s march.”

To Keith’s delight, the kids immediately fell into the spirit of things and began marching in place, lifting their knees high. When Keith started walking, they followed happily followed him. Even the six who were catatonic moved along when the rope pulled at their belts.

*****

Between the musty odors, the magnified echoes of their footsteps in the corridors, and the weird shadows cast by their lanterns, Ryan was growing more and more anxious to get out of the building. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Jack had already poked around through about seven of the labs and hadn’t found what he was looking for.

“How much longer are we going to wander around in here?” Ryan whispered.

“Can’t be too much longer,” Jack said. He pointed his lantern towards a door at the end of the corridor. “Let’s try down there.”

Like most of the other doors, the one at the far end of the corridor had been thoughtfully locked before the zoo employees had abandoned the zoo for the last time. Unlike the other doors, this one had two locks on it, which made it a little harder for Ryan to get it open with the crowbar. After several tries, Ryan finally managed to pop the door open and Jack eagerly pushed past him through the doorway. Ryan shone his lantern beam around the room and realized that he’d just broken into a storeroom. He was just about to suggest looking somewhere else when he heard Jack shout out in delight from the far end of the dark, windowless room.

“Ryan, Ryan … bring the crowbar, quick!”

Expecting a door to another room, Ryan was surprised when his lantern beam revealed that about a third of the room was contained in a mesh cage. Ryan studied the cage door and brought his heavy booted foot crashing into the latch. The door flew open and crashed against the mesh cage wall. Jack nearly knocked Ryan over as he pushed his way into the cage, shining his lantern around wildly.

“Oh yes! We’ve hit the Mother Lode! Jack exclaimed as he dug through the canvas bag slung over his shoulder and produced the bolt cutters and quickly cut the lock off of a glass-fronted cabinet. Ryan hurried over to the cabinet that Jack had just broken into and stared in stunned silence as Jack produced a rifle with a telescopic sight.

“I thought the cops and Army guys confiscated all the guns,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, well I was kind of counting on them missing these babies,” Jack said happily. “These aren’t regular guns – they’re air guns…”

“Pellet guns you mean?” Ryan interrupted. “They won’t do us any good.”

“Not pellet guns, Ryan,” Jack said patiently. “They’re dart guns – these things shoot tranquilizer darts.” Jack turned his lantern to rows of aluminum cases and opened several to reveal each contained neat rows of hypodermic darts. Jack nodded happily. “See if you can find a cart, Ryan. It’ll save us making more trips than we have to.”

Jack searched around and found six flat foam rubber lined cases that each of the tranquilizer guns could fit into for transportation. Ryan found a large rolling cart in one of the labs down the hall and returned to the storeroom to find that Jack had already made a large stack of boxes to be taken with them.

“What’s in all the boxes?”

“Animal tranquilizers,” Jack replied. “We’re taking it all … well, at least all that we can in one trip.”

Ryan didn’t bother to argue. He trusted Jack to know what he was doing, so he just started packing the boxes onto the cart. It took about two hours to get everything packed into the bed of the pickup truck. While Jack made one last check of the things he had gathered in the storeroom to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything, Ryan moved across the drive and stepped behind a tree to relieve himself. As he was pissing, he absently glanced down at the ground and almost peed all over his foot. He finished relieving himself and then crouched down to examine the ground.

“Oh shit,” Ryan said softly. Ryan turned and excitedly called Jack over to where he was. “Take a look at this, what do you make of it?”

Jack stared down at the ground where Ryan was pointing and shook his head in wonder. “I’d say that that looks like a cat’s footprint,” he said. “Only it’s way too big.”

“Not if the cat is something like a lion or tiger,” Ryan said. “It rained like hell the other night, so that print has to be relatively fresh. But that can’t be possible. I remember seeing on the TV a report about how all the zoo animals were either already dying, dead, or about to be killed. They even had videotape of dead animals.”

Jack stared at the single footprint, deep in thought. “Well,” he said at last, “it’s possible that the keepers or handlers or whatever they were called just couldn’t bring themselves to kill the animals. By the Bad Times it pretty much looked like all people were going to die. Maybe the handlers decided not to add to the death toll and just opened up the cages. If they did that, some of the animals were bound to survive – maybe even thrive. There was lots for them to … well, to eat.”

Ryan began looking around warily. “Look, let’s get back in the truck and get the hell outta here. If whatever made that print came through here once, it’s bound to come through here a second or third time.”

“Yeah, okay – let’s just walk over to the truck,” Jack agreed.

“So tell me, what’re you gonna do with the tranquilizer guns?” Ryan asked once they were moving through the park in the truck.

“Our prisoner said that Gull is supposed to be meeting up with the Werewolf team,” Jack said.

“Gull,” Ryan repeated. “He’s like The Leader’s big, bad hatchet man isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who tortures and castrates prisoners,” Jack said. “He’s probably the number two man of the Brotherhood by now. Well, we’re going to be at that rendezvous point and take Gull prisoner.” Jack sat back and smiled. “That ought to throw The Leader for a loop. He won’t know whether Gull was captured or whether he sold out.”

“Okay – next question,” Ryan said. “Isn’t it going to be dangerous to use animal tranquilizers on humans?”

“That can be tricky,” Jack agreed. “But, it’s a risk worth taking. Using the tranq guns minimizes the risk to our people and we can put the big fish like Gull on trial for everyone to see.”

“I guess that’ll work,” Ryan agreed. He looked over at Jack. “You know we’ll have to have a death penalty if you’re going to do that – the trial thing, I mean.”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” Jack said uncomfortably. “I don’t like the idea of having a death penalty. But, I can’t see putting anyone in a cage for the rest of their life either. I can imagine lots of problems with life jail terms – things like escape would head the list, too.”

“Well, something has to be done, that’s for sure,” Ryan said. “We’ll just have to work things out on a case-by-case basis. I mean; some people can be redeemed. And then, some people like Gull and The Leader can’t – it’s really as simple as that.”

*****

Tyler had finally managed to drift off into a deep dreamless sleep in spite of the cold floor when he was jerked back to wakefulness by the sound of shattering glass. Tyler’s eyes almost bugged out of his head when he opened his eyes and saw what looked like a human wall surging into the shop through the freshly smashed picture window and door. His muscles were stiff and didn’t want to work smoothly as he climbed to his feet and tried to pull his machete from its scabbard.

Denton and Bumper had barely climbed to their feet when they were engulfed by the mass of screaming people crowding into the coffee shop. Tyler glanced frantically around for a way to escape and realized that there wasn’t any back door to the building. He began swinging the machete in a deadly figure-eight pattern hoping to scare the front row of the people swarming towards him. They never slowed and several went down with wild screams as Tyler's machete sliced through flesh. Then a baseball bat from the crowd connected with Tyler’s right forearm, smashing the bones. The Werewolf felt his hand go numb as the machete fell from lifeless fingers. And then, the crowd was on top of him, hands were reaching out to grab, hold, and hit him. He felt blows rain against his face and back. Suddenly, the blows stopped and Tyler felt hands pulling his arms behind his back and pinioning them there as the crowd dragged him out into the street.

Once in the street, Tyler and his companions were roughly thrown down onto the asphalt. With their whole heads covered in grease paint, it was hard to tell exactly how injured Denton and Bumper were. From what Tyler could tell Bumper’s left eye was swollen closed and it looked like there was blood on his face. Before he could turn to look at Denton, Tyler was once again grabbed from behind and pulled backwards. His hands were roughly pulled over his head without any regard to his broken right arm. While his hands were being tied together, his ankles were being tied together and then a long pole was slid under his wrists and ankles and Tyler felt himself being lifted up where he found himself swinging suspended a couple of feet off the ground. Tyler got a brief glimpse of Denton and Bumper tied to poles in a similar manner and then, the crowd started moving in silence.

A caterer’s tent had been set up for Zoot in the Square outside of The Inferno Club. Comfortable, well-padded armchairs sat on a plush Oriental carpet in the shade under the tent. Freddie, the club manager, crossed the Square to where Zoot was critically examining the scaffolding that had been erected. As Freddie approached, Zoot turned to him.

“You mean to tell me that the pipes just fit into those couplings and are locked in place?” Zoot asked.

“Exactly,” Freddie said. “Once the assemblers got into a groove, the scaffolding went up in no time at all.”

Ebony pointed to the nooses hanging from the top of the scaffolding. “Those aren’t proper hangman’s nooses,” she said. “They’re just regular slip nooses.”

“But that’s exactly what Zoot ordered,” Freddie protested.

“That’s right,” Zoot said. That’s exactly what I want.” He looked around and smiled his most feral smile when he saw the large fifty-gallon trough off to one side of the scaffolding. “I see you got the trough and managed to have it filled, Freddie. Good job. Ah, you did get the other things?”

Freddie smiled. “Of course, Zoot. I’d never let you down – they’re on the other side of the trough.”

Zoot started back to the caterer’s tent when a runner entered the square and made straight for him. The Loco leader paused and waited for the runner to draw near.

“Three of the Werewolves have been captured alive, Zoot,” the runner gasped.

“Excellent, excellent,” Zoot replied. “Any news on the others?”

The runner shook his head. “Not yet – but Weasel and Rat are both on the hunt with their teams. It shouldn’t be long before they find something.”

“How long before the soldiers arrive with their catches?”

The runner studied the sky and the position of the sun. “I’d say just about lunchtime, or thereabouts, Zoot.”

The runner’s estimate proved to be right on the money. Zoot had just finished his lunch when the soldiers marched into the Square with their prizes. The three Werewolves were unceremoniously dumped on the ground in front of the caterer’s tent. At a sign from Zoot, the three were jerked to their feet.

“Which of you is in charge?” Zoot demanded.

Denton and Bumper shot sideways glances at each other and were surprised when Tyler took a small step forward. “I’m team leader for this team,” Tyler hissed as the pain from his arm threatened to overwhelm him again. “Th-there’s…”

“Yes, I know – there are three terror teams and the Werewolf leader,” Zoot said, grinning at the stunned look in Tyler’s eyes. “I understand that all the Werewolves are castrated – supposedly it’s supposed to make each of you tougher and more bloodthirsty.”

“H-how…how do you know that?” Tyler was flabbergasted at how much the Tribe leader in front of him knew.

“I’m Zoot – leader of the Locos, the strongest Tribe in The City. I make it my business to know about my enemies. Now, let’s see how good a job they done on you,” Zoot said motioning to three of his soldiers. “Strip him off right here and now.”

