Neeko rose from the cinderblock he’d been using as a seat and came over to the card table where Trash was cleaning and loading pistols. He didn’t sit.

“He didn’t have elves, didn’t say ‘ho-fucking-ho,’ and the only thing he gave us was a beating,” he said. “Old fucker could have killed us, but he didn’t.”

“He chased you off?”

“He let us go.”

“Let you go? Meaning, what? He couldn’t beat you and chased you with his walker, so you ran off?”

“He could have killed us if he wanted,” said Neeko. “We snuck up on him, and you know how quiet I am. He was sitting in a beach chair, hat down over his face. Looked like he was sleeping. And even if he was awake I was ghosting my way past him and keeping like a hundred feet between us. Bushes and some stacked boxes and all. He had this pimped out motor home. Really sweet, and in great condition. Reinforced, too. And there was one of those storage pod trailers hooked up in back. It was open, though, and he had his stuff all around his campsite. I think he was doing some kind of inventory on his shit.”

Trash leaned his forearms on the table, interested now. “What kind of shit?”

“Boxes of food. Bottles of water. Medical stuff. All kinds of shit.”

“How much?”

“More than we could use in, like, six months. A fuck lot more than we have,” said Neeko. “That’s why we followed him. Smelled cooking and there he is with a campfire and like six rabbits on a gas grill. Some potatoes and corn, too. God, the smells were driving me crazy.”

“Yeah? So what did you do?”

Neeko’s eyes slid away for a moment. “Two of us, and we had the edge. We both had our hatchets and all.”

Trash gave him a skeptical look. “Why didn’t you just kill the old fucker and take all that shit, man? What the actual fuck?”

“I, um,” began Neeko, licking his lips. “I wanted to scare him. Maybe rough him up some and take most of his stuff. Take the mobile home, too. Wanted to roll up here behind the wheel of that sweet ride. Guess I wanted to see the look on everyone’s faces.”

Trash laughed. “But you came limping your ass in here like a pussy. Both of you.”

“You weren’t there, man. You didn’t see what happened.”

“So . . . stop dicking around. What did happen?”

Neeko cleared his throat. “We were coming up on him from behind, each of us with our choppers out, ready for anything, and then without moving his hat or moving a muscle, he said, ‘You’re doing this wrong.’”

“What?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Fucker told you you’re doing it wrong?” Trash laughed a big donkey bray, his blond dreads dancing as his big shoulders shook. “What else he say?”