“I’ve been shot,” Mandell told them both.
“Who shot you?” Pinkerton asked him.
“Some bugger down there,” Mandell replied, pointing towards the door. “Think it’s Humps?”
“Humps don’t use guns,” Laurel answered.
“I saw Immolators,” Pinkerton told them.
“Immolators?” Laurel looked worried.
“s**t,” said Mandell.
“Where are the others?” Pinkerton continued.
Laurel shrugged while Mandell looked sorry for himself.
“Immolators,” Mandell reiterated. “Immolators are horrid. I don’t like Immolators.”
Hilt stayed close to the house, his twirlers in their holsters. His boots crunched on glass as he crept past the dining room window but peaking in he could only see darkness. He reached the side door and peered through the slats of the shutters into the kitchen. He saw a big man eating jam stra
