Valentine scraped off his plate into the legworm-feed bucket.
EVERY BITE ADDS AN INCH was written on the side. "You should have opened with that, Zak. I'd have been up there already."
Inside the barn, a wood-staved cask big enough to bathe in stood upon two sawhorses near the band, each of whom had a sizeable tumbler tucked under their chair as they scraped and strummed and plucked away. Tikka, in a fringed version of her brother's leathers, gave him a welcoming hug that allowed Valentine a whiff of leather-trapped feminine musk, then took Zak's hand and pulled him away. The Dispatcher poured drinks into everything from soup bowls to elegant crystal snifters, with the help of Cookie at the tap.
Valentine entered to applause and whoops. He kept forgetting he was supposed to hate these people. Perhaps they'd bred the legworms that destroyed Foxtrot Company at Little Timber Hill. But they'd carved out a life, apparently free of the Reapers. He had to give them credit for that.
"Our man of the night," the Dispatcher said, his nose even more prominent thanks to its reddish tinge. "How do the victory garlands feel?"
"They're turning purple," Valentine said, accepting a proffered thick-bottomed glass from Cookie. A quarter cup of amber liquor rolled around the bottom.
"Some Bulletproof will take the edge off."
"Just a splash, please, sir. I-don't hold my liquor well."
"It's that cheap radiator busthead you flatties brew in the Midwest, is why," Cookie said. "Bulletproof s got aroma and character."
"It blows your damn head off," Tikka said. "That's why we called it 'bulletproof in the first place."
"Enjoy," the Dispatcher said, raising his own glass and bringing it halfway to Valentine.
"Bad luck not to finish your first taste," someone called from the audience.
Valentine touched his glass to the Dispatcher's, and several in the crowd applauded.
The liquor bit, no question, but it brought an instantaneous warmth along for the ride. Cheering filled the barn.
"He's Bulletproof now," the Dispatcher called to the crowd, noticing Valentine's wince. "Bring out his leathers!"
A parade of Bulletproof wives and daughters came forward, each holding a piece of leather or armor-a jacket with shoulder pads sewn in, pants, boots, gloves, a gun belt, something that looked like spurs . . .
Valentine stood a little dumbly as they piled the gear on his shoulders and around his feet. It was a dull gunmetal color, and made him think of a knight-errant.
"Zak," the Dispatcher called. "Where'd he get to? Zak!"
"Right here," Zak called, coming in from the gaping doorway to the barn, Tikka in tow, both looking a little disheveled.
"Zak, show David here how to wear his leathers."
Valentine, Zak, and Tikka picked up pieces of his new outfit and went outside. He'd seen breastplates like the one they strapped on before. They were an old army composite, hot as hell, made you feel like a turtle, but they could stop shrapnel. "You got ol' Snelling's rig," Zak observed. "He was a good reiner, if a bit flash for the Bulletproof. Dropped stone dead of a heart attack one hot summer day while climbing his mount. You never know."
"No, you don't," Valentine agreed, glad this Snelling hadn't been felled by a sniper working for the Cause.
"Zak says you're a flattie?" Tikka asked. She had a siren's voice, and her melodious accent begged a man to sit down and stay a while.
"Iowa," Valentine said. "But I left when I was young. I spent a lot of time in the Gulf."
"That where you picked up those scars?"
"Pretty much. What's this on the sleeve?" A series of hooks, reminding Valentine a little of sharpened alligator teeth, ran down the outside seam of the forearm of the jacket.
"Serrates," Tikka said. "They're for digging in when you mount, or hanging on to the side."
Zak showed him how to fix the spurs, which were a little more like the climbing spikes utility linemen wore to reach their wires. They could be flipped up and locked flush to the inner side of the boot. Locked down, they projected out and down from his ankle.
"Some guys put them on their boot points. I think that looks queer," Zak said.
Valentine explored the padding in the jacket shoulders and elbows. Military Kevlar plates were buttoned into the back and double-breasted front. The pants had stiff plastic caps on the knees and shins.