The soldiers went to work ripping Tyler’s black uniform to shreds. The crowd that had gathered began moving closer to see if what they had just heard was really true. Derisive snorts and giggles rippled through the crowd when Tyler’s black cargo pants were ripped open and his jockey shorts jerked down to his knees.

“Lookit’im,” a young boy shouted as he stepped away from the crowd, his finger extended. “He ain’t got no balls hanging atween his legs!” The crowd roared with laughter at the kid’s observations. Growing bolder, the kid moved closer and tapped Tyler’s tightly circumcised penis, which had pulled up tight against his belly in his fear. “Lookit how small his winkle is,” the kid said. Suddenly, the kid pulled down his pants and showed Tyler and the crowd his own four-inch penis. “I got more down there ‘n he has!”

The crowd laughed even harder at the kid’s observation, which made him dance around in a circle while shaking his penis. He had completed two circles around Tyler when he slammed into Zoot who had moved up to intercept the kid.

“What’s your name, boy?” Zoot asked, staring sternly down at the half-naked kid.

“Uh…uh, um they call me Rabbit,” the kid answered.

Zoot nodded and then grabbed Rabbit’s dick in his hand and examined it. Then, he turned and made a show of examining Tyler’s cock. “Whadda you know,” Zoot called, laughing. “Rabbit is right – he does have more of a dick than this big bad Werewolf.” Zoot stared at Tyler’s face and turned to the soldiers who had stripped the Werewolf. “I don’t like all that greasepaint all over his face … wash it off.”

Grinning, the soldiers dragged Tyler to the trough and stuck his head in the water, holding Tyler under for a while. The Werewolf was choking and spitting out water when they finally pulled him from the water and went to work scrubbing Tyler’s face and head with scrub brushes. By the time the last of the grease paint was gone, Tyler’s skin was scraped raw in several places and bleeding in others. The crowd laughed at Tyler’s humiliation and cheered the soldiers work.

Denton and Bumper received the same treatment that Tyler had undergone. They were stripped naked in front of an even bigger crowd and had the grease paint scrubbed roughly from the heads and faces while the gathering laughed and jeered.

*****

Rat slowly lowered the monocular and pulled the information sheet on the Werewolves that he had been given from his back pocket and unfolded it. He squinted at the words and laboriously worked his way through the words. He had already been to the other potential lairs and found them empty. He was across the street from the last place on the list, a bridal shop, and scouted it from about every angle and still couldn’t see any signs that it was inhabited.

“I swear if you don’t take a bath at least once a year, people’ll always smell you a hunnerd yards away,” a low, hoarse voice said from behind Rat, making him jump.

“Shit Weasel! You ‘bout scared the shit outta me,” Rat whispered harshly. He eased back to a sitting position. "Been here long?”

Weasel grinned, showing greenish teeth. “I think I got here ‘bout the same time you did,” he pointed vaguely in the direction opposite from the way Rat had come in. “I come up from t’other direction is all.”

“Yeah, well all our skulkin’ an’ sneakin’ around was for nuttin,” Rat snorted. “This is the last place on the list and them Werewolfs ain’t here.”

Weasel flashed his green teeth in a silent grin. “Oh they’re here a’right … they just ain’t where ya ‘spect ‘em t’ be … ya just gotta know where t’ look and they’re easy t’ find. Ya gotta look on the right side o’ the street first off.”

“Ya mean they’re on the same side o’ the street as us?”

“Yep … just a few doors down th’ street as a matter o’ fact. C’mon, I’ll show ya.”

It took almost ten minutes for Weasel to lead their way around the block, across the street and down to the back alley behind the shops across from them. He led Rat through the open back window of what had once been a small sandwich shop. The two of them wended their way through the kitchen, which smelled of foodstuffs long since rotted and food for maggots. Coming into the seating area, Weasel dropped to his belly and insisted Rat follow his example. Together they scooted across the filthy floor on their bellies to the low front window. Weasel eased up until just his eyes were above the lower edge of the window and pointed to the neighborhood beauty shop across the street.

“I worked my way over there, earlier,” Rat explained. “Had a peep through the winder an’ seen four of ‘em. Three snoozin’ in the beauty chairs and one snoozin’ on the little sofa in the waiting area.”

Rat had his monocular and was carefully examining the building across the street. “Uh uh,” he said shaking his head. “Don’t see it … don’t see nuttin’… uh, hold on a sec … yeah, yeah I see ‘em. Why d’ya figger they moved after choosin’ this place in the first place?”

“I think the dude in charge jus’ took out a little extra insurance,” Weasel speculated. “He can’t be sure that missin’ team wasn’t caught and made t’ talk. So, they gets here and he decides t’ play it a little extra safe an’ move crost th’ street. It’s more comfortable and he can see this place when the other teams get here for a meetin’ or whatever they do…’

“So … didja send a messenger back t’ Zoot?”

“First thing,” Weasel said proudly. “Now, all we gotta do is wait.”

*****

Prometheus found that he didn’t really mind the must and mold of the comfortable sofa that he had commandeered as his bed. It was far more comfortable than the floor … even the salon chairs that the third team were snoozing away in had to be more comfortable than the floors on which they’d been sleeping. He wondered what had happened to Cullen’s terror team – he simply couldn’t imagine the possibility that some City Tribe had captured all three Werewolves. It was possible that all three had been seriously injured or even killed in some accident. There were plenty of dangers that could easily claim three or even thirty people if just one of them wasn’t careful. For instance, he reminded himself, a fire escape could have collapsed sending all three tumbling to the street or alley below. The Werewolf leader snorted in amusement – it was more likely that Tyler was right and that Cullen had simply managed to get his team hopelessly lost.

The Werewolf leader sat up and stretched, yawning widely. He was debating opening his rations and eating something when he became aware of a steady, rhythmic thumping coming from outside. He glanced out the window and didn’t see anything but the empty street. He decided to head up to the roof and see what the sound was. As he crossed to the steps leading up to the roof, he slapped Danny’s boot and whispered for him to take over the watch.

Prometheus hurried up the steps all the way to the door on the top floor that opened onto the roof. Reaching the door, Prometheus turned the knob and pushed the door open and found about two dozen Locos staring at him. Prometheus instantly extended his fingers and realized that he had taken off his clawed gloves. Shouting as loud as he could, the Werewolf charged the Loco nearest to him, grabbing for the aluminum baseball bat and wresting it from the startled soldier’s hands. He swung the bat at the Loco’s head and connected with a sharp crack. He pulled the bat back for another strike and the Locos recovered from their surprise and moved on him.

The Locos concentrated jabbing and swinging their bats against Prometheus’ midsection and arms. Each of them remembered Zoot’s warnings that he didn’t want the legs of the Werewolves broken and he certainly didn’t want their skulls crushed. Zoot’s plans called for the Werewolves to be taken alive. They stepped over the body of their fallen comrade and closed tight on Prometheus, making it impossible for him to pull the bat back for another strike.

In spite of the overwhelming odds against him, Prometheus refused to simply surrender. He tried to kick, jab with the bat, and even bite. Prometheus snarled savagely and almost dropped to his knees when a bat was jabbed painfully into his right kidney. He staggered and tried to spin around to face the attacker with the bat, but Loco hands grabbed at him holding him in place and preventing him from using his arms. Prometheus felt himself being forced to lean backwards farther and farther until he found himself flat on his back on the roof. Tears of rage and frustration ran down his face as he felt leather straps being pulled tight around his legs. Five minutes later Prometheus was fully bound and helpless.

Danny sat in the salon chair shaking his head trying to clear it after Prometheus had awakened him early. He took a deep breath filling his lungs with fresh air, held it for a moment, and exhaled. He decided that he could stay in the chair and keep watch just as well as he could standing up. He looked out the window and didn’t notice anything strange, so he leaned back in the chair and concentrated on keeping his eyes open until Prometheus returned.

Danny’s eyes were just beginning to drift closed when he became aware of some kind of ruckus on the roof. He came awake instantly and shouted for Tucker and Ricky to wake up. Danny was just reaching for his survival knife when the glass window shattered and a screaming army wielding baseball bats came pouring through. Danny slashed wildly at the crowd with his knife and was rewarded when one of the soldiers screamed in pain and grabbed his forearm. Danny tried to slash out again, but powerful hands were had grabbed his arm and beat it against the counter until the blade fell from his numb and battered hand.

Looking over to his fellow Werewolves, Danny saw that he couldn’t expect any help from that direction. Tucker was on the floor on his hands and knees as a group of invaders repeatedly kicked him in the sides. Ricky hadn’t even made it out of the chair before he was swarmed and pinned down.

*****

When Ryan and Jack returned to the Queen Mary, they rushed to get their new finds secured in Jack’s workshop. Both had nearly forgotten about the memorial services for the three Shiprats who had been lost. Jack was just locking his workshop when Heather found him.

“I can’t believe you went off on some scrounging mission, Jack! It’s almost like you purposely tried to forget about the funeral.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jack said pensively. “Maybe I was purposely trying not to remember about the funeral today.”

“Jack! Why on earth would you want to do something like that?” Heather was shocked to hear Jack’s admission.

Jack looked her, his eyes moist and sad. “Maybe it’s because if I don’t remember that their funerals are today, then I don’t have to face up to the fact that they’re dead and I’ll never see any of them again.” Jack turned absently and started to wander out onto the Boat Deck while still talking. “So much has been happening since that night that it doesn’t seem real. But, the funeral will force all of us to face up to the fact that Sasha, Peter, and Jordan are never coming back and we’ll never see them again.” He leaned heavily against the railing, his hands balled into fists and shoved deep in his pockets, and his head bowed. He looked sideways over at Heather. “I loved him, you know.”

“I knew that you and Sasha were friends. I didn’t know that you loved him,” Heather said. “Forget I said anything, Jack. Sometimes I open my mouth without thinking.”

“No, no – you’re right,” Jack said hurriedly, taking her hand between his. “I need to be there to say goodbye to my friends – if I didn’t show up, I’d never feel right with them.” He tenderly stroked her cheek and kissed her. “Thanks for being a friend and reminding me of my priorities.”

