The Kill Society (Sandman Slim 9)

“What’s with the wheezing gaff?”

Cherry puts the respirator over her mouth and makes a silly face at me. She lowers it and says, “I’ve been a few places and done a few things since the last time we saw each other, Jimbo. I couldn’t take a chance on anyone recognizing me.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t rat me out to the Magistrate today.”

She frowns.

“I’d never do that, ZaSu. The world—even this one—is a lot more fun with you in it.” She taps her ash onto Traven’s floor. “Besides, if things go belly up here, maybe Sandman fucking Slim can step up and actually save me this time.”

She blows smoke at me. I wave it away.

“As much of a pain in the ass as you are, you know I would.”

She points at me, but looks at Traven.

“Is he all right? What’s with the Boy Scout act?”

“We’ve been talking,” says Traven. “He’s trying to be a better person and deal with some of his mental issues.”

Cherry stares at me, a little horrified.

“He’s nothing but mental issues. You can’t fix him. You do and you’ll fuck us all. But especially me. I killed for this piece of shit today. He owes me.”

I limp to the camper door.

“That reminds me. If it wasn’t Daja who tried to kill me, let’s see who it was.”

“It’s Megs,” says Cherry. “Didn’t you smell him? You burned him up good, Jimmy. He looks like a s’more that fell in the fire.”

I get out of the camper and look at him. Cherry and Traven follow me.

We’re at the far edge of the camp, away from anything important. A nice place for an ambush. I look at the pile of meat on the ground.

“It’s Megs all right.”

He moans quietly, leaking blood.

The ground leading back to the main camp is a flat surface, and the desert floor is too hard to leave footprints. Nothing useful there. I kneel down and look Megs over.

“You two have been around. Does Lobster Boy look like he could get here under his own power?”

“I doubt it,” says Traven.

“Definitely not,” says Cherry. “I saw him at center camp. He was a goddamn basket case.”

I reach back in the camper and pull out the piece of Megs’s arm that came off in my hand. Toss it down next to him.

“That means someone helped him here. Carried or wheeled him over. We would have heard a vehicle.”

Cherry gives Megs a light kick.

“Making friends wherever you go, eh, Jimmy?”

“It’s Mr. Pitts,” I say. “If you want rescuing when the time comes, that is.”

Cherry drops the Malediction and crushes it under her shoe.

“Speaking of the time,” she says, and pulls the respirator up over her chin. “Time for me to get back to the peanut gallery. There’ll be rumors about you by now.”