“The fuel itself?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“What’s exactly?” Gus asked, his head starting to ache from the discussion.
“Ethanol burns faster than regular gas,” Amy explained. “And we don’t have access to the additives needed to stabilize or preserve it, which means…” She shrugged.
“What?” Gus asked. “Which means what?”
“We can’t store it,” Scott answered. “And we can’t make it last. So we grow it, make it, and burn it, before it goes dead on us.”
“Well,” Gus said. “That’s a pain in the ass.”
“Major pain in the ass,” Amy agreed. “We’re on an island. We only have so much farmland to go around. We can’t spare a lot just for ethanol production. But that’s life in the new world. One big pain in the ass. All that and no pizza.”
“I can make pizza,” said Art, a short order cook from New Brunswick. “No trouble. Shoot me a moose or a deer and you’ll have sausage on that thing, too.”
“See?” Collie declared. “We’re rolling already. Goddamn, I feel motivated.”
“Wait-a-minute,” Gus said, holding up a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. “We can’t store the ethanol?”
“No,” Amy answered. “Not for any great length of time. We use it or we don’t. Anything we store will lose its buzz over the winter months.”
“So how long to make it?”
“We have to grow the corn first.”
“All right, how long until we can put it into a gas tank?”
“Months,” Scott answered. He got affirming nods from those few in the know.
“Which means,” Collie said, “we’re without fuel for the first few months of spring and summer. So we already have mobility challenges. We have a limited timeframe and limited range, since we’re probably the only ones around producing fuel. But there is a way around that. If we run out of gas, so to speak.”
“You gonna have us all ride horses?” Vick asked.
“Not me. That’s an option, though. And I think we all remember how to ride a bike.”
“A bike?” Gus asked. “A pedal bike?”
“Mountain bike, if we got enough of them.”
“Jesus, Collie. My ass is sore just thinking about that.”
The operator smiled. “I know. We’ll all be avoiding potholes, but it’ll be worse for the guys. Long times in the saddle will adversely affect your sperm count.”
Another round of silence, broken by Amy. “Can’t have the boys firing blanks.”
Scott frowned, pulled his son in close and quickly covered his ears.
“Anyway,” Collie said. “That’s all I have to say on that. Think about it before the snow’s gone, and we’ll go from there. There’s one more thing, however, that gets top priority.”
The population of Big Tancook shifted in their seats.
“The matter of security. Weapons. Any munitions people among us? Besides me and the cop?”
Her question was met with blank stares.
Collie exhaled. “Thought so. Figured I’d ask. All right. Given I can’t go anywhere until the spring anyway, by which I mean the summer, since it’ll take that long to grow enough to fill a tank or two—”
“Try the fall,” Amy said.
“The fall?”
“Yep.”
“Really?”
Amy nodded really.
“Well, shit. That sucks donkey cock,” Collie muttered, ignoring the few dirty looks from the group. Scott’s frown returned, his hands still covering little Scottie’s ears.
Gus hid his smile. Collie had gotten that one from him.
“Okay,” Collie said with a resigned shrug. “Can’t control that, so I’ll roll with it. But put me down for a few tanks and consider that an advance order. I’ll need transportation for the other matter on my mind, which is returning to Whitecap. And securing the munitions there. All I need is enough fuel to get there and back. Whitecap’s a top priority. We have two reasons to return there. One, we have a limited supply of ammunition, and no means of producing more. Whitecap has a sizeable stockpile of munitions, I mean goddamn sizeable. I need to get back to Whitecap, secure it, and, if I can, lug out every crate I can find.”
That silenced the crowd.
“Can’t you just leave them there?” Bruno eventually asked. “I mean, I’ve never been, but isn’t that place way up in the boonies?”
