“Yes, we’ve all lost so much. The entire planet has.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing you still have a home to return to. I just found out a little while ago that our camp was overrun, and everyone was killed. We had kids there, Hope. Kids. They were slaughtered like it was nothing.”
“I had no idea. I’m sorry,” Destiny said, wondering if that was where all the blood on their clothes came from.
“I still see their cute little faces when I close my eyes. So if we’re a little on edge, now you know why. It’s hard to trust anyone these days.”
“Okay, I get that. We’re basically the same way. But what about those Scab women?”
Summer huffed. “That’s going to take a lot more explaining, I’m afraid. There’s so much you don’t know.”
“Well then, you better get started because we have a lot of figuring out to do.”
CHAPTER 46
Ben Lipton ignored the look he just received from the former cook sitting across from him in the back of the second Nirvana truck.
Watson could gawk all he wanted; it wasn’t going to deter Lipton from speaking his mind. Some men—and women, for that matter—just didn’t fathom it. Not on any level.
Lipton turned his head and peered at the blonde-haired boy, whose stubble was struggling to find daylight along his chin.
God knew Lipton’s facial hair wasn’t the thickest, but at least he could portray a manlier look than this youngster.
“So what’s the deal with you and Summer?” Lipton asked the kid, choosing a lesser vocabulary with the hope of connecting with the twenty-something-year-old.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s not like it’s a mystery.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Doc?”
“This budding romance you have so curiously initiated. Why her? Why Summer? The one girl who’s so far removed from reality that her own soul refuses to have anything to do with her. Is it because she’s a virgin? Is that what you’re drawn to? The scent of something ripe and unspoiled?”
“You’re reaching, dude. Just let it go.”
“The reason for my query is because she’s changed. You’ve noticed that fact, haven’t you?”
Simms put up his hand, palm out. “I’m not talking to you, so quit wasting your breath.”
“Well, it’s my breath to waste, as they say.”
“Whatever.”
“Why do you think she agreed to follow these Blackstone people back to their camp? After all, it’s an egregious breach of protocol and certainly a monumental risk.”
Simms threw up his arms. “I don’t know, maybe because she just found her long-lost sister?”
“And we got nothing to go back to,” Watson added. “Not after what Fletcher did. What else are we going to do?”
“That’s my point exactly.”
Simms shook his head. “Now you’re just talking in circles, Doc. You need to just shut the hell up already. I’m not listening to you.”
Lipton wasn’t about to stop, sensing that his diatribe was making inroads into the kid’s psyche. Plus, he was bored, and it was more than entertaining to joust with Simms. If nothing else, to find out what made the kid tick. “Add to that, the fact that Krista went along with the idea without so much as a whimper in protest. What does that signal to you?”
Simms turned to Lipton and held up a fist only an inch from Lipton’s face. “What does this signal to you?”
Lipton put his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, buckaroo. Just looking for a modicum of discourse here.”
Simms raised his middle finger and jerked it in Lipton’s direction. “Yeah, discourse this.”
“You just never stop, do you?” Watson asked. “It’s like an obsession with you.”
“Coming from a bean-flipper like you, that’s really saying something,” Lipton shot back, adding a crooked smile to his lips. “Crack any eggs lately?”
“Wow,” Watson said in a trailing breath as he turned his head and looked at something outside the window.
“Don’t you gentlemen wonder why Summer agreed to follow her sister to the new stomping grounds so easily?”
Neither man answered, so he decided to answer himself. “It’s because she’s changed. She’s decided, whether consciously or not, to replace her lifelong preoccupation with her own selfishness with some primal urge to assume control. In reality, what’s actually occurring is she’s simply grasping at the proverbial carrot that’s being dangled in front of her. That’s what this is, boys. Desperation masquerading as leadership.”
“Well, at least she’s doing something,” Simms said, bringing his eyes back to Lipton. “Not just sitting around, taking digs at everyone. Man, you really don’t like anyone, do you?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Watson added. “And nobody likes him.”
Simms continued. “I hate to burst your bubble, but Summer’s a good and decent person. But you simply won’t cut her a break, will you?”
“That’s not my job, kid. I’m here to question everything. That’s how theories are born. So, too, are the solutions they bear.”
“Okay, then, what do you think we should do?” Watson asked.
“Well, for one, we should have jettisoned the Scab women and the immensely troublesome one they call Helena. They simply add to the risk quotient and offer little in return.”
“Okay, you got a point there,” Watson said.
“Oh man, don’t encourage him,” Simms quipped, rolling his eyes.
“And two, we should have spent more time vetting the situation, even if Destiny is Hope, or whatever her real name happens to be.”
“The only hope is more like it,” Watson said, nodding.
“Okay, I get that, sort of, but where would we go now that the silo is not an option?” Simms asked. “According to Nomad, it was a massacre.”
“That’s point number three, my dense friends. How do we trust anything that brute has to say? Brother or not, it’s still a valid question.”
“Well, I was there. I saw it all,” Watson said. “The man is telling the truth. Fletcher stormed the place like Napoleon, leaving nothing behind.”
Lipton fired up his retort, pausing to seed its effectiveness. “Well, assuming it did happen—”
“Trust me, it did.”
“—Krista should have split up our troops, for security purposes.”
“What do you mean?” Simms asked.
“I’m certain neither of you have noticed the fact that all of their people are in the lead vehicles and all of ours are in the chase position. You see how that’s inviting disaster, don’t you?”
Watson answered instead of Simms. “No, not following.”
“She should have put at least one of us in the lead vehicle, to keep an eye on things and ensure they’re not plotting some type of ambush.”
Watson aimed an index finger at Lipton. “I’m guessing you think that person should have been you?”
“Correct, Mr. Watson,” Lipton said in his best Sherlock Holmes accent. “It certainly would have lessened the learning curve as to what they actually need me to do once we arrive. Destiny did raise the sense of urgency more than once when we all sat around and discussed our respective situations as a group.”