Bonner and the Lash lay well back from the Farkas spread. They couldn't afford to be spotted or heard before they were ready to make their deadly move. To be seen or detected before they were ready to attack meant that they would be surrendering their most valuable weapon—surprise. The Lash were fabulous fighters and Bonner was about as good as you could get and still be human, but without the weight of a sudden unexpected strike behind them, a jab as powerful as a steel-tipped lightning bolt into the heart of Farkas' evil empire, they knew they would lose.

There was a little grumbling from the Lashmen as they stashed their bikes on the grassy slopes of the hills that ringed Farkas' land. They wanted to go in then, right now. They weren't hotheads spoiling for a fight like Stormers and Devils—despite their diminutive stature the Lashmen had nothing to prove when it came to their skill with gun or blade—they thought that going in right away was a wise move.

Some of them wanted to follow the 'lep and Devil column right in, going in on their coattails. They reasoned that they would be able to. use the sound of the heavy bikes and trucks as cover for their own approach. Besides, if they were going to take the tough guys by surprise, what better time to go zooming in all guns blazing than when Parkas was welcoming his honored guests to his humble home? Hitting the slave farm would be a surprise, but hitting it right then—who the fuck would think it?

Bonner listened carefully to the idea and he found a lot to admire in the gutsy plan. But the little guys had overlooked the fact that all the 'leps would be on display and that there would be a heavy complement of Silk Devils wandering around to impress the 'leps with Farkas' own firepower. Better to wait for the night.

Neither Bonner nor Floyd, nor any of the other Lashmen had laid eyes on the slave farm before and, well in advance of an attack, Bonner wanted to get a close look at what they were headed into. There was no substitute, Bonner had learned long ago, for reconnaissance. If you knew the lay of the land, where your enemy was strongest and where he was weakest, you had gone a long way towards helping yourself down the road to victory. It was ignoring fundamentals like that that had killed so many riders on the road. They thought that if they had a weapon full of slugs and some guts and gas they could sail along and take anybody down just 'cause they were meaner.

The great riders, people like Bonner, Beck, Seth, the old Outriding crew, they lived and breathed the basics of warfare. If you don't get sloppy, you don't get killed. It was that simple.

But Parkas was going to be a tough nut to crack. Bonner wanted to get close, real close, to the set-up and find out everything he could about it before he committed his savage, valiant fighters to the all-out struggle to destroy the horror ranch that filled the peaceful valley before them. That meant going in, snooping around, searching for all the chinks in the mighty armor. Bonner wanted to live with the beast before he killed it.

And that was going to be tough. Bonner smiled to himself when he thought about the day—it seemed like a year before—when he had sworn to take down Farkas all by himself. Even he could get hotheaded sometimes. He looked around him. The Lashmen lay in the shadows of their bikes enjoying the cool calm of the afternoon. To the uninitiated, they would look like a bunch of guys without a care in the world. But Bonner knew that each one of them was thinking of the enemy that lay just over the rise of the hill. They were hardy, crazy little killers and Bonner was glad, very glad, to have them on his side.

Floyd thrashed through the long grass, making his way towards the Outrider. The little man could hardly be seen as he wended his way through the weeds, the tip of his gun barrel alone showing, glistening slightly in the sunlight. He paused next to Bonner.

"Well," he said, sniffing the fresh air, "Farkas sure found a nice little spot on this old Continent to spread his shit around."

Bonner looked around him. The hills were green, the valleys between them spoke of pasture and plenty. It was pretty country now, it must have been prettier before the bomb gave men like Farkas the power to rule over it.

"Yeah," said Bonner, "Good land . . ."

"Ya gotta say one thing for the old Leatherman, at least he keeps to himself, sorta, up in that ole pile of shit in the Cap. Ya know—" Floyd yanked a piece of grass out of the ground, sucked it, then jammed it into the space between his two big yellow front teeth. "—ya know, I traveled all over the Slavestates and I never seen a part of it that ain't shit. Dirty old rubbletowns, black earth, slimebag rivers. Dead, all of it dead. You know what I mean?"

Bonner nodded. There were parts of the Slavestates that weren't bad, up north mostly, along the sea, but for the most part, Floyd spoke the truth. Mostly the Slavestates were a pit filled with memories of a dead past and a violent present, sucked dry and terrorized by a bad and greedy man that Bonner swore to kill.

"So Leather," continued Floyd philosophically, "he's crap keeping company with crap, you know? Shit living on garbage, you see what I mean?"

"Yeah," said Bonner, wondering just what Floyd was getting to.

"Now this guy Farkas, the way I see it, he's just set himself down here in this pretty place and he's doing nothing but getting himself rich and making the place ugly. And you know what?"

"What," said Bonner, as if he was expecting a punch line.

"Well, I'll tell you. Not only does it piss me off, it offends me."

Bonner smiled. "Me too."

"So what we gonna do about it?"

"Well," said Bonner, "first I want to go down there and take a closer look."

"Good idea. The more we know about them the better we can flatten them."

"Something like that."

"When you goin'?"

"Tonight."

"Alone."

"Yep."

"You're crazy. And you ain't goin' alone. You're going to need some firepower for sure if you get in a jam."

Bonner had thought of that. His decision to scout the slave farm alone was not bom of some lone-gun heroics. Ideally, three men would have made the best-sized force to bring down the valley to the Farkas spread. But right now there were problems . . .

"You know you could use some help," said Floyd. "Take a couple of us."

"You're right," said Bonner, "but look, I'm going to try and get inside the wire."

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, suppose I get inside the wire and I get spotted?"

"Then you'll get your ass shot off."

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for."

Floyd looked puzzled. "There's another answer."

"Yes," said Bonner, "there is. It'll be dark. There's a chance they'll think I'm one of their guys. We can't afford to get shot at. We don't want to wake the whole place up."

"I still don't get it."

"Floyd, how is it going to look if I'm down there with a couple of midgets?"

"Yeah? And what if they see you and they start shooting? Then you only got one chance, to blast your way out of there. Then you gonna need a couple of extra guns along."

"Floyd, if they start shooting then we're all screwed because then they aren't going to lay down long enough for us to take them."

Floyd exhaled deeply, as if he was angry but trying to hold it in, not to show it. "Then stay the fuck out, okay? Don't go. When it's dark we'll sneak down to the wire and start killing the fucks."

"If we get an idea of what things are like down there we can hit them twice as hard."

The midget leader rested his hands on his hips. "Maybe, but I say you gotta take a couple of guns along. Shit, man, I wanna go. It'll be fun. Me and a couple of other guys and you. If they see us maybe they'll think it's you and a couple of kids ..."

"Kids," said Bonner.

"Hey," said Floyd, "there's an idea. Them kids are tall enough. They could pass. Give 'em some shooters and take them."

"Don't be a jerk, Floyd," said Bonner. The kids were inexperienced and he had no right to endanger them. If there was trouble they would end up just getting in the way.

"Then take your monster with you."

"Maybe." The Mean Brother was a master of the silent kill, that was for sure. But he sure was easy to see.

"Won't do you no harm."

"He sorta stands out in a crowd, though," said Bonner.

"That's for fuckin sure. Listen, just don't go alone, okay?"

He won't, thought Bobby. He was lying on his stomach a few feet from where the fighters stood, concealed by the tall weeds.

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