Ever Onward (47 page)

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Authors: Wayne Mee

Tags: #adventure, #horses, #guns, #honor, #military, #sex, #revenge, #motorcycles, #female, #army, #survivors, #weapons, #hiking, #archery, #primitive, #rifles, #psycopath, #handguns, #hunting bikers, #love harley honour hogs, #survivalists psycho revolver, #winchester rifle shotgun shootout ambush forest, #mountains knife, #knives musket blck powder, #appocolyptic, #military sergeant lord cowboy 357, #action 3030

BOOK: Ever Onward
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Josh dug out his pipe and slowly
filled the bowl. “It could also be that you’re full of
shit.”

Doc grinned. “Fastest bowel movement
in the west!”

Josh smiled in spite of himself. “Even
if what you say is true, it doesn’t change the fact that they will
be back. I won’t live in fear and I won’t run away. If that sounds
like some corny ‘B’ grade movie to you, then I’m sorry.”

Doc shook his head. “’A man’s gotta do
what a man’s gotta do’, eh? Christ, now you do sound like The
Duke.”

Just then Flame and Jessie joined
them. Jessie, the bruise all but faded where Cobb had hit him,
moved quietly to his father. Even the buxom red-head seem subdued
by the catastrophe that had taken place three days
earlier.

Jessie spoke to his father. “Uncle
Brad is still out there.”

Since the funeral, Brad had spent most
of his time at his son’s grave. Doc had tried to get him to stay in
bed, saying his shoulder could easily get infected, but Brad had
paid little heed. It was almost as if he didn’t care.

Josh sighed and stood up. “I’ll go
talk to him.”

The five graves, all achingly fresh,
were out back of what remained of the main house. Willard had
suggested stones be placed over the earth to discourage animals.
With humans being almost eliminated from the area, the number of
coyotes and other predators was rapidly on the rise. Five stone
cairns now rose up above the swaying grass. Brad, sitting in a lawn
chair, kept a silent vigil.

“He’d not want this, Brad.”

The hunched form made no
reply.

The two men gazed at the stacked
stones, remembering the past. After a while Josh turned and knelt
beside his cousin. The bandages on Brad’s shoulder were stained
red.

Brad looked up, his eyes dark hollows
of despair. “Why, Josh? He was only a child. Why?”

Josh stiffened, his voice suddenly
cold. “Because they like killing. It makes them feel good, tough,
invincible. But they aren’t, Brad. They can die like the rest of
us. Cobb proved that.”

Something that might have once passed
for a smile moved quickly across Brad’s face. Josh though, knew it
for what it was; a grimace of pain that had nothing to do with his
wound.

“It’s not just Kenneth. It’s Jim
Shell, Marcy, Thelma. Christ! Tom Leeson died in my arms! And now
you tell me Trina’s gone! Sweet Jesus, it’ll never end!” His eyes
narrowed. “They’ll be back, won’t they? Sooner or later they’ll
come back to finish what they started.”

Josh held his cousin’s gaze. “Not if
we get them first. Come morning, I’m heading up to
Plattsburg.”

Brad held his cousin’s gaze for
several heartbeats. “You’re serious about this? You’re going after
them?”

Josh nodded toward the graves. “I
don’t think we have a choice.”

The silence between them stretched out
like a living thing. Then Brad placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder.
“Cities are bad, Josh. Remember what Boston was like? Mobs! Fires!
People hanging from lampposts! You get caught up in that and you’ll
be as dead as Kenneth!”

From out in the lake came the
plaintive cry of a loon. Josh drew a deep breath, his voice a
whispered confession. “I can’t just sit here waiting.”

Several moments passed before Brad
spoke, when he did, his voice held some of his old bounce. “Besides
Flame and Cobb, who else is going? Eddy? Bobby?”

Josh nodded. “Jessie’s coming
too.”

Brad tried to rise but couldn’t. His
shoulder wound started bleeding again. Their eyes met. “Looks like
I’ll have to sit this one out. When do you leave?”

“First
light.”

All of the survivors were up to see
them off. Jenny Hiller hugged Cobb, then turned away. Mai-Ling
kissed Jessie on his cheek, making the young man blush. Mrs. Wang
embraced each of them, then handed Bobby a large box of bake-goods
she’d prepared. Willard hefted a cooler filled with frozen venison
stakes onto the back of the towtruck.

