The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(32)

“I got it.”

“Good. Now everyone eat your fucking dinner.”

Billy picks up his spilled plate and goes to get more food. Everyone else eats in silence for a while. In a few minutes Johnny says, “A video-store clerk, eh?”

“Owner,” I say. “Completely different thing.”

“Well, that explains it, then.”

Gisco signs something.

“He wants to know your favorite movie,” says the twin with the green and gray eyes.

I look over at him.

“They have a lot of movies in Carthage?”

“No, stupid,” she says. “We find them here sometimes. Some of the truckers have players.”

Hellions bootleg movies. They steal cable, so why not?

“What’s your favorite?” I say.

Together, the twins say, “The Red Shoes.”

“What’s his?”

Gisco signs something.

“Spartacus,” says one of the twins.

“I agree. Those are my two favorites, too.”

“Oh God, a diplomat,” says Wanuri.

“Or he’s trying to get into someone’s trousers,” says Frederickson. He looks from the twins to Gisco to me. “The question is whose.”

“How do you know it’s not yours?” says PTA Mom.

Frederickson shifts in his seat so his ass is aimed in my direction, and lets rip with a tremendous fart.

“That’s what I think of that idea.”

I point at him.

“He’s your fucking diplomat.”

He laughs.

I look at Daja.

“I don’t suppose there’s a special, secret toilet reserved for us, is there?”

She waves an arm at the horizon.

“It’s the Tenebrae. Nothing but toilet for as far as the eye can see.”

I get up.

“In that case, I’m going to take a walk and defile this little slice of Heaven.”

Wanuri says, “Careful. There’s sandworms out there. They’ll swim right up your ass.”

“Don’t worry. I had a buzz saw installed. My ass can chop wood.”

“I’ll remember not to let you sit on my lap.”

“But you said you’d tell me a bedtime story.”

“That’s your Heaven, but my Hell. Next lifetime, Suzie Q.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

I head out well past the edge of the camp and piss in the direction of hills spiked like upturned knives.

Or are they more Heaven rocks? Or was the Magistrate just screwing with me? He climbs like a cat, can read maps, do magic, and speak Carthaginian. And has a flock of psychos hauling a gun to who knows where. Oh, and maybe the bastard can read minds. Nothing scary about that. I’m going to stay as far away from him as possible from now on.



I’m circling the camp, heading to Traven’s camper as discreetly as possible, when, out of goddamn nowhere, Gisco runs up and grabs my sleeve.

“Hey, Gisco. How’s it going?”

He says a few unintelligible words and signs with his hands.

“Sorry, kid. It’s going to take me a while to understand the hand stuff.”

He waves and makes a face. I think telling me it doesn’t matter.

He points to me, then points to himself.

“Pandemonium,” he says in a thick accent I’ve never heard before.

“Pandemonium? You were in Pandemonium . . . and you know I was, too?”

He nods and signs.

“Yeah, I was in Pandemonium,” I say. “We were all in Pandemonium at some point. No big deal, right?”

He shakes his head like he’s frustrated and points a finger at me.

It takes me a minute to understand through his accent, but I finally get it.

“Sandman Slim,” he says.

Great. Now I’m going to have to kill him, too.

I put a hand on his shoulder and lead him away from camp out to where it’s darker.

“Did you see me fight in the arena?”

He nods.

“How? Did you fight there? Work there?”

He nods and signs at the second question.

“Have you told anyone else about me?”

He shakes his head no.

“You sure? ’Cause if I have to kill a bunch of people, I’m going to want a list.”

His eyes go wide and he tries to take a step back, but this time I grab his sleeve.

He gestures wildly. I don’t break his neck right away because I think he’s trying to tell me that no one else knows. But I don’t let go of him.

“Let’s say I believe you. Why are you telling me? What do you want from me?”

He holds up his hands and slowly raises a bag. Gestures that he wants to take something out. I pull the Colt and press it to the side of his head.

“Go ahead. But real slowly.”

He does what he’s told. Reaches into the bag and pulls out a black cylinder. He holds it out to me.

It’s a na’at. My favorite Hellion weapon. I used it all the time in the arena and back home. Made a lot of kills with it. I take the Colt from his head.

“Are you giving this to me?” I say.

He shakes his head.

“What do you want for it?”