The Very Last Friday

Mike reached into the dry-bag and pulled out one of the food bars.  He unwrapped it and broke it into four small pieces, then tossed a piece to each of the women.

“Think about it!” he stated.

The women devoured the bit of food like wild animals.  All four women begged for more.

“Not until you answer our questions!”

The woman with the lazy eye was moaning softly and was obviously suffering from some form of brain damage.  The other three talked rapidly among themselves.  Finally, the young one spoke.

“You promise you’ll feed us?”

Mike nodded.

“Okay.  Waddaya wanna know?”

“How many are in your group?”

“Eight.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

The woman visibly flinched at the tone of Mike’s voice.  “You mean everybody?”

Again Mike nodded.

“A week ago, when we all got together, there were seventy-seven of us.”

“Male and female!  What’s the ratio?”

“Well, there’s thirty-two women, if that’s what you mean.”

“How many children?”

“No kids.  Hook says we can’t afford no kids gettin’ in the way.”

“Hook?” Mike asked.

“Yeah!  Hook’s number one bad ass.  When he says shit, we squat.”

“How many motorcycles?”

“Shit, man! I dunno!”

Mike’s grey eyes bore into the woman.

“Maybe twenty, twenty-five,” the woman answered, lowering her eyes for the first time.  “Now, can we have some food?”

Mike asked Theo to start the water.

“A couple more questions,” Mike said, “while the water is heating.  How much gas do you have?”

“Jesus Christ, mister, I don’t know.  Hook’s in  charge o’ that kinda shit.  In fact, today’s when we get gas for our machines.”

Mike didn’t ask any more questions until the food was ready.  The women were sitting ten feet from Mike and when Theo and Danny placed the food pouches at his feet, the women started to get up.

“Not yet!” he commanded.  “What do you know about Hook’s plans to attack the island where your friend Zack was killed?”

“Honest, mister! Nothing!  That’s where the boys went this morning, to find out what Hook’s got in mind.”  The woman’s eyes were glued on the food.

“Answer two more questions,” Mike said, “and you can eat.”  He stepped back a pace, putting the food between him and the women.  “Weapons and ammunition!  How well are you armed?”

The lazy eyed woman was on her hands and knees, and seemed hypnotized by the food in front of her.

“Well,” the young woman began, “everybody has a rifle or pistol, but Hook gives out the bullets.”

“Automatic weapons?” Mike asked.  “How many?”

“I don’t know exactly how many,” she answered, but they’re Russian guns. I’m not goin