Jack stood at the bottom of the gangway and marveled at the wide array of outfits chosen as funeral clothing by the different members of the Tribe. Amber was swathed in yards and yards of black lace and a black veil covered her face. Standing next to her, Dal was dressed in a black Prince Albert coat, a tall black Victorian-style top hat covering his head. Keith had on a high necked scarlet waist jacket trimmed in gold braid and dark blue uniform trousers with a gold stripe down the outside seam of each leg. Brandon looked like a medieval serf in a dark gray cowl that hid his scarred face. The representatives of the Farm Tribe were all dressed alike in black turtlenecks, black trousers (Lucy opted for a black ankle length skirt) and black lumberjack boots that reached almost to their knees. Jack had expected Lars and Tai San to show up in plain robes and was surprised when Lars appeared dressed like a pirate with a huge great coat, ruff, breeches, and soft boots with the tops rolled over. Tai San wore a billowy white blouse with a tight black leather vest and velvet trousers tucked into boots like those Lars wore. Seeing the wide range of styles in clothing choices, put Jack’s mind at ease about his own choice of clothing. He was wearing a black riding coat, silk scarf, riding breeches, and knee high riding boots.

One by one everyone silently took their places around the wooden-wheeled cart that carried the three caskets. Lars, Jonah, and Brandon had made the simple wooden caskets from hardwood they had gotten from one of the old lumberyards. The caskets, polished to a high shine, were simple and dignified. Jack took his place at the front of the cart and laid his hands on the traces, ready to pull it the short distance to the hillside where three holes had been dug. Curious traders left their stands and carts and drifted along in the wake of the solemn procession in respectful silence.

“I don’t have to tell any of you why we’re here,” Jack said after each of the caskets had been lowered into the ground. “It’s time to say goodbye to three of our good friends – Peter, Sasha, and Jordan. They shared the same dream we all share – the dream that together we can make this New World a better place. A place where we can one day raise families and live in peace and harmony. I think that we should promise them and each other that we will remember them always and to work together to keep the dream of a better tomorrow alive.” Jack rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. “So for now, goodbye Jordan … Peter … Sasha …we didn’t have nearly enough time together, dammit.”

*****

Zoot stared hard at the naked Werewolf leader. Zoot was impressed that Prometheus seemed not to be aware of the fresh scratches and places were his skin was rubbed raw from the scrub brushes that had been used on him to remove the greasepaint on his face and head. Zoot grudgingly admired the way Prometheus had endured the humiliation of being stripped naked in front of a growing crowd in the middle of the square and then paraded around so that everyone could get a good look at his shrunken penis. Zoot leaned forward to get a good look at it, himself.

“What is that thing an inch … inch and a half long?”

Prometheus shrugged. “Don’t know … I never bothered to measure it.”

Zoot grinned at the Werewolf leader’s response. “I think I could have really liked you,” he said smoothly. “You got attitude and I like that.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded Prometheus carefully. “I’m really tempted to offer you a pardon just to have you as a fighter in the Locos. You’d be an excellent addition to the Tribe.”

“But you won’t,” Prometheus said with calm disdain.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d never know when I’d turn on you and rip your throat out as you slept,” Prometheus said.

“And you would give it a try,” Zoot said. “Aren’t you afraid of what I have planned for you?”

Prometheus considered the question as he regarded Zoot. The truth was that he was afraid. He knew that Zoot planned to kill him – it’s what the Brotherhood would do to Zoot if their places were reversed. Prometheus thought about what Gull would do if he were in the same situation and the fear began to diminish. He knew exactly what the Enforcer leader would do – he’d smile in Zoot’s face and show no fear. Hell, Gull would probably spit right in Zoot’s face. Suddenly, he wasn’t afraid of Zoot’s plans anymore – he was more afraid of shaming the Brotherhood and more importantly, his mentor Gull. Finally, he shook his head. “No, no … I don’t think so. I was afraid that I might do something to bring shame to The Leader or the Brotherhood, but not of what’s going to happen to me. The Great Phoenix will be waiting to carry me to the Pantheon of Heroes so long as I don’t shame myself.”

“Man, they really got into your head but good,” Zoot said. He motioned to one of the guards and whispered in his ear. The guard nodded and hurried off to carry out his orders. Zoot rose from his chair and stepped out from under the caterer’s tent into the afternoon sun. He looked around for a few moments, then gestured that the guards should get the prisoner. Zoot calmly strolled across the square to the scaffolding while three guards carried Prometheus along a few paces behind Zoot.

When the guards set him down, Prometheus stared at the makeshift gallows. A plywood platform was situated in the middle of the scaffolding. The guards lifted their prisoner onto the platform. Instead of a trapdoor, a six-foot square had been cut in the middle of the platform and what looked like a sandbag filled the center of the hole. Prometheus snorted in contempt – these punks couldn’t even bother building a proper gallows. That’s what Gull would have done. Instead of releasing a trapdoor, the Locos planned to just jerk the sandbag out from under him. The noose was a simple slipknot rather than a proper hangman’s knot.

“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round,” Zoot called as the guards lifted Prometheus onto the sandbags and slipped the noose over his head. “This piece of shit before you is the leader of the so-called Werewolves who invaded The City to kill and maim so many of our friends. As you can see, the Locos have brought them to justice.” Zoot clapped his hands. “Now the time has come to place your bets on how long it will take for him to die. If you look to the left, you’ll see Freddie, the club manager, with two of the pit bosses – just head right over there and place your bets.”

Prometheus watched as crowds rushed the gaming tables to place their bets. Even a short drop would be enough to break his neck – his death was going to be quick. Zoot’s soldiers would yank out the sandbags and he’d drop, the rope would jerk, and he’d be done for. End of story. He glanced contemptuously at Zoot who was staring up at him with a strange smile on his face. For the first time since his capture, Prometheus felt a faint chill of fear.

The last bet was placed and Freddie gave Zoot the high sign that he could begin. “Okay, everyone has their betting slips, right? Remember you can’t collect your winnings if you misplace or lose your ticket. Now, let’s see who’s going to collect.”

Prometheus closed his eyes and braced himself for the short, violent jerk as the sandbags were pulled away. Nothing happened. Opening his eyes, the Werewolf leader saw that Zoot had pulled a large Bowie knife from its scabbard and leaning over, he jabbed the knife into the sandbag. Sand began to spill out onto the ground.

Zoot stood in front of Prometheus and gave him a wicked smile. “You’re not going to have the luxury of a snapped neck and a quick death,” he said. “You’re going to go slowly and suffer – not as much as you made other people suffer, but it’s a start.”

*****

Luke asked the Shiprat leaders and advisors to stay behind in the Dining Room after the post-funeral reception dinner. Amber suggested moving to the Lounge where the furniture was more comfortable and the space wasn’t quite as large. Heather slipped away to make more coffee before going to relieve Selene so she could hear whatever it was that was on Luke’s mind. Once everyone was settled in the Lounge, Luke stood in front of the fireplace and looked slowly around the room.

“I, uh, I guess … um, well, I guess I want to ask a question, make an offer, and make an announcement,” Luke stammered.

“Which do you want to do first?” Selene asked.

“Um, well what I want to know is what you’re going to do about the Brotherhood,” Luke said. “And, whatever you decide to do, the Farm Tribe will back you all the way.” Jack quietly slipped from the Lounge while Luke was stammering out his offer. “And finally, Lucy and I have been talking – we’ve decided to start a family. And, I think Benny is thinking along the same lines – there’s a new girl out at the Farm and the two of them are inseparable.”

Amber let out a cry of delight and grabbed Lucy’s hands. “Congratulations – what a wonderful idea. I’m so happy for you.” Lucy leaned closer as if sharing a confidence, but didn’t bother to lower her voice. “Dal and I are going to have a baby.”

The Lounge erupted in excited chatter. Until then, Amber had insisted on keeping the news between her, Dal, and Jack. Luke’s nervousness over speaking in front of everyone disappeared as he joined Lucy in congratulating Amber and Dal. Everyone wanted to know how far along Amber was, whether she knew what sex baby she wanted yet, and much more. As they were asking all the questions that popped into their heads, Jack slipped back into the Lounge carrying one of the dart gun cases. After a few minutes Dal noticed Jack’s return.

“Jack, Luke and Lucy have decided to start a family!” Dal shouted.

“Cool – congratulations you two,” Jack said. He faced Luke directly. “Would your plans for a family have anything to do with wanting to know what we had planned for the Brotherhood?”

“Well … yeah,” Luke admitted. “It would be risky to bring a baby into this world if The Leader and the Brotherhood is likely to run roughshod over our Tribes.” Luke looked suddenly embarrassed. “Up until now, we’ve all been letting the Brotherhood bring the war to us…” his voice trailed off as his face flushed a bright red. He quickly sat down. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” he mumbled.

“You’re right,” Jack said. “We HAVE been letting The Leader call the shots up ‘till now. We’ve been so busy planning for a peaceful future that we ignored the fact that a dangerous enemy was already bringing the war right to us.” Jack stared each one of them in the eye. “That has to stop right now. It’s time we took the war to them.”

Amber jumped up from her seat in horror. “NO! Jack you can’t even think of suggesting such a thing!” Dal leapt to his feet and put his arms around Amber. He stared pensively at his friend, but didn’t say anything.

Tai San rose and took Amber’s hand protectively. “Amber is right, Jack,” she said. “You’ve been running on hardly any sleep for the past several days. I hate to say it, but it’s obvious that you’re not thinking clearly.”

“We’ve all been under a lot of stress recently,” Selene said softly. “Maybe it’s possible that you’re not thinking totally rationally, Jack, and you’re in an emotional state because of what happened to Sasha and Bray and the others.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting, Jack? Have you stopped to think of the consequences of what you’re suggesting? You just want revenge!”

Jack pursed his lips as he listened to Selene, nodding his head slowly. “I don’t want to seem arrogant, I think I’m safe in saying that I’m one of the few people in this room who has rationally thought this all out.” Amber opened her mouth to interrupt, but Jack held his hand up. “Hear me out.” He rubbed his face and paced back and forth, taking deep breaths before turning and facing everyone again.

“Okay, Amber you’re right. I do want revenge for what was done to Sasha, Peter, and Jordan. They weren’t just friends or Tribe mates – they were part of our family and they were taken away from us. I really don’t feel like letting the people behind that abomination get away with that.

“Most of you didn’t see what those Werewolves did to the Lost Boys – you didn’t see how they were tortured and torn apart. I did. I want somebody to pay for that.

“Those are just some of the things that the Brotherhood has already done. Let me tell you what they have in mind for the future – they plan to move on The City and soon. And when they get here, those that they don’t enslave, they plan to kill.”

“You can’t know that fir sure,” Lucy said uncertainly.

“Sure I can,” Jack said. “I got that straight from one of the Werewolves. He doesn’t know all of the plans, but he was able to tell me enough to make me realize the very real danger we’re in.” Jack rubbed his face again. “About the future – Amber, you and Dal are already expecting a baby. Luke and Lucy are planning on starting a family soon. How many others will want the same thing? It’s the right thing to want – it’s something we had to face sooner or later. Starting families is our future.” Jack walked over to stand in front of Amber and Dal. “I love you both and I’m going to love your child – your children – because I hope you two have a huge family.” Jack’s face flushed with color and his voice got thick for a moment. Maybe I could be kind of like an uncle to them.” He turned away wiping at his face. “So, what kind of friend would I be to let that kind of a risk hang over you?”

