Myron was not sure what to do. He stopped the car at the end of the block and got out. The street was crowded with low-rise brick dwellings that all looked the same. At one time, this might have been a nice area, but now the neighborhood looked like a man who'd lost his job and stopped bathing. There was an overgrown, faded quality to it, like a garden that no one bothered to tend anymore.

Crusty turned down an alleyway. Myron followed.

Lots of plastic garbage bags. Lots of rusted tire escapes.

Four legs stuck out of a refrigerator box. Myron heard snoring. At the end of the alley, Crusty turned right. Myron trailed slowly. Crusty had gone into what looked like an abandoned building through a fire door. There was no knob or anything, but the door was slightly ajar. Myron reached in with his lingers and pried it open.

As soon as he crossed the musty threshold, Myron heard a primal scream. Crusty. Right in front of him.

Something swung toward Myron's face. Fast reflexes paid off. Myron managed to duck enough so that the iron bar only clipped his shoulder blade. A quick Hash of pain bolted down his arm. Myron dropped to the ground. He rolled across the cement floor and stood back up.

There were three of them now. All armed with crowbars or tire irons. All with shaved heads and tattooed swastikas. They were like sequels to the same awful movie. The Crusty Nazi was the original. Beneath the Planet of Crusty Nazi the one on his left was smiling with idiotic glee. The one on his right Escape from the Planet of Crusty Nazi looked a bit more frightened. The weak link, Myron thought.

"Changing a tire'?" Myron asked.

The Crusty Nazi slapped the tire iron against his palm for emphasis. "Gonna flatten yours."

Myron raised his hand in front of him with the palm facing down. He shook it back and forth and said, "Eh."

"Why the fuck you following me, asshole?"

"Me?" _

"Yeah, you. Why the fuck you following me?"

"Who says l'm following you?"

There was momentary confusion on Crusty's face.

Then: "You think I'm flicking stupid or something?"

"No, I think you're Mr. Mensa."

"Mister what?"

Beneath the Planet of Crusty Nazi said, "He's just fucking with you, man."

"Yeah," Escape chimed in. "Fucking with you."

Crusty's wet eyes bulged out. "Yeah? Is that what you're doing, asshole? You fucking with me, huh? Is that what you're doing? Fucking with me?"

Myron looked at him. "Can we move on please?"

Beneath said, "Let's fuck him up a little. Soften his ass up."

Myron knew that three of them were probably not experienced fighters, but he also knew that three armed men beat one good man on almost any given day. They were also a bit too jittery, their eyes as glazed as morning doughnuts. They were constantly sniffing and rubbing their noses.