He found the owner’s manual and took a few minutes to look through it before he started the truck. It was a rig from 1972, for which he was thankful, as it was useful unlike most of the newer vehicles in the Story Missions he had been doing. It took him a bit to get the hang of driving the rig, as he had to remember how to double clutch. That year of living on the horse ranch with one of his foster families was finally paying off.
He eventually pulled the truck around to the diesel pumps, hoping he was right about his idea. He found the generator for the building around back and got it running. Once it was up he went back into the c-store and turned the diesel pumps on so he could use them. He was really glad this place still used a really old system for the pumps. He grabbed the fuel canisters the c-store sold and filled each of them with diesel gas, stacking them in the rig’s passenger floorboard. Next, he started filling all the ice chests he could find with water and non-perishable food. He piled as many of them as he could into the rig’s sleeper area.
Once he’d stocked the rig, he fueled the monster. After he was done, he turned off the generator, just in case anyone else came by and wanted to try to fuel their cars as well. He left a note inside near the register, with instructions on how to do what he had done. Climbing back into the seat of the rig, he started the truck up and got it moving. He paused at the exit, debating which way he should go, wondering if the world he was in was even close to the world he had known. Finally, he turned right and headed south.
He cruised slowly, doing about thirty as the rig was not handling well without a trailer. A little over an hour later he came to an onramp for I-70. He took the branch going east, as he figured that should take him towards the Rockies and away from California, hopefully. He had no desire to go to that overly crowded state, while the Rockies might give him a place to set up a rural community if he stayed away from Denver.
He came to the first wreck on the interstate after just a few minutes. A single car accident had occurred, but two other vehicles were stopped nearby. As Alvin slowed to assess the situation he could see the jerky movement of zombies and pressed the accelerator down. He wasn’t going to stop for zombies right now. He jerked in surprise a few minutes later when the CB crackled to life.
“Anyone alive out there?” The question was full of static.
Alvin picked up the radio, “I don’t know any of the lingo, but I’m out here.”
“Where are you and which way you headed?”
“I-70, headed east. No idea as to where exactly, though.”
“If you’re hearing me, then you’re only a few miles away. I’m in Green River.”
“Well, I might be coming that way. How is the town?”
“Zombies everywhere, don’t know what happened. Most of the town is fucked. At the moment it’s just me, holed up in my room.”
“What’s your name?”
“Patrick Walker.”
“I’ll let you know once I hit town, stay as quiet as you can until then.”
“Who are you?”
“Call me Al, over and out.”
The CB fell quiet again as he drove. A sign came into view, indicating that Green River was only five miles away. He grabbed a water from a cooler, downing it quickly before tossing the empty back into the cooler. As he got closer to town he had to slow to pick his way through the massive pile-up around the junction. He took his time, gently shoving cars aside when he needed to. He smashed at least one zombie into a car that way.
“Pat?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m almost at the town. The streets are a bit of a mess, though.”
“Yeah, the little bit I saw before I locked up looked pretty fucked.”
“How do I get to you and do you know of any safe place?”
“There’s a retired Vet who has a cabin about five miles out of town to the north. He can probably hear us about now, so he might give us a place to stay that’s safer than here.”
“We can check. How do I get to you?”
“From Main Street go north. I can see the road from my window. When you get close, I can let you know.”
“North off of Main street... Fuck. Main street is a wreck. It’s going to take me a bit to find a way around this cluster. If you see an old rig without a trailer that will be me.”
“Copy,” Patrick said, and went silent again.
Alvin did his best to maneuver around the side streets until he could cross Main street going North. Just as he was passing a two-story house built in the fifties his radio came alive again. “Al, stop the truck, that’s my house.”
“Well then, you better hurry,” Alvin replied as he parked the truck. He would need to shift stuff, since the floorboard on the passenger side was full of fuel canisters and ice chests took up most of the rest of the space.
As he worked, a forty-year-old man with glasses and bad acne came from the house. He carried an old double barrel side-by-side shotgun in his pudgy hands as he jogged to the truck. The guy looked into the truck past Alvin and froze at the mountain of stuff piled inside.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that part through,” Alvin admitted. “Keep the gas cans and as much of the food as you can, otherwise start shifting things until you can fit. It doesn’t have to be comfortable either, if we’re only going five miles out of town. I’ll stand guard while you do.”
“I think…” Patrick started, then stopped when he saw the 1911 strapped to Alvin’s hip. “Yeah, I only have a handful of birdshot, so maybe it’s best if you guard.”
Alvin turned away from Patrick, looking back the way he had come to see zombies walking towards them. The distinctive noise of both of the shotgun’s barrels being cocked was all the warning Alvin got. It was enough for him to dive forward, which meant most of the blast missed him as Patrick had been aiming at his head. Not pausing, Alvin rolled over pulling the gun and emptied the clip into Patrick, who was fumbling to reload the shotgun. Getting to his feet, Alvin ejected the clip and slapped it back into the gun before stepping over to Patrick to put a final round through his head.
