Impact: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival series (Cloverdale Book 1)

by Bruno Miller

  Vince closed up the wagon and headed for the garage. He was a pretty active guy and in good shape for his age, but the run from the motel to his garage across the street winded him. It had been a long time since he’d run anywhere, and it showed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and breathed deeply to regain his composure. He pulled the door open and slipped inside as fast as he could. The thought of the looters returning any minute now nagged at him, and he didn’t want to get caught there.

  As much as he wanted to get the power back on, there was no time for that now. Not to mention, any artificial light coming from the garage would only serve to draw attention. Attention was something he needed to avoid right now—and maybe always from here on out. The interstate was barely visible from the shop, but once the fires died down, even a small amount of light would give it away in the darkness. There was no need to advertise the fact that Vince and the other survivors had amenities.

  Vince made his way behind the counter and reached under the register until he felt the butt of the shotgun. It was an old 12-gauge Remington pump he’d picked up at a yard sale. It wasn’t pretty, but that was one of the reasons he originally bought it, and he didn’t feel bad about trimming a few inches off the barrel, just past the magazine. The shortened barrel allowed him to keep it under the register. It also served another purpose: it caused the buckshot to spread out quicker and make a larger pattern in less distance. It was ideal for self-defense at short range and in a small area. After he modified the barrel, he had tried it out behind his house and was pleased to see a four- to five-foot spread on the buckshot at about thirty yards. Of course, this limited the gun’s usefulness at greater distances, but that was okay, considering its intended use.

  The modified shotgun wasn’t exactly legal, but he didn’t see the harm since it was a permanent fixture here and never left the shop. He kept the gun loaded with double-aught buckshot. Each shotgun shell contained fifteen small steel balls that would tear through just about anything at fifty yards or less. He’d never had to use the gun, but Vince was a firm believer in the motto of “better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.” With the recent break-ins around town, it seemed more and more like a better idea every day.

  With a pump of the foregrip, he chambered a shell in the gun and flipped the safety on. The sound echoed through the empty store and reminded Vince how serious the situation was. He grabbed a flashlight off the shelf behind the counter and headed back to his office. Careful to keep the flashlight pointed down and only use it when necessary, he made his way through the darkness.

  Once he was in his office, he sat down in the chair behind his desk and opened the drawer containing the shotgun shells. He eyed the bottle of whiskey next to the box of ammo. For a moment, he thought about taking a shot to help calm his nerves but decided against it. He needed his wits about him right now, and although it might settle him down a bit, it wouldn’t help the situation. He grabbed the box of shells and closed the drawer before he changed his mind.

  He needed to get back to the motel and come up with a plan for dealing with the looters. He’d already been here too long as it was and he didn’t want one of the others to come looking for him. He was about to get up from behind the desk when heard a vehicle outside.

  Too late. They were back.

  Vince froze. Halfway out of his chair, he leaned on the desk and listened to the exhaust note grow louder. It sounded like a single car or truck and he was thankful for that, but it didn’t help slow his now rapidly beating heart. Setting the box of shells down quietly on the desk, he stood up and moved out from behind it. He approached the door to his office, gripping the shotgun with both hands and holding it at the ready.

  With any luck, whoever it was would pass by the garage, but that was wishful thinking. His fears were soon confirmed, and a bright beam from the headlights cut through the darkness of the storefront. Vince followed the light with his eyes as it spilled down the hallway and in through his office door.

  Crouching down, he made his way to the end of the hallway, then crawled the last couple feet to get behind the counter. He eased up from his lowered position just far enough to peer over the counter and see out the front windows, but he ducked back down when, to his disappointment, the vehicle pulled directly into the garage lot and parked out front. Vince was momentarily blinded by a series of extremely bright white LED off-road lights mounted to a truck. He heard the brakes squeal as the truck came to a stop in front of the store. The brightness of the lights made it impossible to see what kind of truck it was or who was in it.

  If there were only a few of them, his best chance would be to get them as they grouped up and came through the front door, which he now regretted leaving unlocked. At this distance, the buckshot would have enough spread to cover the doorway, and it had enough power behind it to take them all out at once. If he timed it right and held his cool, he could do it with one shot. He’d wait until they were inside the store. He wasn’t happy about not knowing who it was, though, and hated the idea of shooting blindly. What if it was someone he knew from town or survivors looking for help?

  He prepared to spring into action and bring the gun up to the counter as he heard the truck door open and then close. Only one door. That’s good. Maybe it wasn’t the intruders after all. Even if it was, he could handle one of them a lot more easily than a group. He eased the gun onto the counter until it lay across the smooth Formica top and pointed toward the entrance. He got behind the shotgun and seated the butt of it against his shoulder as he crouched down and aimed at the doorway. He could make out the silhouette of a man wearing a ball cap. He could also see that he was carrying a scoped rifle. Vince would have the advantage. The long rifle would be difficult to use in these close quarters and the scope would only be a hindrance at this range. The man would have to shoot from the hip.

