“What about fuel?” Krista asked.
“I have several drums of diesel.”
“That’s a start.”
Liz shook her head at Krista. “Trading is all well and good, but I’m not entirely sure we have the proper medication anyway. And if we do have it, we have a duty to help all those in need, regardless of their ability to trade. It’s the humane thing to do.”
Nomad didn’t wait for Krista to respond. “I’ll take the risk. Whatever it takes. Just give me your word you’ll do everything you can to help her and I’ll get you whatever you need. I even have intel, if that’s more to your liking.”
Krista wanted to know more about the additional perk he’d just offered. “What kind of intel?”
“Mission critical intel. The kind that affects this place and everyone in it.”
“Are you talking about Frost and his men?”
“Among others,” the Nomad said, pausing as his eyes glanced at everyone in the room, then back to Krista. “Do we have a deal?”
“That’ll depend on if we believe you or not. It’s an honor thing.”
Nomad spun on the bench in a blur and flew at Wicks. An instant later, he took the rifle from the brute and used its shoulder sling to lasso Wicks around the neck in a figure eight pattern and lock him down in a suffocating choke hold. Nomad then pulled the man’s pistol from its holster and held it to the side of Wick’s head.
Liz gasped, scooting back a step on the bench.
“Easy now,” Krista said, holding her arms out. She couldn’t believe what she’d just seen. The man moved at lightning speed. “I thought we were negotiating.”
“We are. But it became obvious that a small demonstration was needed,” Nomad said, releasing Wicks and the rifle, letting them both drop to the cement.
He brought his hands together on the pistol and, in a blur of movement, broke the weapon down into its component parts, ejected the magazine, caught it in the air, then finished by flicking the rounds out of it with only the tip of his finger.
Krista held quiet, unsure what to say or do. She’d never seen anything like it.
Nomad tossed the parts away and returned to his seat, sitting in the same submissive slump as before, as if nothing had happened. Then he said, “Let’s be clear about one thing. My clan and I made a decision to come here willingly and allow you to keep us under guard. My only goal is to help those I brought along. Nothing more. It’s an honor thing for me as well.”
Krista looked at Wicks.
The guard nodded and bent down to retrieve his rifle. “I’ll assemble a team, ma’am.”
“Then I take it we have a deal?” Nomad asked Krista.
Before Krista could respond with a yes, Summer burst through the door with eyes wide. But she wasn’t alone. There was a young brunette girl with her, whose eyes were also as round as apples.
“There’s been a horrible accident in Zimmer’s office,” Summer said, looking at Liz. “Come quick.”
CHAPTER 11
Dice plopped his backside on a section of exposed piping that rose up from the surface above the missile silo. It ran horizontal for a good ten feet, where it disappeared into a maze of other pipes, all of them symmetrically installed amongst themselves, running level and parallel to each other.
He had no clue what all the hardware was for, but it was obvious someone had spent a lot of time and money building this place. The age of the computer equipment he saw inside told him the facility was built long before he was born. Probably sometime around the 50s, he guessed.
Fletcher came over and took a seat next to him. “Fuck, I’m tired.”
“I hear you, boss. It’s not everyday you join a Scab army, attack an underground bunker, then find yourself on the short end of a detonation. It’s a miracle we’re still breathing.”
“Stipple never had a chance.”
“Not with that heart of his,” Dice said.
“That poor fucker.”
“Ah, no loss. Didn’t much care for him anyway.”
Fletcher nodded. “Me either.”
“Craven’s going to be pissed when he finds out his army got cooked. Literally.”
“I’m sure he has more.”
“Still, he’ll consider this a major loss. Might expect additional compensation.”
“Ah, fuck him,” Fletcher said in a tone that made him sounded disinterested.
“Of course, now that I think about it, his reaction might depend on whether his runner took off before the explosion or after. It does change the narrative a bit.”
“That it might.”
“I asked around, but our guys don’t remember the Scab leaving. They were too distracted with everything going on. So it could have been anytime.”
“Just more bullshit to deal with,” Fletcher said, his head hanging low and shoulders slouched.
Before Dice could offer up his next round of conversation, Chapa Longbow walked up with something in his hands—a folded piece of paper. The knife-wielding Navajo who always wore a headband gave it to Fletcher. “Boone found this, boss.”
“What is it?” Dice asked, watching Fletcher take the item and open it along the folds.
“Looks like someone’s been doing a little reconnaissance,” Fletcher said, tilting the paper toward Dice.
Dice studied the page from afar. It was a map, with several locations highlighted with the letter X in black ink. Three of them were circled, while the rest were crossed out.
“Where did Boone find this?” Fletcher asked Longbow.
“It was stuffed inside the helmet of one of the protective suits he found on the refueling level.”
Fletcher pointed at one of the circled X’s. “I think this is us.”
Dice nodded. “Then that must mean—”
Fletcher moved his finger to one of the other circled locations. “—these are silos are well.”
“I didn’t know there was more than one.”
“Neither did I.”
“Do you think Nomad knew?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
Boone walked up and joined the meeting, his mouth chewing on a wad of something. It wasn’t chewing tobacco, since they’d run out years earlier, but it didn’t stop the man or his habit—a habit that had turned his voice into a gravely mess. “Hell, I didn’t know there were any.”
“Nice work,” Fletcher said.
“Thanks, boss. Was just nosing around and decided to try on one those suits and bam. Someone had stowed that map inside for safekeeping. It was folded up and stuffed underneath the side of the foam padding. Good thing I have a huge head, otherwise, I might have missed it when the thing didn’t fit right.”
“No Boone, not huge. Massive. As in ginormous,” Dice said with a smile.
Boone struck a bodybuilder pose, then grabbed his crotch and tugged on it as if it weighed ten pounds. “I am who I am. As are all my parts.”
Dice laughed, appreciating the man’s ability to respond with his quick wit. Dice looked over at Fletcher. “Edison’s map? You know, before Frost burned him.”
“Possibly,” Fletcher said. “The others must not have known it was there. Otherwise, they’d never leave this behind.”