Apocalypse Law 3

by John Grit

  “They must have you massively outnumbered,” Nate said. “Why are you letting a gang of punks do this to you?” Nate shook his head in disappointment. “I must have misjudged you yesterday. I thought you were a man.”

  One of Chesty’s men protested. “Hey!”

  Another said, “You don’t know him.”

  Chesty did not flinch. “Stay tonight to witness what you started and you will see what kind of man I am.”

  “I apologize,” Nate said. “But I don’t understand your thinking at all. There are some things that can’t be tolerated, no matter the cost.”

  Ramiro broke in. “Gentlemen, we need each other to survive. Let us not forget that. As to the killing of those over there, how could we have saved the girl without taking their life? I do not think asking politely would have worked. As to your fears of the gang’s revenge, we can stay with you tonight and add our guns to the fight. If they come, more of them will die.”

  Chesty’s eyes darted to the girl and back to Ramiro. “We need to get her to the doc. Are you coming with us?”

  “We have not scavenged this building yet,” Nate said. “We can meet you later. Where will you be?”

  “Downtown,” Chesty answered. “Just head north on this road and turn left on Main Street.”

  “We will be there in an hour or two.” Ramiro turned and spoke to his men in Spanish. They went into the building to look for items on their list.

  “The gang’s not very active during the day, but they may come looking for those on the ground over there,” Chesty said. “Stay alert.”

  “Will you take Billy’s body off our hands now?” Nate glanced at the girl, still being held by her father. “You might as well use the truck she’s in to take her to the clinic.”

  Chesty motioned with his head to one of his men. “Drive the father and girl to the clinic.” The man got in and drove off. Nate and Kendell carried Billy’s body out of the building. Chesty’s men loaded the body in the back of his pickup and got in. Chesty then drove to the bodies in the parking lot and searched them, taking weapons and ammunition. He left the bodies where they lay. Three men got into the dead gang members’ cars and drove off. Chesty followed in his pickup.

  “Look.” Kendell pointed at a gathering of thirty dogs at the far in of the building, their numbers growing by the minute. Several stared at him and growled, holding their heads low, stalking closer. He yelled, and they stopped coming, then seemed to lose interest and sat on their haunches.

  Brian leaned out a window and watched the dogs mill around impatiently. “They’re just waiting for us to leave so they can have breakfast. Gross.”

  Nate, Brian, and Kendell packed so they would be ready to go after scavenging the building, while two of Ramiro’s men stood watch. Then they searched for the remaining items on their list. “Look for a sleeping bag or heavy blankets,” Kendell said. “I’m going to freeze my ass off tonight if I don’t find somethin’ to replace what that girl just left with.”

  Brian pushed a cart in front of him. “If it comes to that, you can use mine. I won’t let you freeze.”

  They passed a rack of throw rugs. There were only three left, but Nate stopped, went back, and grabbed what was there. “These will keep you warm, and they’re the right size.” He put them in his cart.

  “I still want to find something better,” Brian said. “Kendell needs a real sleeping bag. We have plenty at our place, but they aren’t doing him any good there.”

  Ramiro and several men rushed by them with half-full carts. “Do not waste time in the food section, every can is gone.”

  Nate kept moving as he yelled after them. “I guess you checked for dried goods also.”

  “Yes,” Ramiro yelled back. “No beans, rice, nothing.”

  “Not surprising,” Nate said more to himself than anyone there.

  Kendell rushed to the sporting goods section, stepping on broken glass from an empty gun cabinet. “We need to check the employee area in the back.” He quickly scanned a smashed ammunition cabinet when he went by. As he expected, it was empty. “They probably had a safe they kept guns in that were not on display.”

  They entered the employee area. Nate stopped at an office. “Wait here.” He searched every likely hiding spot, but the place had been gone over many times, and there was nothing left. Even a safe had been broken into. Nate looked up at the air-conditioning vent. He noticed scratch marks on the screw heads. An overturned table nearby became his stepping ladder. He reached up and yanked the grill until he ripped it loose and threw it aside. It was dark in the office, but he could see well enough. Now, he needed his flashlight. Shining it in the air duct illuminated a hidden cache. He lowered his head and smiled. “Bring a cart in here.”

