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

by Taylor Michaels

  "You are a survivor, mon amie. You have good genes. You will outlive us all."

  Fred brought the group back to the strategy for the night. "If we go in, they could surround us and take us out with the crossfire."

  "I'll be careful and keep quiet. I'll be in and out before they know I've hit them."

  "What do you mean, I, Charles? We're a team."

  "One person wouldn't be noticed. I've done this before. I can do it, now."

  "I'm going with you. Pierre and George can stay here and cover us. If you guys see anything, get off a shot. Maybe cause a diversion. That'll make it easier for us to escape."

  "I don't like it," said Pierre, "But, I will do as you say. What about you, George?"

  "I'm not military, either. I'll go along with it, too. But for now, we go deeper into the forest, eat and take a nap," George said, pulling out a sleeping bag from his backpack.

  Around eleven, they awakened to shouting and then voices. They scrambled to their feet as if the enemy were upon them. They relaxed when they could see that it was some sort of celebration or partying from the enemy. They were safe -- for the present. They relaxed, but each kept an ever vigil eye and ear open. An hour later, all was quiet again and all lights were out. To be safe, they waited until half past two.

  "Charles, it's your nickel. What do we do?" Fred said.

  "Stay together. Keep a gun in your hand, but only shoot if we have to. If we do shoot, we get out fast. Run like the wind. Maintain cover as much as possible. Like you said, if we stay in one place, we'll be surrounded. We know that at least seven of them are in the town. Maybe more. Let's go."

  Nerves were on edge as they quietly crossed the open land behind the building farthest from the water towers and the guards, one at a time, and staying low, crawling in some places. Ever alert of their surroundings, they stole up the streets, staying close to the buildings, ducking into alleyways whenever possible. At one point, Fred kicked a garbage can lid and they both jumped into a doorway and froze in their tracks, anticipating discovery. Charles gave Fred a look which said, "You should go back." Fred shook his head. Their hearts were beating fast and they began to sweat. They stayed perfectly still for five minutes before continuing. After twenty minutes of searching through the town, they located the box truck and the motorcycles parked outside a wooden single story building on the far side of the town.

  "Wish we had John here," Fred whispered. "He can pick a lock in a heartbeat."

  "Piece of cake, isn't that what you Yanks say?" said Charles, pulling out his wallet and producing two picks.

  "I thought you needed a whole set of picks," Fred whispered.

  "You do, if you don't know what you're doing or if you're trying to impress someone. Thirty seconds, you can time me if you want."

  Charles inserted the picks as Fred checked his watch. When the lock clicked open, Fred tapped Charles on the forearm and whispered, "Twenty-two seconds. First rate. We need to sit down and have a long talk some day. I'm sure you have some interesting stories to tell."

  "I practice every day. I bought over fifty locks at Walmart and the hardware stores. I can open any one of them in under thirty seconds, blindfolded."

  Fred started to open the door when Charles said, "Wait a minute. I'm a professional. Let's do this right." Charles took out a thin piece of sheet metal the size of a fountain pen from his wallet and waved it around the edge of the door, checking for magnets, knowing that was how cheaper security systems worked. If he found no magnets, then most likely no security system existed. No magnets, no problem. Those fancy electronic gadgets looked good in the movies, but weren't needed.

  Fred opened the door an inch and peeked inside. "Nothing going on. Come on," he said slipping in. Fred took out his flashlight and shined it around. He saw a flash in return and immediately switched off the light and jumped back outside, almost knocking Charles down. Charles gave him another of his "You should go home" looks.

  "What was that?" He waited, and not hearing anything, switched the light on again.

  "A tank," said Charles. "Like the ones at the winery. Stainless steel and shiny. And look at that. A still. It's a distillery. They're making whisky. Elspeth would love this."

  "Maybe for barter," said Fred. "We thought about that for next year. They are bartering corn whisky for food and for raw materials, sugar and corn or corn meal. My grandfather was a shiner. I can smell it. I should have recognized that smell when we walked in. I'm losing my touch. If we tore it up, we would really hurt them."

  "They'd come after us like a bunch of hornets. Still an interesting thought. Let's go back to the lodge and see what John thinks. Maybe they are using it for fuel for their vehicles. You don't see any bottles do you?"

  * * *

  It was five in the morning when they returned from their mission. They had gone back to the dead bodies and motorcycles, stripped the men of their helmets, guns and clothing and scavenged some food from the bike carriers. Pierre had wanted to leave their underwear on to preserve their dignity and the others agreed. Besides, Fred pointed out that no one wanted to wear underwear with hearts on them. Charles, Fred and Pierre drove three of the motorcycles back to the cabins while George drove his pride, the Dark Defender, stuffed with the loot they had taken from the bodies. Half way to the compound, Pierre's motorcycle ran out of the gas. He thumped the gauge, which showed half-full and realized it was broken. They hid the bike and Fred and Pierre went back and retrieved another cycle.

