When Amanda entered her house, she saw two more Bandidos lounging in the hallway, smoking cigarettes and tapping the ash onto the Tabriz runner that had cost over twenty thousand dollars. They had small, evil-looking submachine guns slung over their shoulders and she wondered where they had hid them on their way in. The police and army patrols stopped anyone carrying a gun, and confiscated that gun even when its owner had a permit. She'd thought long and hard before taking her pistol along on the trip to Skykomish, and had packed it deep inside her backpack.
The house was lit up just like in the good old days when everyone took electric power for granted. She could hear the thrumming of the generator in the basement: it was running at full power. She checked her watch: there were still ten minutes to go before the city switched on the power for three hours. What the hell was wrong with the girls? She'd told them to use the generator sparingly.
She was furious, and glared at Fiona. She was about to give her a piece of her mind, but the observant Ron Pierce said:
"Relax, miz Queen. Don't give that poor girl here any shit. We persuaded her to switch on the power because you got electric heating, and we wanted to warm up after the trip. Anyway, we brought a gift: ten gallons of gasoline. I gotta tell you the boys and myself are great admirers of your talent. I particularly like Rip 'Em Up."
He would, thought Amanda. Rip 'Em Up was a big Amazon hit. It was an original riff on a favorite teenage fantasy: ripping up the rule books and outlawing the law, and enjoying a life of total freedom, including freedom from any guilt.
She said:
"I've just got home from a long trip. Can you give me half an hour?"
"Sure."
"Good. Front room in thirty minutes, then. Fiona?"
They both went upstairs and into Amanda's room. It was the biggest room on the first floor of the house, big enough to serve as a day room and study as well as a bedroom. Amanda told Fiona to shut the door and took the Glock out of her parka and put it down on the side table. She unzipped her parka and took it off and said:
"What the fuck is going on? Start at the beginning."
It was total doom and gloom, all the way. It began with the arrival of a dozen Bandidos at the Amazon colony in the New World. They were armed to the teeth and they caught the Amazons on duty by surprise. They didn't even need to resort to violence.
Concurrently, half a dozen Bandidos showed up at Amanda's house in Seattle. They came bearing a gift of gasoline and politely requested that the gate be opened, so that they don't have to fuck it up. They came well equipped to do so, and Fiona decided to let them in. Earlier on, Betty had woken up and told her what had happened in the New World. The Bandidos had promised to wipe out the Amazons there if the Amazons here did not cooperate.
All that had happened late the previous evening. Fiona had attempted to get in touch with Amanda via the New World, but the contact had been broken. The Bandidos had grumpily agreed to wait twenty four hours for Amanda's return from Skykomish. That translated into ten days in the New World, and there wasn't enough food in the Amazon colony to feed the invading Bandidos throughout that time.
"Did they tell you what they want?" asked Amanda.
"They want our land in the New World. They're prepared to let us go free with whatever we can carry, but all the livestock stays."
"I see," said Amanda. "Can you go downstairs and set things up in the front room? And get all the girls together. I want everyone to be present. I'll be down in twenty minutes."
She undressed and had a quick wash up in the ensuite bathroom on full automatic, her mind racing as she digested all those news. She was intelligent enough to realize that it was game over. She didn't waste any time of trying to think how to turn the situation around in her favor. Instead, she focused on the options that were left.
They would have to resettle, that was for sure. All the work they had put into their colony had been wasted. No, it hadn't been wasted. They'd learned a lot of things. And they'd use that knowledge when starting over.
All she could do was negotiate the best terms possible. She would try to squeeze something extra from Pierce, even if it was no more than another ten gallons of gas. Gasoline was a hot commodity, even though it was a while since the last car pulled up at the pump.
She dressed in a white silk shirt and the black Merino wool pant suit that she'd worn to the memorial service for her parents. She was ready well ahead of time, and spent some time hesitating with her eyes fixed on the small, locked drawer in her bedside table.
The drawer contained Amanda's emergency stash: two grams of medical-grade cocaine in a tiny stoppered tube. She hadn't touched it since the beginning of January, more specifically - since the second day after the catastrophe. She truly kept it only for the direst of emergencies.