  Vince licked at his chapped lips but got no relief; his mouth was dry and tasted like ash. He watched as the dark figure opened the door and stepped inside. Vince slowly slid his finger down to the trigger. His adrenaline pumped as he prepared to do whatever was necessary. It had been a long time since he stared at another human being down the barrel of a gun. He hadn’t forgotten that feeling and by no means missed it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Major?” The familiar voice cut the tension like a knife, and Vince felt a sense of relief wash over him. It was Bill; he’d come back to the garage.

  “Major, you in here?” Bill called out again before Vince had a chance to answer.

  “Yeah, I’m here behind the counter.” Vince took his finger off the trigger and slid the gun off the countertop. He took a few deep breaths as Bill moved toward him and blocked the glaring lights with his body, enough for Vince to see him now. Of course it was Bill; he should have known. The image of Bill’s one-ton four-wheel drive Dodge pickup with the LED-mounted lightbar flashed in his head.

  “You gave me a good scare there, buddy,” Vince said. He didn’t want to let on how close he had been to pulling the trigger, and the thought sent chills down his spine.

  “It’s good to see you, Major. I thought you were a goner. Can you believe all this?” Bill looked outside.

  “It’s good to see you too. We barely made it back from Indy,” Vince said.

  “I know. I just talked to your boy over at the motel. I saw your wagon and went there first. They told me you were over here and filled me in on what’s going on. I thought you could use a hand in case those people came back.” Bill motioned with his rifle.

  “What about your family?” Vince asked reluctantly.

  Bill nodded. “I got to the girls in time. I left them with the others at the motel.” Bill paused and looked down for a second. “The house is a loss, though. We managed to grab a few things and my rifle, but that’s about it, I’m afraid. We were luckier than most, from the looks of things.”

  Vince was relieved to hear that Bill’s wife, Sarah, and their little girl, Sasha, had been
spared. “You are lucky,” Vince said.

  A distant explosion sounded and brought Vince back to reality.

  “We need to get out of here, Bill. I just came over for the shotgun. Turn your lights off and keep an eye out, will you, while I grab something.” Vince didn’t wait for a response and ran back to his office for the box of shotgun shells. They were pushing their luck with Bill’s truck out front. With those LEDs reflecting off the front of the building, they might as well have a flashing neon sign out front that said, Here we are. Come and get us.

  When Vince returned. Bill was no longer inside the store and was back in his truck, the lights off and the motor running. Vince paused for a second and looked around. Were they being foolish by leaving all these supplies here? Now that Bill was here with his truck, should they quickly load as much as they could into the pickup and take it with them? Vince hated the thought of someone looting his store and making off with all these supplies. He also hated the idea of bugging out of his own place, and the thought made him feel like they were running scared. But before he could make a decision, Bill leaned out of the truck window.

  “Major, somebody’s coming from the interstate. We gotta’ go!” Bill frantically waved his hand, motioning for Vince to hurry up.

  Vince forgot about the supplies and started for the truck. Before he ran out the door, it dawned on him that he and Bill couldn’t afford to try and make a getaway back to the motel. If they did that and were spotted, then they would be giving away the location of the others. Even with the addition of Bill and his rifle, they were outgunned and outnumbered. From what Jim had said, Vince figured the whole gang of intruders was armed and dangerous. Vince and the others only had four weapons in total, and two of them were pistols and one a short-range shotgun.

  No, he and Bill would have to make a stand right here, right now.

  “Bill, shut the truck down and get out. We can’t risk leading them over to the motel.”

  “We’re staying here? I mean, what are we gonna do?” Bill had a confused and worried look on his face.

  “We’re staying put. We’ll fight them here, if it comes to that.” Vince hoped there was another way out of this—one that didn’t involve a fight—but he knew otherwise. What else would they be coming back for? The rest of the town was burned down. There was nothing else here for them other than the supplies in his store.

  “Look, we don’t have a choice, Bill. This garage full of tools, the solar electric system, and all the supplies here. We need this place to survive. Without it, we’re lost. I don’t know what you’ve seen in your travels today, but there’s nothing left out there. There’s nowhere to run.”

  Bill turned the truck off and hopped out, his rifle in hand. He walked around to the front, where Vince stood and looked him in the eye. “I’m with you, Major,” Bill said. “What’s the plan?”

  “All right, first we need to get into defendable positions. They’re going to see a truck that wasn’t here last time and figure someone is inside the building. I want you to go across the street on foot, but stop in the parking lot and get under the van parked out by the curb. Make sure you can see the garage from where you set up. I just want you to cover me. If we hit them from a couple different directions, it will confuse them and make them think there are more of us than there are. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “All right. Get going. The smoke will cover you.” Vince looked down the road to see if he could make out the approaching cars, but the drifting smoke still mostly obscured the lights. He estimated they were still a mile or so away and moving slowly due to the poor visibility. They’d never see a single person cross the street in this low light and drifting smoke, but the big red and white Dodge would surely draw their attention. Bill stood there with a blank look on his face.

  “Go! Now!” Vince barked.

