Toward the Brink (Book 3) by Craig A. McDonough

just wait till you get a load of what came with it,” Chess announced when he got out of the Hummer.
    “Oh, yeah, he’s a real doozy all right,” Mulhaven said through a broad grin.
    The Tall Man and Elliot exchanged looks before they turned back to Mulhaven.
    “For a moment there we thought we were in The Maltese Falcon ,” added Chess, who was becoming a more interested individual by the moment. His ride with Mulhaven had convinced him he could plan a future with this group; he could see they were out to help one another. A new concept for him, but one he was growing to like.
    Could Riley have said something that set him straight? The Tall Man wondered.
    “What are you talking about, and what the hell does the—”
    “See for yourself.” Mulhaven stepped aside for the Tall Man as the bus doors hissed open. David came out first, followed by Sam.
    “Great. Just what we need, more people.” The tall Man wiped his hand across his mouth before he waved to the soldiers behind the trees and the motor home that all was okay.
    “You expected some trouble?” Chess asked.
    “Can’t be too sure—not after last night.”
    “I hear you on that.”
    Damn, he even sounds like a different person. I need to have a chat with that wily old cop.
    “Hi, I’m Elliot, and this is Chuck.” Elliot did the official greeting.
    “Pleashed to meet ya, they call me Sham.” He stuck his hand out. While Elliot shook hands with the new arrival, the Tall Man gave Mulhaven a look of recognition.
    “Glad we found you alive, Sam,” the Tall Man managed before he placed a hand over his mouth to conceal his smirk.
    “I’m kinda glad of that too, Chuck.”
    “David, why don’t you take Sam inside for a coffee? I’m sure he’d love one of our home brews.”
    David Grigsby had just spent the drive from Prince George back to Kath’s with Sam up front next to him. David had never been a big Bogey fan, and he’d had enough of Sam’s company for one day. It wasn’t that Sam was all that bad; it was just that the whole Humphrey Bogart thing was a bit too much.
    “Sure, Chuck, sure.” David pulled his woolen cap off and trudged into the house.
    “That sounds s-s-swell. Believe I would enjoy a cup at that,” Sam said to the Tall Man, then followed David.
    “Now do you understand the reference to The Maltese Falcon ?”
    “Yeah. Yes, I do. He’ll be a real hoot on the long drive to the coast.”
    The Tall Man, Elliot, Mulhaven, and Chess all nodded as they thought of the long hours listening to Sam.
    Maybe we should have left him for the foamers .
    That thought crossed the minds of a few, but as long as he didn’t say, “play it again …,” they could endure his Bogey affliction. Besides, they weren’t heartless killers like Holmes or Etheridge. They were ruthless when it came to foamers, mutants, or looters, yes, but not Humphrey Bogart sound-alikes.
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    A fter a light meal , the group gathered in the kitchen to decide on a sleep schedule. The designated drivers would be allocated the most sleep, followed by their backups. Regardless of how different Chess sounded and acted since his return from Prince George, the Tall Man didn’t want him to be on watch without Elliot, Mulhaven, or himself—just to be sure. He would have included President Bob, as he’d begun to think of him, and Tom Transky in his group of those he trusted, but if it became necessary to take decisive action, he doubted they would be able to perform. His two partners from Twin Falls had already proven their worth.
    “Well, whoever is on the last watch can catch a few extra Zs in the motor home on the way.” Mulhaven tried to sound cheerful.
    “All right. I think the ladies and the kids can stay up a bit longer,” Bob said. “It’s too early for them to go down now, and I don’t think they need to rise too early.” He was referring to his own wife and children—the only kids in the group were his, unless you included Allan, Samantha, Cindy, or