CHAPTER 3
“Why would someone try to sabotage us by poisoning our produce? I mean, stores exist. It’s not like we’ll starve.” I take a bite of sausage to emphasize the point. We might live like peasants, but we certainly aren’t. Moving out to the boonies was a decisive act—like an old grouch shaking a cane at the neighbor kids, we just wanted a little peace and quiet.
“It’s not just the produce—yeah, we can get that at the store,” Ryder says between bites. “But we’re looking at a complete loss. They took out everything.”
Ah. I’ll admit that I’m not entirely sure what vast array of items Rooster grows back there, but Ryder uses plants to make designer drugs, some manner of hallucinogenics. Safer than synthetics, and they fetch a high price with a very specific—very wealthy—Grunge clientel
