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replied.
    “So you’ve never shot a man, stabbed a man, jammed a hunk of metal through a man’s skull?” I said. “Because I have. Want me to show you?”
    Stenkler took a few steps away from me.
    “Just a quick peek,” I said, smiling at him. “You can even stand right by my side and make sure I don’t fall over and die.”
    “I won’t have much control over that,” he said. “If you fall over and die, all I can do is catch your corpse.”
    “That’s helpful. I just washed these jeans, so it would suck if they get truck depot grease on them,” I said then stood and made my way to the front of the RV.
    It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I intended on being all strutting and cool. Pretty sure I only managed wobbling and weak. I was sweating like a cannibal’s dinner on a spit by the time I got to the door.
    “I’m officially objecting one more time,” Stenkler said. “Then I’m shutting up.”
    “You should get to that shutting up part,” I laughed. Nice to say that to someone else instead of it just being said to me. Then I saw the look on his face. “What did you hear?”
    “Something about strawberry shortcake,” he sighed.
    “Ooooh, that sounds good,” I replied. “Man, I’d love to have some strawberry shortcake. How well do strawberries grow in Colorado?”
    “I don’t know,” he said as he helped me down the short stairs and out of the RV. “I hope we find out.”
    “Me too,” I said as we got outside. Damn, it was cold.
    People were hurrying out of the truck depot and into the falling snow. Most of them were survivors from Asheville, but a few were cannies mingled in here and there. Sure seemed like there were a lot fewer cannies than before. Elsbeth’s psycho sisters must have really been picking them off. Or not. Whatever was happening.
    “What’s up?” I asked as Melissa hurried by.
    The wife of my late best friend from Whispering Pines, and sister to the Fitzpatrick boys, Melissa Billings is not someone you mess with. She’s tough as nuclear nails and packs as much of a punch.
    “Did you just tell me to shove a gerbil in my butt?” Melissa asked, looking from me to Stenkler then back to me. “Jace, you had better be messing around.”
    “He’s having new speech issues,” Stenkler said.
    “I asked what’s up,” I said.
    “Oh,” Melissa frowned. “Some of Lourdes’s people just got back from patrol. They say we’ve got military hostiles coming at us fast.”
    “Military?” Stenkler asked. “Government?”
    “No such thing,” I said. “Not the way you want. If it is government then it might as well be Consortium. How many?”
    “I don’t know,” Melissa said, exasperated. “That’s what I was going to find out. How about you come with instead of asking a bunch of questions I can’t answer?”
    “Good idea,” I said then took a couple of unsteady steps. I pointed at Stenkler. “Wanna give me a piggy back ride?”
    “No,” Stenkler said. “But I’ll help you get to everyone else. Take my arm.”
    “And they say chivalry is dead,” I quipped.
    It is.
    Huh? What the hell is going on?
     
    ***
     
    The truck depot wasn’t exactly a tightly closed fortress, mostly just a bunch of overhangs with some slightly walled-in bays so long haul truckers could work on their semis out of the weather, or get some needed sleep, before loading up the next batch of corn or potatoes or asparagus. But, once I stepped away from the overhangs and walls, I realized just how much protection they gave us.
    The wind whipped at my coat and I struggled to pull it tight. You know, because of only one hand. Stenkler grabbed my stump to keep me from falling over in the wind while I managed to get my coat zipped up to my throat.
    I don’t care about your coat. Get on with it.
    Uhhh…
    “Are you alright?” Stenkler asked.
    “Yeah...fine,” I said.
    No, wait, that’s not what I said. I’m getting confused. Hold on, hold on.
    “Dammit, Jace,” Stella