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Post by warsparrow on Jul 22, 2014 12:49:23 GMT -6
Suburban Myth: Bob’s Story
Chapter 1
Informant
Heroin.
That was bad enough, but this?
“It just like Heroin, but we can make it right here out of Fuel injector cleaner and stuff” The chapter leader was telling them.
“What’s this stuff called?” The one called Warthog asked.
“Methamphetamine, street name is just meth” He was saying.
Michael “Tubby” Behren spoke up.
“Wasn’t that the stuff them high school kids were trying to make when they blew their house up?”
He asked.
“Yep, and because of it we got a readymade market” The chapter leader grinned.
********
This was not how things were supposed to be For Michael Behren. He had been raised on stories his uncle had told of him and his flying buddies returning from Korea and buying motorcycles to tour the US.
He had told of the camaraderie and friendships that still lasted to this day, though as the years past there were fewer and fewer of them.
He started out as a plebe and found out that things weren’t like that anymore. The biker gangs he had seen were little more than drug and weapons running lowlife’s.
But the money was good and so were the other ….Benefits. When they found out he was good at math they made him an accountant, keeping track of all the money they were making and setting up places to hide it.
But selling Fuel injector cleaner made into drugs to kids?
He made his decision right then.
“Tubby” The Leader said.
“Yes?” He asked, running his fingers through his long beard.
“I need you in So Cal, ASAP. One of your connections there said he can get us in touch with somebody there who can get us all the ingredients we need, in quantity. Make this happen”
Tubby was on his chopper and riding through the night, down the coast to L.A.
He met the connection, who put him in touch with some Mexican smugglers, he made the deal and arranged few other meetings besides that for himself.
*****
Special Agent Marciallo stared across the table at the biker; he had a scraggly beard and tattoos everywhere, his leather jacket was adorned with patches with meanings he couldn’t care to decipher.
“If you do this for us then we can guarantee you a new identity and a new life; but only after you do as we ask” He said, and slid several pieces of paper toward the fat biker to sign.
He hadn’t actually expected the biker to read the paperwork before signing it.
“This is unacceptable” He said simply and stood to leave.
“Why?” The agent asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“I will not agree to anything that doesn’t provide me with full immunity” Tubby said.
The agent left the room and returned with another document.
Tubby read it over and signed it.
The agents outfitted Tubby’s old school 78’ XL with listening devices and he headed back home to the club house.
The agents got more than they could have ever hoped for.
Michael “Tubby” Behren’s work as an informant sent more than thirty members of his old gang to the slam for a good long time. His time in the FBI’s safe house awaiting the trial was well spent. He cut his hair and beard; he got Gastric bypass surgery and began losing weight like nobody’s business. Laser Tattoo removal businesses were making tons of government dollars removing what it had taken years to accumulate.
In the end he hadn’t even been needed, all of the guilty members agreed to plea bargains and it was done.
As for “Tubby” Behren? His dead and desiccated body was found next to his bike in the Arizona desert. They said he had been dead for months, probably killed by the very Mexican smugglers he was supposed to be meeting with when the raid on the clubhouse went down.
Michael had no idea where the FBI had gotten a body from, and he didn’t really want to know; but when he saw the picture of what they did to his motorcycle he almost cried.
Special Agent Marciallo was very helpful in making sure that Michael was taken care of afterwards.
“Now that you are dead, we can safely move you to a new identity and a new life.”
The agent dropped a large white binder in front of the now completely changed ex biker.
“What is this?” He man asked while sitting on the Hotels rooms’ only chair.
“That is all the details of your new life. You are now Robert James Beech, Accountant. You have recently moved from the Sunny coast to take you new job at Goskins and Servino Accounting. All of your certificates and bonafide’s are in there, as well as other details of your life you should read and remember”
Then he dropped an only slightly smaller binder on top of the first.
“And that?” the newly minted Robert Beech asked.
“Those are the rules and regulations of the Home owners Association where your home is located; you will learn those as well, because stepping out of line and blowing your identity by some stupid action Bob will not be tolerated” The Agent said.
Great, I have just become and office drone and am now living the suburban dream.
Chapter two
Sneaky
What no one knew Except Robert Beech was that the FBI weren’t the only people he had arranged to meet in southern California.
He had also met with some people who were exceptional at making fake ID’s.
He now had papers for Hector Guzman, a name they had picked from a movie actor who was in one of the current box office smashes.
He then took the papers to the local Motor vehicle bureau and got himself a driver’s license, the woman behind the counter didn’t even seem to care that he neither looked like he was Mexican, nor that he couldn’t speak Spanish.
From there he went to the nearest national bank and opened up an account. Putting the $2500 dollars he had brought to grease palms and influence people into his new account. When the bank person placed a paper in front of him asking where the money came from, he literally wrote ‘for selling donkey’
Again the banker didn’t bat an eye and he was on his way.
From that day on until the FBI raided the clubhouse, he made it a point to embezzle what he could from the gang’s illicit enterprises.
And all the while ‘Hector Guzman’ used the money that was in there to pay bills and make payments to imaginary car lots, until three years later it was all secure in his local bank.
Last year he had quit the Accounting firm and opened up his own. He bought another hog to replace his, this one a real old school panhead ’64. Of course he had to keep it in his garage so no one would see it, but he still had it and that’s what mattered.
With tax season over and the books balanced he began to think that he could actually make money doing this, he looked around at what his suburban wonk neighbors were doing with their money and decided to do the same. He bought a set of golf clubs, but never golfed. He bought a Beemer, only to find out that they were out of ‘style’. He drove it anyway and figured next year he would buy whatever was ‘In Style’.
He made on trip out to Nevada, off a little dirt road.
And brought a shovel.
He literally dug up part of his past and brought it home.
Money wasn’t the only thing he had taken some of.
He sat in his ‘Man Cave’ as these suburbanite’s called their basement and carefully stripped and cleaned the AK, then the pistols. The gold coins were just as he left them sealed and mint.
The next day he went to the gun store and bought as much ammo as he thought he could without raising suspicions, and a few extra magazines for the weapons he had. He thought about buying a few things under his other alias but decided against it. He might be able to get away with it in California but in Central Ohio that wouldn’t fly.
He would have to trust that the full auto machine gun would function because there was no way he was going to be able to shoot it around here, but the pistols he took to a local range, bought more magazines and ammunition and practiced with them.
He knew that there were still members of his old gang on the loose, and even though they were a long way away; sometimes luck was a fickle thing, and he might be made, even though he looked nothing like he had before.
Over the next year he picked up two nice corporate accounts and spent most of his time working with them to get their financial houses in order. The downturn in the economy meant that everyone was scrambling to cut the fat and run as lean as they could.
With all of that taken care of and the tax season just around the corner Bob had been busier than he had ever been.
Tax season took longer than he had hoped and he just wanted some time off, but he remembered what he had promised himself. So he looked around the neighborhoods and the ‘in’ thing seemed to be SUV’s, so he went down to the local new car dealer to look at what they had.
He ended up buying the most expensive one on the lot, the X90; then he went to the travel agency and arranged to vacation like he had never had in his life, Europe, the Middle East, Africa.
All he had to do was get his passport and shots. He would do those things first thing in the morning.
Michael Behren’s new life as Bob Beech was really starting to come up roses.
Chapter 3
Day Zero
The rumbling and ground shaking woke him from his sound sleep, the house was completely dark and the clock wasn’t working.
‘earthquake’ he thought sleepily, then remembered he was no longer in California. Either way it wasn’t serious, maybe a four on the Richter scale and went back to sleep.
He woke up early the next day ready to go and get his passport photo and get shopping for his trip.
The power was out and he remembered last night’s rumble. Probably a PCB thingy blowing up, they’ll have it fixed by the time he got back from the photo place.
He stepped out and noticed it was quieter than usual, he went to the mailbox and it was empty, unusual but not unheard of. Back inside he drank some orange juice and walked into the attached garage, he had to pull the emergency chain to open the garage, he was looking forward to his first real drive in the shiny new status symbol.
He turned the key.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
This cannot be happening! This thing cost almost as much as his parents house! He got out his phone determined to have the dealer personally out here fixing his car.
The phone was dead.
He went back inside and tried the wall phone.
Dead too.
Portable radio.
He knew he had a portable radio, The kind with the hand crank; one of those free convention giveaways for attending a boring accounting conference. He rummaged through the junk drawer and found among the other useless baubles he had been given as promos over the last three years.
The radio wouldn’t even come on.
He cranked and cranked.
Nope dead too.
Well, he just would have to wait to get his picture taken then.
He walked back outside with his orange juice to wait for the mail man.
Jerry the Homeowners association president came walking over from his house across the street.
“Bob, we need to do something about that Hausen guy down the street” He said as a way of introduction.
“How so Jerry?” bob asked, trying to sound interested.
“He put up a large sign in his front yard, clearly against the HOA rules” He said “Look you can see it from here.
“Bob looked over to where the sign had been placed, he could clearly read it from his yard.
‘Important meeting at Noon here’
Bob could tell by the lettering and little pictures that it had been made by the Man’s kids. He would have liked to tell Jerry to just mind his own business, if the guy wanted to have a meeting let him; if Jerry didn’t like it then don’t attend.
But that wasn’t how Bob was supposed to act and he knew it.
“You can send him a HOA letter demanding he remove it under section 5 of the charter” Bob recited the correct action to take.
“No time, and the powers out anyway” Jerry Replied.
“We could go over there now as Representatives and ask them to remove it” Bob said, knowing he would rather not.
“No he left a little while ago on his bicycle and I don’t want to mess with his wife, that bitch is unstable”
Bob was taken aback by the HOA president’s assessment of the guy Frank’s wife. He knew that the two families had clashed in the past and Jerry had come out the loser, but that was a little extreme.
“You know if you say that she can sue you for slander” Bob said.
“I know, but it’s just you and me here, right buddy?” He said, showing one of his famous Greasy smiles.
Maybe instead of taking a vacation he should put his out up for sale and move to a better place; that would be a vacation.
“He’ll be back before noon though for the meeting, we’ll just have to make sure we’re there to meet him” Jerry smiled again.
Bob excused himself and closed his garage door, then headed inside.
Bob busied himself by cleaning out his freezer, most of the stuff was technically still usable but he knew his homeowners insurance would cover it, and besides it was jerry and his neighbors to the right were doing.
He never even got their names they were so snooty, but he had been using them and Jerry as example of how he should act and appear. He now owned shirts in metrosexual colors he would have never been seen in public wearing before, and had professionally landscaped begonias in the front yard. His only consolation to himself he had made was having a pear tree put in the back yard, he loved pears.
He went to his bedroom and opened his dresser drawer, inside were four high end watches, things he wore to impress people, when he needed to. The Movado didn’t interest him at all, the submariner was too flashy and the Tag Heuer needed its servicing. That left the Omega and the skeleton backed Seiko Kinetic.
He chose the Seiko because he could see it still ticking away happily, and strapped it on. He changed into a dark blue dress shirt and his comfortable dockers.
Then he met Jerry and his wife Margaret outside his front door.
They way Jerry’s wife eyed him up and dawn made him uncomfortable. He had never been a great looking guy, and he had been fat most of his life, so he wasn’t used to ‘those’ kind of looks; Especially from somebody else’s wife.
They walked across the street as a crowd gathered and watched as Margret looked down at the playing kids on the sidewalk with distain.
Soon Frank came riding up and patently ignoring everyone in his yard rode up his driveway to the garage. The guy was wearing a children’s back pack and had rigged his bicycle up like some third world delivery cart covered with milk crates.
Frank disappeared into his back yard and Bob had to remind Jerry that entering someone’s yard uninvited was a serious breach of the Rules.
Jerry was agitated at that but they walked back to the front lawn where the people had gathered. Bob knew that Jerry had a serious Bug up his ass against Frank and would do anything int his power to make the Guys living here uncomfortable. He knew Jerry hated franks less than new van, his really old station wagon and just generally everything about Frank and his family.
Frank walked out of his front door holding something in his hands and Jerry went to speak, Bob knew the guy and his methods and he knew the associated president would try to take command of the meeting early and control it for the duration.
“Shut up” He heard Frank say to Jerry and if he had just been drinking anything he would have had it come out of his nose from the expression Jerry made. His memories instantly brought to mind the picture of Lee Harvey Oswald being shot right in front of that Texas Ranger, and the look on the rangers face in the photo.
Jerry marched over to the sign to tear it down, he looked at Frank and thought that if Jerry tore the sign down Frank might leap off of his porch and pummel the HOA president into the grass.
“If you touch my sign I will sue you and anyone helping you” Frank said.
And an argument ensued.
Bob wished he was on vacation already.
He came back to listening when Frank said
‘Planes falling out of the sky’ and ‘Terrorist attack’
Wait, what planes? Terrorist attack? Could that be what had woke him up last night?
“I past a police car on my way home last night that had already been looted” Frank was saying.
“You don’t know the radios out and they would have said something” Jerry interjected.
Bob was pretty sure that was the stupidest thing to ever come out of Jerry’s mouth.
“It’s getting worse out there” Frank said and held up an old tire pump, that was bent and covered with blood.
“This thing saved my life today”
Franks daughter wanted to know if that was blood on it. “Well I’m calling the police!” Jerry called out triumphantly.
Frank threw his phone at the man.
“Here use my phone” He called.
“The phones do not work!” Margaret screeched.
“Then drive there!” Frank yelled back at her.
Bob thought it was a good time to point out his new Mercedes wouldn’t Work.
Margaret turned to him.
“You bought the new X90?” She purred at him.
That made Bob more than uncomfortable.
