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  Rick muscled her away from the microphone. “So, you’re camping out under the stars?”

  “Hell, no! Aren’t you listening to me? This town is full of empty houses. I’m living in a sweet three-bedroom. Stuck a sign in my front yard with ‘Eric the Great’ on it, so newcomers know it’s mine. Other folks just write ‘taken’ on the driveway and move in. I’m telling you, man, some of these houses have never been lived in.”

  “Huh.” Rick straightened his back and gazed beyond the table.

  Eric rambled on. “Since it was a planned community, the developers put this big town center right in the middle with shops and bars and restaurants. They’ve all been looted, of course, but we get together at night at this sidewalk café. We trade crops, share stories, get drunk. There’s a school, and post office. Hey, Doc, there’s even one of those little medical clinic. Get your asses in gear and get up here.”

  After Rick finally signed off, he drifted over to a window and stood with a hand on the frame. Something was going on in his head. There was plenty going on in Taeya’s head, too.

  She finally ventured a neutral comment. “That was an interesting conversation.”

  “Yeah.” Rick drummed his fingers on the glass. “So, what did you think?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What did you think?”

  Turning away from the window, he strode over to her chair. Then he dropped to his knees and wedged himself between her legs.

  “I think you and I ought to blow this popcorn stand and head for Laurel Valley.”

  She gripped his face and gave him a huge kiss.

  Feeling the need to consummate their decision with more than a kiss, Rick pulled her to the floor. Their lovemaking took on a desperate urgency after the events of the morning. Tears filled Taeya’s eyes as she cried out, not just from the exhilaration of the orgasm, but from all the frustration that had been building inside.

  She collapsed in the crook of Rick’s arm, too exhausted to move. The pain of a rug burn was all that kept her from dozing off. She twisted her elbow to get a look at the sore.

  “Next time,” she mumbled, “I get the top.”

  “Are you kidding?” Rick pulled a knee up to show her a raw circle.

  She pushed his chest back onto the floor and nuzzled her nose along his neck.

  The way his fingers absent-mindedly stroked her hair, she could tell he had other things on his mind now. If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she would.

  “What about Devin and Judith?” she asked.

  “Oh, they’ll jump at the chance,” Rick said. “That town sounds perfect for them. I can just see Devin as the local sheriff. He’ll kick ass.”

  Taeya smiled. “Judith will think she’s found the Promised Land.”

  Another thought gnawed at Taeya. “What about Mai?”

  “What about John?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t see how he could survive out in that heat.”

  The pained look on Rick’s face confirmed that he’d already figured that out.

  “Yo!” Devin called up the stairs. “Are you two coming down any time soon?”

  Taeya scrambled back into her pants while Rick fastened his shorts. “You better find Judith and get up here,” he called.

  Devin and Judith sat in easy chairs, watching Rick pace around the library as he told them about the radio call from Eric. And as he flung his arms wildly, describing the crops and the houses, they got caught up in his excitement.

  “They have grapevines, too,” Taeya said.

  “We could have cows,” Rick insisted. “And real goats, not mini goats.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” Devin asked. “I got the feeling you were going to dump more bad news on us.”

  Rick tilted his head. “Obviously, John can’t go. I’m sure Carol and Kat won’t want to go. Who knows about Mai. But Sanchez is feeling guilty that we’ve shaken this place up, booted Michael out, and now we’re bailing.”

  Judith’s voice squawked. “Bailing? We’ve turned this place around. Even Kat’s contributing. Believe me, when we leave, these folks will be delighted to have four less mouths to feed.”

  “And just so you know.” Devin reached over to Taeya’s chair. “If Michael was still here? I’d haul his ass to the door on my way out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The wake-up alarm chimed. Rick squeezed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep, but his brain was already up and running. He was going to be a real farmer. He and Sanchez were leaving this crackerbox together. California, here I come.

  The idea of picking out a house, living with Sanchez in that California town had him pumped. The way Eric talked, there were dozens of homes to chose from. It would be just like house hunting with a realtor, snooping in closets to get an idea of space, debating whether they wanted stucco or brick. But when they finally made their decision, there’d be no contracts, no down payment, no thirty-year mortgage. Just a brand new home.

