by Eric Flint
But, yeah, I am. 'Ain't no honor among thieves' is bullshit. Your word is all you got, when you're outside the law. If you cross a man, he ain't gonna run to find a cop or a lawyer. He'll come after you." "He might not get you. You might kill him." "Sure. That's why a lot of stupid crooks pull double crosses. Sometimes they even work-but now you got a reputation as a double-dealing shithead." He shook his head.
"It's amazing how many idiots don't know the word 'tomorrow.' "
Bostic's curiosity was aroused now. "And why are you asking? Have you got a deal to propose?" "Yeah, I do. I know a way we can all get out of here, if we work together. It's not fool-proof, but it's better than what we were planning. Or you, I'm figuring." Again, he nodded his head, indicating the floor above. "You're planning to try to bluff your way out, come nightfall, aren't you?" "Yeah." Bostic said. "It oughta work. I'm one of Luff's big men and everybody knows it. Me and my guys walk up to the gate right after sundown, tell the guards that Luff's sending us out on an errand, they won't argue the point."
"Won't they? What's the errand? Why would Luff be sending you out after dark?" He paused, for a second. "And now that I think about it, why are going to wait until dark anyway? Why not just do it now, while everything's still confused?" Again, he nodded above. "The gunfire's dying down a lot. It'll be killing from now on, not a fight. I'm willing to bet the yard's almost empty. So just walk out now." "What I said earlier," Williams muttered. Bostic swiveled his head, glaring at him. "Yeah, I know you did. That's why I'm the leader and you ain't.
Right now, everybody up there is jumpy as hell. Can you say 'trigger-happy,' you dumb son of a bitch? I'm not taking the risk.
There aren't enough of us to scare the guards at the gate. By now, Luff will have a dozen of them standing watch there. Come nightfall, we got a better chance of talking our way through." "I know a way youcan scare away the guards at the gate," James said. "And do it right now. Twelve or two hundred. It doesn't matter. They'll scatter like rabbits." Bostic sneered. "Forget it, Cook. No way I'm giving any of you some of our guns. And it wouldn't work, anyhow. Even if twenty-five of us charged the gate instead of five, it's too dangerous. Some of us would make it, but too many of us would get killed. I'm not taking the risk. My plan might have some holes in it, but that one's Swiss cheese." James gave him a smile. The thin one he'd perfected by now, that never reached the eyes and was never a tell. "Do I look stupid? Of course that wouldn't work. But my plan will." He explained what it was. After he was done, Bostic scratched his jaw for a few seconds, thinking it over. While he did, Boyne brought up the obvious objection. "Boss, if it works"-he jabbed his shank in the direction of Bostic and his men-"we'll be easy meat for these guys. They could just shoot us down." Bostic's hand came down.
"Fuck that," he said. "If I agree to this, we'll keep the deal. And why wouldn't we? Some of you would make it into the woods before we could get you-and then I'm looking at sleeping in the woods having to keep an eye out for a con slipping up to cut my throat as well as dinosaurs." He shook his head. "No, once we get out-ifI agree, which I haven't yet-we'll keep our end of the deal. The only thing you've got that we'd want anyway is the girl and"-he looked over and gave Elaine a jaunty grin-"meaning no offense, Ms. Brown-she's notthat good-looking. No woman is." He gave Williams another glare. "You hear that, Williams? You want pussy, I told you I'd get it for you. But we do it my way, not yours. And if that takes a while-if it takes a year or two years or three years-then that's the way it is. You'll survive.