He realized someone else had asked something.
“When will the power come back on?” A woman he didn’t know asked.
“I’m guessing never” Frank replied.
“You don’t know anything!” Jerry started yelling.
Bob turned around and started heading back to his house, he needed a drink right now.
“I’m trying to keep people alive here!” He heard Frank shout as bob crossed the street.
He poured himself a tall scotch and went back out to sit under the pear tree.
Terrorist attack? Power never coming back on? If only he had the internet to look all of this up. He downed the Beefeater and contemplated what all of it meant.
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Post by warsparrow on Jul 22, 2014 12:49:56 GMT -6
busy week, but something to keep you occupied.
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Post by ydderf on Jul 23, 2014 14:53:06 GMT -6
Thanks for the new story
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Post by nancy1340 on Jul 24, 2014 0:41:18 GMT -6
Thanks
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Post by warsparrow on Jul 24, 2014 11:01:55 GMT -6
Chapter 4
Neighbors
About an hour after he had finished his drink Jerry was back in his driveway.
His pants were torn and he looked like he had gotten himself a shiner too. Did he and Frank finally come to blows?
“You look like hell” Bob said.
“I got jumped on the way to the police station on my bike” Jerry said spitting blood out of his mouth onto Bob’s immaculate driveway.
“You have a motorcycle and it ran?” Bob asked.
“No, those things’ll kill you; I meant my Cannondale” He said.
Bob should have known his neighbor wouldn’t have a motorcycle.
“You heard what Frank said, he almost got jumped too” Bob said and then immediately regretted it.
“Don’t talk to me about that factory monkey; you know he said he was going to be armed from now on? I know there has to be something in the rules about that!” He spit out blood again.
“Why are you here Jerry?” Bob asked cutting the man tirade short.
“My wife says she won’t touch my injuries, so I was wondering if you could, you know…” Jerry said as a way of asking for medical aid.
“I have nothing to help you” Bob started “But the Bendarski’s next door have three boys, she should have something”
Jerry nodded and just stood there for a moment.
“You know what the worst part was?” He said
‘The fact that you got your ass beat for not listening?’ Bob wanted to say, but instead he kept his mouth shut.
“When I got to the police station, I had to wait in a line!, and when I finally got to talk to the person behind the glass all she asked was if anyone was killed. When I said no, she blew me off! Me! I started to remind her who she worked for and paid her salary and this big cop came along and told me to leave or he would throw me in jail! Me! Said he had more important things to worry about”
“How bad was it at the station?” Bob asked, suddenly more interested.
“Hot, stinky, no air conditioning; I’ mean Christ the things only what four years old, you’d think if anything was working around here it would be the police station!” He could tell Jerry was getting his Dander up.
“How many police were there? Did they have any working police cars?” Bob asked probing his irate neighbor.
“Not that I saw. There were maybe three police inside from what it looked like, two older guys and of course that thug in uniform who told me to leave. I should have gotten his badge number and reported him, what would show him!”
Bob had heard enough. “Why don’t you head back home and I’ll see what I can get and meet you there” He said.
“Fine, sorry about your driveway” He said and stomped back across the street.
He walked across his front lawn to the neighbor’s house. This would be the first time since moving in that he would be making a social call to his neighbors, at first he thought that moving into the suburbs was the worst place that the Witness protection Program could put him, but he soon realized that it might be the best.
All of these people were so wrapped up in their own lives and keeping up appearances that none of the even bothered to come out and talk to each other, and when they did it was only to gather gossip or spread a juicy rumor or two.
It was so that he didn’t even know who had kids or not because they all stayed inside playing video games and such; all except Franks two girls, who when they did go out always prompted Jerry’s wife to call the police on them.
He knocked politely on the Bendarski’s front door and wasn’t surprised when one of the boys answered. He didn’t even talk to Bob, he just turned and yelled.
“It’s for you mom” then he walked past bob and got on his bike and rode away; no one was likely to rob that kid of his bike.
Crap. What was her name?
“Hi bob what can I do for you?” She asked through the screen door.
“I…Uhh..Jerry got jumped and his bike stolen, he could use some peroxide and bandaids if you can spare some” He said.
“Really? Jerry the Jerk got his ass beat and his pretty bike stolen; any other juicy gossip I should know?” she asked and held the door open for him.
He told her what Jerry had said to him about the police station and the way he was treated.
“Well it serves him right; he’s a loud mouth and his wife is a petty shrieking Shrew” She said “Watch out for that one, she loves money and status”
She handed him a half bottle of peroxide from the box store and some cotton balls, along with about five bandaids.
“Thanks, I’m sure Jerry would appreciate it” Bob said as he left.
“I didn’t do it for him” she said and closed the screen door after he left.
He walked across the street. He could smell Frank Hausen and his wife barbequing and realized he had no idea what he was going to have for dinner.
He also thought about how little he actually knew about his neighbors, after three years he knew more about his clients than he did about the people he lived next to.
Maybe in the next few days he would have to make the rounds and get to know them, after all they were all in this together.
He knocked on Jerry’s door and Margaret answered.
“Come on in Bob, Jerry’s in the Kitchen” she said and held the door open for him, but didn’t move out of the way.
He had to squeeze past her and could swear she pushed her chest out when he did so.
Jerry was glad to see the accountant and took the items that Bob had in his hands. He cleaned himself up while Margret made small talk about how Bob’s business was going, who his new clients were, before she moved on to asking about his new X90.
He told her about picking it up the day before, how much it had cost, the leather interior, all those things that a guy who had bought those things was supposed to talk about. In reality all he really wanted to do was make some excuse to extricate himself from their house and get back home.
“Oh we made some dinner, would you care to join us?” she asked.
Bob perked up at that, maybe he could spend a few more minutes there, depending on their bar selection.
“Can I interest you in a scotch Bob?” Jerry asked.
“I would love one” bob replied.
Jerry poured himself two fingers full and the same for Bob.
Margaret poured herself a Chardonnay, almost to the top.
Jerry took a strong gulp and went into what looked like an epileptic fit.
“Damn that stings” he said and bob realized the cuts inside Jerry’s mouth were reminding him of his earlier defeat.
They had caviar, cheese, crackers and one of those bag salads you buy in the prepared meals section of the grocery store. Jerry and Margaret continued to drink and make small talk about inconsequential things like Jerry’s timeshare in Boca and how they were thinking about heading there next week.
Bob could have told them about his own vacation plans but decided against it.
With what Frank said about the power never coming back on was starting to really bother him. Before he knew it the sun was gone and it was darker than he had ever seen it in the neighborhood.
He rose to excuse himself with the line that he wanted to make sure that his house was locked up and all was well.
“Oh but you must stay, this really is one of the safest neighborhoods around you know, they even wrote about us in the local news” Margaret said as she stood also.
Jerry looked to be three sheets to the wind by now and Bob didn’t like how this might end, excused himself again and made for the door.
“Oh well, if it gets too dark and lonely over there, there is always room here” she said as he left.
He found that his heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty, he felt like he had just outrun a mountain lion, or a cougar.
He made his way back home and let himself in, checking all of the windows and doors and making sure they were locked.
He tried the crank radio again and nothing, there was a flashlight a built in and that didn’t work either. He put it down dejectedly.
He needed light.
Rummaging through his junk drawer again he felt a plastic bag, pulling it out he felt it was a bag of personal care products, he remembered this giveaway, it was called the pampered accountant or something equally dumb, it contained scented bath soaps, magic bath beads…And Candles!
Yes he scored!
Wait. How was he going to light them? He didn’t smoke, and no one gave out cheesy matchbooks anymore.
His mind raced, how had that tv survivalist guy said they started fires in some areas?
Steel wool across a battery?
He didn’t have steel wool. What else could he use?
Or taking apart a tampon, what was the name of that stupid survivalist show he had just watched?
Lint, dryer lint was another thing the guy said.
Now he needed a battery.
The X 90 had a battery, but what could he use to facilitate that?
He walked slowly out of the kitchen carefully putting his hands out to avoid running into something.
He bumped into the Island and knocked the toaster off.
The toaster.
It had an electrical cord.
He felt around on the floor and picked it up, it had come loose from the plug so he carried it with him back to the drawers.
The toaster wasn’t that expensive and he promised himself if this worked he would buy an even better one. Then he picked a meat clever from the knife drawer and set the toaster on the counter.
Three hacks later and he had severed the cord, then making his way carefully to the laundry room he fumbled for the lint trap until he found it, then pulling everything he could off of the fine mesh he made his way to the garage.
Opening the Mercedes door he found the hood release and managed to get it open.
What he wouldn’t give to have a small pen light. Then he remembered the Mercedes key had a little red light on it for finding the key hole. He dug the keys out of his pocket and tried it.
it worked!
He was like a happy little kid with a new toy, and flicked it on a few times just to make sure it would work.
Then he used it to look around the engine bay until he spotted the battery tucked under a plastic cover, he unscrewed the hold downs and managed to pull it off. Man o man cars had gotten complicated!
Then he used the meat cleaver to strip the wire insulation off of the toaster cord and wrapped the lint around the center of the cord. He ran back to the kitchen now that he had a light and opened the Pampered Accountant plastic bag.
Inside were two Candles! Double Score!
He brought them back out and set them on the engine while he connected the wire ends to the battery terminals. The red one, Positive? Had an ancillary plastic cover over it; probably to prevent accidental electrocution or something so he had to pop that up to access the terminal.
And as soon as he touched it the lint burst into flame.
No gently smoking or smoldering, but instant flames.
He was so startled he almost dropped everything; but quickly used the fire to light both candles, then carried them into the house.
He almost dropped them again when the melted hot wax poured into his hand as he walked, but he gritted his teeth and managed to set them on his granite countertop in the kitchen.
He went to the sink and turned on the water to run over his singed hands, all that came out was a slow drip.
The water conservation pamphlet that the city had sent out just the other day mentioned that a drip could waste up to 6 gallons a day.
He grabbed a clean bowl and stuck it under the sink to catch the water, then ran back out and stomped the still burning lint out as it lay on the concrete garage floor.
He would retrieve it when it was cooled down, he might after all need it again.
Speaking of needing it again he went back into the kitchen and blew out one of the candles. He was going to have to conserve them as much as he could.
Then he set the toaster next to the garbage can and came back to the kitchen. He pulled a pad and paper from his briefcase and sat on the bar stool there.
He was going to need a list of things he was going to need to survive.
It was going to be a long dark night.
V
He woke later than he normally would have.
He wondered why his alarm hadn’t gone off, and then remembered the power had gone out. He sat up and stretched, and realized he had fallen asleep on the couch, he stumbled to the kitchen and opened the door to the fridge automatically nothing was rotting yet but the temperature had leveled out to room temperature. He took the orange juice and tasted it right from the plastic jug. It was still drinkable but not for much longer.
The plastic bowl was full so he swapped it out for another, the dripping had slowed to almost nothing; he timed it with his watch, one drop every minute and 40 seconds
He took that and the cheese he had and the bread and made some bread and cheese sandwiches. The cheese was limp but useable; he realized he should use what he could before it all went bad. And went back to the fridge and got the lettuce and the tomatoes out. All he needed was bacon, but he didn’t have any, and he didn’t think he would trust it even if he had.
He thought back to the food from the freezer he had thrown away just the day before and realized how stupid he had been; just following along with what everyone else was doing.
He looked over the list and realized there may be no way he would ever get the things he had written down.
Everyone was probably clamoring for the exact same things he wanted.
Candles Lighters Food Water
These were top on every bodies list. At least he had protection, a roof over his head and all the pears he could want.
Maybe he should think about picking some of the pears, but then what would he do with them?
Maybe he would go over to Franks later and pick the guys brain on what he could do with them.
He was probably the only one on the block who didn’t own a grill and now he was regretting it.
While he ate he calculated the faucet output, he was after all good with numbers.
If the water remained steady ay one drop every minute forty then he would get 42 drops an hour. How many ounces was a drop though? He had a cook book in his living room book shelf with different volumes and went to get it out.
29.5 drops to an ounce!
Daily recommendation for water was what? An 8 oz. glass of water a day? No it was eight 8 oz. glasses a day.
And he was getting an ounce and a half an hour! About half of what been recommended.
He could supplement that with pear juice from the tree, but with no power his juicer wasn’t going to run.
He was going to need something to hold the water he already collected.
He knew that there were empty containers in the recycle bin outside, but how would he look rooting through it for stuff?
He decided right then that he didn’t care what anybody else thought; he was going to do what was going to keep him alive.
He went out back to the green recycle can and popped open the lid. He had meticulous about following the rules and had washed out all of the containers he had placed in there. He selected two 2 liters for seltzer water, and contemplated digging past the empty alcohol bottles to get a third but decided against it. There just wasn’t enough water coming out of the faucet to justify it.
Seeing the empty bottles he decided he should also inventory his lot of booze, because there wasn’t going to be an opportunity to buy more.
He located a funnel and carefully poured his bowl of water into the first 2 liter bottle, it came out to about full, the other one would have to wait until the second bowl was full.
He also thought of the x90’s battery, it had power and he knew that he could use it to rig up one of the headlights or something for light tonight.
Frank had that old AMC wagon and seemed to be able to maintain it so it stood to reason the man had the tools and knowhow; so he was going to have to make it a point to go over there and visit Frank to pick the man’s brains about how to go about doing that.
Jerry might not like it but at this point screw Jerry, Bob was now in it to survive, and if it meant going to his neighbor to beg for tools and help to have a little light he was going to do just that.
He poured the last of the orange juice into his glass and set the plastic jug into the sink. There wasn’t going to be any water to wash his dishes Bob thought.