  The alarm chimed again. Rick fumbled in the dark, picked up the conch shell Sanchez kept on her nightstand, and answered it like a telephone.

  “Hello?” he mumbled. “Who? Yeah, she’s here. Who’s this?”

  He sat up, and nodded as though listening to someone on the other end.

  “Hang on,” he said. “You better tell her that yourself.”

  Cupping the open side of the shell to his bare chest, he whispered, “It’s your grandmother. She wants to warn you not to screw up with the best man you’ve ever had.”

  Smiling, Sanchez took the shell from him and held it to her ear. “Buenos dias, la Abuela. Como es usted? Cuando aprendio usted como hablar Ingles?”

  “That’s not fair,” Rick squawked. “What are you telling her?”

  She handed him back the shell. “I asked her when she learned how to speak English.”

  “Ah.” He never missed a beat. “I guess the angels taught her.”

  After she gave him a very ladylike snort, she rolled to her side of the bed.

  “Oh, don’t turn your backside to me.”

  Rick snuggled up behind her, giving her a poke between the legs to let her know he was up and ready to go.

  * * *

  Carol trudged out to the field, looking like a voodoo woman in a Mardi Gras parade. Her hair exploded from her head in tangles. The bags under her eyes were dark as charcoal. Evidently, she wasn’t too psyched about being the new ag specialist.

  On the other hand, Mai appeared unusually rested. That drawn tightness in her face was gone. She was cool with their plan, but she wasn’t interested in moving on. In fact, she seemed anxious to get her old job back as chief medical officer, saying she wanted to stick around and take care of John and the others.

  Rick had broken the news to John down in the workshop. He’d expected Pops to get all misty-eyed, but the old goat beamed, shook Rick’s hand, and wished him the best of luck. Then he insisted they come back for Thanksgiving.

  The plan was to wrap things up today. Make sure everyone was on board with their duties, especially Carol, then load up the pick-up and start driving once the sun was down. Rick had secretly confiscated all the coffee packs he’d pilfered at the Starbucks. Judith insisted they not take anything from the farm, but hey, coffee wasn’t really food.

  Kneeling next to a tomato plant, Rick pinched off the sucker shoots like Judith had shown him. Someday, if he was lucky, Rick would have a son or daughter. And he’d show them how to tend a garden. He’d teach them not to waste water, and to be kind to others.

  “Well, well, well.” A familiar voice called down from above. “Look at all the busy little bees.”

  Rick could hardly believe what he was hearing. He turned and looked up at the catwalk. Michael! How the hell did he get back in?

  That must have been the question on everyone’s mind, because they all stopped what they were doing and stared in disbelief.

  “Surprised?” Michael leaned on the railing. “Did you really think you coul
d get rid of me? This is my Biosphere! And I’m taking it back.” He slapped the metal rail. Jesus, he looked like some two-bit dictator, screaming at infidels.

  Rick moved next to Sanchez. “Has he gone completely around the bend?”

  She nodded. “He’s definitely lost touch with reality.”

  “And make no mistake,” Michael bellowed down at them. “There are going to be some changes around here.”

  “I don’t see how he could work any less than he already was,” Rick said loud enough for Michael to hear. Then he yelled up at him. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t know you were coming back. I already deleted your secret agent guinea pigs game.”

  Devin bellowed out an exaggerated guffaw.

  “Always quick with the humor, aren’t you, Rick?” Michael puffed out his chest, and struck a manly pose with his hands on his hips. “Let’s see how much you’re laughing when I put the moves on the delectable Doctor Sanchez.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch.” Rick sprinted toward the stairs, but Devin grabbed his arm and pulled him up short.

  “Hang on,” Devin muttered. “First things first.” Then he turned to Michael and bowed. “My hat’s off to you, Michael. I didn’t think you were smart enough to find a way back in.”