  Brian and Kendell helped him load more than two hundred rounds of ammunition, three shotguns, two rifles, and four handguns into the cart. Most of the ammunition was twelve gauge buckshot; .308; .38 Special; 9mm; and .45ACP. The ceiling was sagging from the weight, despite a brace holding up that part of the air duct.

  Kindell examined a stainless steel .38 revolver with a two-inch barrel. “Must have been an inside job, as they used to say on the police shows.”

  Nate jumped off the table. “That’s all there is.”

  “How did you know?” Brian asked.

  “If you worked at a place like this and the world was going to hell, people were dying by the millions, and the power went out for good, killing the security cameras, wouldn’t you put a few things somewhere looters could not find them?” Nate dug a box of .38s out of the cart and handed it to Kendell. “You don’t have a handgun. Load that little revolver and keep it in your pocket until we can find a holster for you.”

  “Whoever hid this stuff was probably planning on coming back but never made it.” Brian pushed his cart into the hallway. “I bet a lot of stuff was taken by employees when things started looking bad.” He looked across the hall at an open door. “There are a lot of offices; maybe there’s some food hidden in one of them.”

  “Maybe,” Nate said. “We will certainly check them all.”

  Forty minutes later, Kendell held Nate’s flashlight and looked into an air duct. They had searched every office and found nothing. This office was their last chance. “There’s something in this one.” He handed half a dozen boxes down to Nate, who placed them on a nearby desk. “That’s everything.” Kendell jumped down.

  Nate opened a box. “Pharmaceuticals.” He opened the rest of the boxes. “It’s mostly antibiotics and painkillers.”

  Brian paid little attention. He looked down the hall and checked his watch. “Probably too old.”

  “There are some syringes here.” Nate held a bottle up and read the label. “Out-of-date of course. The main trouble is the stuff has been up there for more than a year in the heat of summer.” He put the bottle back in the box. “We’ll take it anyway. Chesty says they have doctors and nurses in their town. They should know if this stuff is safe to use.”

  Kendell put a handful of loose .38 Special cartridges in his left jacket pocket. “Anyone check the pharmacy department yet. Probably picked clean, but it’s worth lookin’ at.”

  “We’ll ask Ramiro when we get back.” Nate led them down the hallway and into the rear warehouse. They spent nearly an hour searching the shelves for anything useful. Their carts were overflowing when Nate said, “Time to get back to the trucks and see what the others are up too.”

  They found Ramiro trying to start his pickup. His men were all packed, and most were sitting in the backs of pickups or flatbeds waiting for Nate and his group to show.

  When Ramiro saw Nate, he stopped trying to crank the engine and got out, slamming the door. “Every time, this devil refuses to start!” He looked up and muttered, asking forgiveness for losing his temper.

  Nate saw how the others had simply loaded their carts onto the flatbeds and tied them all together so they would not turn over, and then tied the mass of carts to the truck with cargo straps. He an
d Kendell lifted a cart up, and two men on the flatbed took it. Their eyes rounded when they saw the guns and ammunition.

  Ramiro looked on in astonishment. “Where did you find such things?”

  “Hidden in an air-conditioning duct.” Out of the corner of his eye, Nate saw a man come from somewhere deeper in the building and join them. “Have you checked the pharmacy?” he asked Ramiro.

  “Yes. There is nothing left.” Ramiro told the man who just came up on them to do a body count and make sure they were not leaving anyone behind. He turned back to Nate. “We will leave soon. But first we must push this devil of a truck out of the building so I can have a push.”

  Nate smiled as he shed his backpack and put it in the back of the pickup. He slung his rifle across his back, out of the way. “Get in and drive.” Five men helped Nate, Brian, and Kendell push the pickup out the door and into the parking lot, leaving room for one of the big flatbed trucks to maneuver behind it.