“Those should last you near a week.
You’ll be back by then.”

Everyone smiled, but no-one really
believed it. Josh had told Doc and Brad privately that if they
didn’t find them in Plattsburg, they’d keep looking. “After all,”
he’d said; “a one armed man and another with an eyepatch shouldn’t
be that hard to find. We’ll be back before the snow
flies.”

In his heart, Doc feared he’d never
see any of them again.

An hour after sunrise, the small
caravan was on the road. In the lead was Josh’s new red Westfalia,
followed by Eddy’s blue van. Bobby’s towtruck, with Flame’s Harley
tied on the back, brought up the rear.

The Searchers were on their
way.

 

Chapter 36
: ‘THE LION’S
DEN’

Plattsburg New York

August
23

The bartender, one Benny Weinstein,
looked up as One Arm came through the tavern’s door. A drunk,
either an early starter or someone left over from last night, was
standing in the way. One Arm shoved him aside and stepped up to the
bar. Benny handed him a bottle.

For the first three weeks after The
Change, this roadhouse on the outskirts of Plattsburg had been
Benny’s own little kingdom. He had gathered a number of survivors,
including several women, and decided to ‘open for business’. He’d
even painted a sign to hang out front. Being a life long James Bond
fan, he had christened the place ‘Pussy Galore’.

Then, a little over a week ago, One
Arm and that cold bastard Rambo had showed up. His little kingdom
had quickly crumbled. Now he considered himself lucky to just be
alive.

“You look like hell, Boss”, Benny said
by way of a greeting. “How did things go with those hayseeds you
went after?”

After a long pull on the bottle, One
Arm turned to the balding bartender. “Shut the fuck up and get me
something to eat!”

Benny smiled. One Arm was a real
asshole, but he was one mean bastard of an asshole. Benny figured
he had it soft here, and had no desire to be back out on the road.
If that meant taking a little lip, that was fine by him.

“Benny’s right, Tough Guy,” a female
voice said. “You do look like hell. Come upstairs and let me get
you cleaned up.”

One Arm took another drink, managing
to give her the finger at the same time. The woman rewarded him
with her most rewarding smile; the one reserved for the powerful
and dangerous shitheads. She called herself Easy-Lay Fay, and
though the spring of her life had long since come and gone, in that
low-cut dress and all that paint, she still didn’t look half bad.
Looks aside, she ran the other girls at the ‘Pussy Galore’ like a
master-sergeant, keeping them turning tricks almost as fast as
Benny served his watered whiskey. Of course, with all forms of
money now a thing of the past, all ‘payment’ had to be done on the
barter system. Things traded, work done, that sort of thing. Fay
was even better at it that Benny.

Just then Rambo came in. Straw trailed
behind him like an anorexic shadow. They walked past a beefy
looking man with no neck sitting behind the door. Bruiser the
Bouncer they called him. Bruiser wasn’t too long on smarts, but he
could pound the shit out of any three men without working up a
sweat. One Arm let him sleep out back for services rendered. Rambo
kicked the half risen drunk aside, grabbed a bottle from Benny and
stalked past One Arm into the back room. The door slammed
shut.

Fay turned to Straw. “What the fuck
happened to you boys, Runt?”

Straw, his beady eyes already
devouring one of Fay’s girls lounging around in her underwear,
reluctantly met the older woman’s gaze.

“We got the shit kicked out of us,
that’s what! And don’t call me Runt! Where’s Sally?”

“Upstairs with a John. Where’s the
rest of your bunch?”

Straw started towards the stairs.
“Dead. Who’s she with?”

“The Pope! For Christ sake, Runt, you
had over a dozen men with you!”

Straw turned on her, his mouth a grim
slash. “You fucking deaf, Bitch? They’re all dead! And I told you
not to call me Runt!” His hand went to the knife at his side.
Before it was half-way drawn, Fay had a silver-plated Derringer
pressed against his temple.

“Go on, Prick-Face,” she said coldly.
“Make my day.”