  “I’m not clever, Devin,” Michael said. “You’re stupid.” He pulled his PDA off his belt. “Didn’t any of you morons stop to think that I might be able to still communicate with my computers and turn the lasers off?” He threw his head back and laughed like a hyena. “My God, you people are idiots!”

  “No, Michael.” Devin booked it for the stairs, while Judith made a beeline for the doors at the garden level. “You’re the idiot.”

  But just as Judith got to the doors, they burst open, and two cowboys with semi-automatics stepped out.

  Michael’s shrieking laugh echoed in the glass dome. Rick looked up to see a blond bitch in tight jeans and a halter-top standing next to Michael. On his other side was a beefy dude in a loose-fitting, short-sleeved shirt and slacks—not cargo shorts or jeans—black slacks. He looked like Tony Soprano in a cowboy hat.

  “Oh, if this isn’t a Kodak moment,” Michael laughed. “You should see your faces.”

  The two cowboys downstairs looked like typical recruits. Billy Bob was maybe in his early twenties, and full of unspent energy; his eyes flinched, his jaw twitched, his whole body seemed to be set on “vibrate.” He’d probably never gunned down another man, but he couldn’t wait for a chance.

  Bubba had Billy Bob by fifty pounds and a few decades. He looked like the kind of guy who bred fighting dogs and regularly beat his wife.

  Rick didn’t think Judith could take both cowboys out at once; not with that much fire power and no diversion.

  Upstairs with Michael, Tony Soprano had his own semi-automatic trained on Devin. Had Michael tipped off his Rent-a-Thugs to keep a close eye on Dev?

  Rick hoped Devin was checking out their weaponry. All Rick knew was that they sure looked locked and loaded. Shit!

  Michael told Tony to get everyone into the game room. Only Tony didn’t look too happy at being told what to do. He gave Blondie a scowl and she gave him a shrug. Rick didn’t know what the big changes were that Michael talked about, but from the looks of those two, they weren’t going to include Michael.

  Billy Bob and Bubba held their post at the lower doors, waiting for Tony and Blondie to tromp down the stairs and round up the rest. Somewhere along the line, Michael managed to slip away. Was he going to see if Rick had really dumped his games?

  Devin and Judith seemed eager to cooperate. They were the first at the doors. Unfortunately, the cluster fuck jumped a level when Billy Bob opened the doors, and Rick spotted four more desperados in the downstairs hallway; two women who looked like they might have joined Manson’s clan if they’d only been around back then—the glazed eyes, the stringy hair; and two guys who looked like their last job was riding on the back of a garbage truck. They were even wearing jumpsuits. Everyone had their own lethal weapon, and from the bulges in their pockets, plenty of extra clips.

  As the Biospherians shuffled into the game room, Devin split right, Judith veered left, skirting the pool table to the far side of the room. They were scanning through the windows. Checking to see how many reinforcements might be outside?

  Devin slipped three fingers down the side of his leg. Three more. Judith thumped a fist against her thigh. No one in her field of vision.

  Shit, that meant eight inside, and at least three more out. Bubba and Billy Bob scurried across the room to keep tabs on Judith and Devin. Tony and Blondie parked on either side of the entrance to keep the rest of the group in line.

  With a swagger, Michael stepped into the doorway, planted his feet and cupped his hands behind his back. Before Rick could stop himself, he let out a snigger. Michael had run to his apartment and changed into a clean Biosphere jumpsuit.

  Tony gave Rick a shove for the insubordination, knocking him into the pool table.

  Carol chose that particular moment to question Michael’s sanity. She got right in his face and asked, “Have you lost your mind, you dip-shit? These goons will have your balls hanging from their dashboard—.”

  Tony raised his gun and capped Carol right in the head. She’d been standing close enough that Rick not only felt the blood splat on his face, but chips of skull, too. Her body flew backwards right into Michael.

  “Hey!” Michael screamed. “If you want to shoot someone, shoot her!” He pointed to Judith.

  The Manson girls stepped around Carol’s body and came into the room. Michael was temporarily sidetracked, inspecting the bloodstains on his uniform. Was he thinking of going upstairs to change again?