Or Shower!
Or Flush the Toilet!
The enormity of how precious water was and how taken for granted it had been dawned on him, and for the first time since he was a kid, he walked out onto the front porch and just sat on the steps, watching the birds whirl over head and a squirrel dig in the Bendarski’s flower bed.
He finally sighed and went back inside, all of the money he had saved or embezzled; all of the things he had bought to mimic his neighbor, all of it was now worthless. If he didn’t find some food and more importantly water soon , he was a dead man; as was everyone around him.
He decided to search his house and make a pile on the dining room table of all the things that he thought he was going to need to survive the next few days. He found a gym bag with the Goskins and Servino logo on it, a comfortable pair of sneakers, and some tea lights he had gotten for some reason and left in the linen closet, a good hat, a decent windbreaker, the funnel for pouring water, four beers and three cans of chicken noodle soup.
Here he was staring at food he was going to need and had no way to open it!
He added a can opener to his list.
Three cans, that was his entire cupboard contents.
As a suburbanite he spent most of his time eating out.
Breakfast coffee at the drive through.
Lunch at the restaurant with clients and dinner was either take out or back at the restaurant.
His whole made up life was acting in concert against him now, everything he thought he was doing right to fit in was turning out to be wrong for keeping himself alive now.
He sighed and went down to his man cave, there was a pool table he was terrible at playing, a slot machine from Vegas and another bar. His house also had a gas fireplace and he could guess how well that would work now. He thought he heard yelling outside but ignored it, he was still trying to get his head around what he would need to survive.
Going to the bar he carefully opened the hidden compartment there and took out the illegal Russian rifle and the two pistols.
He had a sealed can of 200 hundred rounds for the AK with the letter 7.62 on it and maybe three hundred rounds of 9 mm for the pistols.
He took them out and looked at them, they were both marked Star SA and BM on the side. He knew that they were 9mm and had come from some armory, but since he couldn’t read Spanish he didn’t know which.
He had fired both and knew that both were reliable, and he had holsters for each. He decided he would put them both on a belt and keep them handy down in the basement just in case.
He looked over the AK and the sealed can and realized he had the same problem with this as he did with the Chicken soup.
No opener!
He was feeling dejected and went to go back upstairs, he stopped and picked up one of the golf clubs he had bought and never used; Looking it over.
Could it be used for anything else?
He could use them as stakes for holding tomato plants if he needed to, or as a really crappy weapon. But other than that it was basically useless.
He had a thought and went back outside with the club.
Picking a high up branch on the pear tree he used the club to pull it down within arm’s reach. Well at least they were useful for something.
He gathered up a shirt full and brought them into the kitchen, then went back out for more, this time carrying a 6 quart pot he doubted he had ever used before.
With that full he decided that was enough for now.
Thinking about his water situation was making him thirsty. He knew it was mostly psychosomatic, but poured some of his precious water into a glass and drank it.
He looked out his front bay window and saw Frank walking over to his neighbor’s yard. This would be as good a time as any to talk to the man and he made his way to his front door.
When he came out he heard Jerry yelling.
“you’re breaking in!” He was yelling.
Presumably at Frank.
He couldn’t hear Frank’s reply but did hear breaking glass.
“That’s it! I’m going back to the police and they’ll have to do something!” He heard Jerry Yell.
Lilith in the mean time had walked down the driveway to see what her husband was doing.
Moments later Jerry and his wife came out of their house with a look of determination their face. Margaret was definitely looking less than stellar this afternoon without her makeup on or her hair washed and blown dry.
Frank came around the side of their neighbor’s house with a sack of dog food over his shoulder and a dog bowl in his hand, behind him was the neighbor’s dog.
The man hadn’t been breaking in, he had been rescuing a dog. And Jerry and his Wife were going to risk another trip the police station to report it.
He wondered if they secretly had some kind of death wish.
“We’re going to the police now and then you’ll get yours!” Margaret screeched at the man.
“Dumbasses, you’ get yourself robbed again or worse” Bob heard Frank reply.
Margaret started screeching at her husband to do something and he saw Frank drop the load he was carrying, he also noticed that Frank had a pistol strapped to his leg.
Franks wife was there in an instant, begging him not to pummel Jerry.
Maybe Jerry was smarter than Bob had given him credit for because the man just kept walking.
Bob let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding; sooner or later Frank and Jerry were going to come to blows and he knew who he was going to lay odds on, he was definitely going to go over and make amends to him and his family.
But not now of course, he could see that Frank wasn’t in a mood for company; especially someone he considered Jerry’s bitch.
He went back in and just to do something tried the hand crank radio again.
Dead.
Maybe he had a portable radio around that took batteries. Not likely. And the only batteries he would have were in the remotes.
He decided to get them out anyway; they might come in handy for trading off for a can opener or a radio that did work.
He took a break and reread his list.
Can opener.
Didn’t the can opener come apart for cleaning?
He went over and looked at it.
Yes it did.
He wondered if he could use the disassembled part with the blade on it and open a can manually, tapping it with a hammer or something.
He had one of those brass hammers that came with a picture hanging kit that he had gotten from the big box store. It was out in the garage and he retrieved it.
He had to work his way around his covered motorcycle to do so and though about the bike briefly before returning inside.
He looked at the cans of soup on the dining room table, these were his only three cans and he really wasn’t hungry just then; so he didn’t want to waste them if he could help it.
That left the can of ammo in the basement.
He brought it back up to the kitchen then decided it would be better to try it on the cement floor of the closed garage.
The ammo can had a deeper lip than a regular food can, but with just the upper part of the can opener he managed to get it near to where he wanted it before gently giving it a rap with the hammer, it penetrated the tin lid and he set to work tapping his way around the top of the can. The can opener upper , being made of cheap plastic, didn’t fare so well, first it began to deform then started cracking and finally broke into pieced when he was three quarters of the way around the can.
He was momentarily angry with himself for breaking his can opener but realized it was useless for its original purpose anyway. So he just tossed it in the garbage and went back to the garage.
He used the claw end of the cheap little hammer to lift the open side of the sharp tin lid up and then hammered it down to get to the contents. Inside were thirty two paper boxes, and each box contained twenty rounds.
He brought several of the paper boxes inside and set them on the kitchen island, then retrieved the two AK mags he had thought to pack with the rifle. He took his time and counted how many rounds fit into each magazine.
Thirty.
That gave him sixty rounds for the rifle.
The Star BM magazines held eight rounds each, but he only had one for each gun. When he was still in the gang they told him never to carry spares because if you got caught after dropping the gun the cops could still link you to the weapon.
He was regretting that decision right now.
With another sigh he got up to wash his hands from the greasy ammo, and again realized how little water he had available. Instead he took a paper towel and some foaming hand cleaner and made do.
He decided to pick a few more pears to give as a peace offering to Frank and take them over when he saw him.
He got his golf club and went to work filling another pot he was sure he had never used.
His mind wandered a little.
Maybe the bird bath out on the front still had some water in it?
Wouldn’t hurt to look, so he shouldered his golf club and walked out to the front
Walking out front and saw Frank walk purposely over to Jerry house, carrying a gas can, some tools and one of those pans that you use to do oil changes.
Now would be as good a time as any to make friends, he thought and set out across the street.
He found Frank exiting Jerry’s garage with Jerry’s gas can.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked, genuinely curious.
“Stealing Jerry’s gas” Frank replied.
Bob was going to say ‘serves him right’ but before he could Frank had his pistol out and leveled at him.
Bobs’ eyes got wide.
Man that guy was quick!
“Now I’m going to hope that you’re not a complete ass and are willing to listen to me” Frank said as he looked down to make sure the pan under Jerry’s Range Rover was filling with gas.
“There is a raging fire racing this way. We have an hour if we’re lucky to get out of here with our skins. Jerry’s car isn’t ever going to work again and I need his gas to get my family to safety. You don’t have to believe me, just sniff the air and turn and look at that wall of black smoke rising between the trees”
Bob risked a look over his shoulder and saw what looked like a solid wall of black smoke. He felt the Blood drain from him; there wasn’t enough water to drink, there was no way they were going to fight that fire.
“How bad is it?” He said as the golf club fell from his shoulder, he hadn’t even realized he was still carrying it, Though it did explain the gun in his face.
“It’s the scariest thing I have ever seen” Frank said and then holstered his pistol.
Bob could tell by the look in the man’s eye’s that he was deadly serious.
“I got my sixty four Pan head in my Garage, you think it will start?” Bob asked.
“Only one way to find out” Frank replied “I’ll leave you the oil pan if you need it”
Bob nodded his thanks and turned around heading straight back to his house.
An hour!
He practically ran to his front door, all thought of the birdbath and the pears he was supposed to take to Frank forgotten.
He ran to the bedroom grabbed two pairs of slacks, three underwear. two shirts and several pairs of socks.
These would go into one saddle bag.
Also a belt for the pistols.
The other one he would stuff with is meager foodstuffs and the 2 liter of water he had, as well as all the pears he could carry.
He looked at the AK lying in the kitchen, something 2 days ago he would have had conniptions over. He could carry it on his back, if he had a strap.
It wasn’t called a strap though. A sling. It was called a sling.
He looked over at the gym bag. It had a shoulder strap with plastic clips to hold it, he unclipped it and tried it on the AK.
It fit. And he was happy, something that basic and he was happy. He knew that it would help him survive.
He heard the neighbor talking and looked out to see Franks wife Lilith talking to Bernedette Bendarski.
Then Lilith left.
He took everything out to the garage and got it situated in the saddle bags. Stuffing as much of the AK ammo as he could into the bags as well, then he slowly kicked the motor over to loosen it up. Satisfied, he poured his lawnmower gas into the Fat Bob tanks.
That would give him about three quarters of a tank. He was going to have to go back across the street and get whatever Frank had left him in the oil pan beneath Jerry Range rover.
He opened his garage door saw Frank and his family drive away, he waved but doubted they saw him.
He walked out toward the front with his gas can and saw Bernadette still standing there, probably looking for her thug boys.
“Hey” He said to her.
“Hi” she replied looking at him funny.
He realized he still had the machine gun on his back.
“Lilith told you about the fire?” He asked.
“Yes, no one else is here though” She looked ready to cry “What are you going to do?”
Bob hesitated for a moment.
“I’ve got a motorcycle I’m trying to get started then I’m getting while the getting is good”
She smiled.
“I wanted to thank you” she said coming closer.
“Why?” He asked.
“Because you were a good neighbor; no matter how loud or obnoxious my kids got, you never complained, all the times my husband and I fought late into the night and you never once called the police, I appreciated that”
“Come with me” Bob said without thinking.
If this woman stays here she’ll die.
“I can’t” she said looking away.
“I understand” Bob said and started to walk toward Jerry’s yard.
“You should probably put that in a back pack to hide it” she said.
“I don’t have one” He called back.
The pan was almost over flowing and he got a gallon and a half, but the gas was still pouring out, he could smell smoke and could feel the wind being sucked toward the fire; he didn’t know how much longer he could stay.
Pouring maybe another three quarts of a gallon into his can, he decided it was time to go. He came out from Jerry’s yard to find Bernadette waiting by his porch with a backpack.
“This is for you, I know you don’t eat well so I added a few extra things” she said.
He thanked her and told her she could have all the pears he had left in his kitchen and could help herself to what he left. It felt like a hollow gesture but it was all he had.
“Good luck” she said.
“You too” replied and entered his garage.
He quickly strapped the backpack to the Sissy bar on the hog and then used some bungee cords to secure the gas can onto the bitch seat.
He turned the fuel c*** on and gave it a moment turning the throttle.
Then he kicked for all he was worth.
The 1964 seventy four cubic inch Harley was kick start only and if this didn’t work, it wasn’t going to start save trying to push start.
But the thing jumped to life on the third kick, he revved it a few times to make sure it would stay running and came down his driveway.
Bernadette Bendaski was gone.
Leaves and trash were starting to tumble across the ground.
He was out of time.
North was this best route, but as soon as he was able, he was going to turn west and keep riding until he saw man made lights and open restaurants.
He turned into the street and headed on his way.
End of part 1
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Post by ydderf on Jul 24, 2014 12:00:43 GMT -6
Page turning quality(no pages sighhhh). Thank you warsparrow I hope there is more in the pipeline.
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Post by patience on Jul 24, 2014 13:06:12 GMT -6
Excellent! It is a riveting read. Made me, again, wish for MOAR!
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Post by mnn2300 on Jul 24, 2014 14:27:31 GMT -6
Good story, looking forward to Part 2
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Post by kaijafon on Jul 24, 2014 19:08:40 GMT -6
oh I really REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY hope you write more on this!!!! thank you so much!
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Post by nancy1340 on Jul 25, 2014 1:59:56 GMT -6
thanks. Good story.
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Post by warsparrow on Jul 25, 2014 12:29:31 GMT -6
Bobs Story Part 2
Chapter 1
Columbus was burning.
He could see it in his rear view mirror as the Harley cruised along at a scary fifty miles per hour.
Normally fifty on the interstate is sedate and might get you a few nonverbal communications as the faster traffic passed you.
But this wasn’t normal.
Granted there weren’t a whole lot of people on the interstate at night when the EMP or whatever it was went off, well not a lot as compared to rush hour anyway.
But there still were people on the interstate the night it happened, and at fifty miles per hour coming up on stalled traffic with open car doors and abandoned junk everywhere while on a motorcycle was more than a little rectum tightening.
There were however people still driving on the interstate.
