“He’s a muff diver,” said the older guy. “Can’t get enough of it. Always smells like pussy.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Loki.”

“Real name?”

“Left it behind a long time ago,” said the older guy. He was about forty, with red hair and green eyes and a knife scar that bisected his left eyebrow.

“Okay,” I said. “Loki was the god of mischief. You planning on trying something clever?”

“No,” he said, then in case he thought I wasn’t going to believe him, added, “No, sir.”

“Good. Next question. What’s the name of your outfit?”

Loki paused for a heartbeat and then said, “Rovers. Pittsburgh chapter, and some others.”

“Thought so. Who’s running the Rovers these days.”

“Dude,” said Diver, “he’ll cut our nuts off if we—”

Loki turned to him. “Shut the fuck up, dumbass. Grown folks are talking here.” To me he said, “Same cat who was riding first bike before the biters ate everyone. Big Elroy.”

“Never heard of him.”

“You will,” said Diver. “You shot Donny and—”

Loki turned and punched Diver in the side of the head. Really hard. The lights in the younger man’s eyes dimmed for a moment. Baskerville shot to his feet and was about to take a bite out of the older man, but I snapped my fingers.

“Enough,” I said sharply. Diver clutched his head and moaned. “Loki, keep your hands to yourself. And Diver . . . ? Next time you open your mouth it better be to answer a question or it won’t be your friend here who clobbers you. I’ll blow your kneecaps off. Both of them. Want me to do that? No? Then mind your fucking manners.”

I gave them a minute to get their shit together. Then I gave Loki and Diver a nice, big smile. The big hunting cats smile like that. Or so people have told me.

“Now, fellas,” I said, “what’s your interest in Happy Valley?”

— 26 —: DAHLIA AND THE PACK

— 26 —

DAHLIA AND THE PACK

Dahlia and Neeko moved through the woods together. A small two-person scout team.

Old Man Church had sent them out to gather intel while the rest of their friends packed everything they could and began the process of moving the camp. A lot of things would have to be left behind, but there was nothing that could be done about that. The presence of the Rovers, and the betrayal of Trash, made haste more crucial even than the bulk of supplies.

Before they left, Dahlia said to Church, “Maybe the Rovers will see all the stuff we’re leaving and just be happy with that.”

“Is that what you think?” asked Church, “or what you hope?”