The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set)

by Taylor Michaels

  "Elspeth!"

  "Get stuffed, Tom. You're bringing me down."

  "Finding some wine will be difficult," said Fred. "I'm sure the grocery stores are sold out. The one I was in was almost empty of everything. I hope somebody likes broccoli flavored chips."

  John tapped a finger to his temple and thought for a few seconds. "Within twenty miles of here are a dozen wineries. One is not far from where we stopped to help out that guy with the red truck."

  The women shivered, thinking about what had happened, but George made a wise crack. "You helped him die before he helped himself to our stuff. I wasn't carryin' and he had me by forty pounds. And you did find a pistol and a gun in his truck."

  "Yeah," said John. "That would have ended badly. We did what had to be done." John had to swallow hard. He hated killing the man, but he really wanted to do it. He was becoming something he didn't want to be. It was the virus. It couldn't destroy his life. So, it was destroying his humanity.

  "The wineries are probably not open, now," said Fred.

  "Even better," said George. "Five finger discount. Night time is the right time."

  "I have a feeling those people have decent security," John said, returning to reality. "Probably even a guard. Let's wait until tomorrow morning to see them and try to do it legally. We'll take the van and one SUV and some weapons -- just in case. We can travel on back roads. Getting it may be easier than getting it home. We'll see. Marceau, it won't be the best wine, but if my experience in China is correct, after a month or two, it won't matter. And with your cooking, nobody will notice that the wine isn't the best"

  "Beer is the same," said Fred. "I used to know people who made it."

  "You ever make it yourself," asked John.

  "No, never did. You, George?"

  "Not me. I've bought my share though. What are you saying?"

  "We could make our own," said Fred. "Has anybody here ever made their own beer?" Nobody said anything. Fred looked at John, "You're the big brains here. The planner. Why didn't you put this into the plan?"

  "I wasn't planning a party, Fred. I was planning survival, not happiness or drunkenness," said John."

  "You aren't getting moral on us, are you John," said Fred. "It's a little late."

  "I'm not an immoral person," John fired back. "I'm a moral person in an immoral situation. And I want to survive."

  "Sometimes there's not much difference," said George. "Between happiness and drunkenness. I don't know anything about the moral problem."

  John looked over at Fred and spoke with hardness in his voice. "I did look into it, Fred. Some of the ingredients are difficult or impossible to find, but the biggest problem is that most of the ingredients are food items. The advantage of wine is that dozens of acres of grapevines will ripen at the same time and nobody will be around to harvest them. We don't have to plant them now and we would never have to plant them again. They just come back year after year, mostly on their own. I know that the vines take some maintenance, but nothing has to be planted and no food is consumed. Wine seemed logical. Beer did not. And some day, we might even have enough wine to distill some."

  "Whisky. Now you're talking, big boy. Let's make a still. Put it on the list, George."

  "What about the long term?" said George, giving Elspeth a strange look. "Whatever we get tomorrow won't last more than six months. If everybody drinks two glasses for dinner, then it will take four bottles each day. That's twenty-eight bottles each week. A little over two cases. It would take around forty cases to last until harvest, assuming nobody drinks wine any other time."

  "A really bad assumption, good old buddy," said Elspeth, raising her cup and taking a big drink.

  "But we don't have anything to harvest that we could make into wine. The same for beer. And if we did have anything extra, it would take lots of it to make enough wine. How long would it take to grow grapes?"

  "Years," said John, "But we don't have to worry about it. From everything we've heard, the virus doesn't attack plants. What we need to do tomorrow is learn how they make wine. We go on a tour and ask how to make the best wine and how to not make the worst wine. Maybe even learn something about maintaining the vines. Then, in four or five months, when the grapes are ready, we go back, harvest the grapes, put them in their equipment and make our own wine. Next spring we go back and do some maintenance."

  "Couldn't somebody be hungry and will go eat them before we do?"