“It is,” Collie confirmed. “In a fucking jungle hellscape. The goddamn mosquitoes alone will stab for the jugular and then play in the spray like kids around a broken fire hydrant. In any case, I have to go back there. We have to go back there. A pack of crazies found Whitecap once, and I’m not willing to chance anyone else finding it. Someone will, eventually, and there’s enough firepower there to outfit an army. Let that sink in for a few seconds. If we don’t secure that stockpile, we run the risk of someone else securing it, and ultimately using it for their own ends. You know what it’s like out there as well as I do. I sure as fuck don’t want to go up against a pack of savages with military-grade weaponry and a mountain of ammunition to go with it. God forbid it’s found by someone who’s trained to use that shit. Or worse, has experience using it. That’s a potential ass-reaming I shudder to even think about.”
Gus winced.
“That’s it, folks,” she added. “Truthfully, we could spend the spring searching for other survivors, but I strongly advise returning to Whitecap first and securing the weapons and ammunitions there. We’ll need them. And we can’t risk not having them. You think on that one. Everyone good?”
No one answered.
Scott smiled weakly. “This where we say hoo-ah?”
“Marines say hoo-ah,” Collie said curtly while sizing up the crowd. “We say fuck yeah, sir. And we say that through clenched teeth.”
Gus looked around to see if anyone was about to repeat those words.
No one did.
2
A proper burial is precious, Wallace’s voice whispered in Gus’s head.
Gus stood over the last of the graves and nodded in grim understanding. A proper burial was indeed precious in these times, and he wondered if he would be given that final courtesy. Aware of the time, he drove the shovel down into the moist earth and left it there, next to a makeshift cross. The grave was large, one of three, and contained the remains of Adam and the other farm folks, all of whom were killed by Shovel’s pack of marauders. In one way, Adam had perhaps saved Gus from the same fate, by insisting he go off and search for the missing Talbert and his merry band of assholes. At least Gus had considered them assholes at the time. Talbert especially. After escaping Mortimer’s mansion of horrors, however, Talbert turned out to be all right.
“Thanks, buddy,” Gus whispered at Adam’s shared grave. “For everything. Hope you’re… at peace.”
“What was that?” Scott asked a few paces away. Like them all, Scott had lost a lot of weight, and his tall frame had become a lanky, scarecrow thing. His blonde hair had thinned a little on the top, but his beard was full and thick.
“Nothin’,” Gus said. “Just saying a few words for them, is all.”
“Wanna be left alone?”
“No.”
Scott glanced around at the other marked graves before studying the nearby corn fields. “This is all good. We’ll have to come back here some time.”
“For what?”
“Make use of those fields. This is the Valley, after all. Best ground in the province, from what I hear.”
Gus cringed. “We buried people here.”
“Buried them here,” Scott said, gesturing at the fresh graves. “Didn’t bury them over there.”
“You probably pick blueberries in graveyards, too.”
“Nothing wrong with picking blueberries in a graveyard.”
“I sure as fuck wouldn’t pick berries in a graveyard.”
“Why?” Scott asked. “You superstitious or something?”
“Yeah, maybe a little. B
ut then there’s that thing about picking food growing from the same earth where dead people are. Right underfoot. Decomposing.”
“Dead folks would want us to pick them. Be a waste, otherwise. And hey, dead people are all over. I bet if you dig down deep enough anywhere you have a fifty-fifty chance of finding dead people.”
Gus stared at Scott, blinked, and cleared his throat. He shook his head as if coming out of a daze. “Yeah. Right. Good talk.”
Scott held the silence for a moment, then said, “You sure you don’t want to be left alone?”
“No. I’m good. Shoulders are achin’ though.”
“We did a lot of digging.”
“Yeah, we did.” Gus smiled.
Scott winced at the spotty display.
“What?”
“We need a dentist,” Scott replied. “You need a dentist. Get you a plate. Or some chopped off piano keys. Something.”
“I’m good,” Gus said. “Feel good, too. About all this.”
“You were saying.”
“Glad we did it. Closure, y’know?”
Scott nodded that he did indeed know.
