Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

reached a rundown section of town full of auto repair shops and industrial sites. Suddenly the road ahead narrowed to one lane, partially blocked by snow and ash that had been bulldozed to form a huge wall. Two guys warmed themselves at a small fire just inside the wall. Chad pulled up next to them, his bike blocking the lane. He held out his palm, motioning for us to stop.
    The two guys got up from the fire and turned toward our truck. They each wore an assault rifle slung over one shoulder. Dad cranked the truck through the fastest three-point turn I’d ever experienced, leaving it facing back the way we’d come.
    One of the DWB guards left, jogging toward a nearby building. The other one was talking to Chad near the fire.
    Dad turned around in his seat to offer Alyssa a hand climbing out of the truck. The gentlemanly gesture was completely spoiled when he grabbed the end of her noose with his other hand. He took a couple of steps from the truck and then stopped, one hand holding Alyssa’s leash, the other jammed into his coat pocket.
    I slid out of the passenger side and took a position alongside the truck. If things turned bad, I could take cover behind it. Or jump in the back if we had to make a quick getaway. I unslung the rifle from my back, making sure not to aim it at the DWBs. I snicked off the safety and held the rifle casually, pointed at the ground at my side.
    Everything was still for a moment. Like that moment right before breaking a board, when you’re totally focused and the world is calm around you. Preparing. Waiting for the violence of the break.
    Four guys emerged from the building. The guy in the center had a huge chrome revolver on each hip. The others were armed with assault rifles. But the power resided in the guy with the revolvers; it was clear in the way everyone else circled around him, like planets turning in the warmth of their sun.
    Six guys. Against me and my rifle. If this ended in a spray of bullets, none of us would survive. I wiped my damp trigger hand on my coveralls and swallowed my fear.
    Chad yelled, “Heeeere’s Wolfey!” in a demented, Jack Nicholson voice.
    Someone else said, “That’s Mr. Wolfe to you,” and they all laughed.
    Wolfe, the guy with the revolvers, strutted up to Alyssa. His gaze oozed down her body, lingering here and there. “Looks fresh.” He grabbed a lock of her hair and yanked on it, pulling her close. He sniffed. “Smells fresh, too.”
    “There’s another one in the truck,” Chad said.
    “Fresh?” Wolfe replied.
    “No. But hey, if it was dark . . .”
    They laughed. Dad’s face had taken on a stony countenance. I adjusted my grip on the rifle. This didn’t look good, but we were prepared for it. I hoped.
    “You brought me two new back warmers? You’re too kind.”
    Dad said, “I’m only trading—”
    “And a truck? You shouldn’t have.”
    “The truck’s not—”
    “Bring the chicks up to the club,” Wolfe said. “Flense the rest.” He turned his back to Dad as the other five DWBs raised their guns.
    “You’d best not,” Dad said quietly, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. I didn’t think anyone else noticed that his voice wasn’t as steady as usual. He held the red button from the propane distributor. His thumb was under the plastic cover. The two wires ran from the back of the button into his coat pocket. “I press this button, and the propane tank blows. Just like a bomb. Probably level three city blocks.”
    Wolfe turned around and stepped toward Dad. “Yeah?”
    “That’s right.” Dad’s hands were shaking.
    “Bullshit!” Wolfe’s hand whipped out, grabbing the two wires and pulling them free.

Chapter 79
    “Waste him,” Wolfe ordered.
    “This isn’t some game!” Mom screamed as she slid off the side of the propane tank and stood on the back bumper of the truck. She had an air hose in one hand and a burning torch made of rolled cardboard in the other. She was holding the valve open on the end of the air hose. “If I bring these together, we’re all going to meet our maker. I’m ready to be judged, how about you?”
    Mom let the valve snap shut, moved the hose out of the way, and thrust her torch into the space the hose had just occupied. There was a huge whoosh and a flash that left blue spots on my vision. “I’ll blow us all to hell before I let you flense my family!” she yelled.
    Wolfe was laughing. “Righteous! Do it again!”
    “Screw you!” Mom spat.
    “Maybe later.” Wolfe