by David Peters
Dylan laughed and picked up his rifle, “This has been with me since I was a kid. This antique is a part of me I think.” Dylan looked the rifle over and pretended to wipe some dust off of the barrel, “Plus it has a real bullet, not that glorified twenty-two you got there.”
There was a round of laughter and jeering at Jokester and his ‘tiny little gun’.
Jokester stood and motioned to quiet the crowd, “Ok, ok, I know a challenge when I hear it. Alright cowboy man, here’s the deal. A shoot-off. You win; I give that museum piece there a military clean and oiling like it’s never seen. I win, you start packing one of these,” he finished by holding up his M-4, a mean looking black rifle with a rather large magazine and very strange looking scope.
Dylan thought about it for a second, he either got a clean gun, or a free gun. “I’m having trouble seeing the downside to this, but you’re on.”
“Cool. We can use the hillside just down the road. Can probably pull over two hundred meters there.”
Jokester and Dylan talked while they walked the short distance down the road. They had nearly a dozen onlookers making their own wagers. It was during this talk that Dylan found Jokester had a number of assorted classifications that meant almost nothing to Dylan.
“I really don’t know what any of those things mean.”
Jokester smiled, “It means I shoot shit good.”
Lying prone at the lip of the hill they had a spectacular view down into the valley. One of the soldiers sitting next to the two shooters had a range finder and binoculars.
“All right” the spotter said. “The first target is that bald patch on that tree, just a hair off your one o’clock. Distance is one hundred and three nine meters.
Jokester exhaled and fired a single round from his M-4.
“Low and to the right, Dylan, your shot.”
Dylan settled the crosshairs on the patch. There was very little wind and the downhill shot wouldn’t require him to adjust for drop at this range.
“Hit, about one inch high center.”
The crowd applauded and the next target was called out.
“Bowling ball sized rock at the base of the tall cedar tree. Range is two hundred and one eight meters.”
Dylan had the first shot. His bullet barely caught the top of the rock and heard the large bullet whine off into the valley.
Jokester paused for several seconds as he repeated his last shot. The sharp crack of his rifle sent the small bullet down the hill and the round struck home in a shower of rock dust.
“Best two out of three. Next target, let’s see who has the talent.” The scout spent several minutes sweeping his binoculars around the hillside looking for a suitable target. “Perfect. Large rotted cedar stump to your eleven o’clock low. Range is four hundred three one meters.”
“Shit Frank, I got straight sites, I can’t even see the damn log. This thing is rigged.” Jokester said smiling.
“Try mine.” Whitey was behind Jokester with his sniper rifle.
Dylan rolled his eyes as Whitey shrugged his shoulders, “Just trying to keep it fair mister.”
“Now we’re talking.” Jokester spent some extra time lining up his shot. He finally let out half a breath and squeezed the trigger sending the bullet downrange.
“We have a whiff. No impact. Looks like the Jokester has been neutered and is firing blanks?”
“Well shit. You know I ain’t ever shot this thing.”
Dylan smiled as he aimed at the target. As he settled the crosshairs on the rotting stump he flashed back to those summer days so long ago with his brother. They would spend hours shooting at cans and drinking lemonade or the occasional beer they could pilfer. The walks out to the check who hit what were some of his fondest memories.
Snapping back to the present, he did a quick guess how much to compensate for the range. He was high on both of the previous shots, so the hill was really affecting what he was used to. One final adjustment and the 444 round was sent on its way.
The back of the stump leapt in a shower of rotted wood as the bullet passed all the way through.
“That’s a kill, stump is down. We have a winner.”
There was applause all around as soldiers congratulated the shooters. Dylan finished collecting his spent casings and stood to shake Jokester’s hand, “That’s why I use this old gun.”
“Good work. Remember, the black ones are head shots, the one that look like people are chest shots.”
When they got back to the mess area, Jokester handed him an M-4 and several magazines and left his hand out to take Dylan’s rifle.
The two sat down as Jokester verified the rifle wasn’t loaded and started taking it down.
“You familiar with these ‘antiques’ as you like to call them?” Dylan asked in mock concern.
Jokester laughed, “Ya, quite. I grew up on a ranch in Montana and had almost the exact same model. Hearing it brought back some great memories. There has been a few times recently where I missed that big old bullet. Well, more than a few times to be honest.”
“I suddenly feel like this whole thing was a set up.” Dylan smiled and nodded as someone handed him a fresh cup of coffee.
“No set up at all. We haven’t come across many civies that weren’t hell bent on running the other direction. It feels good to be able to help out in a way that doesn’t involve shooting up a town.”
Dylan looked at the magazines he had been handed, “Don’t you guys need this stuff?”