Amber looked down at the floor and slowly sank back to the loveseat where she and Dal had been sitting and buried her face in her hands. Finally, she looked up and spoke in a small, frightened voice. “I didn’t think about any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Jack said. He took a deep breath. “So – those were some of the emotional reasons for taking fight to the Brotherhood. Now, for the rational ones….”

“I don’t think we need them, Jack,” Luke said.

“I think some people might,” Jack countered. “Our two Tribes are centered around creation and improvement and nurturing. It’s almost like it’s the major reason for us to exist. We want to make life better – better for ourselves, the people around us, and more importantly, for the people to come after us.”

“What has the Brotherhood created?” Dal asked. He answered his own question. “Absolutely nothing – at least, nothing positive. Their whole record is one of destruction – they’re like a new plague.”

“But, why do we have to take the fight to them, as Jack put it?” Tai San asked. “Couldn’t we simply act defensively as the situation demands?”

“We could,” Jack said. “But, doing it that way we run the risk of more people being hurt and even killed and we’d never stop the Brotherhood. They’d eventually overwhelm us. It’s like treating a disease, Tai San; it’s not enough to just treat the symptoms. To effect a cure, you have to treat the root cause.”

Tai San looked hard at Jack. “Do you have a plan to lower the risk to our people?”

For the first time Jack smiled smugly. “Oh yeah,” he retrieved the large flat case and laid it on a side table. Unlatching the case, he opened the lid and lifted out the air rifle.

“It’s a gun!” Luke said in amazement. “I thought they’d all been collected and destroyed.”

“It’s not a regular rifle,” Ryan said. “It’s a tranquilizer gun. Jack and I collected them from the zoo earlier today.”

“What good will that do?” Luke asked in confusion.

Jack’s grin grew broader. “Just because I said that it was time to take the fight to them, doesn’t mean I want us to stand toe to toe with trained killers. We take the fight to them – but, we make sure it’s the fight we want to fight and it’s by our rules.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Luke said. “So, how do these tranquilizer guns come into the plan?”

“In a couple of days one of the major players and supporters of The Leader – a guy named Gull and a couple of other Brothers are going to be a rendezvous point to meet the Werewolves and escort them back to their headquarters.” Jack lifted the air rifle. “We have six of these. Five others and I will be waiting in ambush at the rendezvous point. We tranq them and capture Gull.”

Dal was smiling as he nodded his head. Jack’s plan made sense to him. “You sold me, count me in.”

Jack shook his head. “No way, Dal. You’re out and so are you, Luke.”

“What do you mean?” Dal protested.

“Who do you think you are telling me if I’m in or out,” Luke asked furiously.

“Think about it you two,” Jack said reasonably. “Dal, you’re already a father-in-waiting. Luke, you plan to be shortly. That makes you two and your partners among the most important commodities in our Tribes. You represent our future, so that means you have to be protected.”

Dal and Luke both grumbled about being able to take care of themselves, but had to reluctantly admit the wisdom of Jack’s logic. Amber and Lucy, on the other hand, were openly thankful for Jack’s stance – it took one major worry off the shoulders of each.

After the impromptu meeting adjourned, Dal found Jack sitting next to a sleeping Bray. Jack was holding his lover’s hand and speaking softly to him. Dal hung back and was about to ease his way back out the door when he realized that Jack was discussing his plans with Bray as if Bray could actually respond. Since the night of the attack, Bray had had only a few brief periods of lucid consciousness. He was in the grip of a high fever and the wound was showing signs of infection. Dal began to quietly back from the room.

“You don’t have to leave, Dal. This isn’t a private conversation, you’re welcome to join us,” Jack said without turning his head.

Dal was flabbergasted. “How – how did you know I was back here?”

Jack looked over his shoulder and gave his friend a tired smile. “Nothing to it. When you got dressed for the services, you put on some cologne. I smelled you when you came in.”

Dal took a chair on the opposite side of the bed and looked down at Bray. “How’s he doing?”

“Pretty much the same,” Jack said. “His fever hasn’t risen, but it’s not going down, either. He lost a lot of blood, it’s going to be a long, slow recovery for him.” Jack brushed a stray lock of hair from Bray’s forehead. “I don’t really think Bray’s able to understand the words, but I’m pretty sure that he knows when someone is talking to him, so I try to talk to him for a couple of hours a day. And, it makes me feel good to be able to talk to him.”

“Do you talk about anything in particular?”

Jack grinned. “It depends on what’s on my mind. Just now I was telling him that I think that Selene has a crush on Ryan.”

“You think so?” Dal was surprised that Jack had even noticed – normally Jack was the last person to take notice of things like that.

“Yeah, I do. Not only that, but I think Ryan feels the same way.”

“You’re kidding! Do you really think so?”

“I could be wrong about that, I usually am when it comes to relationships, but yeah I do think Ryan has feelings for Selene.”

“So why hasn’t he said or done something, do you think?” Dal asked.

“Ryan’s a eunuch,” Jack said bluntly.

“What difference should that make?”

“It shouldn’t make any, but does Ryan think the same way? I think he’s afraid that because he can’t give Selene at least one baby she would rather have someone else over him.” He sighed. “Ryan’s a lot smarter than he usually gives himself credit for, but sometimes he’s just downright dumb.”

“Yeah – as I remember it, I wasn’t that much better off than Ryan in that department. I needed a good swift kick in the ass to get me to make a move. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

*****

Tyler was able to close his eyes and hang his head so that he didn’t have to watch the spectacle of Prometheus kicking and flailing as the sand spilled out of the bag dropping him lower and as the rope tightened around his neck. Even though he could close his eyes, Tyler found that he couldn’t close his ears and didn’t know which sounds were the worse to hear – the sounds of Prometheus choking and gasping for air or the sounds of the crowd cheering and jeering.

Tyler didn’t know how long the cheering lasted. But as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Opening his eyes, the Werewolf stared at the sight before him. Prometheus hung limply from the scaffold, his head twisted grotesquely to one side. Zoot and Ebony stood in front of Prometheus sipping drinks and laughing. Eventually they tired of the sight before them and turned and began walking down the line of prisoners.

“Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,” Ebony called out in a happy singsong voice. “Pick a Werewolf by the toe. If he hollers, let him go…”

“Straight to the scaffold,” Zoot joked.

Ebony stopped in front of Tyler and insolently examined him from head to toe. She reached out and patted his cheek. “This one is kind of cute without all that stupid makeup all over his face, Zoot. Look at those big, brown puppy dog eyes and those apple cheeks.” She ran he hand over his head, feeling the rough stubble of the five o’clock shadow that covered it. “I bet he looked cute with hair.”

“Are you trying to talk me into letting this one live, Ebony?” Zoot teased as he nuzzled Ebony’s ear and looked down at Tyler. “Don’t forget that these dogs are wild – they’re prone to biting and attacking the hand that feeds them.”

“Maybe,” Ebony said, the singsong tone coming back in her voice. “But, I think it might be fun to try to tame him and teach him who’s boss.” She trailed her long; sharp red nails down Tyler’s bare chest, teasing each of his nipples, talking about how interesting his nipples would look pierced with gold rings. She continued letting her hand drop down towards his belly and past, until she was playing with his flaccid penis. “I’ve heard that a guy’s dick will shrink if he gets his jewels cut off,” Ebony said as she pulled and stretched Tyler’s penis out as far as she could. “But, I swear yours must have been small and thin even before you had your balls lopped off. I can’t believe any normal sized dick would shrink this much!”

While Ebony and Zoot laughed at her little joke and kissed, Tyler summoned up all of his courage and strained until he was able to produce a couple of drops of urine. Then, he was able to force a steady stream of urine all over Ebony’s hand, which was still wrapped around his penis. She screamed and jerked her hand away and stood glaring at the prisoner in front of her.

Zoot backhanded Tyler while screaming for his guards to release Tyler from the pole and move him onto the next platform.

“Wait!” Ebony purposefully stepped up toe-to-toe with Tyler, wiped her wet hand across his face and head and grinned right in his face. “I really do want this one spared. I want to make him into a human puppy dog,” she grabbed his dick again and squeezed it, “and I want to start with having this worthless thing cut off.”

“Are you sure?” Zoot asked.

“Oh yes,” Ebony said. “I’m going to teach him what real humility is all about.”

Zoot turned to Freddie. “Have someone bring Doc here right now.”

George “Doc” Fisher nervously ran his hands through his dyed yellow shoulder-length hair as he listened to Zoot’s instructions. His total qualifications for having the position of Loco Tribe doctor thrust upon him was the fact that before the virus, he had completed a Red Cross First Aid training class. He was able to sew up severe cuts and set simple fractures, take a pulse, and actually use a blood pressure cuff. Anything beyond those rudimentary skills and he was out of his depth. Zoot’s order to have Tyler’s penis cut off was definitely beyond his abilities and he tried to explain that to the Loco leader.

“It’s not that I’m not willing to do what you want,” Doc said quickly. “It’s just that I don’t have the necessary skills to do it right. To do a penectomy you have to know how to move the urethra…”

“Why?” Zoot interrupted.

“So that the patient can urinate without making a mess all over himself,” Doc said. “If the urethra is moved, he can sit down to pee. I don’t know how to do that – and even if I did, I don’t have the skills to do it.”

“So why can’t you just leave the urethra where it is?”

“Because when he peed, the stream would go straight out in front of him. He wouldn’t be able to sit down and use a toilet properly,” Doc explained.

“Who cares?” Ebony asked. “He’s going to become a human puppy dog – he’s not going to be allowed to use a toilet. He’ll be taken outside to pee in the gutter or grass like a real dog.”

“Let me make it easy on you, Doc,” Zoot said, his voice dropping and taking on a menacing tone. “Either you perform the operation now, or you’ll find yourself strapped down to the table while your own dick is cut off.” Zoot offered his most feral smile. “It’s your choice.”

*****

Ryan was topping off the pickup truck’s gas tank and checking all of the fluid levels when Luke found him. The farmer happily pitched in, checking the transmission and radiator fluid levels and tire pressure. Ryan watched Luke carefully – the farmer was doing the work properly, but he seemed preoccupied.

“Still a little ranked off by what Jack said?” Ryan asked.

