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   Chapter 52 No.52

Free-Wrench By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5082

Updated: 2018-01-19 19:02


#

Elsewhere in the warehouse, Gunner and the Coopers crossed paths. Unlike Nita, they had been focusing on quantity over quality from the beginning. Gunner was a walking armory now, strapped with rifles, pistols, ammunition, and strange assemblages of metal pipes, wooden stocks, and triggers that seemed far too large to be a weapon intended to be fired by or at a human. The siblings had grabbed anything and everything light enough to carry and small enough to shove in a sack.

"What's that big brass tube there, Gunner?" Lil asked breathlessly.

"Something called a 'rocket-propelled grenade.' I am thoroughly interested in two of those three terms, so I suspect I'll find it quite useful, " he said.

"I got a mess of booze and some of those tins of fancy fish eggs they charge so much for. Plus, I got a couple of those cameras and the stuff to take a pile of pictures. I reckon we could start taking our own girlie pictures. They always sell real good."

"Yeah, but where you gonna get the girlies?" Lil asked.

"Well, there's you, and there's Nita, and Butch."

"If you think me or Nita are gonna dress up like them girlies you're always selling pictures of, that brain of yours needs adjusting. And no offense to Butch, but she don't seem like her pictures would fetch much of a price."

"Well, what did you get?"

"Perfume and a bunch of bolts of that fancy fabric they make down here, and some of them good binoculars and telescopes and such, " she said. "I still got some sacks left. I want to

led."

"What should I do?" Lil asked.

"I don't care how, but get yourself up to the roof with the flares. And listen very carefully, because you're not going to have much time to explain this to the captain…"

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On the Wind Breaker, Captain Mack still toyed with his cigar, quietly questioning if taking a few puffs would be worth the potentially fatal breaths of fug that would come along with them. Butch was watching the darkness in the direction of the warehouse, while Wink took advantage of the patrolman's unconscious state to illustrate precisely how he felt about the fug folk in general, and this one in particular. He may not have had words, but he was quite expressive with bodily functions.

"Good to know where your loyalties lie, Wink, " Captain Mack said. He looked toward the center of Fugtown. A pair of faint glows signaled the return of their "rescuers." "They are taking their sweet time of it. Just about time to haul up the anchor, I'd say. And to get this fella out of sight."

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