The bus bumped up a rough unpaved track, a few miles from where Fred and Ed had picked Face up. It drove into a large open space, enclosed on three sides by buildings, a farmhouse in front with a barn on either side. Light streamed from the farmhouse windows.

Ed parked close to the house and as Face followed the brothers off the bus, the door opened and several people come out. A boy, around eight, dressed in jeans and a brightly coloured shirt, ran up to Ed and hugged him.

"Still up, Sam?" Ed said, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Wanted to see you come back, Ed."

"Picking up strays again?" A woman who had followed the boy, smiling at Face. She was a nice looking woman, the twins' age, with long red hair. Ed bent to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hello, Clara. This is Alvin. Just a guest for supper and the night."

"We'll set another place. Welcome, Alvin."

The three of them seemed to be a family, Face thought, yet Sam called him Ed, not Dad, and neither adult wore a wedding ring. Father Magill would be scandalised.

Sam and Clara weren't the only ones looking Face over. The others, most in their twenties and all sporting long hair and beads and bright colours, were checking him out curiously, too.

"Anyone going to help me unload?" Fred called from the back of the bus. "Or do I have to do all the work myself?"

Most of the youngsters went to help Fred. One remained - a young man with blond hair down to his shoulders. He gave Face a hard stare.

"Ed, he has a gun." He nodded at Face's hunting rifle, strapped to the side of his pack.

"Ah, yeah." Ed turned to Face, as Clara took Sam back inside. "We don't allow guns in the house." He nodded after his son. "Little hands, you know. You can leave it in the bus. I've got a lock box in there."

Give up his rifle? Face almost turned and left right then. But their objection was reasonable, if they had kids around. And of course, he had his handgun, currently buried deep in his pack. Nobody's little hands would be getting hold of that.

"Okay, that's fine," Face said.

The expression on the face of the blond man suggested he didn't find it fine at all. He started to say something, but Ed spoke over him.

"Fred could use help unloading, Jeffrey."

Jeffrey gave Face a last dirty look and turned away. Face followed Ed back onto the bus, handed over the rifle and watched Ed place it in a footlocker and secure that with a padlock.

"We'll be putting the bus in the barn and that's locked up too," Ed said. "So it's safe."

"Come on, come on," Face heard Fred say from the back of the bus, hurrying along the youngsters unloading the supplies. "It's late. Let's move it." Ed glanced that way too and gave a small frown. Did he hear a nervous edge to Fred's voice too, Face wondered? The man sounded just a tiny bit panicked.

A few minutes later, Face sat down with at least twenty other people at a long dining table in the huge farmhouse kitchen. This must be one of those hippie communes, he supposed. Ed and Clara seemed to be the "mom and dad" in charge of the place. Most of the others were just kids, in their twenties, only a couple of them over thirty.

The food was vegetarian, with plenty of vegetables and beans and lentils and the like. Face didn't have anything against vegetarian food as such; he just thought most of it would serve as an excellent accompaniment to a nice steak. But right now, he didn't care; it was home cooked, tasty and substantial. And it wasn't rabbit.

He deflected questions about himself by asking them about the commune, gleaned it was a community for artists and creative types who wanted to live a peaceful, simple life. But they either grew or made by hand most of what they needed to live here, so Face guessed they didn't spend all day lying around smoking weed and listening to Dylan.

Of course, he caught the eye of several of the girls around the table. Most of them were probably paired off with the guys, but these hippie types believed in free love, didn't they?

That's enough of that, he chided himself, directing his attention back to his food. This is just a bed for the night, before I get back on the road in the morning. No distractions. No complications. Must get to LA. Must get to Murdock. And that one with the brown hair and the stars painted on her forehead is giving me the look...

No. No distractions. Eat, sleep and get out of here. He wondered if he'd be able to charm one of the twins into driving him all the way into town tomorrow.

The sleeping arrangements for the single men looked a bit too communal for Face, who'd had his fill of sleeping in a room with a dozen other people. Anyway, that Jeffrey was still giving him the evil eye, so he asked if he could use the old couch in the big, warm kitchen instead and said he wanted to get to sleep right away. Ed tried to persuade him otherwise, but Face insisted.