“Huh? What?” Luke looked up in surprise and then gave a rueful chuckle. “It’s pretty obvious, I guess.”

“Yeah – can’t blame you for being ranked off. Then again, Jack certainly makes a very good point.” Ryan said carefully.

“Yeah – and you know what? That’s what really hacks me off,” Luke admitted. “He’s right – what kind of a father would I be if I got Lucy pregnant and then got myself killed before the kid was born? And, I wouldn’t be any kind of decent father if I helped bring a kid into the world and didn’t do anything to stop the Brotherhood.”

“Kind of damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” Ryan said, wiping the dipstick clean on a rag and sliding it back into the motor.

“I’m sure Jack’s going to be taking part in this little operation,” Luke sighed. “I have to say that I’m not so sure what good he’s going to be. I mean, I can’t imagine that he’s likely to be too good a shot.” Ryan tried to choke back a belly laugh and just ended up snorting like a rutting boar. “What’s so funny?”

“Believe me, if Jack’s only half as good with one of those tranquilizer guns as he is with a crossbow, he’s gonna be a helluva lot better than anyone else,” Ryan assured the farmer.

“You’re kidding!”

“Hand to God,” Ryan said solemnly as he held his hand up. “Picture this – it’s dark, Jack’s running through all these stalled cars with a loaded crossbow. He gets into range, leaps onto the hood and then onto the roof of a car, aims and fires that weapon all in one smooth move and puts the bolt clean through the Werewolf’s heart.”

“I never would have thought it,” Luke said in amazement.

“I was there and it still blows my mind,” Ryan said sincerely.

*****

Tyler screamed, begged, and attempted to struggle as Zoot’s soldiers lifted him bodily into the air and carried him to the stainless steel restaurant table that had been brought out into the square. The crowd cheered the soldiers and jeered Tyler. The more he screamed, the louder they cheered. The soldiers slammed him down onto the table and positioned him so that his knees were even with the edge of the table and his feet hung over the edge. Holding him firmly in place, the Loco soldiers yanked his legs wide apart and tied them securely to the steel legs of the table. Handcuffs were snapped onto each wrist and lengths of rope were looped through the empty manacle on each set of cuffs. The ropes were then tied to the table legs on the other end of the table, leaving the Werewolf spread eagle and helpless on the table.

“You can’t do this to me!” Tyler screamed. “It’s inhuman … you can’t…”

“Oh, but we can,” Ebony assured Tyler, leaning over him. “You might as well get used to the idea.” She turned to Doc. “Okay – we’re ready here, get on with it.”

“Okay, okay … I’m going to do my best, but you do understand that it’s not going to be perfect,” Doc explained nervously.

“Will his dick be gone?” Zoot asked.

“Well, yeah it will be.”

“Then as far as I’m concerned, the job will be perfect.”

Mumbling to instructions to himself, Doc picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it liberally over Tyler’s crotch. He took Tyler’s penis in one hand and held it straight up and poured more alcohol over it causing Tyler to scream in pain as some of the alcohol got into the piss slit of his dick and burned the delicate membranes.

“Surgical field sterilized,” Doc muttered. “At least as sterilized as it’s gonna be.” He looked over the tools and instruments on the equipment tray sitting on the table. “Um … um … oh yeah!” He lifted a steel rod from the tray. “Gotta insert the … uh … the rod here into his dick.”

“Oh no! Please don’t do this to me,” Tyler sobbed. His cries turned to high-pitched girlish screams of pain and terror as Doc pushed the rod further and further through Tyler’s urethra.

Ebony slapped Tyler’s head. “What are you carrying on about? You don’t have any balls … what good does having a dick do you, huh? That little wiener down there between your legs is useless. You should be thanking Doc for getting rid of it for you. He’s doing you a favor.”

Somehow, Tyler didn’t see things in the same way and began screaming even more when he saw Doc lift the scalpel. Standing to one side of the table, Ebony leaned back against Zoot’s chest and watched impassively as Doc began cutting at the mushroom head of Tyler’s cock by making a subincision and splitting the top of the dick head in two. Doc cut all the way down until he felt the steel rod through the blade in his hand. He used the steel rod as a guide in splitting Tyler’s dick in half. Doc seemed to gain confidence as he continued slicing through the shaft, taking the incision all the way down to Tyler’s belly.

“Looks like you’re doing a great job, Doc,” Zoot said with real admiration.

“Thanks,” Doc paused long enough to look up at the Loco leader and smile his appreciation and then he returned to work tracing his blade around the circumference of the Werewolf’s dick. He ignored Tyler’s frenzied screams and drew Tyler’s severed penis up the shaft of the rod a few inches. Seeing his penis pulled away from his body, Tyler fainted.

“That’s a relief,” Doc quipped. “He was beginning to give me a headache.”

“So what’s next?” Zoot asked with interest.

“I dunno what’s supposed to come next,” Doc said. “I’m sure there’s a couple of more steps that should be done. But, since I don’t know what they are and since his dick has already been removed, I’m going to close up the incision.”

Zoot looked down at Ebony who shrugged. “Sounds good to us,” Zoot said. “Keep up the good work, Doc.”

For this step, Doc was almost dripping confidence. He was on familiar ground sewing up incisions and he worked smoothly. Finally, he pulled the steel rod out of Tyler and bandaged the former Werewolf’s groin. “There you go! One totally neutered pet for you Ebony,” Doc announced stepping away from the table.

*****

Looking in on Bray, Selene found Jack sitting slumped over in the chair, his head resting on Bray’s bed. She wondered just how much sleep Jack had permitted himself over the last few days. She knew that it couldn’t have been much at all. She tiptoed across the room and started to reach out to wake Jack.

“Let him stay.”

Startled, Selene looked down to find that Bray was awake. His voice was weak and so soft it hardly carried across the bed. “Bray – you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Bray tried to smile and only managed to barely lift the left corner of his mouth. “I think I’ve probably felt worse, but I can’t for the life of me remember when.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What about the others?”

“You just need to concern yourself with getting better,” Selene said trying to dodge the question.

Bray closed his eyes again and weakly shook his head. When he opened his eyes, tears were welling up in them. “It’s that bad, huh? C’mon Selene, don’t lie to me.”

Lips pressed tightly together, Selene quickly nodded. “We lost some people that night, Bray.” She didn’t want to go on, but she found that she couldn’t resist the pleading look in Bray’s eyes. “Peter, Jordan, and Sasha were killed.”

“Keith – that must have torn him apart,” Bray whispered. “How is he doing?”

“Don’t worry about him, Bray,” Selene said gently. “He’s being kept busy. I’ll tell you all about that later. Jack and Dal will kill me if you don’t rest quietly.”

“Okay,” Bray gasped weakly. “I am tired.”

“You just try to go back to sleep, Bray,” Selene said softly. “I’ll stay right here until you drift off.”

Jack woke to find Bray stroking his hair. “’Bout time you woke up, sleepyhead,” Bray murmured, his eyes twinkling.

Jack’s face practically radiated delight as he threw his arms around Bray and covered his lover’s face with kisses. Moments later, Jack was all business as he insisted on taking Bray’s vital signs and checking the incision in his thigh. The area around the incision was still slightly red and puffy, something that Jack didn’t like, but it wasn’t too hot to the touch. Jack decided he’d make a note to keep a sharp watch on the incision to make sure it didn’t suddenly turn septic. Finished his examination, Jack quickly left the room, returning a while later with a tray of food.

Jack placed the tray on a rolling bed table raised the head of Bray’s bed to a slightly reclined position and placed a hand towel under Bray’s chin bib-style and began feeding Bray. Bray began to protest that he was capable of feeding himself and then decided that he’d put up with it since it seemed to make Jack feel useful to be doing something. He wasn’t too excited about Jack’s choice of meals, though. Jack had made Bray a bowl of cream of wheat and warmed applesauce.

After Jack cleared the dishes away, Bray felt slightly more fortified and insisted that Jack bring him up to date on what was happening. Jack told him everything – about the attack on Bray’s party, the attack on the mall and the death of the five Lost Boys. He told of using the truth drugs to learn everything that he could from Jeff, one of the Werewolf prisoners and how he had shared that information with the other Tribe leaders in The City.

“I’m sure that Zoot has his whole army out there looking for the remaining Werewolves,” Jack said.

“He’ll kill them, you know,” Bray observed.

“Of course he will,” Jack admitted. “But what else is there to do with them? We’re not equipped to imprison them for life.”

Jack told Bray about his trip to the zoo and the retrieval of the tranquilizer guns. Then, for the first time he shared every detail of his plan with someone else. Bray was amazed at the brilliant simplicity of the plan. It was audacious, daring, and bold – and most importantly, Bray thought that it had a high degree of opportunity for success. He was worried about the risk to Jack, but was forced to nod his head in agreement.

“Do it,” he said. “Let’s take the fight to them and give The Leader something to fear for a change.”

Later that afternoon, Jack was sitting with Ryan in the Dining Room; mugs of coffee close at hand as they worked out what equipment that would be needed for the ambush party. One of the unknown quantities was in knowing just how many of the Brotherhood would accompany Gull. Another of the unknowns was whether any of the Werewolves had escaped Zoot’s sweep of The City. Jack decided that as much as he disliked the idea, he could pay a visit on Zoot and see if he could get an answer to that question. As he was trying to decide what other equipment to bring, a shadow fell across the table. Looking up, Jack found Daniel and Brandon standing on the other side of the table.

“I hear you’re gonna try an’ catch Gull in a trap,” Daniel said. “I wanna be a part of it.”

Jack stared at Daniel blank faced, totally taken aback by Daniel’s announcement. He knew what Daniel had gone through as a forced conscript of the Brotherhood. He knew that Daniel had been physically and mentally tortured. He shook his head trying to clear it as he thought of something to say.

“I gotta be part of the trapping party,” Daniel insisted.

“Why?”

Daniel lifted his hand and pushed the thick bangs that hung across his face out of the way to expose where the phoenix tattoo had been cleverly disguised under another tattoo. “’Cuz of what’s there,” he said. “It might look different, but it’s still there and it’s always gonna be there until I do something to redeem myself.”

“That’s not true,” Ryan said.

“He’s right,” Jack said. “Ever since you came to the ship you’ve done everything you could to help others out. There’s no kind of debt to redeem – you should know that.”

“Maybe your right,” Daniel said. “But, that doesn’t change how I feel in my heart. I was a part of something bad and done lots of bad things – I’ve gotta make a payback somehow or else I’ll never feel clean.”

“There’s no arguing with him about how he feels,” Brandon said. “I’ve told him and told him that he doesn’t owe any kind of debt to anyone, but he still can’t believe it. If it counts for anything, I’d trust him with my life.”

