SurviRal (27 page)

“They were supposed to wait on the porch,” Dusty said. “We came out and they were gone. Heard some shots down the road a ways. We were about to look for them when you all rode up.”

Several members of Zane’s gang pulled their guns from their belts.

“Don’t worry,” Dusty said. “There’s no ambush. My guys are probably chasing a deer in the woods. In fact, would you be interested in a few new recruits?”

Zane turned and spoke to Tommy, but in a loud enough voice for Dusty to hear.

“I don’t care much for rapists.”

“Me neither.” Tommy chuckled. “Maybe that’s because we were both in Lincoln, huh?”

“Maybe,” Zane said. “But in my experience, when you’re working with rapists they get distracted whenever you encounter a female, and don’t concentrate on the job at hand. If this guy’s telling the truth about his cohorts, it’s a pretty good example of what I’m saying.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Dusty said. “Look—”

At that moment, the woman from the house ran out the open door, crying and whimpering, drawing everyone’s attention. She was still naked, but held a crumpled bed sheet in front of her. Her white butt reflected the morning sunlight when she jumped off the porch and ran off behind the house. Dusty instinctively raised his gun towards her—but then thought better of it and lowered his hand again.

“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Tommy said.

Dusty raised his voice. “What I was going to say was, we’re happy to split the take with you. There is some stuff here. The freezer is full of meat, and one of the cupboards has a good stock of canned food. Maybe your guys didn’t see that. We haven’t even had time to go through everything yet. Could be some money, or other valuables hidden in there somewhere. The place is nicely furnished.”

Zane glanced at the still-running woman. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Savage.” Dusty knew the confidence in his voice was faltering. “Can’t we work something out? I’d really like to run with you, even if it’s only for a job or two.”

Zane broke a slight grin. “All right.” He turned around and walked behind the rest of his gang, back towards the car. “Work something out with them, guys.”

Dusty began to smile, but then saw all the other savages—the real savages—raising their guns. Dusty and Coop brought theirs up in response, but reacted much too slowly.

Dusty never even heard the shots that killed him.

Chapter Twenty

“I hear more gunshots,” Jenny said. “To our rear, in the distance.”

Harold looked behind—then up, and then all around. “I hear shots in the distance everywhere. Can’t tell where they’re coming from. These hills are full of amateur hunters, no doubt. Probably trying to shoot birds with bullets and deer with shot.”

Clint almost managed to laugh. But he couldn’t spare the breath. The three of them were making excellent time, considering the 40-pound packs on their backs. Well, forty for Clint and Harold. Maybe thirty for Jenny.

“How far do you think we’ve gotten?” Jenny asked.

“We’re doing well,” Harold replied. “We were right around the twenty mile mark when we lost the cart. Since then, I bet we’ve tacked on another five. Still have a marathon to go, but it’s early and we’re distancing ourselves from the scene of the incident. Never thought we would move so fast fully loaded.”

“Proper motivation does wonders for results,” Clint grumbled.

“Yes. I suppose it does.”

Harold had no problem keeping up with them, even with the 25-06 on his shoulder in addition to the backpack. Just as important, he was adept at staying aware of their surroundings, routing them off the road behind structure when he heard—or even felt—something ahead that bothered him. Clint and Jenny certainly weren’t going to argue with him. Harold’s survival instincts were good.

Clint wished he had a bigger gun. Yes, he now carried the .45 revolver in his pack, up in the front pocket where it was easy to get at. The Marlin Papoose was assembled with a ten-round magazine inserted and slung over his shoulder, light enough not to complain about. The papoose was the outer perimeter first line of defense, as Harold put it, being a semi-automatic. Harold also considered it more accurate at longer distances as long as the wind was behaving. But with the hills, rocks, and trees currently surrounding them, any distance advantage was negligible at best. Clint was pretty sure he could be almost as accurate with Jake’s rifle, and he was experienced enough with it to be quick on the bolt action.

Jenny had now proven her capability with the semi-automatic pistol several times, unfortunately. Clint could tell she was becoming continually more upset about their constant need for self-defense on this little journey—a trip that should have taken half a day, and was now entering its second week.

“I don’t see how we can keep this up,” Jenny said.

“Are we going too fast for you?” Clint asked.

“No. Too slow, if anything.”

“Keep what up, then, honey?”

“This.” Jenny waved her pistol in the air. “Getting in shootouts everywhere we go. If the world has gone bonkers, with swarms of violent criminals around us at every turn, we don’t stand much of a chance.”

“We’re doing all right so far,” Harold said.

“But it’s futile,” Jenny argued. “We can’t win every battle. The more of them we have, the more likely one or more of us is going to be killed. I’d just as soon have it be me, to be honest. I know where I’m going. And I’m losing interest in this world pretty fast.”

“Please don’t say that, honey.” Clint tried to grab her hand, but missed.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way I feel. Tens of millions of people in our country are dying from a virus, and the rest of us are shooting each other. It’s only a matter of time before we don’t see the next ambush, or aren’t fast enough, or aren’t the best shot.”

“We just need to make it to the cabin,” Clint said. “Then we’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know.” Jenny shook her head as they walked. “That makes four of us, assuming Jake even made it there okay. That’s not many.”

“I like our chances,” Harold said. “Of both getting to the cabin, and then surviving once we’re settled in. Especially if Clint’s brother is with us, after he hauled a load of supplies there—which I’m certain includes a cache of ammunition. And he’s another good gun hand. I think the four of us will be able to take care of ourselves.”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Jenny looked at Harold apologetically. “There’s not three other men on the planet I’d feel safer with. And I thank God you’re with us, Harold. Clint and I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without you. What I’m saying is it doesn’t matter how good we are. When a gang of ten or fifteen home invaders shows up, perhaps with better weapons than we have, how are the four of us going to fend that off? And the way things are going, it seems inevitable.”