  "Not really. Each of these wineries has dozens of acres of vines. They all ripen at the same time. Plenty for everybody. And like I said, a dozen wineries are within twenty miles. If one doesn't work, the next will. We have a good chance of making something drinkable. And wine does count as calories. It would keep us alive."

  "Keeps me alive," said Elspeth. "I second that. Third also."

  "We'd have to guard it until it matures. What's that, a year?"

  "Not more than three weeks, Fred," said Charles. "I did a little of this when in Iraq. Once the first fermentation is finished, we put it into large plastic containers and bring it back here. We also bring some empty barrels and we put them in the basement. We fill up the barrels from the plastic containers and wait."

  "How long, Charles?" said George.

  "Drinkable in a few weeks, but it was better over time, a month or two. Also, we always used plastic containers and never used barrels. So, we have some flexibility. If we can't find wooden barrels, or a stainless tank, we use plastic. We have a bunch of extra garbage cans. The biggest problem is finding that much fruit."

  "It won't take years, Charles?"

  "No, a few months at most. This isn't going to be the best wine. Our tastes will age more quickly than the wine. The wine will taste better each day, even if it never really is any better. A month after we run out of wine, anything we've made will be delicious. I promise. Even Marceau and her educated palate will be happy."

  "We should visit a few of these wineries," said Marceau. "We can find the best one. I volunteer to be taster, John."

  "You can taste, but don't expect too much. I've been to most of them. Their vines are still young. We'll go tomorrow, first thing, in case we have to go to several. But now, we should head out for what might be our last major shopping trip. Be nice, be careful and come back in one piece."

  Most stores were empty of goods and full of people. Screaming people. They were able to find a few small stores tucked away out of sight and filled their vehicles one last time.

  Chapter 25 - Wine

  Early the next morning, John and Cho set out in the van followed by Pierre and Marceau in the white SUV with Fred following on his motorcycle. They went via back roads to the closest winery, fifteen miles southwest. At each intersection, they stopped and carefully looked every way and hoped they would not run across anyone crazed from the panic. Finally, they arrived at the winery, a large stone building with a small, graveled parking lot.

  "Nice place you have, here," said John.

  "Thanks, how can we help you folks?"

  "We're interested in learning to make wine and in buying some wine. Quite a bit of wine. We're opening a small hotel just north of here and we're stocking up." John had become adept at making up stories on the spur of the moment. Three months ago, this would be considered lying and he never would have done it. Now, it was just another aspect of survival.

  "That's what we're here for. What do you want to know about making wine? Going to make your own?"

  "Don't worry. You won't have any competition from us. Not any time soon. We just want to understand the process. We've been really busy so far with the hotel. We thought we could plant some vines this summer and then, in a few years, we'll give it a try. My friend, Marceau, is our chief taster," John said, turning and pointing at her.

  "Bon jour, Monsieur," she said, stepping forward and holding our her hand.

  As the man shook hands with her, John said, "She can taste while the rest of us take a tour. How would that be?"

  "Sure. Nobody else is
around. I'll show you our facilities and Mary Ann can help Marceau find something she likes. Mary Ann, you'd better show Marceau the good stuff. With that French accent, she probably knows her wines." As he led the way toward the back of the building, he said, "You hear anything about the panic? I heard stories of a big riot at Walmart yesterday."

  "Really? We were out of town picking up supplies. Just came back. Where do you grow the grapes?"

  "Follow me. It's just out back. You must be serious if you want to see the vineyard."

  "You've never met anyone more serious," John said with a small smile, being happy that for once, he didn't have to make up a story.

  The tour started with a walk through the vineyard and a short discussion about only picking the best grapes. Then, they saw the crushing, fermentation, storage and bottling facilities. John talked the people into selling him a dozen packages of wine yeast, a pH test kit and a box of chemicals, including those for sterilizing bottles and stopping the fermentation. Marceau approved two red wines and one white and they bought as much as they could carry: twenty cases of each of the reds and thirty of the white.