  Chapter 36 - The Distillery

  It was now eleven as George, Fred, Pierre and Charles sat in the office updating John, Cho and Tom on what they had discovered. John had been busy updating the inventory. His main concern as usual was how much food was left.

  "So, how do you read it, John?"

  "Hard to say, Fred. But you said that you saw fermenters like the ones at the winery and you saw a still and you could identify the smells as like your grandfather's still. But you didn't see any bottles, glass or plastic." He mulled it over for a short while. "It sounds pretty straight forward. They've modified their vehicles to run on alcohol. It would have to be high proof, nearly pure, not your typical 'shine. They left it where it was because they didn't understand how it worked. They didn't want to ruin it by taking it apart and transporting it. The question is where are they finding the raw materials? They need sugar or some kind of starch like corn. I remember from my youth that many of these local fields were used to grow corn. But, we haven't had enough time for a harvest. They must have run across a stash of sugar or corn meal."

  "Mon amie, maybe that is what is in the block building. The warehouse. Originally, it received shipments on the river and delivered goods with the box truck."

  John thought about Pierre's comment. "I suppose so. Now, they take some sugar or corn every day to the town and start a new batch. It takes a week to ten days for the batch to work. They must have many batches of mash working. They only take as much as they need. Each day they distill off a batch of alcohol and bring what they need back. They must think the town is not secure or they don't trust their own people, because they didn't take all their raw materials there." John changed directions. "Fred, you brought back the motorcycles?"

  "Three of them, Boss. We only had enough people to bring three. One ran out of fuel. What are you thinking?"

  "Go check the fuel tanks. See if they have gasoline or alcohol. And don't drink any. It might still have a bit of gasoline in it. A tiny bit too much."

  Fred left and returned a few minutes later. "You're right, boss. Alcohol. We would have had problems if we filled it with gasoline. So what do we do? Make alcohol or forget the cycles?"

  "It's something we can't do now. We don't have a supply of sugar or any kind of starch. Maybe next year, if we're still alive. We'll have to weigh the pros and cons of eating versus having fuel."

  "I like your positive attitude, John," said Fred, with sarcasm in his voice.

  "Sorry. I spend all my time worrying about next week and
next month and I don't think about next year at all."

  "What about destroying their still?"

  "I don't know. Might be a good idea. What do you guys say?"

  "I didn't see any horses, boss. If they don't have alcohol, then their motor vehicles are useless. Whatever we did to them, their ability to strike back would be minimal. They are probably waiting until the harvest comes in to hit us. They want that corn to make alcohol and probably everything else to eat. We have to hit 'em before then."

  "OK, Fred, but they could have a few hundred gallons stashed in that building. Then, they'd have more than enough to come after us, as Pierre says, like a nest of hornets."

  "If they had a hundred gallons stored, they wouldn't make a run every day," said Tom, rising from the chair and rubbing his behind. "It sounds to me like they are barely keeping their heads above water. They go up every day and bring back everything they can. They ferment as much as they can and distill as much as they can and it's not enough to let them make the trips only once every few days. If we did wipe them out, we could take their food. I'm not happy with our reduced calorie diet right now -- any more than anybody else."

  John knew what Tom was talking about. He could feel his clothes beginning to sag on his body and he had many restless nights with hunger pains keeping him awake. That and the welfare of the group kept him checking the food inventory on a daily basis, hoping each day to find something he had missed the day before. "OK, how's this for a plan? We destroy the still. Watch them for a day or two to see if they cut back their patrols. That would say they are short of fuel. Then, assault their warehouse by the river. Take out the guards, then sit back and hit anybody who comes out. What do you say, Pierre?"

  "Jean, is this really necessary? We are not many. We cannot handle a major attack, especially if these men are military. I am a doctor. You are a spy. Only Fred is military, and Charles. It is too much for us."

  "We have a problem, Pierre. If we wait for a month or two, they will hit us. We have to hit them before then," said Charles.

  "It is still too dangerous. We need another plan," argued Pierre.

  "I didn't say it wasn't dangerous," said Charles. "That is just what life is like, now."