The air smelled of autumn, pleasant and mind clearing. Sweat glazed Gus’s face and soaked his warm clothing, and he’d dropped his jacket nearby. His left heel, where the bullet had separated the meat pad from his sole, buzzed with pins and needles, as if he were standing on a live wire connected to a dying battery. Just after the battle of Whitecap, as the dust had settled and the dead were being gathered, Maggie had done what she could with what she had, and that wasn’t much. In Shovel’s makeshift clinic, she’d administered some disinfectant, given him outdated antibiotics, covered the wound with bandages and a tube sock, before finally duct-taping the whole thing together. It was a temporary dressing until she could properly work on it. In her professional opinion, however, she admitted she didn’t know if it would heal or become infected. However, after they’d reached the island, both were pleasantly surprised to see the wound on the mend.
The nerves, however, didn’t take so well, but Gus didn’t blame Maggie for that. That was all on his ass. So he learned to live with the uncomfortable tingling in his foot. Some days were worse than others, but he had learned that being on his feet for longer than ten minutes would be enough for that buzzing in his boot to really take hold. An annoying sensation that cupped his heel and gradually crawled up to his ankle, until every step felt like stomping on hot needles.
The charred remains of the house distracted him then, and a knot of sadness hurt his throat. Once upon a time, a lot of good people had bunked down in that mound of scorched rubble. Memories of happier days then, of the two dozen survivors who lived and labored on the farm. Adam had begun plans to start gathering materials for extra cabins, so that some of the couples could have their own places.
Memories. The smell of freshly toiled soil brought Gus back to the present. There wasn’t much left to the bodies he’d just finished returning to the earth. Mostly bones, really, but they dug the graves anyway, to an acceptable depth, and filled them with whatever remains they’d found.
“Yeah,” Gus said and inspected the overturned earth one final time. “This is good. Thanks for coming along.”
“Glad I did,” Scott said. “It would’ve been bothering me, too.”
Gus picked up his jacket and gave it a shake. “Let’s get out of here.”
Scott waited for him to go first.
“We’ll be back, Adam,” Gus promised the little graveyard. “Anita. Barney. Lisa. And the rest of you jokers. You… fine, fine jokers. We’ll be back. We’ll get this place back up and running. Get someone working those fields again. Away from here,” he said, with a warning eye at Scott. “But close enough that you can see what’s going on. It won’t go to waste. Not if I have anything to do with it. I guarantee you.”
Having said his peace, Gus returned to the three waiting pickups, his heel thrumming with that annoying electrical current. Dirt and dust stained the black exteriors. The rigs were large, with crew cabs, and two of them had their rear seats jammed full of supplies. The cargo beds were packed tight and covered. Collie sat in the driver’s seat of one of the vehicles. One hand rested on the steering wheel while her left arm hung out the window. She wore coyote-brown army fatigues and a pair of cheap sunglasses. A rolled-up balaclava (really a ski mask but try telling a secret squirrel that) covered the top of her head.
Bruno stood next to her window, his hands inside the pockets of a long winter duster. A pirate’s long stocking cap covered his head, with the end wrapped around his neck before disappearing over his shoulder. A wide pair of sunglasses hid his eyes while a trimmed tumbleweed of a beard graced his chin. Gus expected Bruno to say “Arrrrr” at any time. He even tried it on him to see if it would take.
It didn’t.
There was a third man nearby. Cory Shale from Cape Breton. Tall as Scott, just as bearded, but darker. He was dressed for a cold autumn, with a pillowy black jacket, blue jeans, and biker boots. In the old world, Cory was, of all things, a baker of pastries, and Gus secretly thought of him as Scott two-point-oh. He was still waiting for the two men to settle down and start swapping recipes.
Collie sat up as Gus approached the truck.
“All done,” he told her.
“Good,” she said. “Didn’t take too long at all.”
“Not with all of you. Thanks again.”