“Stupid son of a bitch,” Alvin cussed as he touched the back of his head. It hurt, and a small spot of blood came away on his hand, along with a single small pellet. He quickly piled the few items he had removed from the truck back into it. A quick search of Patrick’s body turned up nothing of interest besides a handful of shells for the shotgun. He grabbed the shells and the gun before getting back into the truck and starting it up. He pulled away as the zombies got within fifty feet of the truck.
He started north and hoped the Vet was a better person than Patrick had been. He ended up behind the only other moving vehicle he had seen since coming to World Mode. It was a familiar looking truck, and Alvin felt a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as he felt a small kernel of hope blossom.
Chapter Eleven
Alvin followed the truck down the road for about a mile when it turned off onto a dirt road. Alvin turned along behind it. When he did, the truck came to a sudden stop, forcing Alvin to brake quickly or hit the truck. He got the rig stopped and looked up to see Bill already out of his truck, pulling a rifle up to his shoulder as he faced Alvin. Alvin rolled down his window and stuck his hands out, “Hey, Bill, can you not point that thing at me, please? I would consider it a courtesy since I helped you at the hospital.”
Bill lowered the point of aim, but didn’t lower the weapon, “Step out of the truck.”
“I’m feeling a little skittish about that. Someone already tried to shoot me today. I will, but please at least lower the barrel a bit more,” Alvin replied.
Bill squinted, trying to get a clear look into the rig. He lowered the weapon so it was aimed at the ground, but still cocked and still ready to be pulled up instantly. “I’ll give you a minute. If you aren’t out of the truck by then I will fire.”
“And here I thought I was the unreasonable one,” Alvin groused as he set the brakes before opening the door and getting out. By the time his feet hit dirt, Bill
had the rifle up again. “Now this doesn’t look good.”
“Do you have a twin?” Bill asked.
“No, Bill, I don’t have a twin. You have a good-looking daughter, though, who was worried about you. You helped me kill a number of zombies in a hospital.”
“Al? We left you in the parking lot and you said you were going to be there for some time. So how is it that you’re here with a big-rig?” Bill hadn’t lowered the gun again yet.
“You are making me all kinds of nervous, Bill. I can answer that question, but you might not like the answer. Can we agree to a truce for a few minutes? And by that I mean not pointing guns at me.”
“Dad, he helped us,” Susan said from the other side of the truck. “Put the gun down. It would be better for us to get to the cabin, so we can talk in a secure location.”
Bill grunted as he stared at Alvin, clearly not trusting he was who he said he was. “You’re being too trusting again,” Bill told his daughter, but he lowered the rifle and eased the hammer down. “Follow us,” he said, backing away from Alvin until he reached the door of his truck.
Alvin got back into the rig and followed after the pick-up for about four miles. As they approached the structure, Alvin snorted. “That is not a cabin,” Alvin muttered. Alvin could see a ten foot tall fence of cinderblocks. Each corner sported a flat, roofed guard post equipped with spotlights. A single concrete rooftop was visible beyond the fence. “Not Fort Knox, but probably a damn sight better than most places.”
Susan got out of the truck and moved the double gate out of the way, allowing them to roll through. She closed them up behind them. Bill parked the truck just inside on a gravel area and motioned Alvin to do the same. Once he was parked, Alvin got out of the rig to find Bill three feet away, his hand resting on the pistol on his hip.
“Please, not again,” Alvin said, holding his hands palm up. “Look, I already took a shotgun blast to the back of the head today. I don’t want any more.”
Bill eyed him with doubt, “Sure you did. Now explain how you caught up to us this far outside of Provo with a rig.”
“Inside, Dad,” Susan scolded him and came in between them. “You helped us get out of the hospital, and I am as curious as my father. To make us all feel better, will you hand over the pistol to me while we talk?”
“Do you promise not to shoot me with it?” Alvin joked.
“I will not shoot you with the pistol,” Susan told him, her lips creasing up slightly, “I prefer shotguns.”
Snorting, Alvin shrugged, “I need to earn some trust at some point, might as well be now.” He unclipped the holster from his belt and held it out to Susan. “I’d like it back, it has sentimental value now.”
Bill glowered at Alvin, “For the few hours you had it?”
“Good, that means you’re starting to accept that I’m me,” Alvin replied. “I am at your mercy now that I am unarmed. Well, ungunned anyway. I still have my bat.”
“Follow me, please,” Susan told him as she put the gun on her hip and led them towards the house. “We’ll talk inside, where it’s safer.”
