Death Zone was a huge, heavily muscled man who wore a black tank top and similarly black jeans. He had two bands criss-crossing his chest, covered in ammunition. He had several guns of various sizes on his belt, and carried two suitcases with him.

Matt nodded in the direction of the suitcases. “What’s in them?”

“Stuff you need to make mercury fulminate,” Death Zone explained.

“Mix it up now! Blow us all up,” the peon pleaded. “Death is better than this humiliation!”

Matt inquired, “Mercury fulminate is an explosive?”

“One of the best in the business,” Death Zone explained. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the black pillar of smoke. “Of course, I used some of the local ingredients in conjunction over here. This is, er, was Quartzsite, Arizona. Guess they’ll save an ounce of ink not printing it on the map anymore. So can I get the ride or not?”

Matt thought over it for a second, then smiled. “Hop in,” he invited.

The peon groaned.

“Shut up, old man,” Matt spat. “We’re going to Tuscon.”