The Work Of The Dead: A Post Apocalyptic Prepper Fiction Series (Aftermath Survival Book 1)

by Ron Foster

  “Remind me to kick David at the lakes butt next time I see him. I still don’t know how in the hell I ended up with 12 pairs of extra large new blue jean bib overalls in trade. It has something to do with me sampling some of his apple jack moonshine but I don’t remember much about that transaction except some song he had on a little mp3 player that went “I will Never Smoke Weed With Willie Again”.. It was the first time I ever saw somebody trade for half a hog with that farmer for pairs of hog washing overall clothes and if I remember right that big lummox of his named Dump Truck managed to damn near eat the other half without paying a thing to us.” Dixon said fussing.

  “Yea I remember that day, neither one of you was feeling any pain. I think the likely culprit that day to blame though affecting your judgment was all that stump knocker liquor you all consumed at Boudreaux’s bar starting out at eight in the morning. I don’t know how you the three of you all can do that shit all day, if it were me I would have damn near embalmed myself with all that alcohol by noon time.” Brock said sniggering.

  “It was that damn David Dupree, I sure do hate trading with him sometimes! Why I bet he could fall into a barrel of shit and come out smelling like roses. Me on the other hand, I could fall into a barrel of titties and come out suckin' my thumb. (Used to describe someone's good or bad luck).” Dixon said reluctantly admitting David occasionally bested him pretty good in a trade.

  “Oh, you will get even with him at the trade rendezvous, I am sure. I seen them two half gallons of Ancient Age whiskey you got put back that you know he will trade you anything for. But you never know, my Daddy used to have a saying about folks like David. He said “Never ask a barber if he thinks you need a haircut.” You keep that in mind next time you’re dickering with him.” Brock said smiling wickedly at his boss.

  “You don’t need to tell me that twice. I found out a long time ago the quickest way to double your money around that man is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.” Dixon said agreeing with Brock’s assessment.

  “Watch out for that British trade delegation of his also, them two Brits he has got trading under his banner are pretty sharp to boot.” Brock cautioned.

  “Hell, who ain’t he got trading or working with or for him over at that lake. Just too dang many of them men and women living around there in cahoots with him. If you ask me, I think I figured out how come he beats me sometimes in a parlay. He gets that damn United Nations of a trade delegation crew he has got over there to wear me out before the real dickering with him in earnest even begins! That’s ok I got a few folks on my side this year to help me out and run interference for me. Ha! Just wait until David meets Farley and Miss Feng, and tries to trade for something. That boy is going to be feeling about as bad-off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.” Dixon said grinning that he might finally get one up or over him in this race to find the most trade goods and get them to the rendezvous first which up to now was as tight in David’s favor as the rusted lug nuts on a '55 Ford.

  “How the hell did you meet Farley anyway?” Brock asked

  “I ain’t told you that whopper yet? It’s a pretty good story. I still think its funnier than hell that David don’t know him and they live on the same lake, course that Lake has got dang near 750 miles of shoreline when you count the bits of river flowing in and dams that form it.

  “Might as well get comfortable Brock it will take me a bit to tell you the story and bring you up to speed. Ah hell, that story’s got to wait for a little bit, I plum forgot to tell Jarvis to set up his bath house and get that immersion heater of his going since we are staying for a few days.

  “Uh he ain’t here; he hitched his trailer to the scout truck and him and Landon took off somewhere.” Brock said reluctantly.

  “Ah Hell, tell Cookie to put a bucket of water on the fire to heat up for me. Emma Sue is going to kill me, I told her she could soak in the tub as long as she wanted to tonight for standing all day guard duty inside that hot bus.” Dixon said pondering where Jarvis could have gotten off to. He hoped he wasn’t trying to intercept Farley’s trade group and set up down the road by them. He needed to have a talk with that man about loyalties, he was an independent contractor but he needed reminding of which side his bread was buttered on and besides his bath house set up was one of Dixon’s main attractions to his camp.

  “You are going to catch it for sure then Dixon. It's hotter than a Billy goat's ass in a pepper patch inside that bus.” Brock said thinking that Dixon must already be in some kind of trouble with that woman if he had offered her that magnanimous of a bribe already.

  “Yea, I will think of something good hopefully soon to unruffle her feathers, meantime let me tell you that story I promised you.” Dixondeclared looking over at the bus and rubbing his chin and contemplating how to escape the woman’s ire when she found out he had to break his promise about bath time.

  4

  DIXON’S FLASHBACK

  Dixon had encounters with various shrewd odd characters like that David fellow a time or two before in his life, but he wasn’t quite ready for a man named Farley who had suddenly appeared in his camp one day sitting in Dixon’s very own personal “stay out of me” chair in front of the campfire one early frosty morn. That was before Dixon had extra folks to post as guards and such as the basic security of camp was then to lock the bus door after you come in at night and leave it locked.

  For him to all of the sudden wake up in the morning and look out and see a stranger wearing a proudly displayed pistol and some kind of big ass knives tending his campfire and making coffee in his camp without his permission, kind of took Dixon aback a couple of notches.

