Chapter 2

	Blinding halogen light glinted off of the sinuous curves of
Clint's 1969 Dodge Charger as he leaned against the car with one hand on
the gasoline pump, and the other couching a cigarette. Blithely ignoring
the numerous red and white warning signs before him, he took a drag and
tapped the ashes out over the pavement. Charcoal grey numbers ticked off
before him on a dirty yellow background, measuring the number of gallons
he had pumped, and how exorbitantly the price of gasoline had risen.
Without warning, he released his grip on the pump handle, and began to
walk inside. The numbers on the pump read: 16.769 gallons, 30.00
dollars.
	As he opened the door, an electronic chime woke the attendant up
from his mental slumber. A fascinating infomercial about cleaning
hamsters had been keeping his eyes from closing, but his mind was at
idle. A quick glance at the register, and the attendant stammered,
"Thirty dollars."
	Clint already had a twenty and two fives on the counter. As the
attendant grabbed the money, he noticed the lit cigarrette in his
customer's mouth.
	"Ya know you cain't smoke out there. Blow us all to kingdom
come."
	"Yup," was the only reply Clint made as he walked out the door.
	He walked back towards his car, tossing his mostly spent
cigarrette onto the pavement before him and crushing it completely
beneath the heel of his leather cowboy boot before opening the door of
his car. The 426 Hemi roared to life, and Clint blazed out of the
backwater gas station leaving a trail of burnt rubber and a haze of
half-burnt hydrocarbons in his wake.

	In the early hours of the following day, Alex was sprawled out
on the floor of his Astro. His body lay on top of a thick sleeping bag,
which lay on top of a bare metal floor. The van had originally been a
passenger van, but Alex had converted it into something of a mobile
command station. Around him were strewn various electronic and weapons
systems. A passive/active radar array, several computers bolted onto
sturdy racks, and a hard drive array mounted on huge rubber grommets
were within arm's reach. At his feet were loading bins for his fire and
oil droppers, ammo boxes for his 50 cal. machine gun, twin redundant
fire control boxes, and a capacitor array for his rearward-facing EMP
weapon. Extra armor plating around the computers and ammo gave them
needed supplemental protection.
	A battery-powered alarm clock sitting next to Alex's head began
beeping at 7 A.M. Annoyed by the sound, he flung his arms around wildly,
trying to fight off the demon that disturbed his slumber. His arm found
a supporting beam for the computer rack, and he instantly came to his
senses.
	"Ow! Nnnnnghhhh! Fuck! Aaaaaugh!"
	Alex grabbed the offending clock, and delivered a finishing blow,
snooze-button first. The beeping stopped, and Alex heaved himself up to a
sitting position. He flipped the on/off switch on the clock, so it
wouldn't assault him again in another 10 minutes, and set it down,
pausing for a moment to rub his injured forearm.
	"Seven A.M. is way too fucking early in the morning," he
muttered to himself. He stowed the sleeping bag and opened the sliding
door on the van, greeting the outside world. As he exited the van, he
scratched a few important parts, and let loose a giant yawn. He trudged
over to Nariko's wagon and found her sleeping comfortably in the large
rear cargo area. It wasn't called the Shaggin' Wagon for nothing. Alex
rapped on the window.
	"Wakey, wakey. Guess what time it is?"
	Nariko muttered something incoherent and turned to face Alex,
staring disbelievingly through the window at him. Apparently, she was
not a morning person, either. She moved lethargically, and clawed around
for the scrunchy that held up her ponytail. Finding it, she looped it
around her hair a few times, and opened the rear door, greeting Alex in
a way that was, if not enthusiastic, at least brutally honest.
	"It's way too fucking early in the morning."
	"That it is," Alex replied.
	"What's for breakfast?"
	"Well, normally I'd have some eggs and potatoes cooked at a fast
idle, but since we're pressed for time, it's gonna be fruit and cereal
bars." Nariko let out an elaborate groan. "Oh, c'mon, they're not that
bad. C'mon." Alex led Nariko to the back of his van, where he pulled out
another box. "See, you've got your choice of blueberry or strawberry."
She pulled out a strawberry labeled bar and began opening it. She was
struggling.
	"Stupid crap cereal bars." Alex snatched the bar from her hands,
and ripped the package cleanly down the middle.
	"There. Better yet, take two. I've got to show you how to use
the radar." Alex threw another strawberry bar at her, and grabbed two
for himself. He led her over to her car, and motioned her to get in the
driver's seat. He sat down in the passenger's seat and munched on his
first bar.
	"OK, this round green screen is the radar. Stands for Radio
Detecting And Ranging, but that's not important. Hit this switch here,
to turn it on." He pointed at a small black button below the screen. She
pressed it, the screen glowed, and a thin line began to traverse the
screen radially, one end in the center of the screen, and the other at
the perimeter.
	"That line is the sweep line. There's a little antenna on the
roof of the car that spins, listening all around you to radio frequency
emissions. That line tells you which way it's pointed at the moment, and
if it finds something, it'll show up as a tiny green dot."
	"So why isn't there anything showing up right now? Your car is
right over there."
	"Well, that's because it's in passive mode right now. The only
thing it will find in passive mode is radio sources, since it's putting
out no signal of its own. If we switch it to active mode," Alex pressed
a button marked ACT, which lit up. "We are now transmitting radio waves
that bounce off of anything metal with in half a mile. See? There's a
little green dot right next to us, now. But since we're transmitting a
signal, anyone who has a radar can find us. Only use active mode when
you have to. Got it?"
	"I think so."
	"Good. We're rolling out." Alex hit the ACT button again, and
went back to his van. The junkyard Alex spoke of was a good 45 minutes
away, which allowed for a large stretch of conversation time.
	"So what's the plan?" Nariko was getting the hang of driving
with one hand and operating the CB with the other.
	"Basically, I go in and ask the guy a few questions, and you
watch the radar. It's simple; shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes,
but if something comes our way, I want to be one step ahead of it."
	After a pause, Nariko shifted conversational gears. "How did you
get to know my brother?"
	"I did some stuff in college with the integration of computers
and automobiles. Nothing groundbreaking, but I made a living for a while
installing voice-activated MP3 players in people's cars. He saw what I
did with my van, and he explained what was happening. We decided that
two heads were better than one, and we stuck together after that.
Pretty simple, really."
	"I didn't think my brother had it in him to do anything like
this."
	"Your brother believed very strongly in justice. He knew
something had to be done. He went to the cops and tried to explain to
them that there were people with military weaponry strapped to their
cars out in the middle of nowhere working on some secret plan. Half of
them dismissed him as crazy. The other half believed him, but only
because they had been bought off. With nowhere else to turn, he took
matters into his own hands. You feel the same way, I think."
	"I do, but I'm not sure the ends justify the means."
	"Me neither."
	"So why are you fighting?"
	"Your brother was right. Something has to be done. And I don't
have a better plan."
	"Well can't we find hard evidence to support us? We could sneak
in and take pictures, steal documents, or whatever, and take those to
the authorities. Then they'd have to believe us."
	"/If/ you found their hideout, /if/ you found a way to sneak in,
and /if/ you could get photos of whatever it is they're hiding there,
/then/ you could take them to the cops. And if you're lucky, the guy you
show them to won't be working for them and kill you on the spot. In any
case, we need to figure out where and what it is they're hiding. And to
do that, we're going to have to get our hands dirty. No way around it."
	Nariko tried to respond, but she remained silent as her car's
V8 rumble carried her toward their destination.

