Dahlia glanced at Neeko and a few of the other younger ones, then back up. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m very serious.”

“Um, because the Rovers are a motorcycle gang. At least they were before the EMPs killed their bikes. They go around wearing leather and studs, and they wear necklaces of body parts they’ve cut off of people. Most of us are teenagers, or close enough. I don’t think we’re actually rocking a killer biker army vibe. I mean . . . do you?”

The woman gave her a cold appraisal for a long ten count. “Why come and tell us?”

“Common decency?” said Dahlia, inflecting it as a question.

“And what would you expect in return? We don’t have food to share.”

“We have plenty of food,” said Dahlia. “We don’t actually need anything from you. Look . . . can we come in so we don’t have to stand out here shouting?”

The woman’s eyes seemed to focus on Church for the first time. “And who is that? Your father?”

Without hesitation, Dahlia said, “He’s my uncle. He used to be a—”

Church cut in and Dahlia was shocked to hear him speak with a New England drawl that was thicker than his own accent. “My name’s John Deacon,” he said, “of the Hampton Deacons. Steel exports. What my niece here is trying to say is that we’ve been out here for some time and we’re doing fine. Have a good place with all the comforts of home. Even make a good martini, as long as the olives last. But these Rovers have been raiding a lot of settlements and causing all kind of trouble. Some of these young folks are scouts—we have a barter system of field work of all kinds in exchange for room and board. Works out very well, if you follow me. Well, we sent some teams out to keep an eye on the Rovers and they overheard mention of Happy Valley. So, I came out here, gathered up the scout teams. Wasn’t sure if you were all safe here or if you needed some warm bodies to sort those thugs out. Not looking for anything because, quite frankly, I can’t think of a thing you have that we need. But what pains me is to see . . . ” and here he paused to pour acid on his words, “ . . . those people come and take away what rightfully belongs to decent Americans.”

The speech shocked Dahlia but she kept it off her face. She saw Neeko and Jumper exchange deeply surprised expressions; though Slow Dog was nodding in appreciation. Church sounded like a completely convincing rich asshole, from the imperious tilt of his head to the word choice. It bothered her that he could play this role so well.

The woman on the wall cleared her throat. “The Hampton Deacons, you say?”