Straw stood perfectly still, a line of
sweat forming on his upper lip. It was only a shitty little .22,
but he’d seen Fay splatter a John’s brains with it just a week ago
and the memory of that gray matter dripping down the walls was
suddenly very vivid. His hand itched to draw the knife, but as the
hammer on the little pop-gun clicked back, he decided he wanted his
own brains exactly where they were. He’d deal with the old bitch
later.

When Straw backed away, the people in
the bar breathed a sigh of relief. Even Bruiser the Bouncer
relaxed. One of the girls came up to Straw and whispered in his
ear. A moment later he was chasing her upstairs. One Arm, now
half-way through the bottle, handed it to Fay. She slid the
Derringer into her ample cleavage and took a long pull.

“Christ, Fay! I should have brought
you along instead of that bunch of limp dicks! You got more balls
than the lot of ‘em!”

Fay grinned. “Feel like checking that
out, Tough Guy?”

One Arm looked her up and down. “Why
the fuck not?”

Benny breathed easier as
Fay led the one armed psycho up the stairs, then yelled at Bruiser
to throw the drunk out into the street.

They arrived at Benny’s bar by
mid-afternoon on the third day. They could have made it sooner, but
both Josh and Cobb wanted to check things out before showing
themselves. They’d gotten directions to the
‘Pussy Galore’
from the few people hanging round the waterfront. Now, parked on a
wharf a few blocks away, they made their plans. Lake Champlain’s
blue waters glistened behind them.

Cobb pointed at the rough sketch he’d
made. “Two out front, two out back. Two go inside. Either way they
run, we have them.”

Eddy shook his head. “What if they
don’t run? The two inside could buy it while the other four are
waiting around.”

Josh leaned forward. “How about this.
Two go in and sit down. Act like customers. A few minutes later two
more come in and stay by the door. That way there’s four of us
inside. The other two can watch the back.”

Jessie sighed. “And I suppose I’m one
of the watchers?”

Flame ruffled the boy’s long blond
hair. “You’re too young to drink, Jess. Besides, someone’s got to
look after Og.”

The hound’s head lifted at the sound
of its name.

Cobb shrugged. With a trained team,
his plan was the best. But this was far from a trained team.
“Sounds good. Now, who goes where?”

“Eddy and I go in first,”, Josh said.
“You and Flame follow. Bobby goes round back with Jess.”

They all nodded, checked their weapons
and left the van. Jess, Og and Bobby went up the alley beside the
bar. The other four crossed the street and made for the front
door.

“We’ll wait right outside for five
minutes,”, Cobb said, “then come in quietly, one on each side of
the door, backs to the wall. That is unless something goes wrong.
Gunfire of you yell…”

Eddy attempted a smile: ‘I don’t give
a shit’. Josh likes that one.” He checked the loads on his
sawed-off shotgun slung under his long coat, then adjusted the two
revolvers he had on him. Flame moved up close to Josh. “Watch
yourself, Lover. These are real mean bastards. You carrying enough
firepower?”

Josh touched her cheek, smiled and
showed her Snake’s heavy Rugger .44 Super Redhawk stuck in his
belt. That and the Berretta in his shoulder holster, a .32 in the
small of his back and a snub-nosed .38 strapped to his ankle seemed
more that enough. Then he and Eddy stepped through the
door.

The smell hit them first. Stale smoke,
cheap liquor and unwashed bodies. Though bright outside, inside was
dim and the room seemed to gather shadows. Above the bar a Colman
lantern cast out its harsh light. The tables held guttering
candles. Several people moved about, most of them half-naked girls.
From a battery powered stereo The Stones cranked out
‘Satisfaction’.

“What’ll it be, gents?”, a male voice
asked. Josh saw a balding man grinning at them from behind the bar.
A girl of about thirteen materialized at Eddy’s arm.

“A bottle of Vodka and a quiet
table,”, Josh replied.

Benny’s eyes narrowed. “What’ve you
got to trade?”

“What’ll you take?”

Benny pointed to a large,
hand painted sign over the bar.

TAKEN AS
TRADE

GUNS, DRUGS & PUSSY!!!

GOLD, COINS & WHEELS

ALSO
ACCEPTED

Absofuckinglootly

NO PAPER MONEY

NO CREDIT

&

NO
ASSHOLES!

“The girls might take jewelry,”, Benny
grinned. “Diamonds and shit like that, but for booze I got to
follow the sign.”

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