	Half an hour later, a dark blue Chevy Astro and a Oldsmobile
Cutlass wagon rolled up to Jim Smith's Used Car Parts Emporium. The
Emporium, as it was called, was really nothing more than a small shack
in the middle of a large junkyard. It was a great place to find cheap
parts. It was also a great place to find ammo for a car-mounted machine
gun.
	"Wait here," Alex said to Nariko as he exited his van. She
stayed put, keeping one eye on the radar, while he walked off towards
the shack. She wondered what he had in mind; she knew he wasn't really a
very forceful person. Still...
	Alex walked over to the shack, passing a parked cherry red 1967
Chevy Camaro. Alex peered into the dust-covered windows of the shack,
and saw Jim dozing off behind his desk. "Good," he thought. He opened
the door, ringing a bell. A window air conditioner hummed loudly in the
back of the shack.
	"Huh?" Jim woke up quickly, and sat up straight. "Howdy, what
can I do ya for?"
	"I'm looking for a man, and I think you might be able to help
me."
	"Really? I'm not sure I can."
	"I thought you'd say that. Look, it's like this:" Alex pulled
out a small grey plastic object shaped like a bar of soap with a red
button on it. "A lot of my buddies are dead and I want to know who's
responsible. I have a small explosive charge on the gas tank of your car
out there, and if I don't get some answers fast, it will join the rest
of your menagerie here." Jim's eyes grew wide. "That's what I thought.
Now who's responsible for my friends' deaths?"

