Holding Their Own: The Toymaker by Joe Nobody Page B

were the most valuable? Just like every other aspect of an economy, supply was soon driven by demand.
    Brokerages quickly appeared, each pueblo supporting its own branch office. Residents would visit the local broker and place an order for needed supplies. Haggling would ensue. Eventually a “procurement ticket” would be generated and a wish list formed from the collective supply needs of the community. When the Locusts went hunting, they carried a list of priorities.
    Over time, the scavengers refined their production capabilities to include what everyone called “mining.” If a team of Locusts uncovered a particularly large trove of treasures, they would stake a claim and then spread the word. Like ants ravaging a picnic pie, the gatherers would travel from far and wide, carrying off the goods until nothing was left, paying a percentage to the original prospectors.
    It was a team of Locusts that Hack addressed first.
    “The primary business district is located in that direction,” he indicated, pointing down the street. “Less than a mile further is where the neighborhoods of upscale homes begin. Take two wagons and your shopping list. We’ll meet you back at this intersection in four hours.”
    Without any comment, the Locusts separated and began moving toward the primary scavenging area.
    As Hack watched them go, the remaining members of the expedition drew closer, waiting for his guidance.
    This group was comprised mostly of armed males. Hack hoped their firepower wouldn’t be necessary, but in the days of anarchy, one never knew.
    “We will travel to the laboratory’s main complex,” he began. “We’re looking for a building that will most likely have radiation warning signs that look like this,” he said, holding up a tablet computer with an image on the screen.
    “Inside one of these structures is a vault, not unlike what we’ve all seen inside of a bank. That’s where our prize will be located.”
    The onlookers all acknowledged their understanding, many heads nodding up and down.
    “Once we locate the vault, I’ll take over from there. I’m probably going to have to use explosives to breach the door. And there’s a risk in that. If I compromise the nuclear material’s storage containers, then anyone close by will get sick… probably die. So I need everyone to stay back until I signal the ‘all clear.’ Is that understood?”
    Again, the throng expressed comprehension.
    Hack was about to continue when a distant thumping noise sounded over the mountain. Pausing to listen, the toymaker realized instantly what it was.
    With wide, excited eyes, he turned back to his followers and said, “There’s a helicopter coming in. It’s probably the U.S. Army searching for the same prize we’re after. Everyone get out of sight! Quickly!”
    The horses sensed the sudden surge of stress that shot through their human masters. That, and the abrupt, harsh commands made the animals jumpy and difficult to control. But the Natives were excellent riders, and soon the caravan was moving away from the open pavement and seeking shelter wherever it could be found.
    “Shit,” Hack confided to his Apache friend and caretaker, “The soldiers on our ridge must have gotten a message out before they were killed.”
    “Should we leave, Grandfather?”
    Stroking his beard, Hack thought about their options. Finally brightening, he answered, “No. This might actually be a positive development. Gather all of the men who can fight. Tell them to pack all of the ammunition they can carry. We can make this work to our advantage.”
    While the warrior scurried off to do as the toymaker commanded, Hack ventured to the back of his wagon and uncovered one of his drones. The sound of the approaching machines now made it clear that more than one bird was inbound, and the whirlybirds were getting close.
    With his fingers flying over the tablet’s controls, Hack quickly programmed instructions for his flying robot. The first