“Nah, we will wind up leaving a bunch here. We are moving all the fuel from one deuce to the others so we can actually get somewhere so we are going to wind up leaving a ton of crap here.”
Dylan looked the rifle over. “My wife will like it. Same round as her Mini, but more likely to find parts in the future.”
“Agreed. Good luck to you two,” said Jokester, “I need to gear up, my watch soon.”
Jokester headed off to the tents while Dylan sat down with Niccole to finish another cup of coffee.
Niccole nodded to Dylan’s rifle, “You just keep getting better with that thing.”
“Not sure where it is coming from. Guess being a good shot suddenly means more to me now. Don’t know.”
Both grew silent as they stared into the fire and dwelled on their own thoughts. Both knew their time here was at an end and they would need to strike out again. With a deep sigh Dylan stood and offered a helping hand to Niccole, “Shall we get this show on the road?”
Niccole drained that last bit of her cup and took the offered hand to stand, “Feels like it’s about that time, doesn’t it.”
They took the better part of an hour to pack everything up and were just finishing loading the last pack on the horse when Cap-Cap approached them.
“I want to personally thank you two. You were the first civilians we have encountered that we didn’t have to shoot at or around. It was a big boost in morale to my team, and me, to have you two in camp. It makes for some good motivation for us to keep moving. You folks need anything else? We will be leaving nearly a ton of supplies here to rot.”
Dylan walked over to shake his hand, “Feeling is mutual Cap-Cap. We appreciate the hospitality. You have a fantastic group of people here. I’m going to miss the protective feeling we had here. You have a great team and I wish you the best of luck. We have a few more days ahead of us. Could you spare some of those meal kits? Be nice instead of PB with no J.”
Cap-Cap laughed, “If you are talking about our MRE’s then ya, we got some spares. Although the fact that you are asking for them makes me think I should check your breath again.”
Cap-Cap came back with a small duffle full of the freeze dried food. “Stay safe folks. It’s a different world now.”
“You too Cap-Cap. Hope we meet again someday under different circumstances.”
Dylan and Niccole mounted up and headed down the road away from the camp. As they passed the last picket, the two guards waved and wished them well. They were heading back out into t
he unknown world.
Chapter 7
They made fifteen miles by mid day and broke out some the MRE food the soldiers had given them. They had set up at the top of a bluff overlooking a large four lane freeway about two hundred yards down the hill from them. They took their time enjoying their lunch, Dylan had what he thought was beef and Niccole’s was a chicken pasta of some sort. At least that is what she was telling herself just before each bite.
In the time they had been watching the road they had only spotted a single military Humvee and a beat up mini-van. Both vehicles showed no sign of stopping.
Dylan’s biggest fear was getting caught in the open while trying to cross the freeway. He didn’t want another incident like they had at the dam.
“Let’s head down to that stand of trees,” said Dylan. “We can see around the bend. Should give us lots of lead time to cross and not get creamed by someone doing mach two.”
Angling down the hill brought them into small trees and brush. They were completely hidden from view unless someone was looking directly at them as they passed on the freeway fifty feet away.
Dylan stepped out towards the road in order to look both east and west on the freeway. He could see little over half a mile in each direction. Movement to the west caused him to freeze. Just at the edge of what he could see was the same minivan they had seen rocket by during their lunch. The van had stopped in the middle of the road.
Bringing up his binoculars he could see a man rummaging through the back of the vehicle. The rains had passed and the normal season’s heat was making it difficult to see any detail through the shimmering off the road. He knelt down and watched the man for about five minutes. At one point he watched a woman come around the other side of the van looking somewhat frantic as she waved her arms about in front of the man. It looked like they were arguing about something.
“Coco, think we need to head down the freeway and see what is going on with those two. It looks like they might need some help,” Dylan said more questioning than making a statement.
Niccole approached him and he handed her the binoculars, “They look human enough.”
“I’ll get the horses.”
Dylan rode up and handed Niccole the reins to her horse Jonas, “Let’s assume they are hostile until we find out otherwise, ok?”
Niccole patted the rifle slung in front of her and smiled.
As they closed the distance, Dylan could see it was a couple and also see movement inside the van. There were two small children in the back stress testing the seat springs as they jumped up and down.
The couple finally noticed them approaching when they were about thirty yards away. The man scrambled to the driver’s side of the minivan and came out with what was by far and wide the largest double barreled shotgun either of them had ever seen. For a quick second Dylan wondered if he could fit a ping pong ball into the barrel. The man yelled in their direction and he snapped back to reality.
“Just stop. Stop where you are. I know how to use this!” the man nervously shouted his warning although he failed to sound like he was telling the truth.