	Nariko sat in her car, occasionally checking the radar. The
green screen was empty now, only the fluorescent green sweep line
traversed it. She sighed, and hoped that Alex's paranoia was getting
away with him.
	She opened the door and stepped outside, stretching her arms and
legs. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. Even the sun flowing
through heaps of rusted cars seemed picturesque, in a way. It seemed
like the kind of day where nothing could go wrong.
	BIP.
	Nariko's eyes grew wide. She quickly sat back down in the car
and checked out the radar scope. It now showed one green dot. The sweep
line passed it a second time.
	BIP.
	It was getting closer. Nariko stood up next to her car, and
waving her hands, shouted at Alex.

	"Ummm... It's uh, a guy named Randall Swain. He's doing all the
dark horse stuff aroun' here lately. That's all I know, I swear. I just
supply him, they don't give me directions to his hideout, ya know?" He
laughed nervously.
	"And when was the last time he was here?"
	"Oh, he don't come here. He sends his men to do business, ya
know? Real secret like." Alex's eyes narrowed and Jim caught his error.
"They was here a coupule'a days ago."
	"What did they get?"
	"Oh, the usual. Some 30 cal, some 50 cal, some seven sixty-twos.
Oh, an one'a my special items, a 65 milli cannon." Sweat beaded on Jim's
forehead.
	"You've got fucking tank cannons?"
	"Jus' had the one."
	"Oh, that's fucking great. There's a car out there, with a
fucking 65 millimeter cannon on it. Ok, my advice to you: Get out of the
fucking country. When it goes down, all the stuff you've been selling is
going to get you eyebrow-deep in a world of shit." With that, Alex
shoved the garage door opener back in his pocket. Jim exhaled deeply.
	Alex turned around to leave, and noticed Nariko through the
window, waving her arms frantically. Alex rushed out the door as fast as
he could push it open.
	"What?"
	"Alex! There a blip on the radar!"
	"Oh, crap." Alex picked up his pace and ran towards his van.
"He can't see us with all this metal around here. Get in your car. If
we're lucky, we can get out before he gets here." Nariko ducked into her
car and started the engine, throwing rocks as she sped away. Alex got in
his van and cranked the ignition, jamming the shift lever into drive as
the engine roared to life. The two cars sped away, leaving a trail of
dust. The exit was close to the shack, only a bit further...
	As Nariko neared the exit, an orange Dodge Charger pulled into
the narrow path leading out, blocking the exit. Both cars slammed on the
brakes, skidding to a halt inches from each other. The driver of the
Charger honked his horn, and in the wave of panic that held her,
Nariko did the only thing she could think of: she jammed the center of
her steering wheel, sending a loud honk back.
	Alex had stopped behind Nariko, wondering what was delaying
their exit, and in a more detached part of his mind, what the racket was
all about. By the time the dust cleared, Alex was able to make out
Nariko, cowering in her car, and a man in a cowboy hat standing beside
his bright orange car, shouting at her. Alex ran up to Nariko's car, and
suddenly realized who the man was.
	"Oh, not you!" Alex yelled at the man, cutting his tirade short.
The man stared back at him, recognition forming in his mind.
	"What the hell are you doing here?"
	"I might ask you the same question."
	"I came here for a nice used car stereo."
	"Bullshit."
	"What's your problem, anyway? Penis envy?"
	"You can't envy something that doesn't exist."
	"HEY!" Nariko shouted, cutting both of them off. "You two know
each other?"
	"Yeah, this asshole think's he's..."
	"Unfortunately, we've met before..."
	"One at a time!" Nariko motioned to the man in the Charger.
"Who are you?"
	"My name is Clint Wilson, vigilante extrordinaire." Clint tipped
his hat and flashed a used-car salesman smile.
	"How did you run into him?" Nariko gestured towards Alex.
	"Actually, he ran into me. You see, I was turning left off of
Route 136, headin' towards the Oasis, and this guy just comes barreling
out of nowhere and slams right into the side of my car."
	"That's horseshit and you know it!" Alex pointed a finger
accusingly. "You turned left without so much as a turn signal, and I
barely clipped your taillight. You were livid like a bleeding
schoolgirl." Clint scowled at Alex, who was more than happy to return
the favor.
	"Alright, you two. Knock it off. Clint, could you move your car,
please?"
	Clint's expression changed immediately. "Of course. For a
/lady/." With a tip of his hat, he entered his car, and reversed out of
the driveway. Nariko got back in her car, and exited onto the road, with
Alex following. As Alex looked in his rear-view mirror, he caught a grin
on Clint's face that particularly irritated him.
	"What an assbag!" Alex called to Nariko over the CB radio.
	"Well /I/ thought he was rather polite."
	"Oh, my mistake. 'What a polite assbag!' then. He listened to
you, and completely ignored me."
	"You want to know why?"
	"Is it because of your calm and effervescent demeanor?"
	"No. It's because /I/ have boobs."
	And /that/, was logic Alex could not argue with.