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“Scratch one freak,” Drake whispered, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
“W
e’ve got to sneak up on him,” Hank said. “Get him before he can do anything.”
Zil was not happy about Hank giving the orders. Not happy at all. “The important thing is to knock him out fast before he can fry one of us. Then we tie him up and use the tinfoil.”
“He’ll bake his own hands,” Turk said with grim contentment. “Like a turkey.”
They made their way on foot, not wanting to be heard driving up. They raced across the highway, like they were being watched. Although they had no idea who might be doing that. It was fun. Like playing soldier when you were a little kid.
There was no sign of Edilio’s soldiers. Or of any of Sam’s posse.
They could smell the deer as soon as they crossed the road. It was amazing, Zil reflected, how well your sense of smell worked when you were really, really hungry.
Zil motioned Hank and Turk and Lisa to stay put, hide behind the garage. He and Lance crept forward, edged around the side of the garage, crouched to peer through the slats of the fence.
Hunter was wielding a big butcher knife. He was trying, very inexpertly, to slice off the deer’s hide. He was making a mess of it. Portions of the animal were cooked almost black. Other parts were bloody. Hunter stopped and hacked out a chunk of meat and stuck it in his greedy mouth.
Zil’s own mouth watered, almost uncontrollably. His stomach hurt.
Zil and Lance crept back to the others.
“Greedy chud is eating it all up,” Zil reported. “I swear, he’s going to eat the whole thing himself.”
“Yeah,” Lance agreed.
“Okay, here’s what we do,” Zil said, laying out his plan.
Turk, Hank, Lisa, and Zil took the long way around the house to come up from the other side. Lance had been given a crucial role to play because Hunter didn’t know him and had no reason to fear him.
When all was in readiness, Lance stood up behind the fence. “Hey, dude.”
Hunter spun, guilty and scared. “What are you doing sneaking up on me? Who are you?”
“Dude, chill. I just smelled the meat. I’m hungry.”
Hunter looked deeply suspicious. “I was going to sell it to Albert. Everyone can have some. I just fell asleep, is all, after I got some food. But I was getting it ready now.”
Lance climbed over the fence, careful to look nonthreatening. “How about I help you skin that animal? In exchange for a little taste? Plus, you know you have to cut out its guts, right?”
“Of course I know that,” Hunter said defensively. “I was getting ready to do that.”
Zil thought it was obvious his old roommate knew no such thing. He watched, nervous and impatient, while Lance moved smoothly, confidently toward Hunter.
Hunter’s whole attention seemed to be focused on the big, good-looking boy. But he wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t even threatening.
“Now,” Zil whispered.
He and Hank were first through the gate. They moved quickly, but quietly, not quite running.
The mistake came when Lance glanced at them. Hunter saw the flicker in the boy’s eyes, looked over his shoulder, spotted Zil, turned too late, and caught Hank’s crowbar in the forehead.
He dropped like a sack of rocks.
Hank raised it up to hit him again. “That’s enough,” Zil said, staying Hank’s hand. “Tie him up. Foil his hands.” Then when Turk started tying Hunter’s hands in front of him, he said, “No, you moron, tie them in back.”
Turk grinned sheepishly. “That’s why you’re the leader.”
