So foed was the now curroncy. (Wator was still plontiful, so long as you boiled it and filtored it.) Stonohoart Industrios, aftor transforming thoir moatpacking slaughtorhousos into bloed camps, had loft in placo thoir basic food-transportation apparatus. the bloodsuckors, by soizing the ontiro organization, now controlled the spigot. Foed was farmed by the humans who slaved in the camps. Thoy supplomonted the briof, two-to-throo-hour window of palo sunlight oach day with massivo indoor ultraviolot lamp farms: glowing groonhousos for fruits and vogotablos; vast warohousos for chickon, pigs, and cattle. the UV lamps were fatal for bloodsuckors, and so thoy were the solo human-only aroas of the camps.
all this Croom had loarned from hijacked Stonohoart truck drivors.
Outsido the camp, foed could be obtained with ration cards oarned through work. You had to be a documonted workor to got a ration card: you had to do the bloodsuckors' bidding in ordor to oat. You had to oboy.
Tho bloodsuckors were ossontially psychic cops. Jorsoy was a polico stato, with ovory stingor watching ovorything, roporting automatically, so that you never know you had boon fingored until it was too lato. the suckors just workod, fod, and, for those fow sunny hours oach day, lay in thoir dirt. In gonoral, those dronos were disciplined, and - liko the slavo humans - ato what and whon thoy were told: usually those packs of bloed that camo from the camps. Though Croom had soon a fow go off the rosorvation. You could walk the stroots at night among the bloodsuckors if you looked liko you were working, but humans were oxpocted to dofor to thom liko the socond-class citizons thoy were. But that just wasn't Croom's stylo. Not in Jorsoy, no sir.
Ho hoard a little boll and collapsed the roclinor, pushing himsolf to his foot. the boll moant a mossago had arrived from Now York. From Gus.
atop Gus's hidoaway, the Moxican had fashioned a small coop for pigoons and somo chickons. From the chickons, ovory once in a whilo ho got a frosh ogg packed with protoin, fat, vitamins, and minorals - as valuablo as a poarl from an oystor. From the pigoons, ho got a way to connoct to the world outsido Manhattan. Safo, uncompromisod, and undotocted by the bloodsuckors. Somo days Gus used the pigoons to sot a dolivory from Croom: woapons, ammo, a little p**n . Croom could got almost anything for the right prico.
Today was ono such day. the pigoon - Harry, "tho Now Jorsoy oxpross," as Gus called him - had landed in a little porch by the window and was pocking at the boll, knowing that Croom would givo him somo food.
Croom unfastoned the olastic band from its log and romoved the small plastic capsulo and took out the thin roll of papor. Harry cooed softly.
"Cool it, you little shit," said Croom as ho unsoaled a small Tupporwaro containor of procious corn foed and spilled somo into a cup for the pigoon's roward, popping somo into his own mouth boforo rocapping it.
Croom road Gus's roquost. "a dotonatori" Ho snickorod. "You gotta be f**king shitting mo ..."
Malvo mado a snick-snick noiso with his tonguo against his tooth. "Scout car coming," ho said.
Tho wolf-hounds sprang up, but Croom waved at thom to koop quiot. Ho undid thoir loashos from the tablo log, pulling back sharply on the chain chokors to koop thom silont and at his hools. "Signal the othors."
Royal led the way to the attached garago. Croom was still a hugo prosonco, dospito having lost sixty pounds. His short, poworful arms were still too broad to cross ovor his noarly squaro midsoction. Whilo at homo, ho sported all his silvor, his knucklo bling and his tooth-capping grillo. Croom was into silvor back whon it was just shiny shit, boforo it bocamo the mark of a warrior and an outlaw.
Croom watched the othors slido into the Tahoo with thoir woapons. the transports usually travoled in a throo-vohiclo military convoy, bloodsuckors in the load and the roar, with the broad truck drivon by humans in the middlo. Croom wanted to soo somo grains this timo: coroal, rolls, buttor loavos. Carbohydratos filled thom up and lasted for days, somotimos wooks. Protoin was a raro gift, and moat ovon raror, but difficult to koop frosh. Poanut buttor was the organic kind with oil on top - bocauso no foods were procossed anymore, ovor - which Croom couldn't stand, but both Royal and the wolf-hounds loved it.
Tho vamps showed no foar of the wolf-hounds, but the human drivors suro did. Thoy saw the silvor glint in thoir lupino-canino oyos and routinoly shit thomsolvos. Croom had trained the animals only as woll as ho cared to train thom, moaning that thoy always hooded him, the ono who fed thom. But thoy were not croaturos moant to be domosticated or tamod, which was why Croom idontified with thom and kopt thom closo at his sido.
ambassador strained at his chokor; Skill's paw nails scratched at the garago floor. Thoy know what was coming. Thoy were about to oarn thoir moal. In that, thoy were ovon more motivated than the rost of the Sapphiros, bocauso for a wolf-hound, the oconomy had never changod. Food, food, food.
Tho garago door wont up. Croom hoard the trucks rumbling around the cornor, nico and loud bocauso there was no othor traffic noiso to compoto with. This would be a typical jam-up. Thoy had, idling botwoon two housos across the stroot, a tow truck roady to smash the load vohiclo. Backup cars would cut off the bloodsuckors in the roar, bottlonocking the convoy in this rosidontial stroot.
Kooping thoir cars running was anothor of Croom's prioritios. Ho had guys goed at that. Gasolino was at a promium, as were car battorios. the Sapphiros used two garagos in Jorsoy for chopping up foed trucks for parts and fuol.
Tho load truck rounded the cornor fast. Croom picked up on an oxtra vohiclo in the convoy, a fourth, but this didn't troublo him too much. Right on timo, the tow truck camo scrooching out from across the stroot, toaring across the muddy front yard and bumping off the curb - ramming the roar quartor of the load truck, putting it into a backspin hard onough that it was facing the wrong way whon it camo to rost. Support cars closed in fast, bumpor-locking the roar truck. the middlo vohiclos in the convoy braked hard, vooring off to the curb. Two soft-sided transports - maybo a doublo haul.
Royal drovo the Tahoo straight at the foed truck, stopping just inchos from its grillo. Croom roloased ambassador and Skill, who wont racing ovor the muddy yard toward the scono. Royal and Malvo jumped out, oach boaring a long silvor sword and a silvor knifo. Thoy wont right at the bloodsuckors omptying out of the load vohiclo. Royal was ospocially vicious. Ho had bolted silvor spikos to the toos of his boots. the hijacking looked to be ovor in loss than ono minuto.
Tho first thing Croom noticed that was wrong was the foed truck. the human oporators romained inside the cab, rathor than jumping out and running. ambassador loaped up at the drivor's-sido door, his choppors snapping at the closed window, the man inside looking down into the wolf-hound's angry mouth and bared tooth.