“It took you long enough.” Benny massaged his hand. “Where have you been?”
“Busy. Want to tell me why you and your crew of girl-thugs just beat the crap out of four soldiers? And while you’re at it, how about explaining the stunt with the quad? I’ve seen stupid and I’ve seen stupid but that was—”
“Stupid, yeah, I saw where you were going with that.”
That put a half smile on Joe’s face. “So—what’s the deal? Is this about seeing your friend Chong? Roughing up soldiers and breaking rules isn’t going to—”
“I’m trying to get inside,” said Benny. He gave the door another hit.
“I figured that much, which is why I came out here. I’m trying to keep you from wasting your time.” Joe pointed at the tall steel doors set into the concrete facade of the building. “Read my lips here, kid, try to follow. They. Can’t. Hear. You.”
“Why not?”
“It’s an ultra-secure soundproof hardened facility. It’s designed to withstand anything except a direct hit from a nuclear weapon. You could march up and down all day long with a brass band and they won’t hear a peep. Nothing. Nada. Am I getting through to you in any way?”
Benny ignored him.
“It’s also designed to keep out a gazillion zombies like the ones who are—oh yeah, coming this way.”
“They won’t be here for at least ten minutes.”
Joe grunted. “Fair enough. Door’s still going to be locked when they get here . . . and the geeks inside won’t even know that the zoms are chowing down on a pigheaded teenager.”
“Why?” he demanded. “They have to know we’re out here.”
“They do. Once in a while one of them even looks at us on a video monitor.”
“On a what?”
“A kind of electronic window.”
“Then if they’re looking at us, why don’t they open the door?”
“Why would they?”
Benny pointed backward, jabbing a finger at the building. “Because I’m knocking.”
“No offense, kid, but who the hell are you?”
Benny punched him.
He didn’t even know he was going to do it. His hand was already moving when it clenched into a knot and slammed into the side of Joe’s jaw.
The blow had all of Benny’s anger and frustration in it.
It rocked Joe. It knocked him back half a step.
And that was all it did.
Benny threw a second punch, but Joe caught that one in his open palm like a shortstop catching a grounder. Joe’s fingers closed around Benny’s fist like iron bars. Then his hand darted out and clutched a fistful of Benny’s shirtfront, and suddenly Benny was up on his toes, nose to nose with the ranger. Joe’s blue eyes bored into him like drills, and the man’s mouth twitched as if he fought to bite down on the words he wanted to say.
Finally he smiled and pushed Benny back.
He rubbed his jaw. “Nice punch. I honestly can’t tell you the last time anyone caught me with a sucker punch.”
“I hope it hurts.”
“It does,” Joe admitted. “Though . . . probably not as much as your hand.”