AFTER THE DUST SETTLED (Countdown to Armageddon Book 2) (25 page)

     When Robbie made his usual check-in call, he sorrowfully told Hannah there was nothing new to report. John hadn’t stirred in the previous forty eight hours and the doctors were saying it didn’t look good.

     “Robbie, we have some amoxicillin. We can get it to you tonight, if you can meet us.”

     “Seriously? Where on earth… I mean, not even FEMA has any more. And I’ve been to all the pharmacies in San Antonio looking for it myself. It’s all been cleaned out.”

     “Let me just say that the people who have taken me in are angels among men…”

     “Okay, where and when?”

     “The night I was picked up and left
San Antonio… the night before John checked himself into the hospital, my friends brought a truck full of food and wheat to a house on the western outskirts of town. Were you aware of that?”

     “Yes. I was with John a couple of days before that. We went to the house to make sure no squatters were there, and to check out the back fence. Somebody had cut a section away and it was held in place with sliding bolts.”

     “Exactly! That’s the one. Do you think you can find that house again?”

     “Oh, hell, yeah! What time?”

     “The man who will bring the medicine is named Scott. He’s a friend of John’s as well.”

     “I’ve heard John speak of him.”

     “Scott said he can be there around one a.m. tonight, give or take half an hour. He said to remove that section of fence, and to set it aside. That will be his signal that you’re there and that it’s safe to approach the house.”

     “Tell him I’ll be there. And tell him thanks. From John and from me.”

     “I will, Robbie. And thank you too.”

     Hannah signed off and sighed. Joyce could see the worry on her face. She needed something to keep her mind off the situation.

     “Hannah, I’ve got a project to do, for Scott’s trip tonight. Would you mind helping?”

     “Sure. No problem.”

     Scott had left instructions to wake him up at seven, but he was awake long before then.

     He dressed, knowing full well that this could be the very last time he did so. But he tried to shake the sense of dread that kept creeping into the recesses of his mind.

     Linda made him dinner. It was lasagna. One of his favorites.

     He couldn’t help wondering if he was a condemned man, and this was his last meal.

     He didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from. He was normally a very optimistic man. But this night, preparing for this trip, he had an ominous feeling that something was going to go wrong.

     He couldn’t explain it. And he certainly didn’t understand it. But he’d do his level best to hide it. Letting anyone else know he was concerned wouldn’t help the situation. It would likely encourage Joyce to try to talk him out of it.

     And this was something he had to do.

     The rest of the group said goodbye to Scott in the house. Then they let him have some alone time with Joyce, in the front yard, where they could share a few more intimate minutes together.

     They walked to the Gator, which Joyce had prepared while Scott slept.

     “The fuel tank’s all topped off, and you’ve got two fuel cans in the back. You probably won’t need them unless you develop a fuel leak. But they’re there if you need them. The bag in the front seat contains sandwiches and bottled water, and fresh batteries for your night vision goggles and walkie talkie, just in case you need them. You shouldn’t, because I just put fresh batteries in them. But just to be safe…

     “The AR is locked and loaded, but the safety is on, so be sure you switch it off if things look like they might get ugly. I also wedged two extra mags for your handgun between the drivers seat and the console, where you can get to them easy if you need them.”

     “Sounds like you thought of everything. But what’s with all the garbage in the back?”

     He was referring to a pile of black garbage bags on the back of the Gator, each tied tightly.

     “It does look like garbage, doesn’t it?”

     “Well, yeah… if it’s not garbage, what is it?”

     “Hannah and I made them. Each bag contains four bottles of water and four granola bars. There are nine of them. We want you to drop one by the side of the road every ten miles or so on your way down the mountain.”

     “Okay. But why, may I ask?”

     “Because I’m not willing to tru
st the life of the man I love to some damn machine. If this thing breaks down and you have to walk back, it’s a nine day hike. You’ll never make it without fresh drinking water and some kind of nourishment. If you don’t need them, then fine. Someone else will eventually find them and make use of them. But if you do find yourself without a vehicle, and have to make your way back up the mountain on foot, they’ll be there for you.”

     It was something he hadn’t thought of. But he certainly couldn’t argue with her logic.

     So instead, he thanked her and kissed her goodbye, and was on his way.

     She went back inside and watched the monitors at the security console until he disappeared from view.

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     Scott’s journey down the mountain went smoothly. He tried to keep a steady pace. The Gator’s engine was fairly quiet, as long as it was running at more or less the same speed. Slowing down, and then gunning the engine, made considerably more noise. So he’d avoid that as much as possible.

     He very seriously doubted than there was anyone else running around with night vision goggles. They were fairly common among preppers, but the prepper community was rather small. And even those who might have a pair, and still have batteries to operate them, would still have to be in the right place at the right time to hear Scott coming in time to take aim before he sped past them.