  Here was this old long gray haired guy basically camping out in his backyard acting like he didn’t have a care in the world while using his crap to make himself a cup of coffee without even asking him! When Dixon hollered out the gunners slits on the bus what it was the stranger exactly wanted, the old fool had just smiled at him and said “Coffee.” and for him not to take offence for him using the pot; he had brought his own coffee to brew. Speculations and ramifications seemed to fall on deaf ears as the man just puttered about hollering back once in awhile to the armored vehicle for him come out and partake. Farley said that he had three other folks with him in the woods that were waiting on the friendliness of his reception, then he made a joke or two about his survival depended on coffee this cold morning and thanked him for having some left over hot coals and a coffee pot waiting on him to come along and use.

  The son of a bitch was dang sure cocky about something, Dixon had to give him that. Whether or not he had a whole tribe of Indians ready to swoop down and pounce on the bus as soon as the armored door was unlocked and opened Dixon was doubtful about but he had to be careful. It would have been just as easy for that old scoundrel to have stood on the roof of his vehicle and blast him when he and his crew finally woke up and ventured outside. Wonder what the old bastard really wants?

  That the stranger had said that he had three other folks in the woods was a concern but why the hell did the man tell him that unless it was a veiled threat or fact that his death might be avenged if he decided to shoot him rather than greet him?

  Dixon went out after awaking one of the crew reluctantly but met the stranger with the same guarded friendly demeanor of one old cuss meeting another.

  “I got sugar and cream.” Farley said without moving as he heard an iron door open on the bus and heavy boots hit the ground.

  “Mighty neighborly of you to warm up my chair and feed my fire and fill up my coffee pot this early in the morning, Mister.” Dixon said while one- handing his AK 47 semi auto rifle look alike clone.

  “No problem, happy to do it for you, buddy. I will give you your chair back, sorry. I got a can of peaches to share with you maybe, but I don’t know how many other folks you got sleeping in that armored monstrosity that might want to share with them also. I hollered at your camp when I was coming up, guess that thing don’t have good acoustic
s or you was snoozing too hard to hear me. I figured it might not be such a good idea to keep hollering and wake you up so early so I have been trying to be quiet ever since. I figured that you wouldn’t mind much me borrowing your pot if you finally got around to waking up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. You got any extra water to replace what I used? I swear it’s been so dry around here lately that the catfish are carrying canteens.” Farley said with a grin that to Dixon said he was the kind of person who would likely shoot craps with the devil himself.

  Dixon for that matter looked to Farley as brave and nervy as the first man who ever ate an oyster and it was a big measure of relief to him when Dixon finally loosened his hand on his rifle and smiled back.

  “Yea it’s been so dry the trees are bribing the dogs but we got lots of extra water over there in that water buffalo trailer to refill your canteen. What brings you down this way? You leave your own coffee pot at home?” Dixon said scanning the woods for the friends Farley had said were hiding in the bushes somewhere and not seeing anybody regarded him once again to be about as welcome as an outhouse breeze.

  Farley looked over at the military surplus trailer and thanked him kindly for the offer of the water and he would refill his canteen later.

  “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a start or fright by me sitting out here having coffee. You know they say if you haven't found something strange during the day, it hasn't been much of a day. Oh and yea, I don’t have a coffee pot with me this trip.” Farley said poking the fire aimlessly with a stick while enjoying aggravating it’s owner.

  “They also say “Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday” Dixon said still scanning the woods obviously for any sign of danger or the alleged so called friends Farley said he had with him that remained unseen.

  “Oh, I never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

  I have myself a new philosophy, I'm only going to dread one day at a time.” Farley said smirking at the man’s discomfort.

  “I think Henry Kissinger put it better when he said “There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full.” Dixon declared tiring of this cat and mouse game.

  “We’ve howdied but we haven’t shook hands yet. My names Farley, what yours?” Farley said extending his hand and grinning inwardly that he had gotten the drop on him while he was sleeping this morning.

  “My name’s Dixon. Farley, I wish I could say right off that it was a pleasure to meet you but you know how it is these days, a man can’t be too careful.” Dixon declared returning Farley’s handshake but still very wary and nervous.

  “Oh I know all too well how that is. Tell you what, instead of you jawing at me from over there, if you put on your sitting britches and lower that rifle a might more we can have us a friendly talk and I will call my friends in from the woods to join us and share in this coffee and open up that can of peaches I brought.” Farley offered.

  Dixon didn’t hesitate to sit down but he made sure that Farley was sitting square in front of him with his back facing the woods and his own back was facing the not seen or heard from crew he had backing him up hopefully armed and ready in the armored bus.

  “Yea mistakes can be painful when they happen, but years later a collection of mistakes called experience hopefully leads us to success and making the right choices.” Farley said studying the man more closely.

  “I don’t know if that’s always true Farley. Experience is a wonderful thing. It sometimes enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.” Dixon said giving Farley the “Stink Eye” again and wondering if this was one of those occasions that Farley represented...

  “Touché buddy! The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese! You got nothing to worry about with us though; we are traders also just heading to rendezvous. Barnett at the bait store recommended you to me and told me to remind you that “Life isn't like a box of chocolates...it's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today might burn your ass tomorrow.” Farley declared indicating by a secret phrase that he had a recommendation from one of Dixon’s regular customers.