  The trip back to the lodge was tense. At every intersection, they expected the worst. John drove with his left hand and held his three twenty seven with his right. They saw two cars on the side of the road and the drivers were off in a field fighting. The bigger man hit the smaller and knocked him down. The smaller man pulled out a gun and shot. The bigger man folded up and fell. John kept driving.

  Back at the lodge, the wine was carefully placed in the northeast corner of the basement where it would be the coolest.

  * * *

  That night they made a raid on the local public library. It was deserted and the bolt cutter made short work of a lock on the rear entrance. Tom and Harry entered while John and Cho remained on guard outside. They decided to be especially careful and quiet as the library was across the street from the police station.

  "Is this how the Americans keep their libraries, Harry? Books all over the floor. It's surprising they ever find anything."

  "Stop trying to be cute, Tom. This place has been vandalized. We'd better hurry because if the police hear about it and come here, they will put us in jail. We could starve to death in jail because nobody will come to feed us. Let's find the DIY section and the medical section. I hope they haven't been vandalized too or we'll be here all night and we'll really be at risk."

  "It would have been better for Pierre or George to do this. We don't know anything about either of those things."

  "That was the idea. Those guys already know all that stuff. These books are supposed to help everybody else come up to their level."

  "I don't think that will ever happen. Do you, Harry?"

  "This isn't going to be over tomorrow, Tom. We will have to be self-sufficient for many years. Even decades. The rest of our lives. Generations after that. A new world. Many people will have to learn from these books. Our descendants will be reading these very books and learning to be doctors. My son could be a doctor."

  "You don't have a son," Tom said. "You don't even have a girlfriend. You should have found a girl before this bloody panic came down on us."

  "I've been talking to Marceau. She's nice."

  "She's Pierre's girlfriend and he's a crack shot. You be careful, boy."

  "I'm always careful. You never know. Pierre could die tomorrow. He could come down with the plague. I could take his place. I could be the doctor and marry Marceau and we could have a son who would be the doctor, a handsome doctor."

  "OK, forget the wet dreams. Let's just fill the boxes. Mine's full. I'll take it out to the car. How many do we need?"

  "As many as we can find."

  Tom walked outside and put his box into the van. "I worry about this John. Is this a priority? Should we be doing this now? Isn't something else more important?"

  "It's hard to say, Tom. I worry that next year this time, something will come up that we're not prepared for. This is our last chance to learn from the last generation and all the ones before. If we don't pick it up tonight, we'll have to make our own mistakes and waste our own lives. It might be good to pick up a set of encyclopedias, for general knowledge."

  "You know the police station is just around the corner, right. If they catch us, they'll say we were not only stealing books, but vandalizing the library as well."

  "We'll deal with it, when we have to. Get back in there."

  "John right. Last chance to be smart. We not waste it."

  * * *

  Two days later, John's radio squawked at three in the morning. "John. Are you awake? Wake up! Answer. It's Harry. This is important. Intruder alert."

  John, wiping the sleep from his eyes, woke up slowly, groggy. He grabbed the radio from the nightstand and fumbled for the button. "Yes, Harry."

  "Robbers. In cabin eight. What should I do?"

  John could tell Harry was anxious, even over the radio. He knew he had to seem calm and careful. The leadership role he had cast for himself was beginning to wear him down. But it was too late to change things. "How many?"

  "Not sure. I heard several voices."

  "Any vehicles?" John was now fully awake and snatched his pants from the chair beside the nightstand. His stepfather had taught him to not remove anything from his pockets when he went to bed. To always lay out his clothes to make a quick departure easy. And most importantly, to leave his gun in the place where it was most quickly found.

  "None that I can see."

  "I'm on my way. Call Pierre, Elspeth and Fred. George and Tom are out foraging. Stay in your cabin until you hear shots. Don't challenge them alone. You understand that? No hero stuff, right. I don't want you shot." John added the last to emphasize that he valued Harry. Otherwise, Harry would do as youth always did, try to be a hero, and possibly get shot.

  "Yes sir, John. I get it."