The situation she currently was in definitely constituted a dire emergency. So she treated each of her nostrils to a short, thin line from the compact lid mirror. It wouldn't have done a thing for her back in the days when she was going through several grams a day. But it worked well now. Boy, did it ever work! It was the old, bold, confident Amanda that went down the stairs for her conference with the president of the Seattle Bandidos.
Unlike she expected, Ron Pierce was waiting for her all by himself: his Bandido friends had been banished from the conference. He seemed to be enjoying the fact he was alone in a roomful of very attractive girls. He was seated in an armchair by the coffee table which was decorated by a large bottle of Scotch whisky and two glasses. He was smoking a short, evil-smelling cigar and Betty was in the act of bringing him an ashtray when Amanda entered the room. She noted the way Betty's hand trembled when she put the ashtray down in front of Pierce.
"Care for a drink?" Pierce wheezed, raising the bottle. "Maybe the girls would like one, too?"
"No thanks. Betty, can you bring me a glass of water? Thank you."
She could feel the wave of resentment from the girls when she sat down across from Pierce. She was glad she'd treated herself to a toot before coming down; otherwise she might have not been able to resist the Pierce's offer. But her girls hadn't had the privilege, and she knew they were dying for a drink. Serves them right, she thought, accepting her water from an almost tearful Betty. To let the colony become overrun like that, without any resistance!
"I understand you want our colony in the New World," Amanda said right away. She was determined to cut the negotiations as short as possible. She wanted Ron Pierce to disappear where he'd come from, together with his whisky bottle.
Pierce treated himself to a generous slug of liquor before spreading his arms and rasping:
"Straight to the point! I like that. That's right, miz Queen. We want your land."
"I'd be interested to know how you'd heard about it," said Amanda.
Pierce shrugged.
"Sure," he said. "I don't mind telling you about that. We got a bunch of implant kits from some kids who needed drugs. They warned us about a bunch of crazy, bloodthirsty bitches inhabiting a prime stretch of coastline. Sorry, that's a direct quote. Anyways, we set up our own little operation and made sure we were well prepared for meeting you guys. When you didn't get around to visit, we did. You got the most perfect natural harbor in this part of the country. And we've got serious sea-going plans."
He leaned forward, pressing his belly into the coffee table, and added:
"You can go free with whatever you can take, except for the animals. Well, you can take the dogs. Stupid dogs, if you ask me. Didn't bark once when we arrived, came running with tails wagging. Guess they could smell the roast meat in our bags. Anyways, let me tell you this: my boys would like a bit of old-fashioned rape and pillage, you know? I hadda go a long way to convince them to hold their horses. So you gotta decide right away. You go peacefully, or you go out the hard way."
Amanda nodded.
"We go peacefully," she said. "Just give us some time to get our shit together, okay?"
"How much time?"
"Till the end of the month."
Pierce opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, and shook his head.
"No way," he said. "You guys stick around for more than a day, I can't vouch for my boys. Most of them were really looking forward to some nice nooky."
"A day? Until tomorrow evening?"
"No, miz Queen. You got that wrong. A New World day. You got a little over two hours. Not much, 'cause I figure you know communications have been cut. Hopefully you or one of your girls can get a nap and pay your New World guys a visit and tell them what's up. I can fix you up with some Nembutal if you want."
"I've got my own," said Amanda. She considered asking about gasoline, but her pride won. She stood up and said:
"It's a deal. What's the time of the day there, right now? I've lost track."
"Early afternoon," said Fiona behind Amanda's back.
"We'll be gone by noon tomorrow," Amanda told Pierce. He remained sitting down, staring at his whisky as if beset by fresh doubt. He probably didn't expect me to agree so quickly, thought Amanda. Yes, she could see he was trying to find the hidden catch.
"There are no hidden catches," she said. "And if you find there are, you know where to find me."
Pierce nodded.
"I sure do," he said, and finally lumbered to his feet.
"I'm sorry I can't say I've been pleased to meet you," said Amanda.
Pierce emitted a wheeze that could have been a laugh, and said:
"Yeah. I can understand that. Enjoy the whisky." He went out, and she heard him calling his guys to assemble.
She finally turned around and faced the girls. They weren't frightened any more: they were stunned instead. Amanda liked that. People who were stunned tended to follow orders without hesitation, and that was exactly what she needed.
"Alright," she said. "Any volunteers for a whisky and Nembutal combination?"
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