Generation Dead (Book 3): Beyond The Gates by Joseph Talluto

bartender raised an eyebrow.  “Who do you want to meet?” He waved a hand around.  “Any of the girls will gladly talk to you.”
    “I want to talk to Jake Talon,” my brother said.
    The change in the bartender’s face was subtle, but very real. 
    “Friends of his?” he asked slowly.
    “Family friends. Heard he was here,” Jake said.
    The bartender pointed to a table with a stiff finger. “Over there, playing cards.  Big guy with the black hair and tan coat.  Can’t miss him.”
    “Thanks.” Jake took his beer and handed me mine.  I drank it sparingly, wondering what Jake was up to.
    I didn’t have long to wait.  Jake wandered over to the table and stood across from the man pointed out to us.
    “Jake Talon!  Well, I’ll be damned! I never thought I’d ever see the day!  How the hell are you?” My brother stood there with his hands on his hips, and a big smile on his face.
    The room suddenly got very quiet, and I eased my way over to the left of the room, keeping an eye on the unreal Jake.
    The fake Jake took a look at the real one and squinted his eyes.  He had a hard face that was cruel and cautious, with a straight nose and dark eyes.  His shoulders were broad, and the hand that held the cards was thick.  He looked like he could do a lot of damage if he wanted to.
    “Not sure I remember you,” Fake Jake said, looking over my brother’s gear.  “Where did we meet again?”  He dropped his hand to his lap, and I knew he was setting his hand closer to his gun, should things turn ugly.
    “Oh, come on!” Jake said. “Outside of Chicago?  You and your brother had just finished some collecting in the city.” Jake smiled and nodded his head as if enjoying the memory.
    Fake Jake looked around and saw all eyes on him.  “That’s right, Chicago.  My brother and I had just gotten out of the city ahead of a bunch of zombies.  Good thing, too.  They were right on our tails.”
    “Exactly.  I picked you two up in the boat, took you back to the capital.  What was your brother’s name again?” Jake asked.
    Fake Jake took a long look at Jake, and I could almost see him thinking about what he ought to do.  If he called Jake a liar, he’d have a fight.  If he played it out, maybe Jake would leave, and things would go back to normal. 
    “Arthur. His name was Arthur. Good to see you.” Fake Jake figured that would end the conversation.
    Jake wasn’t going to let it go.  “Arthur! Of course!” Jake looked over at me and gave me a half grin. I was going to hear about that one, I was sure. “But you talk about him as if he was not here anymore.  Is he gone?”
    Fake Jake looked up with a pained look, and I had to give him credit for the act, it was pretty good. 
    “He bought it outside Omaha.  Some drifter gone zombie crazy shot him by mistake,” Fake Jake said. There were soft murmurs of sympathy, that sort of thing really happened every once in a while.
    “I do apologize,” Jake said.  “I’ll leave you to your game.  Perhaps I could buy you a drink later, catch up on old times?” Jake leaned over the table with about as sincere a face as I had seen.
    Fake Jake smiled. “Sure enough.  Can’t remember your name, sorry.”
    “Oh, my manners!  Of course!  Sorry!” Jake stepped back and folded his arms across his abdomen. “I’m Jake Talon.  The real one,” Jake said.
    There was a collective intake of breath as the room took in that information.  There were looks between the two men, and I could see the imposter sizing up my brother.  His hand was likely on his gun now, and I shifted my grip on my tomahawk.  I figured I’d have to throw it underhand, not having time for anything else, but it would be enough of a distraction for Jake to get into action.
    A touch at my wrist made me look down. An elderly gentleman looked up at me and shook his head.  “Between them, son.  Keep it fair.” The eyes that held mine were steely, and I knew I had to leave Jake to