Clint succeeded in grabbing her free hand this time. “It only seems that way, honey, because of the bad luck we’ve had. That doesn’t mean things will keep going the way they have been. I’m sure times were dangerous back in the old west, too. But most homesteaders in those days lived out normal lives without having to use their firearms for defense. Only in the movies, right Harold?”

Harold thought for a moment before responding.

“As a matter of fact, I see Jenny’s point. Not that I will ever concede to hopelessness. But in the old west towns you’re talking about, they banded together for the common good, exactly for that reason. Local folks formed their own law enforcement systems. Had to, for the safety of the community. If you were caught stealing a horse they hung you right there in that town, without needing permission from state or federal authorities. Justice was swift, and it acted as a deterrent. It worked. Nowadays, there’s too much procedure involved. If we’re going to live in a dangerous society where you can’t reliably get help from a cop, we might need to revert to the old ways. And you’re right, Jenny. Four against the world isn’t a practical notion. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Should have stayed in Denver,” Jenny muttered. “We live in a gated complex. Could have gotten food from the airdrops and waited it out in the city like normal folks, not people in a damn western.”

“Do you really wish we stayed home?” Clint asked.

“Yes.”

“What about you, Harold?”

Harold chuckled. “I never
wanted
to use my weapon on another human, despite my jokes at the poker games. But I didn’t have any qualms about doing it if the need ever arose, and I still don’t. I knew the bad guys were out there. I deeply regret getting you two wonderful people involved in gunfights. If I had it to do over again, I’d still take you up on your offer to let me come down to the cabin—alone. Fighting for food at a helicopter drop isn’t my thing.”

No one said anything for a few minutes. Finally, Harold spoke again.

“How about you, Clint? Wished you stayed in Denver with the riots?”

Clint thought for a second. “To be perfectly honest, I could go either way. Especially when you put it like that.”

They stopped talking and increased their pace again as the landscape began to change. The hills flattened and the woods receded. They were now crossing a wide, sandy plain. Harold suggested getting a couple hundred yards off the highway and hiking across the sand. Clint and Jenny jumped all over the suggestion. You could see for miles around in this area. The twenty-two long-rifle might be a genuine asset now. No possibility of an ambush out here.

At least, that’s what Clint thought before he heard the rattle. Jenny grabbed Clint’s arm with both hands and dug all ten fingers deep into his muscle tissue. Clint froze. Harold jumped backwards. A black two-foot rattlesnake slithered away from a sage brush.

Clint managed to free his arm from Jenny’s grip and aimed his rifle at it.

“Let it go,” Harold said. “Not worth wasting ammo on.”

“They’re good eating.”

Harold laughed. “You’re not going to want to carry the carcass twenty miles. Don’t waste the bullet. That’s a massasauga. Not a lot meat on them, and probably too boney. If we come across a prairie rattler, maybe a foot or so longer, and closer to home, you can shoot that. Meanwhile, I suggest we avoid the thicker patches of brush.”

“Eat rattlesnake?” Jenny said. “Yuck.”

Clint lowered his gun. “We may have to eat whatever we can find for a while, honey.”

“I’m not eating any snake. Isn’t it turkey season? Find us one of those. Otherwise I’ll go out looking for some of that prickly lettuce Congressman Bennett showed me how to pick.”

“I prefer a shotgun for turkey,” Clint said.

Harold pointed forward. “We’re too far away for hunting of any kind. Or foraging, for that matter. But I’m happy to see a little enthusiasm out of both of you. This new lifestyle might be more fun than you’re giving it credit for. For now, we just need to get there.”

They continued across the plain, this time zigzagging to avoid the brush and occasional rock piles. The hills and trees gradually encroached on their space again as they climbed in elevation. Soon they found themselves back on the highway surrounded by forest.

“Honey, you’re starting to kick my butt,” Jenny said. “And I’m the one who’s in shape. What’s got you walking so fast?”

Clint looked up at the chirping birds in the treetops. The cool forest shade was a welcome relief from the midday sun that began beating on them across the plain.

“I guess it’s knowing we’re getting closer,” Clint replied. “Anticipation. We’ll be there in a few hours now. Looking forward to seeing Jake.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you utter
those
words. But can we please set a more sustainable pace?”

Clint found it took effort to comply, but he slowed. As the woods widened to their right, Harold suggested getting off the road for a few minutes. He thought he heard something up ahead—probably an animal, but it was best to continue proceeding with extreme caution. So, the three of them walked into the clearing and stopped.

“I don’t hear anything,” Clint said.

A voice answered, but it wasn’t Harold’s. It came from the trees to the right.

“Drop your weapons!”

The three of them spun right. No one was in sight.

“Do as he says!” a different voice shouted from a different spot. “Drop the guns, now!” A shot fired overhead from that direction.

Clint turned left. Didn’t see anyone there, either. But he noticed Harold crouching—and not dropping his weapon. He held it to his shoulder in the direction the shot came from.

“Honey, get down.” Clint pulled Jenny’s arm and they both hunched low. Clint didn’t drop his weapon, either. But neither did he point it into the trees. He only gripped it tighter.

“It’s no use,” another voice said from directly behind. “We have you completely surrounded. And we’re well-armed.”

“Who are you?” Clint shouted.

“That’s the question we’re about to ask you,” one of the voices replied. “As soon as you lay down your arms.”

“I’m a homeowner in Springfield!”

“If that’s true, and you’re not carrying any loot from the Lorimer ranch, then no one gets hurt. Assuming you put those weapons down, now.”