Dead End

           That’sthekindofwarningIdon’tdebateabout.Ipulledup.Themanwaslargeandfair-haired.Hehandledhisriflewithfamiliarity.Withouttakingitoutoftheaim,hejerkedhisheadtwicesideways.Iacceptedthatasasigntoclimbdown.WhenIhaddoneso,Idisplayedmyemptyhands.Anotherman,accompaniedbyagirl,emergedfrombehindthestationarytruckasIapproachedit.Coker’svoicecalledfrombehindme:

           "Betterputupthatrifle,chum.You’reallintheopen."

           Thefairman’seyesleftminetosearchforCoker.IcouldhavejumpedhimthenifI’dwantedto,butIsaid:

           "He’sright.Anyway,we’repeaceful."

           Themanloweredhisrifle,notquiteconvinced.Cokeremergedfromthecoverofmytruck,whichhadhiddenhisexitfromhisown.

           ‘What’sthebigidea?Dogeatdog?"heinquired.

           "Onlytwoofyou?"thesecondmanasked.

           Cokerlookedathim.

           "Whatwouldyoubeexpecting?Aconvention?Yes,justtwoofus."

           Thetriovisiblyrelaxed.Thefairmanexplained:

           "Wethoughtyoumightbeagangfromacity.We’vebeenexpectingthemhere,raidingforfood."

           "Oh,"saidCoker."Fromwhichweassumethatyou’venottakenalookatanycitylately.Ifthat’syouronlyworry,youmightaswellforgetit.Whatgangsthereare,aremorelikelytobeworkingtheotherwayround—atpresent.Infact,doing—ifImaysayso—justwhatyouare."

           "Youdon’tthinkthey’llcome?"

           "I’mdarnedsuretheywon’t."Heregardedthethree.

           "DoyoubelongtoBeadley’slot?"heasked.