“Well,” she said, “that’s that. Glad it’s done. Now, back to the task at hand. We got about four hours of daylight left. I say we hit the road and see if we can’t find a motel or something or other. Some place to hole up for the night. I don’t want to camp outside for a second night in a row. Not with all of those perfectly good beds out there. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Gus said.
“I thought the truck seats were fine,” Cory said. “I mean, we had the sleeping bags and all, and when you lower the seats—”
“You still weren’t fully horizontal,” Collie said.
“We could’ve brought the motor home.”
“The old girl would burn through our corn too damn fast.”
Gus smirked. Corn was the pet name for the ethanol presently sloshing about in their gas tanks. And Collie was right. The crude, additive-free ethanol got shitty mileage, and the motor home was a four-ton hog with a square ass. The pickup trucks were much better for their mission, and the vehicles currently had their box beds loaded down with fuel, food, and other supplies.
“Besides,” Collie continued, “we get to Whitecap, and we won’t need her at all. You’ll see.”
“What is this surprise you keep reminding us about?” Scott asked. “Reserved tanks of gas? Hidden or something? Or an electric car?”
Collie drew two fingers across her lips, zipping them up and tossing the imaginary key away.
“You’re off the island now. I think it’s time for the great reveal.”
“Mmm,” she said and shook her head. “It’s a surprise.”
“Thought you were doing that just to tease Amy and Buckle,” Gus said, as curious as the next person.
“And Vick,” Scott added.
“And Vick,” Gus allowed. “We’re here. Just us. The chosen few. It’s okay to let us in on this little secret of yours.”
“I know it’s okay,” Collie scoffed. “But I’m not gonna, all right? So stop with the nagging. You kids. Christ almighty.”
“What happens if you get shot out there?” Cory pointed out. “And, like, we’re left alive, and this surprise of yours is something really important to get into Whitecap?”
“Honestly?” Collie asked. “If I get shot…and croak… then you’re fucked. Fucked, Cory. You’re fucked. You’re all fucked. But I do have good news for you. I don’t intend on getting shot. Or croaking. Ergo, you shall remain un-fucked. Getting shot is not part of the plan. Dying is not part of the plan. Not for me or you. Just be aware there’s a surprise waiting for us at the end of this rainbow and, by my recollection,
if it’s still there, all your pink parts will be pleasantly tugged upon and tickled. If you fancy a tugging, that is. And a tickling. So saddle up, boys. We got a long way to go. But I can guarantee you…if we find it—if it’s there, you’ll all be happy.”
With that, Collie powered up the truck.
“This is it,” Scott said to Gus and waited a few beats to let that sink in. Then, “I tell you, man, I wish—”
“You were coming with us?” Gus interrupted.
That took Scott back a bit. “What? No. Fuck no. I ain’t going back out there. I mean… I have Amy now, and the little one. And another one on the way. I mean, it’s not even up to me, anyway. Amy would have my balls if I even mentioned going along with you. I just came up here to lend a hand with the, all the, you know. So, no. I’m heading home after this. Sorry. What I was going to say is… I wish you didn’t have to go out there.”
Gus smiled and nodded. He’d meant the question as a joke anyway. It would’ve surprised him if Scott had said he was coming along. Like the man said, he had a family now.
And their little expedition here was taking them back into the wild.
“To tell you the truth, I feel a little nervous just being here,” Scott admitted. “Even with you around, Collie.”
Gus winced. “He didn’t mean that, babe.”
Collie aimed a gun finger at him. “Stop calling me ‘babe’.”
Scott wavered, saw that Collie wasn’t going to say anything to him, and regarded them both. “Listen, I’m… we’re all thankful that you guys are doing this.”
Collie smiled and revved the engine. “Gotta go. This monster gets cranky once you start her up.”
Scott reached out and gripped Gus’s hand in a firm shake. “No man-hug, not today.”
“Too much of that going around anyway,” Gus said.
“There is. Or there was. Anyway, I’ll save it for when you get back.”
Mountain Man (Book 5): Make Me King Page 2