You been in here for years. You know how to jack off." By the time he turned back to James, he was grinning again. That same jaunty grin he'd given Elaine. "All right, Cook. I'll hand it to you. It's a good plan. We'll do it. But there's one condition." "What's that?" He pointed to Elaine. "You go with her. Not with your guys. We'll wrap the two of you up together." James frowned. He'd be completely helpless, then, which he didn't like at all. "Why?" "Don't be so modest. By now, Cook, whether you know it or not, you're too well-known. You make too many guys twitchy. They see you in the group, some of them will start thinking. They probably still wouldn't do anything, on their own, but there's a good chance somebody would insist on checking with Luff. That's the one big weakness in your plan. If Luff gets involved, it goes up like smoke." He nodded at Boyne. "Whereas if he looks to be in charge of the detail-meaning no offense again, John-it won't be a problem. Nobody disrespects Boyne, but he doesn't make people jumpy, either." "He's probably right, boss," said Boyne. James still hesitated. There was nothing in the world he hated more-even more than rats-than feeling helpless. A soft voice came from the pallet. "I'd feel a lot better if you were with me, James," said Elaine. "I really, really would." Bostic's grin seemed fixed in place, damn the bastard. "How can you resist a plea like that, Cook?" Well. He couldn't. "Okay, Danny. We'll do it your way."
Chapter 32 Bostic didn't wait any longer than it took to make the preparations. And that didn't take long at all, because he didn't face the problem Cook and his people did of having to stay hidden in the basement and scrounge up whatever they could find. That might have taken forever, since there was probably wasn't enough in the basement for the purpose to begin with. He just marched back upstairs with Williams, locked the door behind him, and went through the admin building until he found what they needed. Which didn't take any longer than finding the first linen closet. The admin building was still empty, except for six men they found in the hallway almost as soon as they came out of the basement. They were all carrying rifles and shotguns. Bostic knew all but one of them and gave them a wave from the other end of the corridor. "Don't bother, guys! We already searched the place. Ain't nobody here." Kinsey, the con in charge, nodded and led his squad back out into the yard. The best thing about this new plan was that it was taking place right now, in broad daylight, while everything was still chaotic. Waiting until nightfall had always been a weakness in Danny's original plan, and he'd known it. He just thought the alternative was riskier. And he hadn't counted on the riot. He'd planned to leave on a quiet night. What a laugh that was, now. The guards Luff would have back at the gate would be edgy as all hell. Especially after contemplating the corpses of the first detachment Luff had put at the gate, who'd been overwhelmed in that big rush right after the killing started. Anything coming toward them that looked even remotely like a threat would be likely to set them off. But the riot had done one thing for him. At least he didn't have to worry that Luff might show up at an awkward moment. Luff would stay in his hole for hours today. He wouldn't stick his nose out until well after sundown. Luff really did suffer from megalomania, in his quiet accountant's way. That was the reason Luff wasn't in his usual office in this building today. It wasn't fear-you had to give it to him; the guy didn't have a nerve in his body-it was delusions of grandeur. On the very next day after he'd led the prison rebellion, Luff had decided he needed a "war room." That was exactly what he called it, too. War Room. Like he was some kind or president or four-star general. The warden's office in the admin building wouldn't suit the purpose. No, of course not. Too humdrum. He needed someplace thatlooked like a "war room." As best as he could manage, anyway, in a prison. And that's where Luff would be right now. He'd have made a beeline there as soon as the crap hit the fan this morning. Probably cackling with glee-not openly, of course; he was almost as hard to read as Cook-that he finally had a chance to use it properly. Danny grinned. Which meant he was almost all the way across the prison from the front gate, and would stay there for hours. Holed up in a corner of the machine shop, with his stupid diagram of the prison spread out across a work bench, pretending he was General Patton at the Battle of the Bulge. If he'd ever found some toy soldiers in the prison, he'd be pushing them around all over the diagram. What a lunatic. If he lasted long enough and stayed in charge, Danny wouldn't be surprised if Luff wound up setting himself up with a little camp a mile or so into the woods, to which he'd retreat from time to time. He might even call it Camp David. Williams found the linen closet. "How about
this, Danny?
Will this stuff do?" Danny went over. It was a big closet. Not quite a full walk-in, but almost. And every shelf was piled high with sheets and pillowcases and thin blankets. "Perfect. We'll take a dozen of the sheets. And… one blanket." "Just one?" "Yeah, one's enough to let 'em breathe." In a perfect world, he'd have made it all blankets. In the long run, blankets would be far more useful. But sheets would do better for the short run. They could be wrapped tightly, where blankets couldn't. He spotted a roll of masking tape on the top shelf.