As he rode north and watched the city burn a ’61 Biscayne flew past doing at least seventy, it was all suede and Zoomies with whitewalls; Close behind that was a ’73 Royal Monaco wagon.
‘That was a rare piece of Americana’ Bob thought as the passenger gave him the thumbs up as they sped past, ‘Hope they don’t wreck it’ He thought.
He had no idea where the people who had been driving these cars were now, but no one appeared to be on the road or waiting by their vehicles; he hoped it wasn’t because of something he would have to worry about like a government quarantine or a bandit road block or something similar. His mind playing back to several different apocalyptic movies he had watched.
He was positive though that if a Falcon XB GT went flying past him with a Weiand Blower sticking from the hood, he was going to change direction right then.
He lost sight of the two cars as they weaved in and out of stalled cars.
He suddenly felt very lonely, something that had never happened when he used to ride with the gang.
Granted, even though they were all together in a pack, they never really could talk because of the exhaust noise, but you knew they were there and kept the cars off of their back tires.
His stomach grumbled. He thought of all the books he had read as a kid, the ones with Questing knights or wandering heroes looking for a magic sword or some dark dangerous Dungeon or monsters to slay.
Here he was a lone Knight of the road questing for a can opener.
The thought made him laugh, and he regretted it, spitting out whatever kind of bug had flown into his mouth as weaved around a stalled hybrid and a mail semitrailer.
He thought of what the cover of his book would be.
Bob Beech and the Quest for the working can opener.
He could just see the hungry masses devouring his book with relish.
No really, he was getting so hungry he thought he might eat a book.
He decided he was far enough away from the conflagration he could afford to stop and see what his neighbor had packed for him in the backpack.
He hoped she made it out of the city also.
He didn’t have the hots for her or anything, it was just that she was nice to him and he thought no one should die in the fire that was consuming the city.
He also knew he was deluding himself, he had barely made it our himself on the Hog.
He down shifted and made for an off ramp to a rest stop, but then seeing the people sitting at the stop watching him and thought better of it.
He sped up again and decided he needed to just find a quiet stretch of road where he could see for a good distance and just eat out in the open.
He found a good spot about a mile past the Polaris overpass.
Shutting the bike he listened to the dead silence for a few moments, the wind was blowing toward the city even this far out.
He dismounted and stretched, it had been more than three years since he had ridden and he was feeling pretty good. He went to the back of the bike and found that the back pack contained a roll of toilet paper, some juice boxes, a bottle of hand sanitizer, three oranges, a can of spinach, 1 can of kidney beans and three glorious packages of pop tarts.
In an outside pocket she had also placed a small first aid kit. Nothing fancy, just one of those little white plastic jobs with some band aids, a few alcohol pads, some sunburn cream, and 1 tube of an anti-itch cream.
He smiled at that and opened a juice box, sucking out its fruit punch goodness.
Then he ate a pop tart, looking around.
He was surprised when a younger kid of about 15 came out of the wheat field next to the road and started making his way toward him.
He casually put his hand down to one of his holstered pistols; but the kids just kept steadily coming toward him.
“That’s close enough” Bob said a little too loudly.
“Please Mister” the kid said without any real conviction behind his words and continued to advance.
Bob pulled the pistol out.
“I told you that was far enough” He threatened.
“Man, I’m just hungry” The kid said and took a few more steps.
Bob threw the one uneaten pop tart off by the edge of the road.
“There you go” Bob said and went to remount his bike.
“You don’t have to be such a jerk, you could have handed it to me” He said and kept moving forward, instead of toward the food.
“I could also shoot you now and rummage through your pockets” Bob said cocking the BM.
The kid seemed to hesitate for a moment, then took another step forward.
Bob didn’t want to shoot anybody, but this kid wasn’t coming towards him for food.
He pointed the gun at the ground and shot a round at the kids feet.
Or he meant to anyway.
He shot the kid in his right foot through his $400 Jordans.
The kid fell down and grabbed his foot.
“I can’t believe you shot me!” He yelled.
Bob looked at the fallen kid for a moment.
“It’s a life lesson kid, When someone with a gun tells you to stop, you probably should.”
He jumped back on his Harley and kick started it.
Dropping into first he spun the back wheel on the gravel as he took off, pelting the kid as he lay there with bits of asphalt and gravel. The kid screamed loud enough that Bob heard him over the deep exhaust note.
He hadn’t meant to do it, but he wanted to get out of there before the kid saw him heave his guts out on the road.
A little while later he saw some water in a road side ditch and stopped to wipe his face and clean the paint on his bike; his pants and shirt he decided to change now and wash his vomit stained ones in the water.
After making sure he was alone this time he did a quick change right there in the open and dropped his dirty clothes in the water. He noticed the sun was beginning to set and he was going to have to find a place to hole up for the night, the thought of trying to ride the obstacle course the highway had become in the dark wasn’t appealing to him in the least.
As he got ready to leave he heard another vehicle and just in case made sure his pistol was at the ready; he would have to replace the bullet he had used earlier when he got time.
A diesel pick up came down the other side of the highway heading toward Columbus; and he had to guess the driver had no idea that was waiting for him there.
He didn’t know if the person in the other vehicle hadn’t seen him or just didn’t care to stop, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. He quickly transferred his food from the backpack to his saddle bags and put his wet clothes into the pack, hopefully the air blowing across the bag would dry his clothes adequately as he rode.
He was going to top off his tank here but the truck had unnerved him and he just wanted to be riding again, away from the fire.
He rode along and planned his course of action.
Heading north from Columbus on the freeway was taking him away from the fire but it was just leading him straight to Cleveland; which butted solidly up against Lake Erie. He had no reason to suppose that city was in any better shape than Columbus was.
He thought briefly of getting just close enough to see, and if it was passable to follow interstate 71 until it intersected with interstate 90 and then turn west; but he quickly discarded the idea for several reasons.
Not the least of which was that getting caught in the confines of the city at night was not on his list of things to do with the power out, second was that even if he did manage to get through Cleveland alive, turning west would only lead him to Toledo.
He had once heard another biker describe Toledo as what happened when Detroit threw up.
And that was before all of this recent mess.
That sounded like nothing he ever wanted to experience.
He was going to have to pick a turn off soon if he wanted to start heading west.
Why west?
Simple.
West has more spread out communities, so it stood to reason that they had more independent power systems and backups for them.
East? Well in the great black out of 2003, one faulty unit in Cleveland knocked out power all the way to the east coast and north into Canada, and it was no reason to suspect that this time it would be different.
And if he was wrong about the west? Then at least his parents lived out west and there were a whole lot less people to try and come up at him out of the wheat.
Up ahead he saw through the heat ripples the pavement gave off, a motorcycle with its kickstand down and a guy next to it who seemed to be working on it.
The guy stood and looked at him as he rode past.
The bike appeared to be a Motoguzzi Eldorado. Maybe earlier, say a ’75 850 CC police model or a California special.
Bob unconsciously found himself slowing, the rules of the road for bikers was pretty clear; don’t leave a biker stranded.
He turned around right in the road and weird riding counter to what the flow of traffic was, but since there was no traffic he wasn’t too concerned.
He stopped about thirty feet away and put the kick stand down. He was careful not to make any sudden moves just in case.
Then he slowly got off his bike and got his gas can, which was usually the most likely cause of a stopped bike. Then he approached the other biker just as slowly, he made sure the man could clearly see his pistol just in case, but made no move to reach for it.
The guy for his part simply stood there with a Phillips screwdriver his hand watching him.
As he got close the other guy spoke.
“That won’t do any good” he said pointing with the screwdriver at the gas can.
Bob would be the first man to tell you he wasn’t a motorcycle fixing kind of guy; he was the motorcycle riding kind of guy.
“What’s the trouble then?” He asked stopping where he was.
“The problem is she’s an Old Italian princess, and when I needed her most she decided she didn’t want to work” The guy stopped, he looked ready to throw the screw driver.
“The interconnect between the Engine and transmission snapped, which means she’s officially done”
Bob wanted to say something, but even he knew that there were maybe three places in the country that would have a specialty item like that. Even if they had the part on them right now though, there was no way for them to fix it at the side of the road.
He then turned to Bob.
“Care for a water?” he asked.
“love one” Bob replied.
The guy put his screw driver back into the roll up case that was on the ground and pulled one of those small complimentary bottles that they gave away sometimes.
“I got them from the Armada Inn by the I 270, just before the fire ate it whole” he said and opened one himself.
Bob set his gas can down and opened his own.
Just the thought of lack of water was making him thirsty.
“What are you plans now?”Bob asked as they stared at the man’s broken bike.
“I was trying to make it to my sister in Van Wert but it’s a long hike” He said.
Bob asked where Van Wert was.
“It’s on the border of Indiana, my sister lives just across the tracks. You?”
“West. Until I come to the land of working power and open restaurants” Bob replied.
“Can I .. you know…Catch a lift?” He asked.
“Depends” Bob said.
“On?” The guy eyed Bob with his two pistols and AK across his back.
“You got a working can opener?”
The guy shook his head and Bob sighed.
“Come on. We’ll try and find a Big Box store”
He strapped the gas can to the front forks while the guy collected what he could from his hard side saddle bags.
All the guy looked to have was water and a few breakfast bars, which would be all he needed in normal times, the Indiana border only being a hundred miles away or so.
“What’s your name?” The guy asked.
Bob almost said his real name, maybe because he was back on a bike.
“Bob. You?” Bob Replied.
“Also Bob” He said.
“Well now, that’s gonna get confusing” Also Bob said as they Started back off down the highway.
Chapter 2
Scavenging or looting?
After they had traveled about an hour down the road, Bob saw an exit ramp coming up.
Besides the usual gas and food signs at the side of the road He could also see the Big Box store about a quarter mile up the road. It was a big one and it had the kind of massive tall pole display sign at one side that could clearly be seen from the highway, which he could see even from this distance. He motioned to Also Bob that he was going to pull off and pointed into the distance at the store down the road.
Also Bob gave him the thumbs up to let him know that he understood.
Bob motored down off the exit ramp, hooked a right turn without pausing at the stop sign at the end of the ramp. What the hell he thought.
No Police to stop Me for running a stop sign.
He thought to himself, ‘ya know, there are some things I could really get to like about this society breakdown’.
They reached the Big Box entrance and Bob turned into the parking lot.
He parked the bike near to the main door but made sure that the bike was parallel to the building. He figured if they encountered any problems, it might be a good idea to have the bike facing towards a direct, easy departure path.
They both got off the bike and stretched their legs. Bob took a look around and noticed that it appeared as if the store had already been pretty much looted.
Through the glass doors, he could see mess strewn around all over the floor and even a few shelves overturned.
Oddly enough, the place appeared to be empty.
He looked over at Also bob and said, “we better be careful and take this slow. We don’t have any idea who or what might still be in there”
Also Bob agreed readily enough.
“Well, You’ve got the heavy fire power, so I’ll let you take the lead and I’ll cover your back. Do you think I should have a handgun or something while you man the AK?” He asked.
Bob looked directly at him and didn’t say anything for several moments.
Also bob clearly felt uncomfortable as the moments passed and he got a little fidgety.
Finally, Bob sighed.
“No offense, but being that we just me, I feel a little voice in the back of my head telling me to wait on that. All circumstances considered, it’s been a pretty screwed up couple of days and I think I need to get to know you just a bit better before I go putting that kind of fire power into the hands of someone I really just met. Ya know what I’m saying?”
Also Bob looked back at him and nodded his understanding.
“Yeah, I hear Ya. Back on the freeway when you first stopped when I was broken down, I had some pretty serious butterflies in my stomach. Figured you might be stopping to help or maybe you had some other, nastier ideas in mind. No offense taken. I’m sure before too long you’ll see for sure what kind of guy I am. I know you’ll get to trust me after awhile” Also Bob said.
“Thanks for understanding; ya know it’s nothing personal. On that Note, Why don’t we go inside and see if there’s any scraps left for us to take. Anything we can find will be a big help.”
At that He turned and started walking slowly inside.
Also Bob followed. Bob remembered the AK on the bike and went back and got it. “We just might need this” he said and started going for the door again.
Bob stopped long enough to unsling the AK and make sure it was loaded and ready.
“What are we here for specifically besides a can opener?” the man behind him asked.
“That for one” He said pointing to the Free magazine rack by the inner doors.
“Tinder?’ Also Bob asked.
“No, wheels” He replied.
Also Bob instantly understood, in the magazine were classic car and bike sales adverts, and chances were there would be a place where they could get him his own set of wheels.
They snuck inside the open doors as quietly as they could, crunching broken glass and detritus the entire way.
The prescription counter looked like it had exploded, with all of the debris and what not that was scattered around that way.
He took a stepped forward and something he kicked made a tinkling noise as it skittered down an aisle. He knelt to look at it and came up with an empty .40 cartridge, then a .22 Long Cartridge. He saw several types of empty casings.
“There was a fire fight here” Also Bob pointed out “But no blood”
Looking around carefully Bob turned to his counterpart.
“Ok we need a can opener, any food or drinks you run across, flashlights of any kind, a paper map of Ohio, lighters or something to start a fire”
Also Bob nodded.
“A compass wouldn’t hurt and I need children’s chewable vitamins” He replied.
Bob looked at him.
“What? My sister has kids”
Splitting up was always the worst thing to do in the movies, But their time and sunlight was limited and they were fast losing both.
Bob found the vitamins right off, in two pack cartons; and grabbing a laundry basket that was nearby he dropped them in.
He also grabbed some one a day vitamins for himself and some Generic Ibuprofen.
Sunglasses came next, and a ball cap.
