time I finish this piece of toast, I'm going to teach you a new way to hurt."
"You're not going to do business with anybody else in this town, Hell. What are you carrying? Candy bars and pot, as usual? Horse, maybe?"
Tanner stuffed the toast into his mouth and rose to his feet, drawing the SS dagger he carried in his boot as he stood.
"I guess your hearing is as bad as your eyes, Blinky," be said, tossing the blade into the air and catching it so that the skull touched his forearm and an inch of steel was extended between his thumb and first finger. He stopped forward then, and Blinky placed his left hand on the doorknob.
"You don't scare me, Hell. You need me in this town."
He swung his arm and slashed the man's left cheek.
"Why did you do that?" Blinky asked, without inflection.
"For the fun of it," said Tanner, and he kicked him in the shins.
As the man bent forward, Tanner raised his arm to cut again, but Greg seized his wrist.
"For Chrissake! Stop it!" he said, as Tanner drove his left fist into Blinky's stomach. "Just kick him out! Why cut him up!"
Still struggling to free his arm, Tanner brought his knee up hard.
Blinky groaned and fell forward.
Greg dragged Tanner away then, before he could kick the man in the ribs.
"Stop it, damn you! There's no call for what you're doing!"
"All right! But get him out of my sight!"
"Okay, I will. If you'll put that knife away."
"He's all yours."
Greg released him and raised the man from the floor. Tanner wiped his dagger on his trousers and resheathed it. Then he returned to his breakfast.
Greg half-carried, half-led the man from the office.
After several minutes he returned.
"I lied about what happened," he said, "and they believed me, maybe because that guy's got a record. But why did you do it?"
"He bugged me."
"Why?"
"He's a lousy pusher, and he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"That any reason to do what you did to him?"
"Also, it was fun."
"You're a miserable bastard."
"Your toast is getting cold."
"What would you have done if I hadn't stopped you? Killed him?"
"No. Probably pulled a couple of his teeth with those pliers over on the desk."
Greg seated himself and stared at his eggs.
"You've got to be a bit nuts," he finally said.
"Aren't we all?"
"Maybe. But that was so uncalled for . . ."
"Maybe you really don't understand, Greg. I'm an Angel. I'm the last Angel left alive. And I've been an Angel since before we switched our denim back to leather, because of the damn storms. Do you know what that means? I'm the last, and I've got a reputation to uphold. Nobody screws with us, or we walk on 'em, that's what it is. Now, this dumb pusher thought he could shove me around, because he's got some muscle outside somewhere, and he thought I'd be going out to make a delivery to somebody else. So he comes in and treats me like some square citizen. I gotta walk on him, don't you understand? I gave him a chance to shut up, and he didn't. Then it was a matter of honor. I had to stomp him."
"But you're not a club anymore. You're just one man."
"Ain't the last Catholic the Pope?"
"I guess so."
"Same thing, then."
"I don't think you're going to last very long, Hell."
"Neither do I. But I don't think you'll make it much longer."
He peeled the cover from the coffee container, took a drink, smacked his lips, and belched.
"Glad I finally nailed that bastard, too. Never liked him."
"Why did they have to pick you?"
"Cause I'm a good driver. I got us this far, you know."
Greg didn't answer, and Tanner rose and crossed to the window. He cracked the blinds and stared out.
"Crowd's thinning a bit," he said. "A lot of them have moved to the other side of the street and on up the block."
He stared at the clock and said, "I wish we were moving again. I hate to waste the daylight in this city."
Greg didn't reply, so Tanner opened a file drawer, stared within, closed it again. He took a drink of coffee. He lit a cigarette.
"I wonder how they're doing on the
"You're not going to do business with anybody else in this town, Hell. What are you carrying? Candy bars and pot, as usual? Horse, maybe?"
Tanner stuffed the toast into his mouth and rose to his feet, drawing the SS dagger he carried in his boot as he stood.
"I guess your hearing is as bad as your eyes, Blinky," be said, tossing the blade into the air and catching it so that the skull touched his forearm and an inch of steel was extended between his thumb and first finger. He stopped forward then, and Blinky placed his left hand on the doorknob.
"You don't scare me, Hell. You need me in this town."
He swung his arm and slashed the man's left cheek.
"Why did you do that?" Blinky asked, without inflection.
"For the fun of it," said Tanner, and he kicked him in the shins.
As the man bent forward, Tanner raised his arm to cut again, but Greg seized his wrist.
"For Chrissake! Stop it!" he said, as Tanner drove his left fist into Blinky's stomach. "Just kick him out! Why cut him up!"
Still struggling to free his arm, Tanner brought his knee up hard.
Blinky groaned and fell forward.
Greg dragged Tanner away then, before he could kick the man in the ribs.
"Stop it, damn you! There's no call for what you're doing!"
"All right! But get him out of my sight!"
"Okay, I will. If you'll put that knife away."
"He's all yours."
Greg released him and raised the man from the floor. Tanner wiped his dagger on his trousers and resheathed it. Then he returned to his breakfast.
Greg half-carried, half-led the man from the office.
After several minutes he returned.
"I lied about what happened," he said, "and they believed me, maybe because that guy's got a record. But why did you do it?"
"He bugged me."
"Why?"
"He's a lousy pusher, and he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"That any reason to do what you did to him?"
"Also, it was fun."
"You're a miserable bastard."
"Your toast is getting cold."
"What would you have done if I hadn't stopped you? Killed him?"
"No. Probably pulled a couple of his teeth with those pliers over on the desk."
Greg seated himself and stared at his eggs.
"You've got to be a bit nuts," he finally said.
"Aren't we all?"
"Maybe. But that was so uncalled for . . ."
"Maybe you really don't understand, Greg. I'm an Angel. I'm the last Angel left alive. And I've been an Angel since before we switched our denim back to leather, because of the damn storms. Do you know what that means? I'm the last, and I've got a reputation to uphold. Nobody screws with us, or we walk on 'em, that's what it is. Now, this dumb pusher thought he could shove me around, because he's got some muscle outside somewhere, and he thought I'd be going out to make a delivery to somebody else. So he comes in and treats me like some square citizen. I gotta walk on him, don't you understand? I gave him a chance to shut up, and he didn't. Then it was a matter of honor. I had to stomp him."
"But you're not a club anymore. You're just one man."
"Ain't the last Catholic the Pope?"
"I guess so."
"Same thing, then."
"I don't think you're going to last very long, Hell."
"Neither do I. But I don't think you'll make it much longer."
He peeled the cover from the coffee container, took a drink, smacked his lips, and belched.
"Glad I finally nailed that bastard, too. Never liked him."
"Why did they have to pick you?"
"Cause I'm a good driver. I got us this far, you know."
Greg didn't answer, and Tanner rose and crossed to the window. He cracked the blinds and stared out.
"Crowd's thinning a bit," he said. "A lot of them have moved to the other side of the street and on up the block."
He stared at the clock and said, "I wish we were moving again. I hate to waste the daylight in this city."
Greg didn't reply, so Tanner opened a file drawer, stared within, closed it again. He took a drink of coffee. He lit a cigarette.
"I wonder how they're doing on the
Similar Books
