Christopher

"Your friend not like people?" Sam asked. "He must not get to town much, this far out."

"Maybe once a month." Chris replied. "There's a shorter trail, not as steep, around back but it leads to the river. When he needs to carry large loads he brings them in by boat and uses a UTV and trailer to bring them up. Better wait here for a bit."

There was a gap in the fence they had arrived at, with no gate. The trail continued through it to the group of buildings about a quarter mile.

Sam scanned the area with his binoculars, Chris did the same.

"There he is," he said after a moment.

Sam looked in the direction Chris indicated.

A man was walking in a leisurely manner across the grassy field, eventually meandering in their direction. Sam could see that he was carrying a rifle.

Chris took out a cigar case, opened it and offered it. Sam took one and lit it. It tasted of brandy, rather strongly he thought. Chris lit one of his own and they smoked as they watched the man approach. Eventually he arrived.

He was wearing a khaki shirt, with long sleeves and two pockets with flaps. It was nearly universal among the Freeholders and their allies. As with Sam jeans and boots like completed the outfit. He was wearing aviator sunglasses, somewhat ornate with what looked like a Ferrari emblem on the bridge. No, not a horse. A griffin maybe. It looked like real gold, and knowing these people it might be.

He also had a large revolver in a hip holster, and what looked like a Japanese short sword in a sheath on his right side. A wakizashi or something similar. A lot of these people favored that style, and he'd seen the results of their use a couple of times.

He took out a cigarillo and lit it.

"Long time no see," he said, apparently to Chris.

Since he's never seen me, Sam thought. Of course never is quite a long time, so...

"Your memory going?" Chris asked. "Saw you at Kelly's shindig not yet a month ago."

"Month a long time up here in the middle of nowhere."

"Guess you might lose track, not doing anything day after day," said Chris. "Is that what you do when you're not out stirring things up?"

"You know better than that."

"You generally got a woman up here," Chris said. "If not two. How do you find so many women who give up civilization to hang out up here?"

"Who said they're giving anything up? Why don't you introduce your associate and we'll go up to the house?"

"This here," Chris said, "is Samuel Boling, some kind or other of agent of the Department of Internal Security of the our mortal enemy. Sam, this is James Lewis. Jim and I go back a ways."

Jim looked older than Chris, but not enough older to be a full generation Perhaps fifteen years.

"That a Rossi?" Sam asked, nodding toward the rifle.

"Yeah. Got the real Winchester it's copied from. Just part of the collection now. Came in handy back in the day though. Well, if Christopher figures you're safe to have around, let's go to the house. Since you've walked this far."

They walked the remaining distance, passing through another fence beyond which the grounds were a well-maintained lawn. A fair-sized ranch house, the exterior well-maintained, was one of three regular houses. The other two were small cottages behind it. Further back several were large metal buildings of the sort found on farms or used for industry in populated areas.

At the door of the large house a young woman came out and greeted them.

"Alex," James said, "the fellow with Chris is Sam somebody, some bad guy bigwig I reckon. Chris says he's all right, but you might want to keep an eye on him and a hand on your piece. Dunno how he might behave around a belladonna like you. Chris, you ain't met Alexis either, have you?"

"Don't believe I have," replied Chris. "Although it seems she knows who I am. As always, nice to meet you Alex."

"You don't remember me?" Alexis asked. "I am truly crushed."

"He wasn't exactly fully cognizant," James said. "And you was just one of the angels hoverin' over him, couldn't wait to get your hands on him."

"Fairfield Bay," Chris said. "No, it was pretty hazy. Probably got all those angels mixed up. My apologies, for having crushed such an exquisite blossom."

"None required," replied Alexis. "Just seeing you again is sufficient."

Chris remembered the days in the hospital, the flock of young women attending him. Being semi-conscious at best most of the time...

Alexis was thirty at most. Dusky skin, not from sun he suspected. Long silky black hair, a willowy figure not disguised by parachute pants and a satin baseball jacket. He guessed the piece was a small holstered handgun under the jacket, probably accompanied by a knife. Or two. James had been in the business longer than him.

