We passed through the prairie like a dust storm, leaving nothing in our wake. Every now and then we’d stop and do a bit of trade, but there was never any negotiation. That was all done in advance, we were just there to drop off or pick up the trade goods. I was just another set of hands in the loading and unloading process, but I kept my eyes out for threats the same as everyone else.

  We stopped in one of the suburbs of OKC. OKC wasn’t there any longer, but some of the outlying communities had survived. When we arrived, we did the same unloading and loading that we did everywhere else, but Niel informed us that we’d be spending the week there in one of the old strip motels.

  There were enough rooms and beds for all of the men to get their own. I got handed a key and my pay for the trip so far, and I got told to fuck off until the caravan was ready to go again.

  I asked Miguel what to do to fill up the time, and he suggested that I go and find a whore.

  Instead I started wandering the old suburb, walking through the ruins of the past. I was wandering through the abandoned streets of a residential area when I realized I’d picked up followers. A bunch of little kids were hiding between houses and looking at me.

  “I don’t bite,” I said to them. “Come on out.”

  “You’re not going to shoot us are you?” one of the girls shouted.

  I glanced down at the Ruger and shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  So the kids came out nervously and came up to me. There were eight of them, the youngest was about eight years old, but most of them were closer to my own age. The leader was the girl who’d asked whether I’d shoot them, and her name was Heather. She was fourteen.

  They offered to show me around, and I accepted. We ended up at an old basketball court where the grass was growing through the pavement, but the hoops were still there.

  They had a hand-sewn beanbag, and we played a bit of hand-basketball. The ball didn’t dribble or bounce, of course, but we’d fight over it and throw it at the hoop to try to score.

  “What’s it like to hold a gun?” one of the boys asked me.

  “What kind of dumbass question is that?” I asked him, and he blushed. He was missing his left ear. I sighed. “Look, it’s a tool. Just like a knife or a hoe or a whatever the fuck. I don’t need a gun to kill, you can use other tools to do that too. Guns are just better at it.”

  “Yeah,” the kid said. “I guess.”

  We kept messing around for a few hours until it got dark. Then I went back to the motel and fell asleep.

  #

  I woke up the next morning and went for breakfast, where I was confronted by Niel and a few of the locals while I was stuffing my face with pancakes and eggs. My hands were slightly sticky as the leaders of the town introduced themselves and shook hands with me. I was a little surprised that they seemed to be actually deferential, but they sat at the table with me and got down to business.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “You were playing with my daughter last night,” the mayor of the town told me. “Heather?”

  “Yes sir,” I said. “At the basketball court.”

  “You like her?”

  “She’s alright.”

  The man nodded. “Your name is Glen Ashford, right?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “As in THE Ashfords? What’s your relationship to Norman?”

  “He’s my grandfather.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “What do I fucking look like, a priest?” I asked him, shrugging. “If you don’t believe me you can fuck off.”

  “Sorry. I mean, we can prove that you’re telling the truth, if you accept a blessing,” the man clarified. “That you have his blood in you, that is. Will you—“

  “Where is this fucking going, sir?”

  “The our town needs new blood,” the man admitted.

  “Oh,” I said, and I suddenly understood perfectly where this was going. “That’s why we’re staying the week.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And you want me to sleep with your daughter,” I said.

  “We want the Ashford genes, if you’re amenable,” he said. “Doesn’t have to be Heather. You can have your pick of our women. Or, if you’re not interested, we’d pay just for a semen sample. We’d be happy to use the turkey baster option.”

  I was quiet for a moment as I thought through the options. “What does Heather think of the situation?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet,” the man admitted.

  “Yeah, well, go fucking do that before you bug me again,” I suggested.

  “I need to know that you have Ashford genes before I commit—“

  “Then get your fucking priest to confirm it or whatever the fuck,” I said impatiently, slamming the fork down on the table. “Look, whatever. You’re coming to me not the other way around. I got a girl back home and I got my right hand and between those two things I don’t give a shit about your little town, got it?”

  “Yeah, kid, we understand,” the mayor said. He looked at the priest, who took out a crucifix. “Would you just hold this for a moment?”

  “Whatever,” I said, taking it. It flashed briefly, then glowed until I handed it back to the priest. “Satisfied.”

  “Yes. I’ll spread the word. If you’re interested in any of our women, just let us know. Otherwise, if you’re willing to—“

  “I know how to jerk off into a cup without you telling me how,” I said. “Piss off, you’re ruining my breakfast.”

  And they left me alone after that.

  #