Alvin followed, trying not to be too obvious about enjoying the view since Bill was right behind him. Alvin’s gaze drifted off the fit posterior in front of him to the building. It was a concrete block with what looked like a submarine door set in it. There were no windows, and it didn’t look big enough to be a dwelling. He watched as Susan unlocked the door with a unique looking key then swung it open to the side. She went in down a steep ramp, the other two following after her. Inside, the walls were wood paneled and the floor was concrete with rugs covering it periodically.
“Welcome to the cabin,” Susan said as she led him down a hall that had obvious firing slots to either side. After fifteen feet, they came to another hatch. She pulled it open, leading him into something resembling a normal family room. “While you two talk, I’ll see about getting some water.”
Bill grunted as he went to stand next to a wooden rocking chair, “Well, Mr. Might Be Al, why don’t you start by telling me how we met.”
Alvin played along, describing the hospital as best he could. He also mentioned Bill’s tattoo on his left butt cheek. “I doubt many people have seen you naked to know about that.”
“He has you there, Dad,” Susan chuckled as she came back in with three glasses of water. She took a seat in the rocking chair with a glass. “So now can you explain how you managed to catch up to us so easily?”
“It’s going to sound a little crazy, but I’m going to ask you to listen to the whole thing. When I finish, I can offer some proof, outside where a gun can be fired.”
Bill raised a single eyebrow as he sipped his water, “This ought to be good.”
Alvin sipped the water, finding it cool but with an odd taste, “What is wrong with this water?”
“Well water,” Bill replied, “never had real water before?”
“Been a city boy for most of my life,” Alvin replied. “Cities are going to be a relic of the past here real soon.” He took a big gulp then took a seat on the sofa getting his thoughts in order, then began his story. He’d finished his water by the time he told them the tale, starting from when he woke up in the concrete room, leaving out a few details he considered private. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but you have my gun, Susan. Let’s step outside. You can fire off the clip, then drop and reload the empty and go right on firing.”
Bill eyed Alvin as if he suspected that parts of the story had been left out, but motioned Alvin towards the door. He followed after his daughter as the trio walked back to the front of the house, with Alvin having to step aside for Susan to undo the heavy bolt locks on the outer-most door. As they came back out into sunlight it struck Alvin that the bunker had lights on inside.
“Curious as to why you guys have light? All the other power is out.”
“Generators,” Bill said simply before he nodded to his daughter, who pulled the gun.
Susan aimed off to the side of the house, where a berm was raised with a few targets set up. She fired off the seven rounds in the clip in rapid succession, Alvin hearing the ding of the metal target being struck for each pull of the trigger. She ejected the mag then reseated it quickly and fired off another seven rounds. She stopped at that point and looked at the gun in her hands with speculation.
Bill held out his hand. Susan wordlessly handed off the gun to him. Bill ejected the magazine, examining it carefully before he put the empty clip back in the gun. He dropped the slide, bringing it up and firing off seven rounds at the target, each round striking true. Bill dropped the magazine out to look at it again before putting it back in the gun and handing it back to Alvin. Susan held out the holster for it.
“Okay, can you do that to all of our guns?” Bill asked as he pulled a can of chew from his back pocket.
“In theory, yes. In actuality, not so much. It costs me XP as I explained, I need to use that for everything I do. As such, it would not be great for me to use all my XP to upgrade your guns.”
Susan looked at Alvin for a long moment, “You aren’t being very helpful here.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I just think it’s my low Personability. Look, I need a place where I can start to set up a safe zone for people. How about we bargain? I’ll see about upgrading some of your guns and you let me use your bunker as the start of a safe zone.”
Bill glowered, “You want to bring unknown people onto my land?”
“Fuck,” Alvin muttered, “I really need to raise my Personability stat. Yes, but maybe not into the bunker itself right away. We can work it out once I get an agreement from you. What would you want in trade, to use the fenced in area as a safe zone for others?”
“Twenty guns set up like yours,” Bill answered without pause.
Alvin let out a whistle, “Now that is a high order. I’m not opposed to it per se, but it will take me more than a few days to do that. Plus, I’ll need to go out and get XP from killing zombies. I’ll also need a safe place to s
leep each time I go to make your guns like mine.”
“We can offer you a room inside the cabin,” Susan said, cutting Bill off as he started to object. “Stop it, Dad. He helped us and I trust him even if he does seem a little off.” She turned back to Alvin, “Once you’ve given us three improved guns you can start to bring people inside the fence.”
“That okay with you, Bill?” Alvin asked, which got him a nod from Bill and a dirty look from Susan for questioning her word.
Alvin held out his hand, which Bill took in his pulverizing grip. They shook once, Alvin trying not to wince. Alvin turned to Susan, “You made this possible, thank you Susan.”
Rapture (Apocalypse Gates Author's Cut Book 1) Page 12
