Page 5 of After the Fade, Vol. 1 (Asheverse: B-Side)

I found them half a mile farther up the canyon. They hadn’t even tried to hide.

Four guys sat on logs around a fire.

Maybe forty yards downstream, Sugar and Jimpson were tied to a tree near the water, with the gear—tent, sleeping bags, and backpacks—on the ground next to them.

I had a decision to make.

No, scratch that. I had two decisions to make.

First, should I try to grab Sugar and Jimpson and just ride off?

Second, should I use my ability to scramble these shitheads’ brains?

The answer to the first question was a very loud no.

Maybe somebody could have done it.

Maybe Butch Cassidy or Buffalo Bill or even, on a good day, John Wayne could have done it.

But I couldn’t even sit on an old mare without getting my balls smashed flat and my neck near broke.

By the time I convinced those two horses not to kick my brains out my ear, the guys would reach me.

And, most likely, toss me straight into the river.

So, what about the second question.

After a long moment, I decided no.

I’d used my power on ordinary people.

Mostly in self-defense, but a few times out of anger and the desire to hurt.

I didn’t like how I felt when I did that.

I didn’t want to feel like that.

These guys had stolen our stuff.

They had put us in serious jeopardy—if Emmett hadn’t been around, we could have frozen to death.

Two of them were wearing Sheridan High School jackets, so they were definitely bred-in-the-bone assholes.

But I didn’t think they were killers.

I didn’t think they were monsters.

If they got dangerous, I’d reconsider.

For the moment, though, I wasn’t ready to walk into that darkness.

That raised a third question: what now?

Eyeing the gear near the horses, an idea began to take shape.

Then I studied the wooded slope of the canyon, the trees thinning before they reached the river, and I judged the position of the campfire and the two coolers these bros had packed in and the number of beer cans that were blackening on the coals.

And then I had my plan.