On the floor amid the scattered things he found three AA batteries and one 9 volt, those went into the basket as well.
He slinked past the feminine product section and was about to pass the toys when he stopped. There was a big display of toys staring at him.
“Amazon Rainforest Explorer” He said more out loud than he intended.
There was a cardboard cutout display with three kids in a forest setting proclaiming ‘Explore the world’ and ‘they really work!’ and big bold letters ‘TRY ME’
In vacuum plastic before him was an entire array items he had never thought of.
Binoculars, Star chart, a compass, sun dial watch, LED Flashlights, pith helmet, bug catchers and canteens. He tried the LED flashlight and it lit right up.
Score
They might be cheap child’s toys but it did say they worked so he added several of each to his laundry basket.
He still needed a can opener and matches, but it might be a good idea to head straight over to the Camping Section and find what they had there.
He started for the main aisle so he could get his bearings in the fading light; and heard the distinct crunch of boots by the front door, treading through the same glass as he had.
What kind of shoes did Also Bob have?
He tried to think as he crouched down between the comforter aisle and the pillow section.
He thought he heard voices, which unless Also bob had suddenly become schizophrenic, it meant that there were several people at the front door blocking their exit.
He turned to leave and Also Bob was crouching right behind him.
It’s a good thing Bob had emptied his stomach earlier or he would have been heading to the underwear section just then.
Also Bob held a finger to his lips, then pointed to the back of the store.
Bob looked at him and mouthed ‘Camping stuff’
Also bob took a moment to decipher it and then nodded he understood.
He turned and in a crouch crossed the aisle with Bob right behind him.
AlsoBob stopped and grabbed a small ball that was lying there; then unceremoniously threw it toward the Glassware aisle.
They hurried as fast as they dared as glass behind them and several aisles over began crashing into the ground.
The people who were at the front though didn’t take the bait.
Instead both Bobs heard a distinct cocking of a rifle and a shotgun.
“We know you looters are in here!” They said “And unless you want to get shot, your gunna come out with your hands up and empty” Bob led him farther back into the now nearly dark store.
“If we gotta Come in there, you all are gunna regret it!” A second voice yelled even louder.
Also bob pointed.
One aisle over was the camping section.
They made for it.
Bob was struck by the things he also never thought he would need.
There were cookers and heaters and propane cylinders. Tents and Seats and pots.
He still had his laundry basket and grabbed everything he could lay his hands on. Also bob did the same; they would have to sort what was usable from what wasn’t later.
“Last warning!” Came the call.
They moved like mad men now, back to the back of the store passing the restroom to the stock door and into the pitch black back stock room.
To his surprise Also Bob came out with one of those little keychain flashlights that businesses would give out as promos with their logo’s.
He felt slightly jealous.
Bob pointed at the back loading doors’ some of which looked like they had a pull type chain to raise them.
They hurried past pallets of plastic wrapped goods, like as not never to be opened; past unused displays and broken shelving and to the overhead doors.
He realized that Also Bob was carrying a rucksack type bag.
“Dump this stuff into your bag, cause we’ll never be able to carry a laundry bag on the bike” Bob told him.
Also bob quickly complied and they stepped to the door together.
“They could be waiting” Also bob said.
“We have a choice” Bob said back to him.
Bob waved his flashlight to the negative.
“On three we open the doors and run like hell to the bike, and hope they’re not guarding it” Bob said.
The door made a racket like golf balls on a tin roof in the quiet store and they jumped down and ran for all they were worth.
Bob had expected it to be dark as it had been in the Store, but realized that there were very few windows in the store.
They came around the corner and saw a man with a Ruger 10/22 by their motorcycle.
He was however looking not at them but into the entrance of the store and Bob came up behind him.
He had seen plenty of movies growing up where the Heroic commando’s buttstroked the SS guards unconscious and made their escape.
He highly doubted that would work in reality though and simply came up behind the man and put the rifle to the man’s ear.
The ‘man’ turned out to be a kid little more than a teen.
He froze.
Bob whispered quietly to the kid.
“Did you Screw with my hog?” He asked.
The kid shook his head no.
“If you’re lying, you’re the first person I kill” Bob whispered again.
“Spark Plug” the kid said quietly.
“Jimmy” A voice called from inside.
Bob pressed the cold barrel harder against the kids head.
“Yeah?” Jimmy said his voice cracking.
“Keep an eye out, they might be in the stock room and try to come around the back” the voice from inside said.
“I’ll let you know if they’re here” Jimmy said.
Bob looked back at Also Bob, who gave him the thumbs up after reconnecting the plug wire.
“I’m going to give my friend there this AK and if you so much as peep before we’re gone, He’ll stitch you up one side and down the other.”
Having said that Bob put his hand forward and managed to fumble the kids extended mag out of the rifle.
He walked backwards to the bike and handed the AK to Also Bob, who took it and pointed it toward the kid.
Bob started pushing the bike as fast as he could away while Also Bob walked backwards to cover his back.
When he thought he was far enough away he set the kids rifle magazine on the pavement and Also Bob jumped on. He kicked it over and it roared to life, they were on their out of the parking lot before the guys could exit the back loading door.
One took a pot shot at them but missed badly and then they were on their way down a secondary road they didn’t catch the route number of.
Chapter 3
a night out
1963 Crysler Newport
383/ 727 Trans
Push button Trans
Completely Stock and ready for summer
Vinnies world of Cars.
Also bob read as they sat just off the road a ways going through their booty.
About half of what they grabbed from the store was unusable to them.
One item needed special fuel, the lantern needed some special globes, a third was cracked etc.
Bob kept coming back to the one item he had needed most though.
A hand cranked can opener.
My quest is complete.
They each had LED Flashlights now in neon green. Some matching 6 X 35 binocular sand over sized compasses, real canteens and a folding Gerber pocket knife.
Also bob had returned his AK when they had finally stopped.
They separated everything else out.
Potable water tablets, the vitamins, Ibuprofen, some collapsible drinking cups, those disposable hand warmers, and three piece eating utensil sets.
Also Bob had grabbed some beef Jerky, and some more water bottles that were loose on the floor. They tore into those after their ordeal and while they appreciated the food, it also was really salty and just aggravated their thirst.
Bob would have liked to have a fire but with things as they were, he knew it would be close to suicidal.
He took the one pistol he hadn’t fired today off of his belt and laid it by Also Bob.
“You earned it, I know I can trust you now”
Also bob took it and put it on his own belt.
“And you also get to take first watch” bob said “Wake me at midnight”
“I don’t have a watch” Also Bob replied.
Bob went over to the discarded pile and picked out one of the children’s sun Dial watches he had grabbed.
“Here ya go” He said and sat back down.
“Oh har har, I’ll cherish it for the rest of my life”
“As soon at its light we’ll head to Vinnie’s world of Cars and hopefully it will still be there” Bob said as he lay on the cold grass.
“I’m not really a stealing kind of guy” Also Bob said in the Darkness.
“Me either, but what else are we going to do, we’re not stealing; we scavenging items we need to survive”
“Those men back there called us looters” Also Bob said.
“We’re not looters, looters take things to hoard and for profit, we’re taking the things we need to eat and survive” Bob wasn’t sure that was true but that what was he was willing to tell himself.
“I’d gladly have paid for the stuff if there was anyone to pay, but there wasn’t. Hell I probably could pay for the Newport when we get to Vinnie’s if the Debit card machines were working; but they’re not. And for some reason I’m fairly certain Vinnie’s not just going to take my word that I can afford it”
“Which brings us to what are we going to do if Vinnie is there?” Aso bob asked.
“We move on, there are plenty of classics in the magazine; we’ll pick a few alternates just in case; I don’t want to shoot anyone I don’t have to” Bob said.
“Well I’ve never shot anyone before, you?” Also Bob asked.
“Yep, this morning on accident, this kid was coming at me and wouldn’t stop. I meant to put a shot between his legs like you see on the old cowboy movies, only the kid had big feet and I shot him in the foot”
Also Bob actually laughed at that.
“Sorry, I know laughing sounds callus, but reality is different than any book or movie” Also Bob said “If this was a movie we’d already have girls and cool guns and a hideout”
“Or Zombies” Bob said.
“Aw man, why’d you have to do that? It’s creepy enough out here in the dark” Also Bob said and fell silent.
They could hear the crickets and the rustling of the wheat in the fields behind them as small clouds scuttled over head.
Laying there Bob pulled out the Amazon Explorer star chart, trying to match the stars to the sky map.
He fell asleep with it on his face.
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Post by warsparrow on Jul 25, 2014 12:32:47 GMT -6
Ok I need to know.
Am I post to fast? To often? too much at a sitting?
Is there some sort of Etiquette to this?
Should I post on certain days? or once a week?
I write everyday between 4 and thirteen pages usually; with seven being about average, though on certain days I have done as much as 23 pages in eight hours ( which I'm told is fairly prolific)
So if I do only post one a week the volume I post might be excessive.
Let me know.
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Post by mnn2300 on Jul 25, 2014 13:46:33 GMT -6
You can post as often as you are ready. Someday's I post 3-5 times, sometimes it's a week in between. Whenever you have written and edited to your satisfaction is the time to post.
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Post by 223shootersc on Jul 25, 2014 14:01:46 GMT -6
Good stuff, post often as we need MOAR
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Post by kaijafon on Jul 25, 2014 15:55:18 GMT -6
Ok I need to know. Am I post to fast? To often? too much at a sitting? Is there some sort of Etiquette to this? Should I post on certain days? or once a week? I write everyday between 4 and thirteen pages usually; with seven being about average, though on certain days I have done as much as 23 pages in eight hours ( which I'm told is fairly prolific) So if I do only post one a week the volume I post might be excessive. Let me know. there is no such thing as posting too often. we are MOAR zombies so we can "eat" up to forty-dozen new chapters every day. There is no set amount... just post when you feel comfortable with what you wrote just my 2cents Thank you for the stories! I hope you write what happens to that nice neighbor lady who gave Bob the stuff.
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Post by willc453 on Jul 25, 2014 16:25:05 GMT -6
there is no such thing as posting too often. we are MOAR zombies so we can "eat" up to forty-dozen new chapters every day. There is no set amount... just post when you feel comfortable with what you wrote just my 2cents Yeah....what she said.
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Post by warsparrow on Jul 29, 2014 12:49:51 GMT -6
I wasn’t going to but since Kaijafon asked……
Chapter 4
Bernadette Bendarski
Her marriage was on the rocks.
She had known it for years but still clung tenaciously on to it.
All her husband ever cared about was football, football, football.
He had been the high school football star and she was a cheerleader.
She liked to tell people she was the head cheerleader even though she wasn’t, and she followed him to the college that offered the best scholarship.
But like so many football players, he just hadn’t been good enough to play with the big boys; just another jock that peaked in high school and went downhill from there.
He had ended up working at the airport, loading planes on the nightshift for one of the delivery companies that had a hub there.
With her three boys it had always been from the start football, football, football.
Which teams to like, which teams to hate, which teams to watch.
A nonstop barrage of stats and plays and fantasy football, jargon.
When all three boys had made the high school football team her husband had been ecstatic and sat them down at the dinner table for ‘The Talk’.
“Now that you’re on the team, you’re going to attract all kinds of ass; and here is where you’re going to get tripped up” He said to them.
“You can get away with a lot that will be overlooked or outright ignored as long as you can play, play well and play consistently; but not with your grades”
“Stay away from the cheerleaders they’re whores” He said that while looking right at her.
“Go for the nerdy chicks, they’ll do your homework for you and be so grateful to get some that you can do all kinds of freaky stuff to them and they won’t tell a soul” He smiled at her as he opened another beer.
All through the year the boys had gotten worse and worse, ignoring her, talking back, coming and going at all hours of the night; and for the most part he husband had been right, the police would simply drop them off with a word of caution that ‘the homecoming game’ was next week or ‘they had to be in top form to beat the school rivals’.
But now that they had even started talking back to their father, she was suddenly a horrible mother and couldn’t she keep the little thugs under control?
She had known from the Very first time he had mentioned his new supervisor Tammy that it was the death knell for their marriage; he mentioned how she liked the right football teams, didn’t mind a beer after work, and all those other little hints that she could tell meant his eye was wandering.
Tammy the …..Well that was a name that wasn’t fit for polite company; so she had kept it to herself.
It had been two days since the power had gone out.
Two days since even her car had stopped working.
Two days since the world came apart and went all topsy turvy.
Two days since her husband had come home.
She had seen neighbor Frank on the first day, and he worked not far from the airport; he had walked home in four hours.
He had also told them some of what he thought was going on.
Some type of terrorist attack.
He also told her after the others had wandered off what she would need to do; what she and her boys would need to do to survive.
Of course her boys had taken it as a cue to be the absolute worst they could be, up to no good at all hours of the night, breaking into the public pool and skinny dipping. Getting drunk on alcohol from who knows where, eating all of the food they could lay their hands on.
She was sure they had been involved with the senior community break in she had heard about.
She had talked to Frank and his wife earlier, but kept most of what she wanted to say to herself; like that her husband was at that moment probably banging his supervisor in the employee break room, or that any moment now she expected one of her own kids to decide to rob one of the neighbors for their food.
Then they had left after Frank’s wife Lilith had come over to tell her about the fire coming their way.
Her neighbor Bob came over to tell her the same thing; but she had nowhere to run, no one too, and no way to run there.
Bob had told her to come with him on his motorcycle, she said she couldn’t. In a way she wished he had forced her to, or at least insisted. Then it would have been out of her hands.
The kids were gone, her husband was gone and it was just her now.
