The sight of the bridge over the stinking river made Beth's stomach clench. It brought back memories of her fall into its oily waters.

She concentrated on Dan and Carl returning from the gatehouse at its center, trying to shut out the rest. They had left a crate of weapons on a cart next to the building as agreed with Leo.

Dan had wanted her on the trip because she knew the setting of the place. Yet she had never felt more useless.

The rifle she carried felt heavy in her arms. Her grandpa had instructed her to shoot if anything unexpected happened.

She had always liked practicing the weapon back at Seaside, where the targets were inanimate objects, such as old bottles or boxes. This, though, was different. She doubted she'd be able to aim the weapon at a human.

And the people on the other side of the bridge were as human as she was.

She had counted five of them. One wore a dark jacket and had black hair—that had to be Leo. Hammer's bald head was hard to mistake. The figure between them wore Burt's beige coverall and had his straw-colored hair.

"So, let's see if they'll play fair," Dan said as he returned from the bridge and reached his granddaughter.

Beth prayed that they would. If they did, Burt would be back with them, and maybe the whole story could be forgotten. People had died, on both sides, but there was no need for further bloodshed.

This might even be the beginning of a truce. Of a treaty. Of mutual collaboration.

"One of them is Burt," Beth said. "The blond one."

As if on cue, Burt and another man stepped onto the bridge. The latter was thin and gangly like Spike.

Burt's hands were on his back, and a rope connected him to Spike.

"I think they have tied him," Beth said.

Carl nodded. "The bastards."

The bridge was maybe two or three hundred steps across, and it took the two men some moments to reach the building and the weapons. Spike pulled a pistol from the cart and scrutinized it.

He aimed it at the gatehouse, and a shot rang out. Then he inspected the wall of the building.

Dan snickered. "You'd better check the spares, boy."

"What's with the spares?" Beth asked.

"About half of the spare cartridges are blanks."

Astonished, she eyed her still grinning grandpa. "You're cheating?"

"Sure." He winked at her.

Spike returned to Burt and put the gun against Burt's head.

"What the fuck?" Dan said.

"It seems you're not the only one cheating." Beth felt a grim satisfaction at saying this.

Burt had taken a step away from Spike and was talking to him, the pistol still pointed at his face.

"What are they doing?" Carl hefted his gun and aimed.

"Don't," Dan said. "You could hit anyone from here. And the people at Rockburg would never forgive us if we lost their Burt."

Burt lowered his head as if beaten, stepped to the cart, turned his back on them, and started pulling the vehicle towards the other shore.

Spike stayed and pulled something from his shirt. He held it up, waving with it. It looked like a sheet of paper. Then he placed it on the ground where the cart had been, and he followed Burt.

"Cheating bastards," Dan said.

"They left something behind. I'm going to get it." Without waiting for the others' reply, Carl stepped on the bridge.

Dan lowered the hilt of his rifle to the ground. "They think they're smarter than we are. But they're going to regret it."

"How?" Beth asked.

"That stadium is towards the East of here, isn't it?"

Beth disliked where this was going. "Yes, but—"

"Good. I was planning to visit it anyway. We've got some nice weaponry that I've wanted to try for a long time." He gestured with his chin towards their chopper.

Beth had seen him and Carl loading all kinds of weapons from the vaults into the chopper before they had left. She had assumed them to be for defensives purposes, in case they got into an ambush or a fight.

She hadn't expected them to seek out that fight.

Carl had reached the center of the bridge and picked up the paper. He gave it a brief look, shook his head, and started back.

On the other side of the river, Spike and Burt had joined the others. The two shortest figures—the twins, probably—seized the cart's handle, replacing Burt. Then they all started uphill, into the city.

Carl ran back towards them, breathing heavily as he arrived. He handed the paper to Dan.

"Thank you," Dan read. "We will take the weapons back and check them more. If they are good, we will return your friend to you." He huffed. "They write friend with an 'e'."

"They'll find your blanks." Beth felt angry, knowing that her grandpa's cheating would break the deal.

"They've got no idea what a blank is," Dan said. "It goes boom, like regular ammo. They won't notice the difference until it's too late." His laugh was short and dry. "And they wouldn't release Burt anyway," Dan said. "They're smart enough to know that he's the one thing that stops me from blowing them up."

"So, what do we do now?" Carl asked.

"We need to tip the scales." Dan crumpled the paper and tossed it into the river below.

"How do we do that?" Carl asked.

The paper landed on the oily surface.

Dan looked at Beth. "How long does it take them to get back to their stadium?"

"Some hours, at least" Beth wasn't sure. It had taken her and Burt at least that much to get from the biker's depot to the river, and the stadium was even further away.

Dan nodded. "Excellent. With the chopper, we can be there long before that. This will give us ample time to get some hostages of our own."