The carjacker laughed. "Ridiculous? Nah, this is business, man. We gotta make a living too, you know? Even if the world did go and blow itself up."
"You seein’ this, ese?” a third voice said. Reese turned to see another man rummage through their gear in the back seat. "We got us a sweet boomstick, yo!"
Reese frowned in puzzlement. "Who are you guys?" he asked. The guy in the back seat, the one with the Hispanic accent, seemed to have nothing at all in common with the two hoodlums and their nasal, New England voices.
The leader of the little band of miscreants laughed. "I know, crazy right?" he asked in a voice that would have been right at home in any Irish pub in Boston. "Just over a week since all hell broke loose, and we're teaming up with frickin’ MS-13 to survive—who would've figured?"
The man in the back of the car emerged and fired off a string of words in Spanish. Someone else in the darkness, beyond the circle of light cast by the leader’s flashlight, laughed. Reese turned and peered into the darkness. How many more people were out there?
"See, that's what I mean," the leader said and swung his light at the short, stocky, heavily tattooed man who held the shotgun Cal Foster had bestowed upon Reese and Jo as they’d left Ellsworth. "I got no idea what that guy just said. But I know if we don't work together, the Boss’ll take it out on both our hides."
"The Boss?" asked Reese. He looked around. "What, are we in some kind of post-apocalyptic movie or something?"
Most of the criminals laughed. “We've been saying the same thing for a week!" said the leader.
"He ain't lyin’, these be strange times, hombre,” said the MS-13 hoodlum. He shrugged, then slipped the shotgun sling over one shoulder. "We all got to do what we gotta do, you know?"
One of the carjackers stepped up to Reese. “Hey, you break your arm or something?" He prodded Reese’s wounded arm with the business end of a pistol.
Reese winced and pulled his arm away. "Yeah, took a knife to the shoulder."
The hispanic thief hissed in sympathy. "Man, that sucks. I took a blade to the side, like two years ago—” said the MS-13 gang banger. He turned and pulled his shirt up to reveal a heavily tattooed torso, slashed by a vicious pink scar that wrapped from his rib cage to his prominent hipbone. "See? Took me like a month to heal, man. I sure hope you don't get infected, what without your medicine and all," he said with a cruel laugh as he dropped his shirt back into place.
"You're taking the antibiotics?" asked Jo. "What for? You guys don't look sick. He needs—“
“Don't mean nothing to us. We got standing orders, lady,” interjected the leader. “Boss wants us to bring back any drugs we find. Anything. You don't want to know what happens if he finds out we're holding out on him.“
"Got that right," muttered one of the others in a thick Boston accent.
The MS-13 thief made the sign of the cross and shook his head in commiseration. "Man, he made a mess of Alejandro two days ago…madre de Dios…”
"I don't believe this…” Reese muttered. "This is unreal…” He turned to glare at the leader. "You’re taking everything from us and just…what, leaving us to wander around in the dark?"
“Nah,” the leader said as he raised his pistol at Reese's face. "We're just gonna shoot you and drag your bodies off into the bushes. How you think we been scoring so well for the Boss? We stop everybody that comes down this road, take all their stuff back to him, and get rid of the bodies."
"We never found a woman yet, though," said another voice in the darkness.
The leader shifted the pistol to aim at Jo. "That's true…but man, look at her—she's old."
The MS-13 thug stepped a little too close to Jo, and she took a step back, then stopped when one of the other thugs pressed a gun into her back. The tattooed man leaned in close and traced a grimy finger down the side of her neck. "I know how to do things that will make this chica sing for us, don't matter if she's old or not, amigos…”
"Dude, that's sick,” complained one of the others. “She's like, as old as my grandma.“
The leader lowered his pistol and looked between Reese and Jo. "Okay, okay. I don't know about you guys, but the Boss has…well, he's got some weird tastes. Fine. Who says we take her back?“ he asked, and jerked his chin out at Jo.
Sweat dribbled down Reese's spine as he listened to the thugs argue. A few even wanted to take both of them back with the loot they'd pulled from the car. The leader was still in favor of a simpler solution: shoot them both. While the argument went round and round, Reese realized their only real option was to flee into the night.
He swallowed, turned his head slightly, and the movement caught Jo's attention. Her eyes shifted to meet his, and Reese lifted his good arm and slipped his hand inside the sling, pretending to cross his arms while the thugs argued over their fates. He moved his fingers just enough to pull the knife free. Jo's gaze dropped, and she saw the knife, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Reese looked to the right and searched the darkness for another thug. When he glanced back at Jo, her eyes had narrowed. She'd gotten the message. Reese gave the smallest of nods, and she compressed her mouth into a thin line.
Ready when you are.
“…so what, you gonna give