Facing a blackened sky and a wind like she had never felt before.
She had watched those weather channel shows, and the people in hurricanes always told how the noise sounded like a freight train. Well that’s how it sounded right now, pulling at her clothing as she stood out in the driveway watching as a giant Cinzano umbrella flew skyward toward the raging inferno she knew was just out of view.
Her mind flashed back to her father.
He had hated her choice of collage, he hated her choice of studies and he especially hated her choice of boyfriend.
In the end he had disowned her and she hadn’t talk to him since then.
She could see the flames now, the force of the howling wind trying to pull her closer.
She took an involuntary step backward to fight it.
Minutes earlier before her neighbor had left on a motorcycle she didn’t even know he owned; she had been resigned to her fate, ready to give up and lie down to die.
But now looking at the flames that were drawing and consuming everything in its path like some raging beast of hatred, she could think of nothing else but escape.
She had once heard that the word FEAR was actually an acronym.
It stood for F#@k Everything And Run.
And that was how she felt right now, but she knew that it was too late, even as she stood there she knew that there was nowhere near enough for her to run to and be safe, and the wind was growing so strong that it would probably suck her up into the flaming conflagration if she attempted to go anywhere anyway.
Then another sound intruded on her world.
It sounded like screeching tires and open exhaust.
And like a chariot from the gods amide tire smoke and shredding rubber a car came screeching to a halt in front of where she stood in her driveway.
“What are you doing lady? If you stay here your going t die!” Came the shout as a head popped out of the green fifty three Pontiac that was now idling at the end of her driveway.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she shouldn’t just accept her fate.
The decision was taken out of her hands when the roof of the garage behind her house was pulled up by the force of the wind.
By the time she had turned back to see if the Pontiac was still waiting for her, the guy had gotten out and came running up to her.
“We gotta go!” He yelled and pulled her to the car and shoved her in to the passenger side from the open driver’s door; the long Bench seat taken up with maps and food cans.
Then he stomped the clutch and dropped the massive shifter into low; sending clouds of acrid smoke as he took off.
“Where are we going?” she yelled over the engine noise and open exhaust.
“Away from here” Was his reply as they took one long street after another; dodging in and out of stalled traffic.
She realized that her rescuer was heading west rather than north or east.
“The fires south and West” she cried trying to hold on to the door and dashboard to avoid being thrown about in the wilding swerving car.
“I know, but I have a brother that works at Wright Patterson; and if anybody’s going to be organized and know what’s going on, it’s going to be the military. They’re a big base and I’m sure they have plenty of room and food for a few extra if they show up”
Bernadette wasn’t sure if that was a completely logical idea or argument, but for now all she could do was hold on and pray.
The fire had already crossed the street they were on and the leaves of the trees were flaming pyres being sucked higher into the air by the vortex of heat and wind. Telephone poles were burning, and the grass looked as if it had instantly wilted.
Windows in the houses they past exploded in the heat and wind, and the contents burst into flames as they were sucked through the openings that were left.
“Telephone pole!” Bernadette screamed as she saw one of the poles, obviously weakened sometime in the past started to fall over toward the street; it’s entire length aflame.
Without braking, her maniacal driver yanked hard on the wheel, sending the big car up onto what had been just three days ago manicured and pampered lawns.
Then they were back out in the street, driving for all they were worth, passing stalled cars and almost launching themselves over a bridge that crossed the Scioto river, which looked like it was roiling from the heat.
She realized with a start that it was people.
People who had thrown themselves into the river to escape being burned alive.
She doubted it would save them, after all their heads were still exposed and they had to breath. The fire was using up the oxygen and if they didn’t burn they would asphyxiate.
She closed her eyes after that. And prayed.
Chapter V
Authority
Twelve miles northwest of Columbus Ohio, buried twelve feet underground The emergency command Center had been activated.
In the two days since the attack had happened senior members of the staff had arrived as they were able and had now all but ceased.
With the news that Columbus was burning in an unstoppable firestorm reached them as they went about updating staff lists and checking inventories.
They decided that there was no point in waiting around any longer, the messages coming from the temporary white house had been very clear and specific, as were the penalties for noncompliance.
The acting Regional director picked up the microphone of a specially shielded transmitter and began her duty.
Chapter 6
Old Times
She opened her eyes when the tone of the big eight changed.
They were out among the summer wheat, clipping along at a decent pace. They still had to swerve to avoid stalled or abandoned vehicle but they were much less frequent than they had been in the city.
The Driver looked over at her then turned back, smiling suddenly in a quirky way.
“Your Bernadette bowman” He said after a few moments.
That simple statement caught her off guard.
She hadn’t used her maiden name in almost seventeen years.
“How do you know that?” she asked suspiciously.
“I took your cheerleading picture for the yearbook” He said “I figured you wouldn’t recognize me, I had terrible acne and huge glasses in high school”
She tried to think back; she could remember her picture in the yearbook, the one where all the cheerleaders were doing their poses in front of the mascot; but for the life of her she couldn’t remember who had taken the picture.
“We went to school together?” she asked.
“Yep. But we were definitely in different social circles. I was in AV and yearbook, and you were a cheerleader; and of course those two groups never mixed” He said and reached forward to tap the gas gage.
“We’re going to need fuel soon” He said casually.
“So if we went to school together what car did I drive?” she asked.
“A red sixty six mustang. It was a six cylinder. I remember because all the auto repair guys went all googly eyed over it when it came into the shop while I was trying to photograph them” He said.
She could definitely remember that day.
All of the greasy pot headed stoners took that class and they all tried to talk to her about the car; it was almost comical it was so pathetic.
She sighed, she could remember that but not the photographer that was sitting there next to her.
“It was a long time ago” she said.
“Yeah, it was” He said and pulled over when he saw an abandoned pick up truck.
He didn’t bother getting out once he saw that the gas tank door was open and the cap was off.
“we’ll try the next one” he said and got back onto the black top.
A black and white tuxedo cat suddenly jumped up on her lap.
“Who is this?” she asked picking the cat up to look at it.
“That’s phil. Well Philco” He said.
“Philco?” She asked scratching the cat between the ears.
“Philco Televisions? No? they were these black and white TV’s. big and Heavy.” He looked sidelong at her.
“That’s what he is. A big heavy black and white”
“Dork” she said, then laughed.
He did too.
“now that’s something I haven’t’ said since High school” Then she broke down and laughed like she hadn’t laughed in a long time.
It was almost as if the old her had died in Columbus, consumed with all of her worldly things.
And now all that was left was a fresh slate.
The third car they came to was still intact and they got out to look it over.
Her rescuer popped open the trunk and retrieved a hose with a squeeze bulb on the end and a five gallon gas can.
He had to break the driver’s window to gain access to the gas door lever, but things went smoothly after that.
“You check the car while I get the gas” he told her.
She found a few mints, a city map and a dollar thirty seven in change but not much else. Hitting the lever for the trunk she checked it too. Inside was a two liter of soda and a pair of boots. She looked down at he own sandals and checked the size.
They were close enough.
She changed her foot ware as the gas was poured into the Pontiacs tank.
When they were ready they got back on the road.
“What’s your name?” she asked finally.
“Tired of trying to remember it?” He asked.
“Yes, it’s been a long time and a lot of living ago” she said with a sigh.
“No, I think I’ll let you try and guess it” said as he started to siphon more gas out of the dead Cavalier.
“That’s not really fair” Bernadette had just gotten out when a shot went off not far from them.
“Time to go” He yelled and pulling the Siphon from the fuel neck as he dashed for the Pontiac. They jumped in and he pumped the gas before turning the key and depressing the clutch, the engine caught and they were away, but not before another round flew overhead.
“I don’t think they were trying to hit us, just scare us off so that they could have the gas” Bernadette said as they sped away.
He looked over at her.
“Laurence Swartzman” He said holding out his hand.
“Bernadette Bendarski” she replied taking his hand.
“You really married that jerk?” He said and looked back toward the road.
“Don’t remind me right now” she said.
“Man, even after half the school knew he was banging Suzy Ortman” He just shook his head.
Bernadette stopped at this.
“He was not!” she said
“Yes, he was. He bragged about banging Suzy the Floozy right on the football field after the rivalry game” Laurence looked at her.
“You really didn’t know?” He asked.
“No. and right now I hope wherever he is, he’s on fire” She said and meant it.
They continued on in silence after that, he pulled over and finished putting the gas he had siphoned into the tank, then returned the can and hose to the trunk.
“Hopefully that’s enough to get us to Dayton” Laurence said as they got back on the road.
Up ahead they could see something blocking the road and slowed as they approached it. it was a line of cars stopped at a check point manned by men in uniform.
“I hope your right about this” was all she said to him as soldier in weird looking full body suits approached their vehicle with machine guns at the ready.
Chapter 6
Also Bob was Dead.
He was dead and now Bob was a killer.
It had happened as they were motoring down the road, bob was doing what he liked to do sometimes when he had ridden down the coast. He would get the bike up to around sixty or so and then shut the engine off and just listen to the wind whistling past him as the world moved by.
Also bob was behind him and asked.
“So did the Kid really have big feet?”
Bob laughed.
“No, but it sounded better than I’m a lousy shot” bob had replied, conveniently leaving out the part where the puked his guts out all over himself as he rode away.
When he got down to about forty five, he would kick the bike into gear again and the motor would catch and he would repeat the process.
They had just passed one of those garish Adult Mart billboards you often saw on the interstate, the kind on a single steel pedestal with a ladder going to it.
He had started the motor again and was about to put the throttle into it when Also Bob had grunted and sagged; the noise of the bike had covered the sound of the shot and Bob had no idea what had happened other than the man behind him began to slip off of the bike.
He made it maybe another quarter to third of a mile when he pulled over on a downward hill and stopped the bike; trying to hold Also Bob up as he got off and checked on him.
His hand came away bloody and Also bob was staring straight ahead. He had been shot length wise through his entire body and was definitely dead.
He laid Also bob down as gently as he could and realized that the people who had shot his partner had obviously heard him stop the bike and were bound to come looking.
He could just jump back on the bike and take off hoping that they weren’t as good of shot as they might be.
It was a foolhardy idea and besides his anger had suddenly welled up within him, whoever did this was probably going to do it again unless somebody stopped them, and also bob deserved some revenge for the premeditated murder committed on him.
Bob ran back from the road as far as the fence that separated the private property from the road and followed that back up the road. Like most places in Ohio the side of the road were covered with bushes and small trees and he had no trouble keeping himself concealed as he worked his way back toward the crest of the road. He could guess where the shooter was on the billboard and all he had to do was wait for the man to come down so that He and Bob could talk all personal like.
He was near the top when he heard voices.
There was more than one.
He saw three men walking along the berm toward where the bike was waiting with the kickstand down. He looked back and saw that the way Also Bob was laying he looked like he was using the bike for cover.
Three men? How were all three going to fit on the bike? Unless of course they didn’t want the bike; they could just be looters and murderers, out having a morning of fun killing innocent people.
When they saw the bike they stopped and squatted, they were literally just across from Bob standing in the bushes.
He took his AK off of his Back as quickly and quietly as he could and flicked the safety off. It was louder than he was expecting and he realized he should have already had his weapon at the ready.
The three men didn’t notice the sound though and kept talking.
“Mike, Bob; head toward him and I’ll drill him if he moves” the man with a bolt action rifle was saying.
“where’s the one you shot?” the one with some type of pistol had said.
“He probably has the guys back in the weeds protecting him” The third man who had what looked like a bolt action shotgun said.
“Ok on the count of three. One, two…”
“Three!” Bob yelled and opened up with the full auto machine gun.
Most people don’t realize that unlike in the movies, a fully automatic rifle will empty its magazine in about 2 seconds.
So Bob had the two closest in his sites and they were down but the third man had been hit with just one round in the stomach.
He dropped to the ground in shock and then started screaming uncontrollably.
Bob ran up and kicked the gun away from the man like he had seen in so many police shows on television.
The loaded shotgun went off, taking the man’s head off in the process.
For the second time in as many days Bob emptied out everything he had inside his stomach right then.
When he was done and thought he could handle it, he searched the dead men, trying not to look directly at them.
He now had a Winchester bolt action .308, a Ruger .44, a Smith and Wesson 5915 and a Noble bolt action 12 gage.
He took the Rifle guys vest clean off of him rather than search it with him on and found a box of fourteen .308 shells, a box of .44 shells with twenty six rounds left, a pack of smokes with lighter (Score) and one of those buck knives you always saw cowboys carry.
From the others he found a holster for the smith ( he took the whole belt) a second magazine for the pistol in a uncle mikes nylon case, six loose 9 mm rounds, seventeen 12 gage buckshot shells and a box of fifty .22 rounds but no .22.
He hated to do it but he did the same for Also Bob. Taking back his Star BM and the LED Flashlight, the binoculars the utensil set.
He almost cried when he saw that He was wearing the Sun dial Watch; Probably as a gift for his sister’s boy.
He had never asked what the man sisters name was, or what they’re address was, but he was going to make sure that they got the Items that Also bob had.
He busied himself strapping the new rifles upright to the inside of the sissy bar with some bungee cords.
He got on the bike and started it. He hated to have to leave the guy just lying there, but he had no shovel and no way to bury him anyway. The Hard Ohio clay would make it days for him to dig deep enough to make a grave even if he had a shovel. Without looking back he headed on.
There was no longer a reason to go to Vinnies World of Autos and Get the Chrysler, he might as well heat to Van Wert and get this over with.
He had remembered that Also bob said she lived just on the other side of the tracks and that would be his starting point.
He finally cried along the way there.
