Jason Frost - The Warlord

"Yes," Tracy said sharply, "we've seen one of your samples."

"That's right. You ran into what's-her-name, Roth. We have better."

"Why do you do that to them?" Rydell asked. "Shave their heads."

Savvy shrugged. "Just good business. We shave their heads for two reasons. Because they're easier to keep clean that way in terms of lice and such. Like the army. And second because we can identify them if they try to run away."

"Just good business practice, right?" Eric said.

"That's right. And if they run anyway, my surgical staff, headed by Dr. Flex Olsen, severs the Achilles' tendon in one leg. That keeps them gimpy for the rest of their lives. They run twice, we cut the other leg and they get around on crutches. That's what's going to happen to the girl you met. But we also have a real good doctor, used to be a plastic surgeon, to provide medical treatment. That's one of our biggest moneymakers."

"When we were walking down the street," Tracy said, "we saw some tails or something hanging from the doors of some of the trailers. What's that?"

Eric answered. "They weren't tails. They were human hair."

"He's right," Savvy acknowledged. "The very same hair from the women inside. When we cut it we save it to hang from the door. That's how our customers identify them."

Tracy started to say something, but shook her head as if words were useless.

"Actually, you'd be surprised how men get turned on by bald women. If we ever get back to the mainland, it might catch on."

"If we ever get back," Tracy said, "they'll hang you."

"Now you see, that's where you don't understand history. And that's why this," he tapped the recorder, "is going to be so valuable. Hell, my autobiography will be a best-seller. Probably have a movie deal before we even land. I might even become a kind of folk hero. Can't you see it in Time? 'Brought pleasure to a hopeless people.' No fucking TV movie here. Feature film. Starring Jack Nicholson or whoever wasn't in Malibu snorting coke when it went under water."

"Where's Fallows and Cruz?"

"What makes you think I know these guys?"

"Your boys were riding their horses. We've been tracking those same horses for more than a week."

Savvy smiled, tugged on the bill of his baseball cap.

"How much?" Eric asked.

"Well, you don't get a nickname like Savvy and a town named after you by giving anything away."

"How much?"

"Well, I like those crossbows, but we have plenty of weapons already. I might take one of the women."

"Like hell!" Rydell jumped to his feet.

"Sit down," Eric told him. He did.

"The oriental's cute," Savvy continued, ignoring Rydell. "But we're overstocked there right now. Since the influx of Vietnamese refugees, hell, I can't give 'em away. They don't look so good bald anyway. The blonde's nice, big tits and all, but her arm's damaged." He smiled at Tracy. "That leaves her."

Eric stood up. "No deal."

"Don't be so fucking selfish. That still leaves you with two. One for you and one for the kid."

Eric nodded at the others; they all stood.

Savvy pressed a button on his desk and the front door opened. Flex climbed in with his gun out and pointed at Eric. A song by Blood, Sweat amp; Tears drifted in with him, cut off when he kicked the door shut.

"Flashes a light outside," Savvy explained, nodding at the button. "Hope I didn't interrupt you, Flex."

"Naw, I was just waiting for that Jew girl to finish with a John so's I could cut her other leg. Didn't get around to it yet."

"That will have to wait until tomorrow, Flex. Looks like we can't do any business with these people. Would you escort them out of town?"

"Right." Flex gestured at the door with his gun. "Want me to kill 'em?"

Savvy laughed. "If I left things to you, we wouldn't have a business. Just because we couldn't reach an arrangement now doesn't mean they won't deal in the future. You've got to look at everyone as a potential customer, Flex."

"Yeah," Flex grinned. "Like with dope."

"Right. Which, by the way, ladies and gentlemen, we do have a limited supply of if you want. Some habits survive even the worst disasters."

Eric picked up his crossbow, started for the door.

"I think you can leave the bow, Mr. Ravensmith. A consulting fee for taking up my time and that of my staff."

Eric turned, faced Savvy. "I think not."

Flex's face erupted with anger. He jabbed the gun sharply into Eric's ribs. "You heard him, turd. Don't start groping for your guts now, pardner."

The movement was so simple it was lyrical. Eric's arm brushing Flex's gun aside, the spinning elbow to the jaw, the edge of his hand chopping the wrist. Tracy snatching up the gun as it slid across the floor and aimed it at Savvy. Flex thudding to his knees. Eric with a fistful of Flex's beard, yanking him to his feet, then punching him back to his knees. Flex's left eye closing. A tooth flying out of his mouth, bouncing across Savvy's desk. Flex in an unconscious heap.

"Now," Eric said.

Savvy smiled nervously, adjusted his glasses. Sweat was beading above his lips. "Perhaps you do deserve a reward for returning my property this morning."

"Tell me about Fallows and Cruz."

"They were here. Couple days ago. They've been here before, done some trading. This time they stayed a day, traded their horses and three women-"

"What women?"

"That girl you saw, her twin sister, and their mother. Actually, the horses were worth more in trade. He took some supplies: water, food, ammunition, clothes. His men had the run of all the girls for a few hours." He shrugged. "That's about it."

"What about the other woman? And the boy?"

Savvy swallowed, wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. "Yeah, he had another woman and a kid. I offered him plenty for her, but he turned me down. Said he had something special in mind for her."

Eric swung his crossbow up. "How were they? What kind of condition."

"They didn't look too bad. Really. The woman was a bit thin and tired, but the kid looked pretty fit. Considering."

"Considering what?" Tracy asked.

"Considering the kind of animals they're traveling with. When those guys are done, I can't use some of my girls for days. They're maniacs."

"Which way they heading?"

"They didn't tell me where they were going, but when they left here they went south."

Eric stepped over Flex and opened the door. The others filed out ahead of him. He nodded at the whirring tape machine. "Your batteries are dying," he said, and left.

They had to walk all the way through town to pick up the southern road. But the sights and sounds that had delighted them when they'd entered disgusted them as they left. The laughter was drunken, the sounds of sex violent, the music cynical. And beneath it all, like the pounding bass theme in a horror film, the rumbling of unseen generators.

Once outside town, Eric scouted ahead, tracking Fallows' troops. Savvy had told the truth; they were marching south, toward Baja. He could almost feel Fallows' presence, like a thick summer heat, invisible yet cloying. Hearing about Annie and Timmy had been enough to revitalize him. Energy pulsed hungrily through his veins, looking for escape, release. Soon, he told himself. Soon.

When he got back to camp he knew something was wrong. They sat around with guilty and sullen faces, like children who have broken a family heirloom.

"Well?" Eric asked, hands on hips.

"What?" Season asked.

"Let's not waste time, okay? It looks like another speech is coming on, so let's hear it so we can get moving. I'd like to put a couple miles between us and that town before we make camp."

Tracy stepped forward. "We aren't going with you, Eric."

"What?" Eric hadn't expected this.

She saw the shock on his face, hesitated.