by P. A. Glaspy
When he didn't exit the vehicle, one of the men in the street raised a shotgun and leveled it at Damon's head. He called out, "You need to just come on out of that car, buddy. We don't want to hurt you. We just want that ride and anything in it."
Damon had both pistols in his lap. He knew there was no danger of the shotgun pellets piercing the glass — he just didn't know what other weapons they might have. He knew New Jersey had some of the strictest gun laws in the country. He also knew that not everyone who lived there agreed with having their Second Amendment rights violated. There would most definitely be guns about which the local and state authorities were in the dark.
When Damon didn't comply, the man yelled louder. "I said for you to get out of that Hummer! You hard of hearing? Don't make me shoot you!"
Damon picked up his Sig and held it up for the man to see. He rolled the window down ever so slightly and said, "I can't do that. I have orders. I'm on official military business. I'm going to need you men to clear the road. Don't make me run you down."
The man answered with a fake laugh. "Oh! Oh, I see — official military business. Real nice coincidence that your official military vehicle just happens to still be running when no one else's does. Why is that? And where's the rest of the military, or the National Guard … hell anybody with some food and water would be great! I bet you have food and water in there with you though, huh? That's how this works — the government takes care of themselves and screw everybody else! You think we're stupid? You think we don't know this isn't going to get fixed overnight? We know! We figured it out. How are we supposed to feed our kids next week when there's no food now?"
The crowd grew louder at the man's comments, voicing their support for him and his companions in the middle of the street. Damon didn't blame them. He knew there were probably millions of people in the country who were thinking the same thing. He wished he had answers for them. He didn't. That was way above his pay grade. The crowd seemed to be moving toward the street to join the men blocking his way. Damon knew he had to move before they got there, or this would end bloody.
He revved the engine then put the gear shift in drive. He started forward slowly as he raised his head up to the small opening in the door window. "I don't know much more than you, sir. I can't help you. I have to go now. Either move or I will be forced to drive over you." He let the Humvee roll toward the line of men. He could see by the looks on their faces they didn't think he would hit them. He could also see the small bit of doubt that he might. They seemed to be inching away from their spokesman who was holding his ground, shotgun still pointed at Damon.
"You aren't leaving with that truck! Stop or I'll shoot!" When Damon didn't stop, the man fired at the windshield. Damon instinctively ducked even though the pellets from what was obviously bird shot did little more than ping off the glass. The man racked the gun to chamber a new round as Damon increased his speed. Seeing their companion's shot had no effect on the Humvee, his compatriots ran for the sidewalks on either side. The shooter seemed to be committed to holding his ground until Damon was about five feet away. At the last minute, he too dove for the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite quick enough. The grill over the front caught him in the side and pitched him up into the crowd gathered there. Damon didn't stop to check on him. He kept going until the crowd was no longer visible in his rear-view mirror. He had a slight tremor in his hands, undoubtedly from the adrenalin rush, but he knew he had had no choice but to do what he did. His task had to be completed. The fate of the country could very well depend on it.
He kept his speed up through the rest of the residential areas. The few people who were out looked up at the sound of the engine but thought better of approaching at the speed at which he was traveling. He arrived at the armory a few minutes later. There was no one manning the gate. He drove through and straight to the back of the building. He was hoping at least someone would be there to lend fire support if he needed it, but the place looked deserted. He was just about to rethink the choice when a flashlight lit up the cab of the Humvee and a voice called out, "I hope you didn't steal that ride, buddy. Let's see some ID."
Damon smiled. He might be okay after all.
Acknowledgments
Hello friends. I’m so glad to be able to bring you the next installment in the Perilous Miles series. As you have seen, many in this scenario have been portrayed as unprepared, for the most part, for what their lives will become now. I believe this is a very realistic portrayal of what society would be like if something like this happened. While I don’t think people are stupid (as seen by the looters who quickly realized this wasn’t just ice on the lines), they still haven’t grasped that the food they are gathering won’t last as long as the power outage will. It should be interesting to see the transformations from everyday Joe, to looter/scavenger of stores, to getting food wherever they can, regardless of who they have to go through to get it. What would you do to feed your kids if the stores were empty?
I really think I missed self-publishing. I missed the control I had over the entire process. I definitely missed working with my people. Jim never ceases to amaze me when I give him my ideas and some samples. The photo we used for to start working on the cover of this book looks very different from what he presented me as a final product. I love it. He keeps our place going while I write. We were without water for six days after that serious cold snap in January. He crawled around in the mud and muck every day until he got it back on. He is my biggest fan, and I couldn’t do this without him and his support. Thank you, Baby.
My aunt, Carol, has had some health issues of late but she always makes time to edit my books. She finds things I didn’t see after reading through multiple times. She spends hours researching to make sure what she sends me is correct – at least in someone’s opinion. If you need a proofreader/editor, I can hook you up with her. Thank you, sweet aunt. Take care of you.
I can’t say enough about my beta readers. These guys and gals find things that my aunt and I don’t, even after the multiple read throughs. You just can’t have enough eyes on something like this. They are voracious readers and loyal beyond words. Thank you, ART members. You help me put out the best product I can.
To all the loyal followers of my books, thank you for the kind words and messages. I never dreamed it would turn out like this when I wrote that first book. You honor and humble me. I hope I can continue to write stories that keep you wanting more.
Last, and most important, I give the glory to God that He blessed me with this gift to tell stories people want to read. I placed my life in His hands and all I have is because of Him. Thank you, Lord, for the many blessings you bestow upon me every day.
Book 3 in the Perilous Miles series, Another 20 Miles, will be available by summer. Stay tuned!
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