  The man reported to Ramiro that all were accounted for. Ramiro nodded. After pushing Ramiro’s pickup halfway across the parking lot with one of the larger trucks, the engine finally coughed to life and they were on their way.

  They drove down Main Street and entered the downtown area. Ramiro saw a roadblock ahead and slowed to ten miles per hour. Men at the roadblock pushed a car out of the way and waved them on. At the roadblock, a man stepped closer and pointed. “Two blocks down. Chesty’s expecting you.”

  Ramiro sped up, waving as he drove by. A tall, rawboned woman armed with a pump shotgun yelled at them, “God bless you for saving Christina!”

  People ran down sidewalks, grim determination on their faces, looking as if they were preparing for battle. Everyone carried a long gun; some also had a handgun strapped to their side.

  Kendell rubbernecked as they drove down the street. “They’re more excited than a hive of bees.”

  “And they’re all armed with stingers,” Brian added.

  A church parking lot seemed to overflow with people and vehicles. Nate recognized Chesty’s pickup. He slapped the roof of the cab. Ramiro yelled, “I see it.” He turned into the parking lot.

  Brian stood in the back of the pickup and looked around. “I haven’t seen this many people in one place in a year.”

  “It does seem crowded, don’t it? As long as they ain’t wearin’ white sheets and burnin’ crosses.” Kendell jumped down after Ramiro found a place to park.

  Brian jumped down beside him. “That’s not funny.”

  Kendell smiled. “You think it ain’t funny? Try bein’black.”

  “There’s more than a few black people here,” Brian said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh, I ain’t worried.” Kendell waved him off. “It does seem strange, though, after all this time, seein’ so many people.”

  “You two stay with me,” Nate said.

  Ramiro told is men to stay with the trucks. The four of them walked across the parking lot and approached the entrance to the church. One of Chesty’s men saw them coming and went inside. By the time they got to the steps, Chesty appeared at the door. The sound of a heated debate between several men came from inside. “We have a problem.” Chesty closed the door behind him. “The people are too spread out to protect, and no one wants to abandon their home and move closer to the food warehouse where we can protect them.”

  Nate asked, “Why would you want to wait for them to come to you? Why not go to them, and hit them where they live?”

  Chesty gave Nate a strange look. “Do you know how many there are?”

  “I’m guessing there must be at least a thousand. You have been acting as if you are terrified of them since we got here.”

  “No, not a thousand,” Chesty said. “But more than us. And they are all young and ruthless.”

  “You mean young and stupid,” Nate said. “As to ruthless, I do not believe that anyone can be as ruthless as a parent protecting his or her child. There must be some ex-military and law enforcement people in your town. Let them lead you.”

  Chesty gave Nate a hard look. “This isn’t your town. We appreciate your help, but we have plenty of leaders already.”

  “I see,” Nate said. “I was not volunteering myself as your new leader, just trying to help. Do you have a map of your town? I need to take a look at that warehouse where the gang is.”

  “Come on.” Chesty led them into the church and past the pews where fifty people were gathered.

  A tall, heavyset black man in his early thirties and wearing a faded deputy uniform threw his hands up. “We’re wasting our time here. If we cannot get people to move to safer areas, we cannot protect them. Then they will lose their homes and their lives.”

  The clamor of many dissenting voices echoed in the church.

  “I think this whole little party of yours is nuts,” an elderly man in tattered overalls said. He held a double-barreled shotgun with the business end pointing at the high ceiling. An image of Mary holding Jesus looked down from a stained glass window. “We should go down there and clean those little snot nose bastards out.” His thin body made his small beer belly all the more conspicuous. He scratched his bald head for a few seconds while the deputy and several other men argued.

  The deputy pointed. “Have a seat, Pops.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” The old man walked away and started down the aisle. He nearly collided with Nate’s bulk, stopping just in time.

  “Don’t run off,” Nate said. “You’re making more sense than the others.”

  The deputy raised an eyebrow and gave Nate a good stare-down.