“Yeah, yeah it does a little,” Jack said. “But what matters even more is who Daniel is – he came here as a refugee and has become a solid member of our Tribe. I’ve seen him work three different work crews in a day to help newcomers to the Market get a start.” He turned to face Daniel. “Daniel, please don’t think that my reluctance was a reflection on you. I was just afraid that being that close to Gull and his men would open old wounds that are best left closed.”

“I think that’s the problem,” Daniel said. “Them wounds need to be opened to let the last of the poison in them drain out.” He looked hopefully from Ryan to Jack, pleading silently with his eyes. “I know Gull better than anybody here. I can point him out from a distance and in a crowd.”

“You’re in,” Jack said extending his hand across the table. “We leave this afternoon, sleep at the Farm and pick up the last of our party and then get into position early tomorrow morning. You don’t need to bring anything – we’ll be outfitting you with everything you’ll need.”

That afternoon as Jack was finishing assembling the last of the equipment kits in Supply, Keith came to him. “You should have included me in the party,” he said softly.

“No, not this time.”

“Why? You afraid I’ll get too emotional or something?”

“No, because it’s too soon for you to suddenly disappear from the daily lives of the Lost Boys – especially the ones who are still in shock,” Jack said. “In case you haven’t noticed it, they’re slowly improving and that’s all because of you.” Jack reached out and placed a gentle hand on Keith’s shaved scalp and pulled the puppeteer to him. “You’re right – you deserve a chance to go after the Brotherhood, and as soon as we can get Alice and Bubba on their feet you’ll get that chance. There’s going to be a lot of confrontations with the Brotherhood before this is over, I’m afraid”

“Okay, I’m gonna hold you to that promise,” Keith said as he backed away. “You just promise me something right now though…”

“What’s that?”

“If things don’t look or feel just right, or things start to get freaky you get yourself and everyone of our people right out of there. Forget about getting Gull – just get your asses right out of it. I want you to promise me that.”

“We’re not going to take unnecessary chances,” Jack said. “All risk is being minimized.”

“Not good enough,” Keith persisted. “I want you to promise that if things get weird that you’re all out of there. I want you to promise me that you’re not going to get yourself killed.”

“No, I’m not going to get myself killed,” Jack said softly. “I’m going to be back here in a few days and that’s a promise.”

Keith reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Okay, so if I don’t get to see you before you guys take off – good luck.” He suddenly grabbed Jack in a tight hug and whispered in his ear, “Don’t forget that you promised not to take any chances. Come back here when you’re done.”

Not long after Keith left Jack, Dal and Ryan entered the Supply Room to find Jack putting batteries into headsets with microphones.

Jack looked up. “Good, you’re just in time to help me test these things out,” he said holding up a headset. “They’re two-way radios, just put this thing over your head like this and adjust the earphone and microphone, turn it on and talk. The power pack and control box is all one unit and clips onto your belt.” He pushed two of the headsets across the counter and then noticed the serious looks on their faces. His heart fluttered and he felt a heavy weight in his belly. “What? What’s wrong? Is something wrong with Bray?”

Dal’s face softened a little. “No, nothing’s wrong with Bray. But, I think you need to see this.”

“One of the regulars who has a pushcart down in the Market said that the Locos caught all of the Werewolves,” Ryan explained.

“He’s killed them all,” Jack said.

“Yeah – all but one from what his kid said,” Ryan reported. “He said that Zoot had the last one operated on in the middle of the square while everyone there watched.”

“Amber’s down by one of the ambulances with a First Aid kit,” Dal said.

Jack scooped up two of the headsets. “Okay, let’s go.”

Before Jack could say a word, Amber cut him off. “Dal and I have already had this discussion, so you can just keep your mouth closed, Jack. I just brought a medical field kit down here and I’m waiting to see my man off. I’m not going to the Inferno to see what Zoot’s done.”

“Well, I guess that sets me straight,” Jack joked. “Since you’re staying here, you could do me a favor.” Jack handed her one of the headsets and showed her how to turn it on. Once on, all she needed to do was talk and Jack should be able to hear her clearly. “Heather is monitoring the ship’s radio – it should be able to pick me up for a while after I’m out of your range.”

Amber fitted the transceiver over her head and adjusted the earphone and mic. “Just what is the range on these things?”

“Supposed to be about two miles or so,” Jack said. “That’s one of the things I want to check on.”

The headsets worked perfectly, Jack could hear every word Amber said as clearly as if she had been sitting next to him in the cab instead of Dal. Ryan called out when they had traveled two miles and although the signal was weak, the headsets still worked. At three miles, neither Jack nor Amber could contact each other at all. He continued to talk into the headset in case Heather could still receive his signal.

Ryan turned the ambulance onto the street where the Inferno was located and the three of them saw exactly what Zoot had done. The bodies of the Werewolves were still dangling from the scaffolding while people milled about the square. There was still a party atmosphere in the square – large barbecue grills were covered with sausages and hamburgers. Zoot’s pavilion was still set up and the three Shiprats found the Loco leader holding court there. Before getting out of the cab, Jack removed his headset and slipped it into the glove compartment.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Zoot called, raising a tall glass. “It’s a shame you missed the main show, boys. You’d have been surprised at how long those Werewolves air danced before they finally gave up the ghost.”

“You strangled them?” Dal asked in disgust.

“Rather ingeniously, too, I think,” Zoot said smugly. Zoot raised his glass to Jack. “I have to thank you for providing the information that helped us to capture them.”

“I didn’t think you’d do something like this,” Jack said.

“You knew they’d never live, though,” Zoot said.

“I figured they’d be killed during capture, not tortured.”

Zoot shrugged. “I didn’t give them a chance to fight back. I made sure that I had sufficient superior numbers to prevent that.” He looked across the square to the scaffolding. “As for the public show … well, they provided excellent entertainment for the crowds. Besides that, it let everyone see their latest nightmare put to rest once and for all.”

“What about the one you let live?” Jack asked. “Is he still alive?”

“He’s alive, Jack,” Zoot said pleasantly. “Ebony wanted to keep him as a pet.” Zoot gave a dramatic sigh. “Sometimes I think that I indulge her a little too much … ah, but what are you going to do? It makes me happy to make her happy.”

“Could we see him?” Jack asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

Zoot looked pointedly at the field medical kit slung over Jack’s shoulder. “Ah … professional call? Sure – gotta keep Ebony’s new pet healthy. She’s in the club with him right now. Freddie, take our friends inside.”

Freddie led the three into the club where Ebony was overseeing the auditions for new dancers for the club. The club manager leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. Ebony turned and smiled at the Shiprats as she welcomed them to the club.

Ebony’s smile always had a chilling effect on Dal – it reminded him of the cold, emotionless expression on the face of a cobra. Between Zoot and Ebony, he wasn’t sure which one of them was worse. Zoot was a psychopath, to be sure, capable of the worst sorts of cruelty if the mood struck him. Ebony, on the other hand, was just pitiless. Dal figured that sociopath was the closest psychology came to describing Ebony.

“So, you’ve come to check out my new pet? How nice of you,” Ebony said in an oily voice, her hand resting on Tyler’s shaved head. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, boys.” She looked down at Tyler with that cobra smile on her face and then back to Jack. “You can use that steel table over there to examine him – after all, that’s the one that was used for his operation”

Jack went across the room to the table and placed his field kit on one end and watched as Ebony slowly led Tyler across the room. He noticed that Tyler was walking with a strange gait and slightly doubled over as if he was in pain. Ryan must have noticed it, too, because when Tyler reached the table, the farmer easily lifted Tyler to the table.

After donning latex gloves, Jack examined the thick dressing between the slave’s legs. It was spotted with blood. He shook his head and peeled away the adhesive tape and pulled the gauze bandages off. The odor of putrefaction assaulted his nose as soon as the bandage was pulled back. The underside of the bandage was soaked with blood and pus. Dal pulled on gloves and moved to the other side of the table to assist Jack. The two of them examined the crude penectomy – the incision was ragged and roughly stitched and a livid, unhealthy red. Pus oozed from several places along the incision line.

“How often have these bandages been changed?” Jack asked.

“Whenever Doc gets around to it,” Ebony said casually. “At least twice a day.”

Jack worked hard to control his voice and maintain a neutral tone. “They really have to be changed more often – an infection has already set in. If it’s not treated he’ll die. And, if the incision isn’t kept clean with frequent changes of bandage, the infection will return and he’ll die.”

“And he needs a catheter,” Dal added.

Ebony’s face quickly became a mask of fury. She spun on her heel and barked to one of her guards. “Find Doc and get his ass in here right now!”

“Dal, I’m going to need a Foley catheter from the bus, antibiotics, saline – uh, bag and vial, and surgical sponges, please.”

“Right … how about Betadine? I think we have some to spare.”

“Good idea,” Jack agreed as he rooted around in the medical bag for a syringe and anesthetic. He filled the syringe and held it up so that Tyler could see it. “This is lidocaine, you’ll feel a sting from the needle and after that, you won’t feel any pain at all – just numbness.”

“He doesn’t need that,” Ebony said.

“Sure he does,” Jack retorted. “I want him numb when I’m working, it throws me off if he screams or twitches around.”

Ebony looked at Jack doubtfully and he met her gaze with his most innocent look. At last she relaxed and nodded. “Okay,” she said slowly. “To make it easier on you, he can have the needle.”

Dal returned just as the guards burst through the back doors pushing a confused and frightened Doc ahead of them. He complained and protested about how they were treating him. Seeing Ebony, he rushed up to her. “Ebony, what’s wrong? Why are these thugs pushing me around like this?”

“The pup here has an infection already! Jack said he should have had a catheter,” Ebony snarled. “Why didn’t you use a catheter? Were you trying to kill my new pet slowly?”

“I swear I didn’t do anything wrong,” Doc whimpered. “Didn’t I say that the operation was beyond what I was comfortable doing? Didn’t I say that I didn’t have the skill or the equipment to do it right? You ordered me to operate anyway.”

Ebony glared at Doc for several long dangerous moments. “That’s no excuse for doing shoddy work,” she snarled.

“Hey, hey, hey … hold on for a moment,” Jack said. “Can I ask a question here?”

“Ask away,” Ebony said glaring at Jack.

“Doc, what equipment did you have?”

“Just my basic kit – scalpel, needles, scissors, alcohol, and bandages,” Doc stammered, looking over his shoulder towards Ebony. “I have some steel rods that I use as sounds – they’re not really sounds, but good to use as substitutes.”

