Lone Star Renegades by Mark Wayne McGinnis Page A

for something furry and green-eyed.
    Collin, thankful for his own forethought, brought the automatic weapons up last. There was no way he was going to leave them lying around for Darren and Humphrey to grab up while he was climbing around under tons of junk metal. What the survivors had done, though, was rifle through the bags of clothes—much of which were now haphazardly strewn all over. Tink was in the process of repacking things when Collin lifted himself over the top of the wing and sat with his legs hanging over the edge. DiMaggio passed up the heavy duffel, holding the weapon cache. Collin looked up when he noticed someone standing behind him. Surprised, he saw it was Bubba. He had on a pair of green army pants from the baggage supply, but they were clearly too snug for him around his thick legs.
    “Hand it up,” he said.
    Collin momentarily debated if he should oblige him but figured the big guy had little idea what was in the duffle bag anyway. Bubba took hold of the handles with one hand and lifted the duffle up and away.
    “What the hell you got in there?” he asked, now using both hands to carry the bag to the center of the wing.
    Collin waited for DiMaggio to reach his hand up and, when he did, Collin pulled him up next to him on the wing. DiMaggio was sweating and out of breath. In the background they heard Darren’s voice.
    “Listen up, everybody. Gather round … chop chop,” he said, waving his hands in toward his body.
    Collin and DiMaggio ignored the directive, preferring to stay seated where they were. Lydia moved in close to Darren and he swung an arm around her shoulders. Several of the guys who’d been inside the plane came out and were now huddling around their quarterback. Collin noticed Bubba stayed where he was. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What’s this about, man?”
    Darren combed his fingers through his long hair and smiled. “It’s about what we’re doing next. We can’t have everyone going off in their own direction … we just need a few minutes to strategize.” Some of the cheerleaders were speaking among themselves, which brought a loud shush from Humphrey.
    Darren glanced over to Collin and continued: “The jetliner isn’t safe, as we’ve discovered. So we need to move our base to a new location. For now, we can stay back in the railcars.”
    “Uh … railcars are full of a bunch of dead guys,” Clifford Bosh said, looking like he wanted to vomit.
    “Well, we’ll have to move them out of there … won’t we?” Darren said.
    “What about food? All the food’s still here … on the plane,” Garry Hurst added.
    Darren chewed his lip for a second before looking over to Collin.
    After several long beats, Collin said, “If we limit the number of people going in and out of the plane, that might be okay.”
    “And to drop a brick?”
    “Yeah, same thing. Get in and out of the heads fast. Limit the amount of people inside the plane at any one time. That’s my suggestion, anyway.”
    “Good. So that’s what we’ll do. Let’s get moving. Everyone needs to help,” Darren barked.
    As the group started to disperse, Collin, DiMaggio, and even Bubba stayed put. Humphrey took a step closer. “You got a problem, Sticks? You too important to heft a few bodies?”
    Collin said, “I need to take care of something else. I’ll take DiMaggio, if he wants to come with me.”
    “And where’s that?” Humphrey asked.
    “To do a little reconnaissance. Back up to the top of the pile. I’m thinking at some point we’ll need to take control of this space vessel … at least try to. That, or wait to suffocate the next time that big aperture opens up to outer space again.”
    “Did you forget you’re just a skinny teenager, Sticks? Do you really think you can go up against a bunch of advanced aliens?” Humphrey asked, shaking his head.
    Collin shrugged, but stayed quiet.
    “I’m with you, Frost,” DiMaggio said.
    “Yeah … I’m with them, too,” Bubba