  Then after one final swipe at the stains, Michael redirected his attention to Tony.

  “We’re still missing two,” Michael said. He turned to the Manson girls. “You’ll find the little tramp in Apartment Six.”

  The women looked at Tony for confirmation. He gave them a nod and they trotted up the main staircase. Did Michael have any idea how much trouble he was in? Evidently not, because he ordered the two sanitation workers down to the basement to fetch John. More shifty stares.

  Michael turned to Sanchez. “While we’re waiting, shall I introduce our new guests?”

  She gave him a slight nod.

  “The gentleman to my left is Jake, and this is his woman, Lisa.”

  “Hello, Lisa.” Sanchez’ voice was calm. “I’m not sure what Michael has told you, but at the present time, our garden is not producing much besides sweet potatoes and a few beans. We are starving. There will not be enough food to feed your group, even if you get rid of all of us.”

  “Oh, Taeya.” Michael wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t be so negative. I’ve got the perfect solution. You see, Jake’s crew runs Tucson. They round up supplies from all over this area. But they’ve had a problem with gangs pilfering their warehouses while they’re out gathering. They have the food, but not the security.”

  Michael’s hand rubbed up and down Sanchez’ arm as he spoke. Rick had to reach behind and grip the rail of the pool table to keep from leaping on him.

  “Whereas,” Michael continued, “I have the security of high-tech lasers, and a huge warehouse-type facility, but little food. Brilliant bartering, wouldn’t you say?” The prick eased in, trying to kiss Sanchez, but she elbowed him and jerked away.

  Now Rick might have been able to get Michael in a strangle hold before Blondie shot him in the back. Hell, he might even succeed in choking Michael to death before Rick died of his own wounds. But then he’d be gone, and Sanchez would still have to contend with Jake, Billy Bob, Bubba, and the garbage collectors. Shit!

  Michael wrenched Sanchez’ arm behind her back, then wrapped his free arm around her neck and pulled her ass against his crotch. “You don’t seem to get it yet, Doctor Sanchez. Your boyfriend, and his two loser friends are goners. However, you are staying as my very own love slave. I’ve even decided to le
t Mai and Kat stay. They ought to be good for a few laughs, eh Jake?”

  “I don’t know, Mike.” Jake sauntered over to Sanchez and ran his index finger slowly down her neck and between her breasts. “I’m thinking I might want this prime cut for myself. What do you think, Lisa?”

  The blond bitch licked her lips. “She looks real tasty, Jake.”

  “No way, man,” Michael said. “That wasn’t the deal.”

  Jake sucked air through his teeth. “Well, you know, I’ve always been known as kind of a deal breaker.”

  Blondie slowly raised her gun and Michael got this wide-mouthed, bug-eyed expression right before she blasted him in the face. He keeled over backwards. Sanchez cried out and dropped to her knees.

  “Hey, Snoop Dog,” Tony, aka Jake, yelled at Devin. “Get your hands on top of your head. You too, Butch.” He waved his gun at Judith.

  The shootings had Billy Bob gyrating, a big buck-toothed grin on his face. Tony reamed him out for slacking, so he inched closer to Judith. His gun was shaking. Bubba brandished his own gun and Devin laced his fingers on the top of his head.

  When Rick stooped to help Sanchez, Jake drove him back with a gun butt to the kidneys. Writhing in pain, Rick dropped to his knees. Sanchez screamed and caught the butt’s back swing in the jaw. Blood gushed from her mouth as she fell to the floor.

  Reaching down, Jake caught Rick by the ponytail. “Watch it, pretty boy. You’re next.” Then he stepped on Rick’s back, driving him onto the carpet.

  Suddenly, a squawking chicken sailed into the room, wings flapping, feathers flying.

  Jake fired twice and the chicken crash-landed on the pool table.

  From his vantage point on the floor, Rick watched Devin drive a palm into Bubba’s jaw. As the guy teetered, Devin slid a hand down Bubba’s arm, wrapped his fingers over Bubba’s, and brought the gun up to the man’s chin. Blam! More gray matter on carpet.