“Then I’d say that there wasn’t any way for your doctor to prevent this infection, Ebony,” Jack said. I mean, considering the conditions and the lack of equipment and antibiotics available to your doctor, I’d have to say that I’m surprised to find that the infection isn’t more wide-spread already – in fact, I’d have to say that whoever insisted on the surgery was the one responsible for the infection.”

“Is that so?”

“Afraid so,” Jack said.

“I’m the one who ordered the surgery,” Ebony said. “We done castrations and prunings here as part of the show and almost never have infections.”

“But, you have had some,” Jack said. “Some patients are more prone to infection and others more resistant. There was no way for you or Doc to know that a Werewolf would have a weak immune system.”

Ebony considered what Jack had said. “So, what you’re saying is that Doc did his best and isn’t to blame, and I didn’t know Tyler was prone to get an infection, so I’m not to blame, either.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Jack agreed.

Ebony’s face brightened and as quickly as her anger had flared, it dissipated and she was satisfied. “So, what do you have to do to make him better?”

“I’m going to drain the infection, apply antibiotic gel, give him IV antibiotics, and put a fresh dressing on. Dal’s going to insert the catheter and collection bag and show Doc how to care for it.”

Ebony watched the three work for a few minutes and quickly lost interest in what they were doing and wandered out to Zoot. Doc whispered his thanks to Jack for deflecting Ebony’s mercurial wrath. Jack just shrugged it off as he finished draining the pockets of pus and cleaned the incision area. He and Dal showed Doc how to give an injection and left his medical kit richer by ten syringes and several vials of saline solution, powdered antibiotics, and Betadine.

Back at the ship Lars, Brandon, Daniel, and Morgan finished packing their equipment into the back of the two and a half ton Army truck while they waited for Jack and Ryan to return. Daniel had just finished tying cushions to the slat benches in the back when the cracker-box ambulance returned. Climbing out of the ambulance, Dal announced the good news they had – the Locos had eliminated the remaining Werewolves so they wouldn’t be a problem to the Shiprats. Ryan and Jack hurried into the ship and returned in about fifteen minutes lugging three large canvas sacks and all six of the tranquilizer guns.

“Take your choice of weapons, gentlemen,” Jack said as he opened the cases. “The rifles all operate the same way, but some have different styles of stocks. There’s a couple older rifles with wooden stocks, most are fiberglass, and one has a metal fold out stock.”

Brandon looked over the rifles. “What about the telescopic sights?”

“Not a problem,” Ryan assured him. “Jack and I personally zeroed each of them in. You put the crosshairs where you want the dart to go and that’s where it’s going.”

Brandon’s head bobbed up and down as his scarred face stretched into what passed for a grin for him, “Nice.”

Jack passed out the radio headsets and showed the simple controls. “With these, we’ll always be in voice contact – if anything’s not right, then we can pass the message along and call off the mission.”

“What would make you do that?” Morgan wanted to know.

“Gull showing up with about twenty or more Brothers,” Ryan said quickly. “We’d be hard put to handle that many and still stay safe.”

“So what’s the plan again?” Daniel asked.

“We’re leaving here in a couple of minutes and heading to the Farm to spend the night and pick up two guides to the rendezvous point,” Ryan said.

“And once we get there, we pick our ambush points and start taking the Brotherhood down,” Brandon finished.

To Ryan, it seemed as if every one of the Shiprats turned out to say goodbye and wish the ambush party good luck. And everybody insisted on giving each of the six a hug or handshake. Selene let Jack know that Bray was asleep but had left him a message, which she whispered into his ear. After clearing the gauntlet of well wishers, Ryan climbed into the cab of the Army truck and fired the powerful engine to life, bringing loud cheers from the Shiprats and most of the people in the Market. Jack climbed up into the cab on the passenger side, while the others clambered into the back of the truck and gave the back window of the cab a fast slap to let Ryan know that he could pull out. Ryan gunned the engine, sending the gathering crowd of well wishers into loud cheers. With a silly grin plastered on his face, Ryan pulled out and headed for the Farm.

The greeting at the Farm was almost as loud as their send off at the ship had been. Lucy, of course, had spent most of the day cooking and a good deal of the cooking seemed to be of the cookie, cakes, and pies variety. Lucy refused to let anyone “talk shop” as she called it until after everyone had eaten and the smaller kids of the Tribe safely out of earshot.

After the meal was finished and the last of the dishes cleaned up, Lucy herded all of the children off to watch some videos while the “biggers” talked. Luke explained that was the term little Aaron had come up with to describe the young adults who were in charge.

“Gull is due at the rendezvous point in the next day or so,” Jack began. “We’re going to be there laying in ambush for them with these,” he lifted his tranquilizer rifle high for everyone to see before passing it around. He’s not supposed to have more than three or four other Brothers with him.”

“How are you going to recognize Gull?” Adam asked.

“I’ll know him on sight,” Brandon said grimly. “I see that face of his in every one of my nightmares.”

“Gull is about six two,” Daniel said. “He’s powerfully built – broad shoulders and all that. Check out his hands in your scopes – he’s missing the pinkie finger from each hand. He’ll be dressed in crimson robes and his hair will be the same color and shade.”

“You seem to know a lot about him,” Benny said.

“I should – I was a Brother before I managed to escape,” Daniel said honestly. He waited to see what kind of reaction his admission would bring from the farmers.

“I hear they don’t have too many successful escapes,” Luke said slowly.

“Not too many,” Daniel admitted. “They usually hunt them down and make their execution some kind of public display.”

“And you managed it,” Adam observed. He suddenly stood, towering over Daniel and grinned broadly as he thrust his hand out. “Let me shake the hand of someone who’s clearly got guts.” Daniel was amazed at the reaction of the Farm Tribe members. They thought he was some kind of hero, when all he’d done was to effect a lucky escape. For the second time in his life Daniel had met people who didn’t hold his past with the Brotherhood against him. In fact, these people were treating him like he was special instead of just lucky.

Adam asked where the rendezvous point was supposed to be. Jack described it exactly as Jeff had told him, on the highway where a huge miles long traffic jam was situated. Adam looked at Benny and grinned.

“Dude, you couldn’t have a more perfect place for an ambush,” Adam said as Benny enthusiastically nodded his head. Adam leapt up from his place at the table and hurried into the kitchen, returning moments later with a long piece of butcher paper and a grease pencil. He quickly sketched out the highway, drawing about a dozen rectangles to represent the traffic jam. “This is a double highway with two lanes in each direction and a median between them. Now, there’s cars and trucks blocking the whole right of way from side to side.”

Benny scooted closer. “Right, and the best thing about this point right here is that the ground on either side rises up on a gentle slope.” He took the grease pencil and drew two rectangles along the highway – one on each side of the road. “Then you got these storm drains … they’d make perfect ambush points.”

“Don’t forget the bridge,” Adam almost shouted.

“Oh yeah, down here just below where the jam-up starts, is a pedestrian footbridge – it’s kind of like an overpass but for people and bikes.”

Jack studied the diagram Adam and Benny had created. Even though he knew that it was only schematic and not to scale, it provided him with more information than he’d had about the area before. There were at least five different shooting zones. He tapped the map. “Now, these storm drains – are they a part of a sewer system or just glorified French drains?”

“You mean can you run through a tunnel to another drain?” Adam asked. Jack nodded. “Sure – they’re about fifty maybe seventy-five yards apart.”

“You have an idea, Jack? Ryan asked.

“Yeah – just a general one until we see the actual lay of the land,” he said. He began tapping the map. “We’ve got the bridge, the storm drains, and this knoll on either side of the road. Supposedly, the Brothers will set up a camp to wait for the return of the Werewolves.” Jack drew an X on the map just in front of where the traffic jam began. “It’ll probably be somewhere around here. Now, if we have two guns on the bridge, one in each storm drain, and one on each side of the knoll from behind…”

“You’ve got them helpless in a three-way crossfire,” Brandon said as he studied the map. He looked up and smiled at each face around the table. “There’s no way they can escape from it. They belong to us and don’t even know it yet. For the first time, they’re going to be the prey and someone else will do the hunting.”

It was still dark when Jack and the others got up and dressed in their camouflage clothing. Jack covered his brilliantly colored hair with a camouflage bandanna. Lucy must have been up for hours – she had a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table and a thermos of coffee ready for each of them. After the meal, which was eaten quickly and silently, Jack handed out flat plastic boxes to each of the shooters.

“There are eight darts,” Jack said. “You have three different doses in there – the green is for targets up to about a hundred and thirty pounds. The blue dart is for targets up to about one seventy-five, and the red ones are for above one seventy-five.”

“How’d you work that out?” Luke asked.

“Well, there aren’t any charts for human dosages,” Jack admitted. “So, I had to extrapolate based on our closest relative – the chimpanzees. The darts will put our targets down, I just don’t know how fast.”

Brandon shrugged. “We’ll be finding out soon enough.”

“Uh, since no one’s asked, I will,” Ryan said. “Just where the hell do we aim these things?”

Everyone had to laugh at that and the sober mood was broken. Jack was grinning as he answered, “The natural spot is the butt, of course. That’s a good target. Or, you might have a clear shot at the neck strap muscles – where the neck and shoulder are joined. Actually, any fleshy part of the body – like the thigh can be a target. It just might take longer for the drug to act.”

“So, sounds like a good ass shot is our best bet,” Morgan quipped.

“I don’t want to look like I’m trying to rush you boys, but you really need to get going,” Luke said.

“We don’t know exactly when Gull and his welcome party will be arriving,” Jack said. “It might be today and it might be tomorrow.”

“We’ll hope to see you boys tonight, but not really expect you until tomorrow,” Luke said. He walked them to the truck and watched silently as they climbed into it. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks – any of you. It’s better to come back empty-handed and safe. You hear me?”

Adam climbed up behind the wheel, which left Ryan sitting in the middle of the wide bench seat in the cab with Jack on his right. At the end of the farm lane, Adam turned the truck away from The City and headed for the trestle bridge over the river. As they were crossing the bridge, a thought popped into Jack’s head.

“It just struck me that we can’t just drive this thing down the highway.”

“Yep, your right,” Adam agreed. “We’re actually not going to go up onto the highway at all. Instead we’ll take the river road down to a point just opposite of where the roadblock starts. From there, it’s only about a quarter mile, maybe half mile to the highway.”

“I don’t remember a road along the river on any maps,” Ryan said.

“Well, it’s not actually a road.” Adam said as they reached the other side of the bridge. “It used to be an old railroad track bed. The tracks were torn up and the bed improved and made into a bike, jogging, and walking path. We’ll go down the road here about a half mile where there’s a rest stop and parking lot for the path and pick it up there.”