Clara brought him blankets and pillows and pointed out the bathroom. He found that as clean as the kitchen had been, and guessed Clara was as much into elbow grease as she was into flower power.

After washing up, Face came back into the kitchen to find Fred closing the shutters across the windows, and checking the door out to the yard. He shot the bolts across at the top and bottom of the door and double-checked the lock.

"Everything okay?" Face asked. He couldn't imagine they had much of a burglary problem out here.

"Oh, you know, better safe than sorry." Fred gave him a weak smile. "You sure you want to stay in here? Plenty of space in the bedrooms."

"Yeah, this is fine."

"Fred," Clara said, from where she stood by the door, brushing her hair. "Let him rest."

"Yeah, just making sure we're all locked up." Fred said, nodding. "It is payday."

"Fred." Ed's voice came from somewhere beyond Clara.

"Okay, man, don't hassle me." Fred scowled, but smiled when he turned to nod at Face. "See you in the morning, Al."

"Night," Face said as Fred left, closing the door behind him. Face stripped down to his shorts and snuggled into his blankets. What Fred said chewed on his mind for a few minutes.

Payday? What the hell was payday? It made the residents nervous whatever it was. Well, maybe he'd find out, maybe not. It didn't matter. A bed for the night, that's all. Seemed like nice people, but he'd be gone tomorrow.

No distractions.

~o~

Face didn't know if it was the scream or the crash that woke him. He just knew that one second he was dead to the world and the next, sitting up wide-awake.

Who screamed? A woman? No, a child. Not Sam. A younger voice. There must be younger kids he hadn't seen, already in bed when he arrived.

The crashing again and he realised it came from outside. Glass breaking against the heavy shutters.

Then he heard the gunshot.

In an instant, Face was on the floor and rummaging in his pack for his handgun. He found it by touch, then wriggled into his jeans, still staying low. A shaft of light suddenly poured through the door and Ed ran over and hauled Face to his feet.

"Come on, you're safer through here."

"What's going on?"

Face let Ed pull him from the room. He found the commune's residents out there in the hallway, some of the women carrying small children. As Face watched, they followed Clara through a door and down some steps to a basement.

"What is this?" Face demanded.

He got no answer, because they were staring at the handgun, looking nervous. All but Ed, who just looked mad. Face put the gun behind his back, checking first there was nobody there to nudge it. More noise came from outside. Revving engines, shouts, smashing glass again. Not windows though, Face thought. Sounded like bottles thrown against the wall.

"That town we mentioned," Fred explained, while Ed turned away and went on hustling the others down to the basement. "It's a mining town." He flinched at the sound of a gunshot. "They get paid once a month and a bunch of them go on a bender and like to come up here and scare the freaks." He finished the words bitterly.

Payday. Face could picture the scene out there. Drunken jerks making a lot of noise, smashing windows, taking pot shots. No wonder the commune made sure to lock up the house tight.

"Haven't you gone to the sheriff?" Face asked.

"Oh, yeah, the sheriff's department is real sympathetic to us."

Face grimaced. Yeah, there's that of course. But they couldn't just let this happen month after month surely?

"What the hell do you do about it?" Face demanded.

"We lie low," Ed said, coming back, everyone else gone downstairs now. He took Face's arm, but Face pulled away from him.

"You just hide in the basement and let them smash the place up? What would you do if they got in?"

"They can't get in," Ed insisted. "Come down into the cellar now, please. We'll talk about the gun later."

"No." Face didn't even try to keep the sneer out of his voice. "You go hide in the dark and I'll stay up here and guard you and your families. I guess that's what they trained me for." He turned away and, as he did, he heard Fred's voice.

"Aw, man, his back..." Then the basement door slammed, cutting him off.

Face strode back into the kitchen, the racket still coming from outside. He crouched by the door, and checked the clip in his pistol. Full, but even so, he scooted across the floor to grab a spare from his pack. Then he settled against the wall beside the door, his bare back pressed up against the stone.

Face readied himself for a long night of guard duty.