“Whoa there friend,” Dylan shouted back, “We are on the same team. Looks like you could use some help. I know a little about engines and might be able to help you get moving again.”
The woman came around the far side of the van and was talking to him, “How do we know you don’t want to steal our stuff from us or aren’t one of those crazy things running all over?” The man shouted back.
“Because if we were going to rob you I would have shot you from a hundred yards back and if I was one of the Corrupted I wouldn’t be on a horse. At least I don’t think so anyway,” Dylan said, smiling to Niccole as he thought about the question.
The man’s shoulders noticeably slumped and he waved them forward, lowering his weapon in submission.
Dylan dismounted and approached him, slinging his rifle but keeping a hand near his pistol. Niccole stayed on her horse with her rifle still at the ready.
“Name’s Dylan. This is my wife Niccole. We’re heading south out of the Pullman area.” Dylan stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Sorry, little nervous out here,” the man said, stepping forward to take the offered hand. “I’m Dave, this is my wife Julie, Emily and Keegan are in the car there,” he said pointing.
“So what seems to be the issue Dave?” Dylan shook his hand and headed around to take a look at the engine. There wasn’t any smoke or burning smell so he was hopeful it was an easy fix.
“I don’t know, we were moving along just fine and then everything just died. It won’t turn over, like the battery is dead or something. How could it do that? We were driving along just fine.”
Dylan started rooting around under the hood. “Where are you headed if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Don’t know, anywhere but Portland, we were going to try Pendleton, but the military had it closed off.”
“Are you from Portland? What is it like there?”
“Fires everywhere and military shooting anything that moves. Crazy virus things running all over the place.”
“Ya, seen a few of those virus things myself, taken to calling them the Corrupted for lack of a better word.”
Dylan found there was a problem with the alternator and attached a loose wire. “Looks like you have been running on battery for a bit. Once it died, you had nothing. You will need a push start, but after running for a while you should be fully charged again.”
“That’s it? You are a life saver!” Dave hugged Dylan uncomfortably hard.
Niccole felt safe and shouldered her rifle. Dismounting her horse she walked over to the open slider door of the minivan. “Dylan has a natural rapport with engines. I keep thinking he would leave me for the right eight cylinder, big-block.”
Niccole watched Julie as she read to the kids. Both children watched enthralled as their mother used different voices with the different characters, “Looks like Dylan has the problem well under hand. How is everything back here?”
Julie put the book down and stood to shake Niccole’s hand, “I’m so glad you came along. I have no idea what we would have done. Do you have any idea what happened? Is there anywhere safe to go?”
Julie looked beyond tired so Niccole sat in the open doorway and motioned her to do likewise. “We don’t know to be honest. I wish I could tell you someplace to go but we are looking for the same thing. Somewhere that we feel we can sleep safely at night. Right now we are passing through to a place called Paradise Falls. Do you have a map?”
Niccole and Julie looked at their Oregon state map. “It’s about seventy miles nearly due south of here, but if you drive this way,” she pointed at the route, “you will eventually meet a gravel road here.”
“What is Paradise Falls? How do you know it will be safe?” asked Julie.
“The locals all thought of it as a Hippy colony or commune but they are a fairly self sufficient group of folks that wanted to live off the grid. Ask for Daniel when you get there, that’s Dylan’s brother. They live pretty far away from any major town and we are hoping that is enough.”
Julie looked at the map and took a deep breath, “That just looks so far. I just want my kids safe, you know?”
Niccole did know and it pained her that she couldn’t do more. “Stay away from large population centers and I wouldn’t stop for anyone if I were you, and please be safe.”
Julie smiled back, “Safe travels you two.”
Dave stood outside the driver’s door so he could both push and steer while Dylan and Niccole got at the back and started pushing.
“Wait a minute!” Niccole practically shouted as she jogged quickly over to her horse.
She came back to the minivan with her old rifle “You know how to use this Dave?”
“I have shot only once in my life and that was just a little pea shooter bolt action thing.”
“This is pretty much the same concept. This is the safe end and this is the not so safe
end.” She smiled as she joked with him “all kidding aside, put the butt against your shoulder and look through this little circle here, and put this little thing here on whatever you want to hit.”
Niccole showed him how to swap out magazines and set the selector from safe to fully automatic. “We can give you three full magazines and a few boxes of loose ammunition. That should be enough to get you to Paradise Falls if you don’t try and start a war anywhere. Just remember to control your fire. You don’t need to shoot one thing thirty times.”
Thanks were said and hugs exchanged. Dave offered to let Dylan and Niccole ride with them, but the horses were all they had left of their old life and they weren’t about to give them up. They gave the minivan a long push start, Dave popped the clutch and they drove off down the road and around the bend.