It didn’t take long before Adam had left the road entirely and was rolling along the recreation path. After driving nearly forty-five minutes he turned the truck into another rest area and eased the truck under the canopy of some trees near a covered picnic area. Before they could set out, Jack insisted on one last equipment check and everyone had to dig through their equipment bags one more time to check that they had all the equipment Jack had packed and that it was still working.

With the equipment check was over, Adam and Benny took the lead and showed the Shiprats the way to the highway. Dawn was just beginning to brighten the sky when they reached the top of the hill and looked down on the highway. Before cresting the hill, everyone had instinctively dropped to their bellies and crawled the last few yards. Jack produced a set of powerful binoculars and scanned the highway above and below the roadblock. Nothing moved – no one was down there. Brandon had his rifle raised to his eye and was scanning the area through his telescopic sight and found the same thing that Jack had – Gull and his party hadn’t yet arrived.

They hurried down the knoll and began scouting the area. It didn’t take long to find the storm drains – there was one on either side of the highway about twenty yards above where the traffic jam began. Brandon easily lifted one of the manhole covers and dropped down into the drain.

“Jeez!” He shouted back, his voice echoing slightly. “There’s not a whole lot of room down here.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan called down. “It looks like this goes down about eight or nine feet.”

“Yeah, that’s like the storm drain pipe,” Brandon called back. But up here, at the grate itself – you have to like climb up onto a ledge and it’s not too tall.” Brandon appeared on the ladder a few moments later and squeezed through the manhole. “I’d suggest Jack and Daniel take the storm drains – they’re the shortest here. The rest of us would end up getting cramps if we stayed down there too long.”

“Good by me,” Daniel said.

“Same here,” Jack said, nodding.

“I’ll stick with Jack,” Adam said. “I’m not that much taller than he is.”

With the first two shooting positions filled, the group began scouting the next four positions. The next two shooting positions were easy – about ten yards behind the storm drains about halfway up the knoll were thickets of bushes covered with little yellow flowers. Ryan and Brandon took those positions and in seconds the two of them were perfectly concealed. The last two shooting positions were on the pedestrian bridge over the highway. Lars took one side of the bridge and Morgan positioned himself towards the other side. Both checked their field of fire from their respective positions and agreed that although they were a little further away than the others, they had an excellent vantage point. With all the shooting positions selected at last, everyone moved to their positions and within moments, there wasn’t any sign that anyone had even been there. Once he was in the storm drain with Adam, Jack gave everyone about five minutes to get into position before he made a radio check. One by one, everyone called in to announce that their radios were working properly. Benny had stayed at Ryan’s position so that he could dash over the top of the knoll and retrieve the truck when the time came.

“Well boys,” Ryan said into his mouthpiece. “Now comes the hardest part of this mission – waiting patiently.”

Ryan may have been prepared to try to wait patiently, but Gull wasn’t. He was already a day late by his own personal schedule. He had wanted to leave a day earlier, but business in his punishment chamber had delayed his start. His small band had been on the road for three days now and he wanted to reach the roadblock by the time they broke for lunch. But Digger, one of the two soldiers he had brought on the trip had gotten greedy the day before when they had come across an apple tree heavy with fruit.

“I told you that the fuckin’ apples were ripe enough yet,” Gull bellowed. “But you had to stuff your damn face anyway.”

Digger, who was squatting painfully behind a bush on the side of the highway, shuddered as his bowels roiled again and another squirt of watery shit dribbled from him. “I’m sorry, sir!” Digger gasped. “They tasted sweet enough … I swear I didn’ mean no harm.”

“Didn’ mean no harm, didn’ mean no harm,” Gull mimicked. “I don’t fucking care what you meant – the fact is that you’re delaying our schedule with all these stops to squat and dribble.” Gull stopped for a moment thinking furiously. “Enough wasting time! From now on, no more stopping to shit. You can shit while you walk.”

“But my robes…”

“Strip your robes off and walk along naked,” Gull ordered. He leaned over the bush. “I fuckin’ mean it! Get that freakin’ robe off right now and get up on your feet and start walking.” Gull’s hand drifted towards the machete hanging from his belt. “Or, you can stay right where you’re squatting forever.”

Digger frantically scrambled out of his robe and painfully rose to his feet as another round of the squirts hit him. His face burned in humiliation when Palmer, the other soldier on the trip, sniggered at his predicament. Digger hoisted the backpack of food onto his shoulders and began marching as best as he could.

“I don’t know if that solution is actually going to help us keep time or not,” Felix said softly to Gull as he fell in beside him. Felix was one of the Seeker Squad leaders and a good friend of Gull’s. He chuckled. “But, I gotta say that I like the solution.”

“It made me feel good to do something to get him moving,” Gull said. “I don’t like being delayed. If I wasn’t intent to reach the rendezvous point today, I’d stop long enough to lop that idiot’s balls off.” Gull sighed and scratched his chin. “Ah, I guess that little pleasure will have to wait until we get back to headquarters.”

“You’re gonna castrate him for getting a case of the shits?”

“Sure – I told him the apples were too green to eat,” Gull said. “Now he’s going to have to learn a harsh lesson.”

“Oh, come on – you’ve got to let him have a sporting chance to keep them.”

Gull considered his friend’s words. “Okay – if we get to the rendezvous point by noon, he keeps his balls. If we get there late – off they come as soon as we get back.”

“Now, that’s more like it,” Felix grinned.

Digger did his best to keep up with the small group and not stop to squat. Having to walk while the watery shit ran down his legs was the most humiliating thing he’d ever been forced to do, but he didn’t even want to contemplate the alternatives of complaining or refusing. A couple of times he was forced to slow down and walk almost doubled over as really bad cramps hit him.

Gull kept an eye on the track of the sun. For a while he actually thought they had been able to make up lost time and reach the jam by noon or shortly after. But, before long the sun was directly overhead and they still weren’t within sight of the cars.

“You held us up long enough to miss my deadline,” Gull called back to Digger. “Kiss your balls goodbye. Hold us up anymore and you can kiss that dick of yours goodbye as well.”

Silent tears ran down Digger’s face as he listened to Gull’s pronouncement. He briefly toyed with the idea of making a break for it, but he knew that he wasn’t in any shape to outrun Gull or even Palmer. He knew that Gull wouldn’t kill him out here. If that were the case, Digger would make his break. No, Gull would beat him, hurt him, but at all costs he’d keep Digger alive to suffer in that torture chamber under the Y. With no alternatives open to him, Digger did the only thing that he could – he picked up his pace and hoped that Gull would make his castration as painless as possible. Another hour had passed before Gull’s rendezvous group came within sight of the stalled cars and Digger learned that Gull had decided to spare his dick.

The earphone in Jack’s ear crackled, “Heads up everybody – we’ve got company headed our way,” Morgan announced. “I make out four – yep, just four visitors.”

“The tall one in the scarlet robes is Gull,” Daniel’s voice broke in.

“Oh yeah, that’s not a face I’m ever going to forget,” Brandon added.

“Okay, chill everyone,” Ryan hissed. “As soon as they stop to make camp, let’s get this over with. Call out your targets.”

Jack used his binoculars to watch the approach of the Brotherhood group. Gull had the red robes; there was another guy with green robes, and a third one in white robes. The fourth member of the group was totally naked, except for his heavy boots and the heavy backpack slung over his shoulders. He passed the glasses over to Adam so that he could have a look. As the group approached the storm drains, Gull began slowing. They went about five yards past the storm drains before Gull called for them to stop. The white-robed Brother and the naked one gratefully grounded their backpacks on the road.

Jack raised his rifle and gazed through the scope, placing the crosshairs on each of the four targets. He had a clear shot at everyone but Gull – the Brother in the green robes blocked a clear shot at Gull. “Daniel, Brandon – looks like the shot at Gull belongs to one of you,” Jack whispered into the microphone by the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got a good shot at the naked guy,” Morgan reported.

Brandon checked his shot and smiled – he had a perfect shot at Gull. In fact, he had his choice of shots – he could put the dart in Gull’s neck or in his ass. “I’m taking Gull,” Brandon whispered into his headset.

“Cool,” Jack replied. “I’ve got a clean shot at the guy in the green robes.”

“I’ve got a nice one at the guy in white,” Ryan reported. “Let’s do it on the count of three.” His index finger caressed the trigger of his tranquilizer rifle.

“One…”

Jack took another sighting and placed the crosshairs of his scope right on the neck of the Brother in green, his finger curled around the trigger.

“Two…”

Morgan aimed directly for the smooth ass of the naked guy while Brandon lined up his shot on Gull’s ass.

“Three…”

Ryan’s rifle made a slight coughing sound and there was a barely perceptible puff of compressed air as the dart sped towards its target. Jack, Brandon, and Morgan fired a fraction of a second later. Ryan watched through his scope and was rewarded at seeing every dart find its intended target.

Digger gave a cry of surprise and anguish at the sudden burst of pain that blossomed in his ass. Thinking that a hornet had stung him, he automatically swatted at the imaginary insect. He heard grunts and cries of surprise all around him. He turned thinking to find the swarm of hornets that they’d disturbed and was amazed to see a dart with green feathers sticking out of Palmer’s neck. He tried to twist and look down at his own ass when his mouth suddenly went dry and he had trouble controlling his muscles.

“What the fuck is going on?” Gull swore slapping at the thing that had stuck in his ass. His fingers closed around a metal cylinder and he jerked it out of his body and stared at the red tipped dart. Flinging the dart to the ground, Gull fumbled his machete out. “What the fuck is going on?” He repeated. When no one answered, he turned to look at his companions.

Felix had a dart sticking out of his neck. The Seeker’s mouth hung slackly open and his muscles twitched as he tried to move. Gull felt his head growing lighter like it was filling with helium. Digger had already dropped to limply to the ground. Palmer was still on his feet, but swaying drunkenly. Without any warning, Palmer fell flat on his ass and then rolled over onto his side.

“Wha’ t’ ‘uck,” Gull tried to scream, but his lips and tongue refused to make the words come out of his mouth clearly. He looked around, having trouble focusing his eyes. Gull knew that he was hallucinating – he had to be. He saw strangers with guns approaching from different positions on the knoll … some of them even seemed to materialize from the ground. He raised his arm and the machete fell from his limp fingers a moment before he dropped heavily to his knees on the tarmac, his jaw hanging open slackly and refusing to work to create comprehensible words anymore.

Gull pitched forward onto his face and everything went black.

To be continued….