I hate this town. If the entire world is a toilet, this isn’t the drain, it’s the grime clinging to the rim. No matter how hard you scrub, you’re never going to get it all. Low-lifes, die-hards, slavers, druggies, and just enough guys with weapons to make you think twice about burning it all to the ground. Not that you’d want the land. The place is a dump, cobbled from mud and scrap wood and corrugated metal. Everyone wears rags, and they glare at you like you’re not doing your part to house the lice of the world.

In a place like this, you keep your guns hidden, but not too hidden. You don’t want people to get ideas.

I went into one of the watering holes, more hole and less watering, except if you count the mouths of all the jackals when they saw the gear I was carrying.

It helps to have a contact, even in a place like Spidertown.

“Long time no see, old man.” Even with her tan darkened by mud and her long black hair hidden under her scarf, she made my teeth ache.

“Got a job for you,” I said.

“Talk.”