     No, Scott was more worried about the moon and the stars. The moon wasn’t full. If it was, he might have considered waiting another night. But there was a half moon in the heavens, and not a cloud in the sky to block its view. Between the half moon and the stars, even someone without night vision goggles could see Scott from fifty yards away. Certainly close enough to get in a lucky shot.

     He’d worn all black, to make it harder to see him. And at the first sign of another human he could gun the engine and lay across the seats to lessen his profile. It wouldn’t guarantee his safety, but it would help. And it was all he had.

     He checked his watch frequently. It was imperative that he arrive at the house right at one a.m. Any earlier and he’d have to wait, exposed, to anyone close by who heard the sound of the Gator and went to check it out.

     Any later, and there was a chance that Robbie would get tired of waiting and leave. Scott didn’t think that would happen. But then again, he didn’t really know anything about Robbie. So he couldn’t discount the possibility.

     He pressed on, adjusting his speed occasionally in an effort to make his arrival time, but trying to maintain as steady as speed as possible.

     And all the way down the mountain, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.

     Finally, at a quarter to one, he made it to his old house. On a lark, he decided not to approach it on vehicle. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. But if the meeting with Robbie was a trap, he didn’t want to easily give up his ride back up the mountain.

     So he parked the Gator in the brush a hundred yards from his back fence, dismounted, and shouldered his rifle. Then he grabbed the black backpack which contained the medicine and a sealed love letter from Hannah, and walked the rest of the way.

     As he approached the back fence to his house, he could see that the section of fence had been removed and placed over to the side. Inside his back yard he could make out a single shadowy figure. The figure had no goggles. In all likelihood, he still couldn’t see Scott, still forty yards away in the heavy brush.

     Scott paused for a moment and watched.

     The figure appeared to be alone.

     He went closer and called out, “Robbie?”

     “Yes. Are you Scott?”

     “Yes.”

     “Okay, I can see you now, Scott. Please don’t come too close. I haven’t shown any symptoms, but the doctors tell me I can be a carrier since I visit John frequently.”

     “Very well. I’ll place the bag outside the fence, and you can get it when I leave.”

     “Thank you, Scott, for doing this. I know John would thank you himself if he was able. The doctors think this will clear up his infection and save him.”

     “It’s no problem, really. I consider him a friend too. Hannah wrote him a letter, for when he wakes up. It’s in the bag as well.”

     “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

     “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

     “Pray. That’s about it.”

     There was nothing more to be said. Scott left the bag on the ground just outside the fence and turned to leave.

     It had gone smoothly after all.

     But halfway back to the Gator, his feeling of paranoia and dread returned. Had he made a tactical error by leaving the Gator unattended? Was it surrounded now by marauders who were trying to figure out how to hotwire it? Or who were waiting for him to return with the key?

     Or maybe there were no marauders but the Gator  wouldn’t start. Had it been a mistake to kill the engine?

     The Gator came back into his view. There was no one around. He climbed on board, placed the key in the ignition, and he held his breath.

     It cranked right up. His paranoia almost subsided as he turned the machine around and headed back to the compound.

     Almost subsided, but not entirely.

     He still had a long way to go.

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Thank you for reading

AFTER THE DUST SETTLE
D
.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

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Please enjoy this preview of

The next installment in this series,

RISE FROM THE ASHES:

THE REBIRTH OF SAN ANTONIO

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     They struck Scott as rednecks, from their language and demeanor. Scott had nothing against rednecks. He considered several of them his friends, back in the old days. As a group, they weren’t a bad lot.

     The problem was, once a redneck made up his mind about something, he seldom changed it. And that worried Scott.

     “What do you think we should do with him, Joe?”

     “I say let’s just shoot the son of a bitch and be done with it.”

     “I don’t know. I’m down to my last few bullets. Don’t want to waste another one on this scumbag. He’ll bleed to death soon enough from his first wound. You’re getting careless in your old age, Davey. Used to, you’d have blown him away instead of just wounding him.”

     “Please,” Scott pleaded. You’ve got my vehicle. Killing me won’t get you anything else, or help you any more. Just leave me to die in peace.”

     “Maybe we should just beat him to death. How about it, Joe?”

     “Nah. He’s right. It makes no sense to waste any more effort on a man who’s just gonna die anyway. Let’s get the hell out of here before those shots attract anybody else.”

     Scott lay in the dirt, trying to come to grips with the pain. But his mind overruled him. The human mind, in its mercy, shuts down when the physical pain becomes too great for one to bear.

     The last thing Scott heard before he blacked out was the sound of his Gator driving off in the distance.

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