American Apocalypse Wastelands (23 page)

Max laughed. “What are we going to do if they try that, Gardener?”

I thought for a few seconds. “Hmm. How about her, or one of her employees, hanging from a tree with a sign around their neck? I think something like ‘I got greedy and tried to Banker this town' would get the message across.”

Miss Edna looked at me. I watched thoughts flit across the surface of her eyes. “Yes, that would do just fine.”

 

Max came back from making the call and pulled me aside. “The state police don't want anything to do with it. They
said bury them and e-mail them the victims' information. If we could do that, he told me they would owe us one.”

“Shit, Max, I am not burying her. You can count me out on that one.”

“Don't worry. I got a couple of people from the meeting who will do it for silver. It will also help focus them on why they need us.”

“Well, I hope they don't eat a big breakfast before they go. That was nasty.”

“Oh, and don't bring up the militia. Old Guy won't shut up about it, but I want to talk to you about it in private.”

“No problem. We are going to have to find these people.”

“Yep. All in due time.”

We went back to join the others, and Night told me about the progress the block managers were making. She would soon have a complete census for us that would include who had Internet or phone service, where the vacant houses were, and much more. She also wanted to talk to me later about the RV incident. She wanted to look at the topographic map to see if she could figure out possible places where they might be based.

Max was right. Old Guy was talking nonstop about the “new unit.” I sighed. I was trapped for at least another hour.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Two uneventful days passed. I showed up for work on the third day expecting the same. I stopped by the station to get Diesel. Hawk had decided he liked working the night shift. Eventually we would go to three shifts, with Diesel and me trading off on the swing shift. That way I could still do chores on the farm. It made for a long day, but hey, everyone else was putting in some serious time, too.

I didn't know Diesel really well yet, but from his grin I knew something shitty was in the wind. “Hey, Max. Hey, Diesel. What the hell you grinning about?”

Diesel laughed. “You'll see.”

“Yep. Come on, Gardener. It's time to introduce you to your new patrol car.”

I followed Max outside. I had noticed a blue minivan parked in front and was going to ask about it. It looked like I wasn't going to have to.

Max handed me the keys. “That's it.”

“You got to be kidding me. What am I going to do, take people into custody and then drop them off at their soccer game?”

Diesel started snickering in the background.

“What're you laughing about?” Max asked. “You got to drive this piece of shit too.”

“I know, I know.”

I opened the door. There was a blue bubble light on the dashboard. I pointed at it. “Oh, now that makes
all
the difference in the world.”

“You didn't think I was going keep letting you drive my truck, did you?”

I slid the back door open and looked around. On the floor was a DVD case. I picked it up and read the title:
Veggie Tales
. “So what were you using this van for before, torture?”

“Very funny, Gardener. It's only until we get the Crown Vic back from the shop.”

“Right. I suppose this starts today?”

“Yep, as soon as you get briefed. You're on your own for a couple hours. Diesel is going to help me put in a tollbooth. Didn't Night tell you?”

“No.” Actually she had started to, but I had changed the subject to something that didn't require as much talking.

I rolled out in my blue 2001 Chrysler Town and Country. I hit the business section, parked, and did my rounds. I stopped in and picked up my rings. I had to slice my last remaining gold piece in half to pay off the balance. Then I got back in the minivan and started doing my drive through the residential areas.

That's when I saw the Accord. It had pulled out of one of the side streets and was heading toward the outside of town, where it could pick up Route 235 to West Virginia.

I swept the bubble off the dashboard and turned to follow him. I saw him checking me out in the rearview
mirror, but he didn't pick up speed. Why should he? I was in a freaking minivan.

He was going to have to stop at the four-way stop in three blocks. I put on my turn signal, turned right and then left, so I could run parallel to him.

Three blocks up, I hit the intersection, made my left, and was picking up speed as he rolled to a stop. I didn't. I floored it and was moving about thirty-five mph when he started through the intersection and I T-boned him.

Wham!
My airbag blew. Oh yeah, that hurt. I fumbled for my belt release and stepped out of the van. The other car's airbag had not deployed. I was out of my car a few seconds before the driver of the Accord was, not that it meant all that much. It took me that long to be sure that all parts of me were going to function correctly.

He stood shaking his head and holding on to the edge of his car. Since I had T-boned him, I had to go around his car. That was going to take too long.

I yelled “Insurance!” at him and stepped back up into the minivan. From there I put one foot into the shattered side window frame and pushed off, trying to leap across the top of the Honda.

I think he figured out about then that I wasn't some dumb-ass who was taking a short cut to him with my insurance card. He dropped his hand from the car and went to draw his weapon.

I didn't make it all the way across. I came down hard on top of the car, my chest hitting right above where the driver's head would be. I didn't have time to draw. I should have drawn when I jumped. Instead, I reached out and grabbed his head with both hands and smashed
it against the car where the door joined the roof. Then I pushed him back and did it again.

I wanted to kill him, but I also wanted to talk to him. So I shoved him back hard. He lost his balance and fell onto his back. I pulled my legs up under me, jumped off the roof, and fell on top of him.

He was moaning. He wasn't happy, and neither was I. My chest hurt and my right hand was bleeding. I must have scraped it on the shattered glass or metal.

I put the barrel of the Ruger in his face and said, “Don't. Fucking. Move.”

Blood poured from a gash in his head. I reached down, pulled his weapon from its holster and tossed it about ten feet away.

“Get on your knees and take off your shirt.”

“Damn. Call 911. I need help.”

911?
I thought.
Is this asshole in shock or did he just drop in from Zone central?

“Get on your knees, asshole. You need to take off your shirt so I can wrap that head wound.”