  "Let's go, Cho," he said, looking at the bed where she had been sleeping, but she was up and dressed, holding a shotgun. He finished dressing and grabbed a rifle.

  They ran down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. They crept cautiously along the side of the lodge until they were near the front of the lodge. Peeking around the corner, John saw two men running away from the cabin with arms full. He aimed and fired at the closest one and missed.

  The man turned, pulled out a pistol and fired, before running again.

  "You such bad shot, John," Cho said, moving to John's left, raising the gun to her shoulder and firing.

  "Cho. Take cover. You'll be shot. He has a gun."

  The man in the rear fell. Then, another man ran from the cabin as John peeked around the corner. Before John could raise his rifle again, the man turned around and fired. John fell down.

  "You big pansy. He so close. Not even good contest. Baby can hit, he so close," she said, not seeing that John had been hit. She fired and the man fell. Finally, she looked around and saw John on the ground behind her.

  "What you do? You get shot?" she said with tears on her cheeks. She kneeled down beside him and cradled his head in her lap.

  "You were using a shotgun. You couldn't miss," he whispered. "Not fair."

  Another shot came from Pierre's cabin and the man furthest out fell. He had almost made it to the fence, nearly four hundred feet away.

  "Pierre, get butt here. John shot."

  John whispered again, "What happened to Fred? His cabin is close by. Only fifty feet. Why didn't he hear anything? Why didn't he do anything?"

  "He too busy. You be quiet. Need strength."

  "Too busy with what? This is important. We could have lost a month of food. It could have caused us to starve. What's so important that he would let thieves steal our food?"

  "John shut up! Pierre! Come here."

  Pierre retrieved his medical bag from his cabin, ran over and began examining John. "Let's get him into my cabin."

  "Great shots guys," said Harry, walking up. "Oh, what happened?"

  "John shot, y
ou help. Take to Pierre cabin."

  "Sure," Harry said, picking up John's feet while Cho put her arms around John's chest and lifted him.

  "Getting strong, Cho?"

  "We go, now."

  Pierre forced Cho and Harry to leave the cabin while he and Marceau began working on John. Cho sat on the porch, her head in her hands, crying. Harry sat down beside her and put his arms around her. "He'll be OK. I promise."

  She looked at Harry with hope and tears in her eyes. She tried to say something, but couldn't.

  Charles and Elspeth walked up and Elspeth waved to Harry to go away. "I'll take over. You and Tom check those men."

  "Charles, cover me," Harry said, handing him John's rifle." I'm going to check things out. I'll start with this guy closest."

  Charles stood with his rifle pointed at the closest man as Harry circled around, making sure he stayed out of the line of fire.

  "Is this a drill? You guys lead a strange life. George said it was all quiet here." Iris said walking up and hugging her robe to her body.

  "Hello, Iris. Yes, it has been quiet, except that we are doing most of our work at night now. We had a robbery. Did you bring a gun with you?"

  "You mean now?"

  "No, do you own a gun?"

  "I brought a rifle. The one Daddy bought me when I was a girl."

  Harry looked back, "Talk to me later and I'll find you a pistol and show you how to use it. From now on, you should carry it with you all the time. Life is becoming difficult. You should have one that you feel comfortable with and a comfortable holster to go with it. Don't let George talk you into some big honkin' gun that weighs a ton or kicks like a mule."

  Iris tied the belt of her robe. "Sure. Tell me Charles, it looks like our lives are going to be really dangerous. I know that's what you guys have always been saying, but I thought John was just being carried away a little. I thought he was exaggerating so we would work harder. Sorry. Is he going to be alright? He's kind of the leader here, isn't he?"

  "Pierre is very good. It didn't sound life threatening. He was complaining about Fred as they carried him off. But, no need to be sorry. Everybody else thought the same as you. Our lives are becoming more hazardous. We have food and people are hungry. This compound is far enough from any towns that we won't have many visitors, but we'll have more. I hope you're not thinking you made a bad decision joining us," Charles said, never taking his eyes off the man Harry was checking.