Falcon shrugged as they continued on their path. “Not exactly any rooftops they can fire from and funneling people is a little hard in an open field.”
Fifty yards separated them. Papa Rose’s finger twitched on the side of the gun. “You think B’s radar is pinging?”
“Hard to tell with the squid. He’s damn smart but sometimes he lacks common sense.”
“Like when he was dealing with Toby.”
Falcon’s smile was strained. “Did you see him jump?”
Papa Rose used his laugh to look over his shoulder. Still no movement in the neighborhood. What were they waiting for? “Having a kid shove his head in your crotch can startle a man.”
The truck jiggled when Brainiac climbed in the back. A soft scraping noise drifted on the wind.
Papa Rose identified it as the generator being dragged across the bed. Twenty yards to go. He shifted his attention to the house. Could they come charging from the back yard?
Brainiac’s face turned red as he lugged the gennie into the caged area. “Hurry up you two. I’m not doing all the work.”
“The squid’s definitely grown a pair.” Falcon shook his head, lingering just a tad when he faced the neighborhood.
“Brass ones, too.” A piece of paper fluttered from the house’s backyard. Papa nearly tripped over his feet. “Eleven O’Clock.”
“A piece of paper.”
“Yeah.” A fucking white banner carried aloft into the sky. “You see any trash piled along the curb in the neighborhood? The whole city has been damn clean.”
Brainiac returned to the side of the truck and hefted two cinder blocks out of the back. “Since you two are being such lazy asses, you can unload the fuel.”
“The squid is oblivious.” Falcon raised the M-4 so it no longer pointed at the ground.
“Focused.” Papa Rose corrected. “All he can see is the job is almost done.”
It was a killer attitude.
Brianiac returned to the truck for the next load of blocks. With one hanging from his hand, he did a second take. “Maybe I should leave these for you two to carry.”
Ahh, he’d finally noticed. Papa Rose shrugged. “We’ll get the drum.” He nodded toward the house, not the blue fifty-gallon barrel in the bed. “You can carry those.”
The squid turned and ambled back to the well. His head tracked slowly from left to right before it tilted back. “I guess it’s a little too much to believe that the paper just missed the garbage.”
“If it had, it would be sopping wet and stuck to the ground.” Papa stopped next to the truck bed and pulled out the last block. At least his gun hand was still free.
“Now we get into a rather sticky situation.” Falcon leaned against the truck and crossed his ankle. “Do we continue to act like nothing is happening or do we go on the offensive?”
Brainiac arranged the blocks so the drum could sit on it and feed the generator to keep it running for the next twenty-four hours. “We need to get this well running. It’ll pump out fifty-four million gallons that the plant will need to give us three more days.”
Papa Rose dropped his block next to the pile and let the squid rearrange them. “Why isn’t the hundred million the other two are pumping out enough?”
“Because the chillers aren’t working.” After organizing the make-shift pedestal, Brainiac dusted his hands on his pants. “Glen has to move more water to keep the pool cool. Given the rate of evaporation and the time we need to reach Colorado, that’s one hundred and fifty million gallons to be safe.”
Papa Rose faced the house. No movement in the back yard but the hair on his neck stood at full attention. Damn, why didn’t they show themselves? He watched the paper landed safely in a Mesquite tree. “Have you checked in with Glen?”
“He’s not answering.”
Dead then. Papa Rose tightened his grip on his weapon. If anything happened to them, the munchkins would join them shortly. Not going to happen. “So how should we work this?”
“We need that water on for twenty-four.”
“Given that they could have attacked and didn’t, I say we finish up.” Falcon ducked his head under the strap and handed the M-4 to Brainiac. “Watch the house.”
Wrapping the strap around his forearm, the squid kept the muzzle pointed at the house, right where he was staring.
Nothing like a new recruit to tip off the bad guys. Tucking his gun in the small of his back, Papa Rose climbed onto the bed. His balls drew up tight. Damn. The only thing missing was a fat target on his bald head. “Without being obvious, B.”
Brainiac tracked back across the house then skipped to the neighborhood. “Sure thing.”
Papa Rose scooted across the bed on his knees. At least, the sides protected some of his assets. He sighed when he made it to the cab and scrunched down. With his back to the cab, he planted his boots on the fifty gallon drum and shoved. “You realize we may have no choice but to take care of our invisible friends.”
Falcon grunted as he worked the lip over the divot between the gate and bed. “There is only one way in and out of the plant.”
Brainiac stared at the house.
“B!” Papa Rose barked.
The squid stopped staring at the house. “What if they just let us leave?”
“This is our exit route. We’re going to be traveling along that road to get to the interstate.” Papa Rose shoved the drum onto the gate then slipped to the ground. “They’ll be waiting to ambush us when we come back.”
“What if they’re friendly?” Brainiac aimed at the dirt.
Papa Rose shook his head. Had he ever been that gullible? He caught hold of the ropes secured to the barrel. Having unloaded drums twice today, he’d gotten the how-to down to a science.
“Then they would have shown themselves by now.” Falcon established his grip and counted off to touch down. “Three. Two. One.”
Muscles strained in Papa Rose’s back. Sweat beaded and slipped down his spine. His thighs trembled as they staggered toward the brick platform. Yeah, he was going to feel this for the next decade of Mondays. Getting old sucked. “Make sure the platform is ready.”
Once they lowered the damn thing, they weren’t lifting it again.
“Maybe they’re just scared.” Brainiac walked the short distance next to them and kicked the upright bricks.
“Let’s focus on getting this thing running.” Papa Rose groaned as he lowered the drum onto the cinder blocks. Mud squelched around the support. After untangling his arms, he set his hands on either side of the gun and arched his back. Vertebra popped. He palmed the gun as he straightened.
Falcon held his hand out for the M-4. “Get it done, B.”
Brainiac handed the rifle over then tugged a hose from his pocket. After opening the cap, he threaded one end inside the drum. The heavy scent of gasoline hung on the air. “I’m just saying, we should try to approach them in a peaceful manner.”
“You mean like Jillie and Toby’s parents did?” Falcon propped a hip against the side of the truck and rested the M-4 on the ledge, the weapon casually aimed at the front door.
“No.” Feeding the other end into the generator, Brainiac rolled his eyes. He adjusted the hoses and the cow-pie contraption he’d rigged to keep the fuel flowing then turned on the generator. It vibrated to life, belching smoke.
“Then how?” Papa Rose glanced toward the house. Still no movement.
“Let’s just leave ‘em alone.” Brainiac trailed his fingers over the well’s pump, switching it on.
Papa Rose shook his head. “We’re going to have children when we pass this way again.”
He would not knowingly put Toby, Jillie or Olivia in danger.
Falcon mimicked his actions.
After a couple seconds, water gurgled and sloshed out the six inch pipe. It gushed into the irrigation ditch, stopped then vomited in one continuous stream. White foamed on the surface. The air bubbles burst and the water reflected the black clouds overhead.