A full roll, and it was the big tape, three inches across. That'd be perfect. Icing on the cake. He grinned again as he reached up and took it down. Cook would absolutely hate it. But he couldn't possibly object. Once they had the stuff piled up on the floor, Danny studied it for a moment. It'd be a load, but he could handle it all himself.
This was the best place he could think of, given that he saw no reason to postpone the matter. He pointed at some of the pillowcases on a far shelf in the closet. "Better get a half dozen of those, too. We might need something smaller." Williams started into the closet. Behind him, now, Danny drew the gun from his waistband. It was one of the prison's double action pistols. He didn't need to work the slide like he would with an old-style automatic. As soon as Williams was all the way into the closet, Danny shot him in the back. A quick double-tap, extending the gun so it was inside the closet too. That made a lot of noise, where he was standing, but he didn't think anyone outside the building would hear the shots. Even if they did, he didn't think it'd be a problem. There were still plenty of guns being fired in the prison.
Not the fusillade that had been happening earlier. These were the sounds of executioners at work, coming once every two minutes or so.
Just to be sure, he waited in the corridor, listening. Nothing. He was sure the building was still empty, except for the people in the basement. And whenever someone finally did come in, he'd be long gone by the time they got here. He looked back into the closet. Williams hadn't died yet. But was he was unconscious and would remain that way until he did. Which wouldn't be all that long. Danny had been careful not to shoot him in the head or heart, because he didn't want to risk a big blood spill. Instead, he'd shot Williams in the spine, low down.
Either one of the shots would have been fatal. And he wasn't bleeding that much. Quickly, Danny stooped, set the gun on the floor, grabbed a blanket from a lower shelf and pushed it around Williams' legs and feet, after shoving the one foot sticking out back into the closet.
That should sop up whatever blood did come. He stood up and closed the closet door. There was no sign at all that a body was inside. He touched the pistol with the flat of his hand. The muzzle wasn't too hot to shove down into his waistband. It would have been a pain in the ass having to perch the pistol on top of a big pile of blankets and sheets and carry them all the way down two flights of stairs to the basement. As it was, the stack was awkward to handle. But a little labor-you couldn't even call it hard labor-was worth getting rid of a problem immediately and neatly. "Where's Williams?" asked Fritz, after Danny dumped the pile of bedding next to Brown. "It turns out he won't be coming with us after all." He had no expression on his face when he said that. He might have been talking about a slight delay in traffic. There was a moment's silence in the basement. Then Fritz smiled, very thinly, and gave the other two men in Danny's group a quick, meaningful look. Those three and Danny himself were the inner circle. Fritz had never wanted Williams in on it at all. "Too bad," he said. "And after all the talking he did about getting some pussy." He gave Brown a glance. The girl's eyes, big at any time, looked like saucers. Apparently she wasn't as naive as she looked. Danny's eyes were on Cook. "Is there a problem, officer?" The Indian gave him that creepy smile he had. The one that would scare a crocodile. "Not at all. I'm glad to see everything's working out for you." Danny nodded.
"Fine." He pointed at the girl on the pallet. "Time, then. Make like Hansel and Gretel." *** "Get the fuck away from it!" Danny shouted at the ten men standing guard at the gate. There were three sets of gates, actually, but since the uprising Luff only kept the inner one closed. Joey Enders was in charge of the detail. He frowned, looking at the weird big bundle that was coming toward him and his men, perched on top of a makeshift litter being carried by eight men shuffling forward. A dozen other men came behind them. Two of them were carrying shovels. "What's going on, Danny?" Nervously, he hefted the rifle in his hands. But he wasn't pointing it at anything. Danny came forward, skirting widely around the litter. "I'm telling you, Joey, you guysdon't want to get close to this." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the litter. "It's Koppler. Him and his bitch Inglewood." "You shoot 'em?