  “How is that old skin flint doing?” Dixon asked brightening up and putting down his rifle in a relaxed manner.

  “He's still as tight as the pages in a book. He has given me the wire-brush treatment in a trade more than once I can tell you that but we are ok now. As for that side kick of his, Frazier, I’d like to buy him for what he’s worth and sell him for what he thinks he’ll bring. We got us a few problems. There’s a yellow jacket in the outhouse you might say and I got my ox in a ditch. I trusted in the wrong fellow to truck some of my goods to rendezvous. When he didn’t show up at the appointed time I went by his house and it looked like hell with everyone out to lunch. I don’t know what the devil happened there, but evidently somebody spent a lot of time looking for something and packing up some shit, including what looked like most of my driver’s clothes. I went looking for the truck and my crap: Nada. Not a damn sign of it anywhere. A years worth of tears, lots of scavenged beers, and assorted trade goods gone, kaput. Some of that crap was on credit from Barnett, by the way. I was taking it to sell for him but someway or another the bill has become one of that I lost goods on credit rather than on mutual risk consignment and he and Frazier are being pissy about it. We won’t go there on that subject at the moment. Barnett said you hired out security and sold bus tickets for transport of passengers and goods. I would like to buy 6 tickets please and rent a few good men if I happen to see my damn truck and driver show up at rendezvous.” Farley said somberly.

  “Boy, you did bring a passel of problems with you, call your folks in and let’s see what old Dixon can do to help you and yours out of your fix.” Dixon declared and then did a short loud whistle that it was all clear for some of the folks on the bus to bail out.

  Three people got out of the bus and arranged themselves in a small group looking around not far from the bus but not coming over to the fire either and keeping their distance warily.

  From the woods in three directions came an older looking Chinese man named Charlie Wu, his brother’s son Fong and a boy named Jeremy all carrying some firearm or another but looking calm and smiling as they waked into camp.

  Silence and smile are two powerful words. Smile is the way to solve many problems and Silence is the way to avoid many problems.

  “Dang, Farley, these folks are your badass backup?” Dixon said incredulously.

  “Never said they were badass; let me introduce you to everyone.” Farley said with a grin and did so.

  Farley explained over the next hour that it was awful funny how his truck driver and the few folks Farley knew associated with him had disappeared all at once and he suspected thievery rather than foul play for them not showing up. He also explained his van was down for repairs and all they had was a couple older model cars to get to rendezvous on, one of which he had parked down the road because he didn’t want it seen if his trade truck came rolling by or stopping here for a visit. The damn thing was in the area but where it was and all the reasoning for its disappearance he didn’t have a clue about. He explained that he had left Charlie’s wife Miss Feng and Jeremy’s mother, Becky, back at their encampment to watch over the place in case it got any unsavory visitors going after any of their stuff but hey were instructed to just watch and observe and call Farley on the little 35 mile push-to-talk handheld radio he had if they could get through. He explained that these three friends here were all he could put together on short notice as a posse and after talking to Barnett and his advisement you were in the area I have been checking around the neighborhood for the scoundrel before I hightailed it over this way. So you might say I have been searching for the mysterious Dixon and his armored trading bus and café to maybe help me out ever since. Farley had prepared for any disaster, for every disaster—but not all of them at once and he looked noticeably shaken and worried about his current state of affairs.

  “I need that news like a tomcat needs a
trousseau. I think I know who you are talking about, never did trust that boy. In my opinion, there are a lot of nooses in his family tree. Don’t get your panties in a wad though, I am going to help you out best I can. I still am having a hard time wrapping my head around that truck’s disappearance, him and his friends must be as dumb as a sack of hammers to ever think they could show their faces around here again. Well don’t you worry your little pointy head none; you and your friends are as safe as a tick on a dog with a stiff neck with us. Hang on a second Farley; I am going to send a couple of my scruffier boys out on a truck-spotting expedition for you. If they find it they can handle it.” Dixon said and he walked over to the group that was chatting quietly in front of the bus and gave them the lowdown on the situation while Farley compared notes with his own much tamer and subdued crew at the campfire.

  Shortly thereafter a somber and all business Dixon returned to the fire and explained to Farley one of his boys knew that custom motorcycle of the disappeared miscreant and would have his eye out for it also. He then went on to explain that he had cargo to pick up along the way and hadn’t planned on any passengers for this trip but he had a solution. Just a few miles from where he had to meet up to receive some trade goods, a nice group of people had themselves a river trading barge that would ferry passengers to the trade rendezvous. Farley and friends could ride that old casino barge the rest of the way over there and when Dixon finished trading and delivered his cargo Farley and them could ride back to their old encampment no charge ‘cause he was going by Barnett’s anyway and Farley could save the fare to help pay the old bastard Barnett back on that bill Farley had mentioned. That way he could look around his place and decide if it was safe or not to return and Dixon was going to be hanging around the area for a few more days anyway. It was decided that it was a good idea to do that and the first annual trade rendezvous went off without a hitch but Farley’s stolen truck and liar of a driver never showed up.