He began pacing, slowly, methodically. “That’s better than a doctor. So, to summarize: You got a helicopter. You got military-issue rifles. You got, well, plumbing—I mean, you’re clean, all of you. You even got ...” He stopped dead in his tracks, dead in front of Sam. “You even got—a girl!” He screwed up his face suddenly and leaned back, staring at Joan, who glowered at him. “Make that plural. Sorry. It’s just that ...” He looked Sam up and down. “It isn’t always this easy to tell—”
“Look, what do you want?” I snapped.
Atticus reared his head back as though he’d been wounded. “Jesus! Tone. I was just going to say how important it is for the fairer s*x to be represented in any post-apocalyptic scenario. You know, women.” He leaned close to me, I have no idea why. “My boys call them tasse