"You two want to want to exchange a few more pleasantries here," James asked, "or go in and get a drink?"

Alexis smiled.

"This way, gentlemen. And James."

They followed her inside. James put the Rossi on a tall freestand gun rack, one already holding several guns and several swords. One of them looked like the sword from a movie Sam had seen. Highlander? He wondered if was one of the mass-produced replicas, and suspected it wasn't.

"The original came handy a time or two," James said. "I ever tell you that story?"

The sword, Sam wondered.

"Dunno," Chris replied. "Where's that drink?"

"C'mom. Follow the lovely lady."

Alexis led them into a room outfitted as small dining area, a large table with a look of considerable age was surrounded by eight equally elegant chairs.

"Let me know if you need anything," she said and departed. Sam couldn't resist watching, as the pants were not baggy in just the right place.

"Don't even think it," Chris said, grinning. "C'mon.

James followed Chris and Sam to the sideboard.

Without asking for his preference Chris poured amber liquid from a bottle into two glasses. The label was nearly blank, with just some hand lettering. He handed on to Sam while James poured a glass from another bottle.

"Rebel special," Chris said. "Made before the war, seven years, out of old man Adams' private stock."

They sat down at one end of the table, Chris and Sam across from each other with James at the end. They sipped their drinks. Old man Adams' private stock was rich and earthy. Sam wasn't much interested in expensive cigars or liquor, but suspected the stuff he was drinking would impress some who were.

"He shoots for 85 proof," Chris said, "and hits it pretty good. Not many get to taste it, even insiders."

Sam wondered if James liked it. His glass had something a little darker.

"Scooter and I was huntin' out in Arizona," James announced. "Up in the Santa Marinas, hiked up above Culver Pass, blizzard hit. Earlier and bigger than we expected. Made it down to a little meadow pasture, had an old barn. They grazed cattle up there in the summer. We got inside before it got bad it got covered up quick. Next morning I climbed up high enough to see the top of the snow outside, too deep to go anywhere in even if the doors weren't covered with a few tons of snow.

"Scooter and I looked at each other and said the only thing there was to say. We's fucked."

He got up and went to the sideboard and got a box of cigars and set them on the table. It contained a couple dozen cigars of several sizes, all with no bands or other identification. Probably from the Freeholds trade, or through the Alliance legitimate channels. James and Chris each took one and lit up, and Sam followed suit.

"Our food was only good for a couple of days," James continued. "But it was a lot of days. A week later it was nothing but melted snow. We were wondering how long it would be before we had to start eating hay. Bunch of that, left from the year before. We'd noticed a couple of times rabbits coming in, holes in a wall somewhere. Eatin' the hay.

"We looked at the rabbits eatin' the hay and figured it the same way. There was some wood around, we could cook if we had something to cook. I had my Redhawk and Scooter had his Smith 25, handy if we ran into a cougar or bear, but overkill for a rabbit. If we wanted to eat it.

"Had that little Winchester. Looked at the rabbits, quietly chambered a round. Shot one.

"Figured I'd only get one, the others be gone after the first shot. But they didn't run, just froze for a few minutes and went back to eatin' hay. So every couple days for the next month and some days I guess, we ate rabbit. Lucky we had that little rifle. We probably would have survived, but we'da been pretty weak when we walked out.

"Everybody always jawin' about it, if you could only have one gun. What would it be? After that I always figured it'd be a .22 rifle."

"Makes sense," Chris said. "Luckily we don't have to decide, for now at least. By the way, you did tell me."

"More than once?" Asked James.

Chris grinned.

"What do you think? But I don't imagine Sam has heard it."

"Can't say as I have," said Sam.

"I try to stay up to date," James said, "but haven't heard anything to give me an idea why a servant of the enemy is out here. And well inside the gates, so to speak. Want to enlighten me?"