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He put the assault rifle down, then grabbed the rocket launcher out of the truck cab and put it on his shoulder.
“Can you see this?” Jack shouted.
There was a brief silence.
“Hold on, I’m coming out,” the guy said in a panic.
“Make it snappy!” Jack yelled.
Nothing happened for at least another twenty seconds.
“You think he’s calling Lou to tell them we’ve got a rocket launcher?” Jack asked.
“Probably,” Kade answered.
“Good. HEY, SHITHEAD!” Jack yelled at the barn. “You better get your ass out here by the time I count to one! Ten… nine… eight… seven…”
The barn door flew open, and a figure in a gas mask and yellow Hazmat suit came running out. “DON’T SHOOT, DON’T SHOOT!”
“Take off the mask, then hands in the air!” Jack yelled as Kade covered the guy with his rifle.
The guy ripped off his gasmask, revealing the glasses-wearing nerd from Sid’s photos, and threw his arms up above his head.
“Turn around and back towards the truck, SLOWLY. Don’t try anything smart, or – ”
Far away, the distant sound of motorcycles growled through the desert air.
My guts twisted with fear.
“Well, well, well,” Jack said. “Looks like the party’s just about to get started.”
86
Six Harleys roared up the dirt driveway, trailing clouds of dust behind them. In the center rode Lou, dressed in his customary black suit.
The bikes came to a stop about a hundred feet away from us, but each rider turned his motorcycle sideways as he parked. Now there were barricades of steel between us and them, as though they wanted cover.
Which was precisely the idea, since almost every man pulled a pistol as soon as he got off his bike. I recognized them as Lou’s inner circle – all except one, a guy in a denim jacket. He also wore a full motorcycle helmet that obscured his face.
He looked around at the other bikers like he was confused. Maybe that was because he was the only one without a gun.
“Fiona, cover Egghead here, why don’t you,” Jack said as he shifted the rocket launcher away from the barn and towards Lou and his thugs.
I pressed my gun into the meth cook’s back and prayed he wouldn’t do anything, since there was no way in hell I was going to pull the trigger.
Hopefully he didn’t know that.
“Jack… Jack,” Lou said in a tsk tsk tone of voice as he walked out in front of the bikes. “Is this any way to treat an old friend?”
“When the old friend sends three guys to kill me and burn down my house, yeah, I’d say it’s a great way to treat him.”
“That was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Really? Molotov cocktails and shotguns are just a ‘misunderstanding’?”
Lou saw this wasn’t going anywhere, so he asked instead, “Where’d you get the popgun?”
“Around.”