He cried for Also bob, he Cried for Bernadette Bendarski who was most assuredly dead by now, He cried for the three men he killed and he cried for all those people who were still going to die in this. After he was done he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he was never going tell anyone about it or ever do that again if he could help it.
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Post by kaijafon on Jul 29, 2014 18:56:58 GMT -6
oh poor Also Bob! so sad. great chapter and thank you for letting us know what happened to Bernadette!
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Post by warsparrow on Aug 2, 2014 11:36:09 GMT -6
Chapter 7
The Pontiac idled roughly as the soldiers started to approach, and Bernadette repeated her question.
“I hope your right about this” She said.
Suddenly gunfire erupted up the line of cars from them.
The closest soldier turned to see what it was and for some reason while in the cumbersome MOPP gear hit his trigger, stitching a line of holes through the car in front of them.
“Screw this!” Laurence said and dropped the shifter into reverse, spinning the pegleg rear tire in a haze of smoke, and tire noise.
There was an old Chevelle coming up behind him and he J turned around it.
The soldiers turned back to him and burned through their magazines, filling the Chevelle with holes as the missed the big Green Chieftain.
Dropping it into first he spun away in a cloud of tire smoke and exhaust.
Bernadette was screaming and trying to get herself low in the car seat as at least 5 rounds went through the vehicle and spider webbed the front glass between the two.
“They’re trying to kill us!” She was screaming as they sped away.
Within a few minutes Laurence started to cough, and then coughed again.
When he coughed a third time, Bernadette looked over at him and knew something was wrong.
She could see blood on his lips and he was looking ashen.
“Oh my god, your shot!” she said as his hand started to slip off of the big matching green steering wheel.
They were down to about fifteen miles an hour and he looked over at her.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out like they were supposed to, save yourself… and take care of my cat” he said, and with that opened the big car door and rolled out onto the road.
She slid over to r grab the wheel and she saw the seat was covered with blood. She managed to get over and though it had been years since she had driven a stick, the memory was still with her and she was prepared to stop and go back to him, but in the mirror she saw several HMMWV in the distance.
“I’m sorry” She said more to herself then down shifted and sped away.
The cat settled in by her side, and the old style globe compass that was suctioned to the window told her she was heading north.
After about ten more miles she began to smell gas and looking at the gage she realized the the tank must have been hit because it was registering as empty.
She tapped the gage and it dropped even lower. She was going to have to find a place to hide the car and head away from it on foot.
She grabbed a plastic bag that was handy as she drove and stuffed as much food and water bottles as she could into it, she made sure that she also had some cat food in there as well.
Soon enough she saw a small bridge that crossed over a drainage ditch, and on impulse pulled the wheel hard, sending the classic car into the ditch where it came to rest not far from the small corrougated steel bridge.
She grabbed the bag and the cant and forcing the door open against the muddy bank of the drainage ditch she exited the vehicle.
She was happy now that she had traded the Sandals for a stout pair of boots and would have been even happier if the cat hadn’t decided to jump from her arms and land in a splash in the muddy water.
She recovered the cat and made her way cautiously down the length of the ditch, keeping well below the line of the road.
She was glad to see the green Pontiac blended nicely with the green surrounding of the overgrown ditch and kept moving as fast as she could away from it. she heard severl vehicles pass by but was too frightened to stick her head up to where she could see if they were the soldiers in their HMMWV’s looking for her.
Aster what seemed like a slog of miles with a thoroughly unhappy feline she left the ditch and made her way across an open field to where there was a small stand of trees. From there she spied an old chicken coop and decided to make her way there, as soon as the sun dropped a little lower in the sky.
She could spy the road from where she had hunkered down and watched as HMMWV’s would stop any civilian vehicle they saw. Several times they saw the soldier ransack a car and one she saw them fire on one that refused to stop. It got away but she was more convinced than ever threat these men were out to do harm.
She also guessed that these were not front line troops but rather who ever the government had handy at the time, meaning cooks and office workers, vehicle repairman and whatever National Guard troops could be rounded up on short notice.
As she watched the sun sink lower she watched as phil cleaned himself dry and did inventory on what she had taken from the car.
Four cans of Chicken noodle soup , one can of beef stew, three large cans of cat food, two bottles of water and an a single bottle of energizing drink.
Not great but at least the cans had pop tops on them so that she wouldn’t have to scavange around for a can opener. When it finally looked like the road was clear she made a mad dash for the chicken coop. she knew that running would attract attention but figured that it would make her a harder target to hit if she was spotted.
Phil did not like the run but didn’t claw her or jump from her hands again as she ran.
She was surprised when she got to the Coop and found that there were chickens actually living in the coop. She had been so busy concentrating on getting to the place she hadn’t even seen the faded farm house in the distance. She was afraid of what the farmer would do when he found her inside but she crawled in anyway, here exhaustion getting the better of her.
The chickens didn’t seem to mind the cat at all, and Bernadette guessed that it was because there was always a barn cat or two about.
She opened up the beef stew and since she hadn’t thought to secure an eating utensil she simply poured the food down her throat, nearly chocking on the chunks of various vegetables that were inside.
She washed it down with some water, and had to stop herself before she drained the bottle. There was no telling when she would be able to acquire more.
She opened a can of food for the cat, who was more than happy to eat the half she doled out using the lid to dig the portion free, the cat didn’t even mind that she plopped it right on the ground.
Then as the last rays came through the little coop door she lay down to rest.
She woke with the sun well up and immediately thought she had been paralyzed in her sleep; only to realize that it was fat Phil the cat laying on her legs.
Her moving caused the black and white feline to slowly relinquish its sleeping spot and allow her to rise.
She was surprised that the farmer hadn’t woken her when they normally came to retrieve the eggs, but after checking under a few hens, which earned her a few unwelcome pecks, she saw that the chickens hadn’t had their eggs pulled, a few even had two eggs meaning that whomever owned the farm hadn’t been out in the last two days.
She carefully looked out the door and saw chickens scratching at the dirt with more vigor than she thought they would usually do, meaning that they probably had also not been fed in two days. She carefully watched the house for any signs of habitation and saw none.
She also heard no sounds of traffic or any other animals other than Phil looking for some attention.
Finally she worked her back out of the coop, well aware of how disheveled and mangy she must look covered in mud, straw, blood and just general dirt and ash from the fire.
She slowly walked around the house, past a nicely kept small garden to the front door. she looked both ways for signs of traffic along a road that ran past the old house at the end of a hundred yard long dirt driveway.
In the driveway was a later model pick up and it looked as if the hood had been opened then not closed completely, and the gas cap was off; meaning that someone had most likely come along like she and Laurence had on the road and siphoned the fuel from the truck.
She knocked three times and waited for an answer, none came.
She looked back at the road and saw the mailbox flag was up, meaning that someone had delivered something.
Taking a chance she quickly ran to the box, trying to keep to the thin line of trees and brush that bordered on side of the driveway.
She opened the box and peered inside.
There appeared to be one sheet of folded copier paper and she extracted it, being careful just in case some was watching her.
Opening it she only one sentence.
Going to Sisters
There was no signature or any type of map to accompany the note.
She put it back into the box and walked back down the driveway to the house, mounted the steps and knocked again.
When no one answered she walked back around the house to the back door and feeling guilty even as she did it she took a ceramic lawn gnome that was guarding the garden and used it to break one of the small pane windows in the door, then unlocking the door and the chain that held it closed, she entered.
The kitchen was older but tidy and the dishes looked to have all been done and put away before the owners had left. The power into the house was of course off but she opened the fridge anyway; it was cooler than the house but not by much, and there were still three beers inside, which she helped herself to; she quickly found a reusable green shopping bag that all the supermarkets offered, and put the cans inside, then she stopped and popped on open, drinking it down.
It was the best thing she had in the last two days. The food looked to have all been taken and the water of course wasn’t working, but she did notice a hand pump well in the back yard that she hoped was still functional. From there she moved to the living room and saw all of the knickknacks along the mantle, along with several pictures in cheap silver plated frames.
The house screamed of an older couple who had never had children or who’s children were long since grown and moved away.
She looked at the photos and saw a kindly older gentleman looking up from under the hood of an old car; that is what they had probably used to flee this house for one that they thought offered a better refuge or amenities. Or, she thought; Safety in numbers.
She looked at the photo again, trying to discern what type of car that they had.
A Chevelle, a red Chevelle.
Her mind instantly jumped to yesterday at the line of stopped cars and how behind them a red chevelle that the soldiers had sprayed with fire.
Her heart sank.
She just knew that they were one and the same couple.
She made her way upstairs and found the master bedroom, and began looking through the clothes for something she could wear, the clothes she had on were filthy and the likelihood of getting them washed was slim and none.
All of the old woman’s things were just plain unwearable, so she found a nice mans flannel shirt and a pair of jeans she should be able to cut down if she could find a pair of scissors.
She found a pair in a sewing box and a belt that would help hold them up. She also found a decent older leather jacket that she could wear to conceal her figure.
Looking at the scissors she decided that she would need some protection in this brave new world and went rummaging around through the kitchen drawers for anything she thought would be useful.
A lighter went into her pocket, a manual can opener too; she found a decent barlow knife and a sharpening stone. But no real weapons. In the next draws she found some canning lids and twist ties and book matches and a box of 50 .22 shells.
Moving back out to the living room she saw an old octagon barreled .22 pump rifle, the king commonly referred to as a gallery gun, she hadn’t even noticed it as it blended so well with the decor.
Pushing a hassock up to the mantle she managed to get it down and it seemed to be functional.
Bernadette wasn’t stupid and she was mechanically inclined, remembering the two years she and her father had spent restoring her Mustang so she could drive it.
Flipping the rifle over she saw that there was a bullet shaped opening that was blocked by a brass rod, she figured out that by turning the brass rod at the top of the rifle below the barrel she could expose the loading hole and soon has as many rounds as she could fit loaded into the Winchester.
She managed to fit 14 rounds in and racked the slide. It seemed to work, but she was loath to try shooting it indoors to test it; and she was even more worried about testing outside because it might attract the soldiers to her.
In the end she pumped all 14 rounds back out and reloaded them in again.
She remembered Bob her neighbor said he was going to head west and try to find working power, and right now that sounded great. She could of course stay here at the farm but if the soldier were really out looking then they would invariably stop at this farm sooner or later and she didn’t think that this time she would be lucky enough to evade them.
As ready as she thought she would be she left the house and made her way to the pump.
It worked ad she gave silent thanks to whoever was watching over her.
She refilled the water bottle she had drunk out of and now more prepared left the farm. She also drank her fill and stopped to relieve her bladder before she completely abandoned the place. She also fed the chickens before she left.
Chapter 8
In the end finding Also Bobs sister was easier than he had thought it would be.
One of the things that Bob had taken from Also Bob when he had searched his body was His wallet, and as he rode he opened it up.
There were no pictures in it, that was so last century, but there was his driver’s license, a donor card and several other cards.
Robert Edward Ahern was his name and he was an EMT by trade. He was also an organ donor and clearly listed on his card was an address in Van Wert. Even though he thought Also Bobs sister may have a differing last name seeing as how she had two children, in the modern world that wasn’t always the reality. And even if she wasn’t there whoever was at the address might be able to point them to the right address.
As he got closer to town he saw more than a few angry faces and also more than one shotgun or rifle present; These people had obviously had other less friendly motorcyclists pass through and Bob was keenly aware that someone might take his presence here as a threat and take a shot at him.
He found the tracks that Also Bob had mentioned and soon enough saw a lacquered wooden sign proclaiming the Ahern residence, with one of those ubiquitous plastic 4x4’s that kids loved to ride on.
He slowed to a stop and put the kickstand down on his bike, making sure every move was slow and deliberate.
He retrieved the back pack with all of the dead man’s things in it and started walking up the gravel driveway when a younger woman with no resemblance to Also Bob came out of the House with a Shot gun at the ready.
“You stop right there!” she yelled at him.
Bob stopped, and then carefully sat down on his butt.
Carefully reaching in he pulled the items inside out one by one and lined them up on the gravel. A neon green pair of binoculars.
A two pack of children’s vitamins.
A canteen.
Also bobs wallet.
The oversized neon compass.
“What are you doing?” She yelled at him.
“I was a friend of your brother Bob” Bob said loud enough for her to hear.
She sagged when she heard that.
“How did it happen?” she asked stepping off of the porch.
“Sniper on the secondary road, I didn’t even hear the shot that killed him” He said as he continued to pull things out of the pack.
Another box of vitamins.
The Sundial watch.
Adult one a day vitamins.
The Star Map.
She was standing over him now; she still had the shotgun but wasn’t pointing it directly at him.
She reached down and picked up the little plastic watch, wiping the blood off of it before looking it over.
“Can I get you anything?” she said after a moment.
“I know there’s a water shortage but I’d love a glass full” Bob said.
“There’s no water shortage here” she said and pointed to an old style pump “Pump as much as you like” she said.
Bob got up gratefully and walked over to the pump.
After three good pumps on the lever the waster was flowing like all get out and he stuck his head under it, then cupped his hands underneath and drank as much as his stomach would hold.
He walked back to his bike.
“Would you like some food? I have some fresh vegetables and more eggs than I know what to do with” she said after gathering up all of her brother’s belongings.
“I would love some, but I’ll eat out here if you don’t mind; I’m not the cleanest I’ve ever been and I’d like to keep an eye on my hog”
She disappeared inside and Bob moved his motorcycle farther from the road.
He realized he still had his AK strapped across his back, but didn’t bother to take it off.
