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Sailors and girls? That doesn’t sound safe.”
    “We can handle a lot more than you might think. We won’t be safe here—I agree with you on that,—maybe we’ll be okay in Corpus Christi, and maybe we won’t. We won’t know until we get there and look it over. We might as well check it out though don’t you think?”
    As she talked, Racy noticed how normal Adrian was acting now, more or less as he had at dinner. It was hard to reconcile the mayhem she had seen upstairs and the fierceness of the man as he had descended the stairs with this seemingly gentle giant whose biggest concern seemed to be what to do with the sixteen girls on his hands.
    She looked him over carefully; her life might well depend on him for some time to come. He was, she noted, very tall, maybe six-five, and as handsome as any man she had ever seen, but in a rough kind of way. He was heavily muscled, and she would bet his weight was somewhere around two-hundred-seventy or more, but no fat. He had a large scar that ran from the lower portion of his cheek, on down his neck and into his shirt, the scar he had gotten from fighting a grizzly bear in the Colorado mountains. She knew this from the stories that circulated about him. He was famous after all—the most famous man since the grid had dropped. She’d heard all the stories.
    A massive coronal mass ejection had destroyed the electric grids worldwide four years previously, and civilization had come to an abrupt end. But Adrian Hunter was one of those men whose exploits had spread, first by ham radio, and then by word of mouth. Only the most reclusive and isolated of people hadn’t heard of “General Bear,” as he was known. Even some of them must have heard the stories of his breeding with a grizzly bear and having cubs all over the Colorado mountains, or speculated over the news of his semi-engagement to Colonel Linda Hunter. Those kinds of stories spread far and fast.
    “Racy…is that your real name?”
    “You mean is that my real name or my ‘working name’?” she asked with sudden anger.
    “Well, yeah. I guess you got me there. I didn’t want to insult you by calling you something you didn’t like. Maybe I was a bit heavy handed in asking, but I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
    “Oh…I’m sorry. It was nice of you to ask.” Her sudden anger faded as quickly as it had come. “I didn’t want to be a prostitute, don’t ever want to be one again either. I was forced into it, beaten into unconsciousness several times. After being raped so many times that I lost count I just quit resisting. My real name is Rachel, but my family used to call me Racy because when I was little I ran really fast everywhere I went. I’ll keep the name, thank you.”
    “Okay Racy, do you have any idea where we might get some wagons as you suggested?”
    “Wagons? No, not really. But I know where there’s a big truck that runs on wood, and it belongs to a son of a bitch that I’m going to kill before we leave. He’s one of the most frequent customers, and the roughest. It’s not far from here. Let me have that pistol and I’ll go get it.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Racy repeated patiently, “Let me have the pistol and I’ll go get the truck. I think it will carry all the valuables and all the girls—and no walking will be needed. We can get to Corpus a lot faster.”
    “You planning on just driving the truck off, or do you plan on killing its owner first? Or maybe you plan to take him hostage and make him drive it?”
    Racy’s voice was serious. “I plan on killing him first. I plan on killing him regardless of the truck. I’m not leaving here with him alive, on foot or by truck or by any means there is. I aim to kill him, he’s got it coming, just ask any of the girls.”
    “Is there anyone else on your list or is he the only one?”
    “There would be plenty more, but I don’t know where they are. I know where this one is and he was the worst of the bunch. Once I kill him, I