The compound was on the eastern edge of town. He’d been worried they might walk by it without noticing, but it hugged the road and the signage was clear. PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING. ARMED SECURITY ON SITE. His personal favorite was NO RELIEF SERVICES.

A wide, flat field of a yard led up to a white modular house. The transport parked in front of it looked like something manufactured to imitate military equipment. Amos had lived in an actual military design long enough to recognize the difference.

He put Peaches in place at the edge of the property first, then walked the perimeter once, taking it all in. The fence had barbed wire all the way around, but nothing electrified. He was about fifty-fifty that there was a sniper’s nest in the attic, but it might have just been a bird. Easy to forget that even with the massive burden of humanity, there was still wildlife on Earth. The house itself was prefabbed or else printed in place. Hard to say which. He also saw three tubes coming up out of the ground that looked like they could be ventilation. There were bullet holes in the bark of the trees at the property’s edge, and one place where it looked like there was blood on the leaves of the dying bushes.

This was where he wanted to be.

He started by standing at the edge of the property, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting.

“Hey! In the house! You there?”

He waited a long minute, alert for signs of movement. Something behind the curtains of the front window. Nothing in the sniper’s nest. So maybe it was just sparrows after all.

“Hey! In the house! My name is Amos Burton, and I’m looking to trade!”

A man’s voice came, shrill and angry. “This is private property!”

“That’s why I’m out here fucking my throat up instead of ringing the goddamn doorbell. I heard you were prepped for this shit. I got caught with my pants down. Looking to trade for guns.”

There was a long silence. Hopefully the bastard wouldn’t just shoot him, but maybe. Life was risk.

“What’re you offering?”

“Water recycler,” Amos shouted. “It’s on the back of my rig.”

“I’ve got one.”

“May need another. Don’t think they’ll be making more anytime soon.” He waited to the count of ten. “I’m going to come up to the house so we can talk.”

“This is private property! Don’t cross the line!”

Amos opened the gate, smiling his biggest goofiest smile. “It’s okay! If I was armed, I wouldn’t be trading for guns, right? Don’t shoot me, I’m just here to talk.”