What for?" "Fuck no, we didn't shoot 'em. We found 'em in Koppler's cell. Deader'n last year's garbage and looking a lot worse. They both got these big purple spots all over 'em. They're oozing something, too. Pus, blood, who knows? Luff thinks it might be plague or something. He wants these bodies buried deep, at least a mile into the woods." Enders sidled back from the oncoming litter. Since Danny had spoken plenty loud enough for all the guards to hear, all of them started sidling away. Within a few seconds, the gate was clear. It was still locked, of course. "Open it up," Bostic commanded. Enders was nervous, obviously, but some shred of being in command held him a little steadier than the others. After taking that first two-step backward sidle, he hadn't moved any farther. His eyes came away from the litter and went to the men carrying it, and the ones coming behind them. "What you got? The whole damn burial detail? Why?" Bostic was right next to him, now. "Why d'you think?" he growled softly. "Doyou want let these guys back in, after they've handled bodies full of plague?" Enders eyes widened. "You gonna shoot 'em all?" "Jesus! Where were you when they passed out the brains, Enders? Taking a dump? Of course we're not going to shoot 'em. They know how to get rid of bodies and there's likely to be more. Figure it out, fer Chrissake. It didn't take me and Luff more'n two seconds." Enders really wasn't too bright. So Danny went ahead and spelled it out for him. "It's simple.
First, we shot Cook." "You shot Cook?" "Jesusand Mary. Of course we shot Cook. We would've shot him anyway. Luff wants Boomer's boys broken, finally. Cook had to go, especially with this plague shit coming up." He nodded backward. By now, the litter was only twenty feet from the entrance. "We let Boyne live. He's enough to keep them under control, and he won't get ideas. But that's also why he's one of the ones carrying the litter." Joey Enders looked. Sure enough, John Boyne was one of the two men in front, on the left, holding up one end of the two poles. Except they weren't poles, they were just ten-foot-long two by fours. Strips of linen tying the two boards together formed the rest of the litter's framework. Boyne was looking distinctly unhappy. So were all of his men, especially the ones carrying the litter. Enders looked back up at the litter. Up close, he could see the forms of two human bodies in the big bundle on top. The bodies themselves were invisible, all wrapped up in sheets the way they were. The sheets had been tied down tightly by long strips of masking tape, too. But those were bodies; they couldn't be anything else. The shapes weren't very distinct, as many sheets as they had wrapped around them, but they were distinct enough. One of them looked awfully small, but that made sense too. Inglewood had been a little guy. He couldn't see the faces at all. The area where the heads would be was wrapped around with a blanket. Enders started to wonder why.
When the answer came to him, he held his breath. They didn't want to take any chance that something in the corpses' lungs might get through a thin sheet. "Oh, shit," he said. Then, realizing what he'd done, took a quick breath and held it. He wasn't breathing again until thatthing was gone. " 'Oh, shit' is right," hissed Danny. "These guys don't come back into the prison. They stay out there, unless we need to haul out another body. That's why I'm taking out all of them, and that's why me and my guys are hauling these big damn backpacks. We gotta stay out there for a while too, watching 'em. We'll let just enough of 'em back in to do that job. And nobody who
's handled a body directly ever gets back in, even for that. That's why Boyne's in this first crew of body-handlers." He gave Enders as evil-looking a smile as he could manage. Which was very evil-looking indeed. "Hopefully, we won't need to run through more than Boomer's boys. But if we do, I'm sure we can find suitable replacements somewhere. Now. Are you opening that gate? Or do I have to go get Luff?" Still holding his breath, Enders pulled a key ring out of his pocket. "You do it," he croaked.
Not letting any air out at all.
Chapter 33 "You okay?" James whispered. With everything piled on top of their heads, he was sure the soft sound couldn't be heard by anyone else. Especially since Bostic-he didn't know whether to curse the bastard or heap blessings on him-had wrapped the two of them so tightly together that his mouth was pressed right against Elaine's ear and her mouth wasn't much farther from his. "A little stuffy. But, yeah, I'm okay." "How about your wound?" "Hurts some. But no worse than usual." At least Bostic hadn't argued the point when James insisted that he had to be lying on the side opposite Elaine's injury, when they were wrapped up together. Whatever else he was, Bostic wasn't dumb. He'd understood immediately that if James was pressed against the wound, Elaine was likely to twitch at some point. At the wrong time, that could blow the whole thing. Corpses don't twitch.
James was trying not to twitch himself. He could feel every curve in her body, from her shoulder down to her toes. And it was a very curvy body, as small as it was. Worst of all, he'd gotten a curve himself.