She was back in a few minutes with a plate of scrambled eggs and a bunch of fresh cut cucumber s and tomatoes, and a couple of decent green beans.
He thanked her and took the provided fork.
“How did you cook them?” her asked as he shoveled the food into his mouth, trying not to look like a pig.
“Ohio has an abundance of natural gas wells, free gas comes with the property” she said.
He ate a little longer.
“Where’s my brothers bike?” she asked and Bob stiffened, he had almost thought she was going to ask where her brother’s body was.
“Broke down on I-71 north” He said.
“How did it happen?” She asked.
“We were riding to get you brother some more wheels so that he could get here and got ambushed by three guys on a billboard. I killed them and came here to deliver his things” Bob rushed through the explanation as fast and painlessly as he could.
As he talked he realized that two tiny heads were peeking out from the front door at him.
He took off his neon binoculars and set them on the front porch floor.
And just kept talking to Also Bobs sister, telling her about how bad it had been in Columbus with the fire.
Soon a tiny hand grabbed the binoculars and they were gone. He then did the same thing with the compass, and soon it was gone also.
“You have any word about what’s going on with all of this?” she asked.
“Just what a neighbor said. He thought it was a terrorist attack on our electrical grid” Bob answered as he finished his food and returned the plate and utensil to the woman.
“That’s what our resident prepper said also” she replied and took the plate inside , returning shortly after.
“Any idea how far it goes?” Bob asked after a moment.
“At least to Chicago, we had a guy come through last night in an old dump truck, said he was doing nighttime road work near downtown Chitown when the power went down, he said the shooting started and he got into the first working construction truck and was hauling ass home to south Carolina”
Bob nodded.
“Well you have been more than kind and I thank you for the food and information” He stood and offered her his hand.
She took it.
“Thank you for bringing me my brother’s things and the news” Her voice broke when she said it and he knew she was trying not to cry in front of him.
“Kids, give him back his things” She said and turned away to wipe tears from her eyes.
“Keep them” Bob said “I can find my way west with the sun”
He got to his bike and checked the gas level; pouring the last of his ready fuel into it he reattached the can to the front forks and made ready to leave.
Also Bob’s sister approached.
“You look exhausted, you could sleep here in the barn if you need too” she said.
He looked at her for a moment before he said anything; then held out his hand.
“Robert Beech” He said and she looked at him awkwardly for a moment.
“Melissa Ahern” she replied and shook it.
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Post by kaijafon on Aug 2, 2014 15:03:41 GMT -6
oooohhhhh is that sparks I see??? a bit of interest in their hearts? Very good chapter!!! I love how the kiddo's snagged the things off of the porch! thank you!!! As for Bernadette, I wish she had opened the coop so the chickens could get out and look for food.
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Post by warsparrow on Aug 5, 2014 12:41:16 GMT -6
Chapter 9
Used.
He removed the three long guns he had gotten earlier and Melissa emptied them and showed him how to load and unload them, as a country girl she was more familiar with the different weapons he was.
He also took the clothes he had washed in the road side ditch out of the backpack he had kept them in and he could smell the mold and the fertilizer that had run off of the wheat farm and into the water; and he doubted that they had a working washer so it looked like he was stuck hand washing his clothes.
He managed to find a good sized galvanized tub and washed them as best he could, then hung them out on a line to dry.
She made him a western omelet for dinner, explaining that they had more chickens than they could successfully feed now and that they were practically swimming in eggs.
He appreciated it and sat on the front porch with his plate and pitcher of cold water to accompany it, he counted only two motor vehicles go by in that time, a dark Green Rebel Machine and a old Ford 2n tractor.
He woke with a start and realized he had fallen asleep on the front porch, a cat had come up from somewhere and was eating his omelet as it sat on his lap.
The sun was well down in the sky and if he knew anything, it was that it was going to be another dark night. He scared the cat off and got to his feet, making his way toward the barn. He stopped and checked his clothes and found them to already be dry, so he smelled them and finding them agreeable, threw them over his shoulder and headed to the open barn door.
He didn’t want to be suspicious of Melissa but it looked as if someone had gone through his things and tried to replace them as they had been, he made sure that his ammunition was still secure and remembered he had to reload the empty AK magazine that was currently in the rifle.
Counted the ammo out and loaded the rifle, the just to be sure looked over the others. There were only ten rounds of 12 gauge left.
He wasn’t supposed to be as angry as he felt right then, because she had been more than nice to him and fed him, but at the same time all she would have had to do was ask and he would have simply given her the ammunition.
He had been thinking of dragging the tub inside and taking a bath in the cool water, but now all of that was forgotten, he would just find a rag and give himself a quick once over before turning in to the barn for the night.
One of the things he had found That Also bob had taken from the Armada Inn before it burned was a couple of the small complimentary bottles of shampoo and hand soap. He washed his hair right at the hand pump and was just going t leave it at that when Melissa came out trailed by her two children and brought him a towel to dry himself. “Thanks but you didn’t have to, it’s warm enough that it would have dried soon anyway” He said, trying not to sound angry with her.
“I also have some left over Omelet if you want it, seeing as how you fell asleep and the cat ate yours” She said and started heading back toward the house.
He followed not because he wanted to eat more, but because he decided it would be the best way to keep an eye on her. He sat down and said he would have a little more, and she brought it out along with two beers.
He accepted one, even though he wasn’t a beer man; she drank one with him in silence as he ate and then went back into the house, after he was finished she reappeared from the attached garage.
“I set you up with a cot and some blankets in the garage, the barn being, well less than homey” she said.
Trying to figure out what her game was Bob was going to protest, but then just nodded.
He went to the barn and retrieved his motorcycle and things and brought them into the double garage.
The cot was an older olive drab army type that campers sometimes used, and he set everything he would need around that and made sure that the motorcycle was loaded and ready for a quick getaway just in case.
The last thing he did was make sure that the Ruger was loaded and nearby just in case.
He fell asleep almost instantly.
Melissa Ahern sat in a chair in the dark living room, watching the last of the light fade away behind the tree line in the distance. She had the shotgun fully loaded and ready across her lap.
She would give it two hours, and then if nothing happened she would reevaluate her position. The kids were in bed and she knew that they were already asleep.
In the end she had to wait less than an hour.
Bob woke to a sound he had almost put from his mind. A large truck came screeching to a halt in the driveway.
He was up instantly.
Was this what she had been planning? Lure him in and when he fell asleep she called her accomplicaes to rob and kill him?
He grabbed the AK instead of the Ruger, he was definitely going to need more firepower than the six shots the .44 would provide.
The attached garage had an access door the he pulled open, the truck was there idling and he saw as many as four people pile out of it. He knew he should open fire right then but hesitated; could he be wrong? Could this be her husband or other person coming home? He realized that Melissa didn’t have husband because she still had her brother’s name meaning that that was still her maiden name.
The question of whether to shoot or not was answered when the front door burst open and The smaller woman pumped two rounds at the approaching men.
He heard swearing and screaming, and the crunch of gravel as someone tried to use the corner of the garage for cover.
He stepped out into the light provided by the sliver of moon and unloaded half of the AKs clip before stepping back inside.
He waited for the count of three then turned and emptied the second half of the clip into the idling truck and anything near it.
“holy Crap!” he heard somebody yell before the truck through itself into reverse, and running over one of the men trying to get back into the bed it, turned and turfing the lawn before jumping the ditch onto the road sending another man flying out of the back it drove out of sight down the two lane blacktop.
Melissa meanwhile continued to pump shells at the retreating truck.
Rather than fumble for te other magazine for the AK in the dark confines of the garage; Bob for his part drew his Star BM and empty the magazine at the vehicle also, see sincerely doubted he had hit anything in the dark, but as long as it encouraged them to keep going he didn’t care.
He knew now what her game was, she had known that eventually there would be someone coming to ransack and loot her secluded farm, and possibly rape her and leave her for dead.
And Him, he was her hired gun, like some bad western.
He was pissed.
He could hear the Children upstairs in the dark screaming and crying.
“Are you Ok?” he heard her call through the ringing in his ears from all the gun fire in the small garage.
“Yeah, go look after your kids; I’m going to take a look around” Bob said pulling the Neon Green LED flashlight from his pants pocket and starting toward the front of the yard.
He had expected her to say something in return, even a simple ‘be careful’ would have made him feel better about what she had roped him into; but she didn’t.
With a sigh he checked the yard.
One dead there from a shotgun blast to the chest.
The driveway? One dead there. Shotgun blast to the legs but, cause of death? Being run over by his own driver.
Two by the side of the garage were his doing, that made four so far;
There was the one in the road, he had landed solidly on his head and broken his neck.
He started walking back toward the house and saw a blood trail leading away from the porch, he followed it carefully, then stopped realizing the magazine in the BM he was carrying was empty.
He holstered the gun and switching the flashlight to his strong hand pulled the other BM, he tracked the guy to just short of the chicken coop, the chicken wire having stopped him.
He was still breathing and trying to hold onto some kind of chrome pistol, but didn’t seem to have the strength.
“Drop it!” Bob yelled way too loudly.
“Screw you; I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ and y’all shot me!” He yelled.
Bob could see that he had taken a good blast of buckshot in his lower left side.
Kidney? Pancreas? His knowledge of anatomy wasn’t all that great.
“You’re a lying sack; and I think I’m just going to walk away and let you bleed to death” Bob said and started to back away.
“You Got’s to help me!” He screamed waving the shiny pistol vaguely in Bobs direction “Remember what the Good Book says ‘thou shan’t Kill!”
Bob was tempted to point out that Shant wasn’t even a word, but decided against it.
“It also says ‘thou shall not lie’ which is what you just did, so I guess it’s a wash” bob continued to stare at the man.
He tried to sit up and take aim, but bob had his own pistol already at the ready, and put two rounds into the middle of the wounded raider’s chest.
‘yes that is what I have become, a hired gun’ He thought to himself as he staggered back toward the house, now feeling completely drained after the adrenalin rush had finished coursing through him.
He knew that he would have to move the bodies away from the farm before the kids got up , but right now he just wanted to sit down. He was proud of himself though for not throwing up everything again, though it did make him wonder if he was starting to become inured to all of the violence.
He sat down heavily on the front porch and looked up at the stars for a few minutes as the clouds scuttled by overhead.
Soon he heard the creak of the front screen, and Melissa sat down next to him.
“Kids ok?” He asked as she sat there in silence.
“Yeah, they’re both tucked into the same bed and calm” she said and popped a beer handing it to him, and then opening one herself”
“Not likely to get many more of these” She said and went to clink them together like a toast.
Bob suddenly turned to her.
“I don’t appreciate being used lady, I’m not some hired gun; I’m an accountant and up until three days ago I had my own business and everything” He burst out.
“What did you expect me to do? I’m a single woman out here with two kids; my only family is dead and my Fiancée is in some hole of a sandbox country half way around the world!” she paused for a moment.
“There have been other houses around her looted and the people killed, it was only a matter of time before they showed up here; then you arrived like a divine gift, with an AK and guns galore”
“It looks like a pretty lousy deal to me, sleep in a garage and get shot at until I either get killed myself or we run out of ammo and get killed then” He said throwing the half full beer into the street.
“What you expect me to sleep with you? Like that is supposed to be some kind of trade off? I just need you to stay here until my fiancée gets home” She said.
Bob actually laughed at that.
“That’s not what I want? And how would you soldier do that? In the last three days how many airplanes have you even heard, let alone seen? I know I can count the number on no hands” He paused “ after hurricane Katrina, with the rest of the country in good shape it still took the US Government, the largest government in the world with the largest money allocated to resources eight full days to respond to the disaster in one area”
He let that sink in for a moment.
“Do you think that the Government is just going to fly our soldier’s home, when they’re probably needed where they’re at even more that this has happened?” He was in no mood to be subtle.
“You yourself said that this extended farther than Chicago, how many major cities does this affect? I can count at least eight right off the bat? And if you’re expecting aid, where do you think Van Wert Ohio is on the list of places to be helped?” He looked over at her in the sliver of moon light.
“I already know you stole from me, and I would have just given you the ammo if you had just asked; but you didn’t; and I’m not sure I could trust you again”
Without a word she stood and turned to reenter the house.
He got up too and looking at her dark silhouette on the porch spoke. “I’m going to move the bodies before the kids get up, but then I’m going to pack up and head west until I find power and food, you should seriously think about packing up and moving closer to town, or staying with people you know for better protection”
“I understand” she said and he heard the screen door close
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Post by patience on Aug 5, 2014 14:28:52 GMT -6
Hmmm. That went well. Seems like Bob has something of a chip on his shoulder. I don't see how he can blame her for the raid and his part in defending the place. He should know by now that is how things are going and expected it. And SHE did HER part in the defense, too.
Wonder if he'll come off his high horse before he let's this woman go?
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Post by freebirde on Aug 5, 2014 19:33:40 GMT -6
I disagree. If she had said upfront “There have been other houses around her looted and the people killed, it was only a matter of time before they showed up here; then you arrived like a divine gift, with an AK and guns galore" and given Bob a chance to chose, I think Bob would have done the stand up thing and helped her. She showed that she didn't trust him but was willing to use him. Bob will be well rid of her, users rarely change.
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Post by warsparrow on Aug 6, 2014 12:53:55 GMT -6
Some good news. The editor finally kicked my book up the chain. So maybe in a few weeks ill actually be able to tell people I'm an author.
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Post by papaof2 on Aug 6, 2014 13:36:31 GMT -6
We know you're an author. Getting a book thru the chain makes you a commercially published author. The only difference is the potential $$$ ;-)
Sent from my IdeaTabA2109A using proboards
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