He struggled with getting it off. I let him struggle. Damn, he had bled on it, too. We needed to get some gloves for this kind of shit.

“Toss it to me.” I took it and walked behind him. “If you move, I am going to hurt you.”

“Like you haven't already.”

I wrapped it around his head and knotted it tight in the back. “Stay there.”

 

I looked up to see Max and Diesel flying down the street toward me in the truck. Max braked hard and was out the door as soon as it stopped. Both he and Diesel had their
weapons drawn. Diesel had an M-14 and was scanning the rooftops and houses.

Max yelled, “You got any more, G?”

“We're good. This is it.”

Max holstered his .45, but Diesel did not relax. If anything he was getting even more tense. He kept watching the rooftops.

Max walked over and looked at the minivan. “Damn, Gardener. If I knew you felt that strongly about driving this, I would have let you take the truck.” He walked over to where the dipshit was on the ground. “You know this is going to be a little embarrassing for you if it's the wrong guy.”

“It's the right one. I remember the tag.” That wasn't entirely true; I only remembered the first three letters. Close enough.

Where was Diesel?
I expected him to be standing here giving me a hard time. I turned and spotted him crouching by the back of the minivan. I didn't like how he looked.

“Sarge, where are the rest of the guys?” he said, searching around. Diesel was with us physically, but I wasn't sure where the rest of him was.

“Sarge, we need a pickup. Those fuckers are somewhere around here. They always are when they set this shit off.”

The sense of urgency in his voice was palpable.

I wasn't the only one who noticed.

“Hey, buddy. I think your man there is losing it.” The Dipshit followed his comment with a malicious chuckle that ended with him crying in pain and pitching forward. A kick in the kidney hurts, especially when you're wearing boots like mine.

Max was next to Diesel now. He was talking to him softly. I couldn't hear what he was saying but I flashed back to when he had done the same thing for me when I was hurting really bad.

I knelt next to Dipshit and did my own version of a soothing whisper in his ear. “When I get you alone in about thirty minutes, I am going to hurt you so bad you are going to beg me to stop.” He didn't say anything but I knew he was listening. “Then you are going to find out that I'm just getting started.”

I stood up. Max had his arm around Diesel. They had their backs to me. Dipshit was on his knees still, both arms on the ground, with his head hanging down. He was still moaning from my kidney shot. I stomped the hand closest to me and watched him go flat on the ground, shrieking. Max and Diesel didn't even turn around.

Diesel seemed to be back from wherever he had gone. I could only guess where that might have been, but I bet it involved the sun and friends dying. He was embarrassed about it, I could tell. Max had him go through Dipshit's car while we stood over him.

“Did you search him?”

“No, I thought I would just shoot him if he twitched wrong.”

“That's not how we do it, Gardener. You got to search him.”

So I patted him down while he whined about how he needed medical help. The only thing I found on him was his wallet. I started going through it.

“Hey! Dipshit has a name. He also has a Zone pass.” It was an old pass, expired three months ago, and the photo was a few years old. “So, Casey. That is you, right?”

“Yes, Damn. You going to help me?”

“In a minute. Maybe.”

Diesel had found a Motorola walkie-talkie and a cell phone in the car. “Check it out.” He held them up for us to look at.

“Nice. Stomp the shit out of the cell and bring me the walkie.”

He brought the walkie-talkie to Max, who said, “Roll Casey over.”

I rolled him over. “Damn, Casey, you are going to have a couple of gorgeous black eyes.”

Max knelt down next to him. “Okay. When is your next check-in time?” Casey looked away. “Okay, Casey, I am going to ask you one more time. If you don't answer, I am going to ask Officer Gardener to break all the fingers on your other hand.”

“Prick!”

I drew my foot back to prompt him, but Max shook his head no.

“Alright—at four o'clock if I have any problems.”

“And if you didn't have problems?”

“I would just show up.”

“Thanks, Casey. I appreciate it. Okay, put him in the back of the truck. We'll take him to the station and get him fixed up.”

Diesel grabbed his feet and I got the head.

“Remember what I said, Casey? We are not done caring and sharing yet, not by a long shot.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

We dropped him in the back of the truck. Max and Diesel had their shovels and a tamp bar in there, so he was a bit unhappy about that also.

“Jesus Christ! Wait until I tell my dad about this! He is going to have your balls.”

I climbed in the back with him and slapped the side of the truck cab to let Max know I was ready. “Really? Is it okay if I save the rest for your mother?”

“Fuck you. You're a goddamn whack job.”

I didn't say anything. I just smiled and stared at him until he turned his head.

When we got to the station, I stood him up, and we walked him in. We had two holding cells. One was filled with boxes of paper and who knows what from the previous administration; the other was guest-ready. We put him in there.

“Am I going to get a doctor? I want to make a phone call.”

“Yep, we'll get right on it,” I told him. We left him mumbling to himself in the cell and went back to the main area of the station.

“Diesel, take the truck and see if you can get Donna to come by and take a look at him, will you?”

“No problem.” He didn't hesitate, either. I think he was still bothered by losing it in the field.

We waited until the door had shut. Max put his boots up on the desk. “So, how do you want to do it, G? I think you have established a rapport with him—not that I would mind beating the snot out of him.”

“We might not have to, Max.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, let me tell you his backstory. I'm guessing on this but I bet I'm pretty close. He's young, probably not more than nineteen. His dad is someone back in the Zone, probably military. He's gay. Dad didn't like it. He ran and ended up with whoever the hell he ended up with.”

“The wrong crowd?”

We both laughed. “Yeah. Those people. I think he has a lover in town. That shouldn't be too hard to find out. There can't be more than four gay people in this town.”