  Chesty moved in between them. “These are the men I was telling you about.” He spoke to the deputy. “Tyrone,” he motioned to Ramiro, “Ramiro,” the deputy nodded, “and Nate.”

  “Nate and Ramiro, this is Deputy Tyrone Samson.”

  “Glad to meet you,” Nate said. He got straight to the point. “How many of these hoodlums are there?”

  “We don’t know.” Tyrone shrugged. “Several hundred would be my guess.”

  “Well, there are twenty fewer of them now. The ones who took the girl and killed the boy called Billy are dead.” Nate saw a map taped to the wall with a red line drawn around the downtown area. He moved closer. “Is this supposed to be your safe zone?”

  Tyrone grunted.

  Not losing patience, Nate asked, “Is that a yes or no?”

  “It wasn’t my idea. It’s BS.” Tyrone’s broad chest deflated and his shoulders drooped. “It’s completely dependent on the supposition that roadblocks will keep them out, but there is absolutely no reason they can’t drive off the streets and go around the roadblocks. So the security line has too many holes in it.”

  Nate looked the map over. “It’s doable. But, as you say, there are several places they can drive off-road. This park is one place, the golf course another. You have a lot of side streets to deal with also. Your best bet is to take the fight to them before they have time to come to you. If you can kill enough of them, the rest will leave town.”

  “You take killing easy, don’t you?” Chesty put his finger on the map. “This is the warehouse the gang occupies. They have it fortified. There it is an eight foot chain-link fence around the place, and the only entrance from the road is always blocked by a semi.”

  Nate looked over the area surrounding the warehouse. “Have any idea how much diesel fuel they have?”

  “They have a tanker they took from somewhere,” Tyrone answered. “I doubt they have used much of it. They were smart enough to steal a dozen or so brand new diesel pickups from a car dealership after the first big die off. It was about that time that they also took over the warehouse. Killed three of our town’s people doing it. They had been placed there to guard it. Should have put more men on the job. We made a lot of mistakes early on. We were not thinking straight. With all the grief and misery, I think many of us were not sure we wanted to live at the time. It looked like the end of the human race there for a while. Then the disease star
ted to lose strength as more and more of us got sick but did not die. Then there were those who seemed to be immune.”

  “The doctors explained it to me once,” Chesty said, “but most of it went over my head. It seems there are always or at least most of the time, a certain percentage of people who have a natural resistance to the disease causing a plague. Over time, the people who get sick but do not die develop stronger antibodies.” He glanced at the people gathered around. “This one was a real bitch.”

  “Where are the doctors?” Nate asked.

  A woman spoke up and stepped forward. “Doctor Stein is working his shift at the clinic. I will fill them in on the meeting when I get back.”

  “This is Doctor Brant.” Chesty stepped aside so she could meet the others.

  Brian broke in. “How is the girl?”

  The doctor’s eyes lit up at the question. “She should recover physically, emotionally is another matter. It was kind of you to ask.”

  “You would be doing more good by getting ready for the wounded that’s likely to show up at your clinic tonight.” Chesty’s voice held a tone of concern. “Also, you both need to get some rest while you can. Same goes for the nurses. You will be busy once the trouble starts.”

  “Brian, go get the pharmaceuticals from the truck,” Nate said.

  Doctor Sheila Brant kept her eyes on Nate as Brian and Kendell passed by her on the way to the truck. “Pharmaceuticals?”

  Nate saw a glimmer of hope surface on her face. “We found some medical supplies hidden in an air-conditioning duct. I’m afraid most of it may be of no use. It’s been setting in that air duct for over a year, and the heat probably ruined the medicine. There are some syringes and a few other items that I am sure you can use, though.”

  Defeat washed over her face. “We are in desperate need of antibiotics.”

  “I understand that,” Nate said.

  She looked up at the ceiling. “Excuse me for expressing the obvious.”

  “Not at all.” Nate wanted to say something more; something to make what she and most everyone else in the church knew was coming less frightening, but he had no such words. “Have you tried primitive methods?”