  Bill jumped at the sound of his voice and took off running toward the motel parking lot. Vince felt bad about shouting, but this was no time to worry about hurt feelings. This was do or die. Without wasting any time, Vince headed through the gate that led to the rear yard behind his shop. At the back of his building, a permanently affixed ladder ran up to the flat roof. He’d been up there many times before to perform maintenance on the solar panel system and repair a few leaks.

  As he climbed the ladder, he ran through a few scenarios in his mind and decided his best chance was to hit them first and hit them hard. He would have the element of surprise and needed to capitalize on that. Best-case scenario, that would scare the looters into a retreat and then they would run. Worst-case, Vince and Bill would have a gunfight on their hands, but at least they could take a few of the looters out early. It probably wasn’t the best plan, but it was the one Vince had come up with in the time he had, and he was going with it.

  Vince couldn’t believe he was going over these things in his head as he reached the top of the ladder and climbed up onto the flat part of the roof. It was a parapet-style roof, and as a result, there was a section of wall that extended three feet above the flat surface on the front and sides of the building. It made the building look taller than it actually was.

  Vince always considered it a poor design and, in general, a pain in the butt since it was prone to developing leaks where the exterior wall and flat area met. But now, he was thankful for the extra three feet of concrete block that ran up past the roofline. It would allow him to stay hidden and provide cover when he launched his surprise attack on the unsuspecting looters.

  Vince ran to the edge of the roof and got into position behind the wall. He pulled the .45 from its holster and set it by his feet, along with the box of shotgun shells. He had four rounds of double-aught buckshot loaded in the gun’s magazine and one in the chamber from before. He pulled an extra shell from the box and slid it into the magazine to top it off. Between the shotgun and his pistol, which held only held seven rounds, he would have to be choosy with his shots. What he would have given to have the .308 Scout with him, but he didn’t. He’d have to make do with the shotgun primarily and fall back to the pistol while he reloaded from the box of shells.

  Vince glanced at the headlights down the road as they grew closer, then looked over to see if he could spot Bill at his position under the van. He could barely make out the van from where he was, let alone see if Bill had followed his instructions and hid under underneath it. The smoke was thicker on the roof than it was on the ground, and although it was a lot less pleasant to breathe, he was thankful for the added cover.

  Since this was supposed to be a quick trip over to retrieve the shotgun, he hadn’t brought the mask with him, so he made do by pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose for the time being. He hated to admit it, but the shirt worked just as well as the cheap paper masks everyone had been using. As he sat there and waited, he became aware again of how dry his mouth was. When he swallowed, he tasted ash and soot, reminding him how badly he needed to drink some water.

  Among his priorities, water would be at the top of the list when he and the others divided up responsibilities. In fact, it would probably be best if everyone chipped in and made that their mission for the immediate future. Without a clean water source, they would all become dehydrated quickly. The garage water was well fed, though, and that would be their best bet for immediate access to water. Tying the motel into one of the local springs would take some thought and a lot of hard work.

  The garage property was developed before the town annexed land that far north, so it wasn’t required to tie into city water, and Vince had opted to stick with the well for his water needs. If he could restore power through the solar electric system, then he should be able to power the well pump and draw water. Thinking about this now reminded him why he couldn’t afford to lose the garage to a band of roving thugs.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As Vince watched the lights steadily advance on their location, he began to cough. His throat was dry and it burned every time he swallowed. The humidity must have been
close to zero, and Vince wondered if that was due to the bombs exploding in the upper atmosphere or the massive number of fires. Whatever the reason, it was bad and the smoke wasn’t helping. He noticed his lips beginning to chap badly, and his hands felt like sandpaper when he rubbed his face. What they needed was a good rainstorm, but he doubted that would happen anytime soon.

  Then he had a thought. The rooftop air conditioner units had been running for a couple days now since the weather had turned warm. It was a long shot because they turned off when the bombs detonated early this morning, but there was a chance there was still water in the condensate lines. It was worth a try; even a little bit of water would provide his throat with some much-needed relief. Besides, hiding up on the roof would be all for nothing if he gave himself away by coughing at the wrong time.

  Vince hurried over to the first unit and found the PVC drain line. The pipe formed a U shape where it came out of the condenser unit. If there was any water left in the line, that was where it would be. There was a small piece of PVC that stuck off from the bottom of the U and was capped off. This would normally be used as a clean-out point for the condensate line in case of a clog, but today, it would make an ideal faucet. Vince reached into his pocket and pulled out his folding knife as he glanced back toward the road and the oncoming lights. He didn’t have much time and needed to work fast. Forcing the blade tip around the edges of the glued-in-place PVC cap, he worked it all the way around the joint. By tapping the knife with the butt of the shotgun, he easily forced the cap loose to the point where he could twist it with his hand. He put the knife away and lay down flat on his back, careful to position his mouth under the clean-out pipe. He closed his eyes as he gave the cap one final twist and pulled it free.

  A gush of warm but clean water filled his mouth. He swallowed as quickly as he could but couldn’t keep up with the sudden flow of water, so some escaped and ran over his face and down his collar. The water had a plastic taste to it, but he didn’t mind. It felt good on his throat and was a welcome change from the dry, irritating sensation that had been tormenting him.