  "OK, guys," said John. "Pierre's right. That is too dangerous and we don't have enough people." John stopped for a minute and went through his mental list of battle tactics. "Tell me Pierre, how is this for making it safer?" John said, looking at Charles. "How about a time bomb? Go in. Set it and leave. And then, we all come back to the warehouse before the bomb goes off and help wipe out anyone leaving the building."

  "Ah, oui. That is much better. We do not confront them on their own territory in the town. We can hide in the trees and hit them. But, after we knock out a few, they will come out of that building like bees from the hive. We will need as many rifles as possible to keep them from coming after us. Before we destroy their still, we could knock out a few more of their patrols. As you say, we could leave in the morning early and use the same strategy as the last time. Wait in the woods and eliminate their patrols. That way, we could knock out another six before the main attack. Then, late at night, we destroy the still. The next morning we hit the building. I think it is a good plan."

  John rose and walked around the desk. It was more as a stall tactic, to think about what Pierre had said. To him, it sounded like a great plan. Knock a few off at a time before the major attack. They had already knocked off four. What if the enemy's suspicions of who was attacking pointed them in the direction of the lodge? The attack, as Pierre said, would have to be a complete annihilation of the enemy. Otherwise they would not survive a counter attack. As his thoughts began to coalesce, he was brought out of his thoughts by the mention of his name.

  "John, good buddy, you've studied battle tactics. What's the decision? What do we do?"

  John knew that they had to do something as Charles said. And doing what had been discussed was the group's best option for survival, so he hooked a leg over the desk and sat on the corner. "Pierre, Francois must have had a good effect on you. It sounds like a great battle plan. Hit what we can and reduce their forces, hit the still, then hit the warehouse. A three step plan."

  Fred leaned forward, anxious, ready for more details of the plan. "So, who does what?"

  "Three teams, Pierre and Harry, Fred and George and Cho and me."

  Charles quickly asked, "What about me? This is the kind of operation I'm trained for, and I've done before. Why am I not in on this."

  John picked up on the irritation in his voice and smiled. "No way I'd leave you out. You're the key. Can you handle the bomb?"

  "Like a monkey can handle a coconut."

  "That's what I thought. The purpose of my and Cho's team is to protect you. Make sure you get in and get out. The rest can stay here and defend the lodge. Do we have enough cycles and enough gasoline? Or do we use the Dark Dagger."

  "You mean the Dark Defender, John?"

  "I thought it was the Dark Demon, Fred"

  "Whatever, George."

  "Cho and I and Charles will take the Dark Deacon. As soon as we blow the still, we race back to the warehouse, as fast as possible, in case they have communications. If you trust the cycles and the Dark Demon, I think they are our best bet. If one fails, then we can double up. This is hit and run. The faster we can travel, the better off we are. Three can hit the still, Fred and George provide cover and backup if we have trouble getting out. Pierre and Harry are back at the warehouse, watching. If anybody leaves early, take care of them. The five of us will arrive back at the warehouse about the time the bomb goes off or a little earlier. We'll have seven to handle whatever happens at the warehouse."

  "Did you study tactics in school, Jean," said Pierre.

  "Definitely. I memorized the tactics of all the major wars and most of the little ones."

  "All of 'em?" said George?

  "Yep. It's like the way people who play chess memorize hundreds of games. You don't have to be innovative or smart if you memorize what a hundred innovative, smart and successful people did in similar situations before you were born. Sad, but true." John directed his attention to Charles. "How long will it take you to put together a time bomb?"

  "It'll be ready before dinner tonight."

  "Do you have any more explosives?" John said, with worry in his mind. He thought Charles had one more bomb after he blew up the pirate ship when they landed, but he wasn't sure.

  "Does your President eat steak every night in his bunker? With little red potatoes and California wine."

  John had hoped that Charles could produce the bomb, but he was perplexed. "Where'd you get the explosives? Is that the one left over from our landing?"

  "No, but I do still have that one. Remember when we hit that state road department construction site where we appropriated the corrugated metal culverts we used for tunnels?"

  "Yeah."

  "Boxes. Full of explosives and electric detonators. I could hear them calling my name. I went back with Fred and George for the last pickup. Glad I did."

  "OK, good to know you're are on top of things. Tomorrow at midnight." John, comfortable that the plan was solid, circled the desk and sat down in the chair. A few more tactics firmed up in his mind. "Cho, Charles and I will take the Dark Defeater and we'll set the bomb to blow the still. Fred and George will keep watch outside the town in case we need backup or a diversion. As soon as they hear the explosion or they see us leaving, they take out the tower guards. Most likely, they'll see us leaving. They then signal Harry and ride back to the warehouse. Harry and Pierre will watch the warehouse and take out anybody leaving before the bomb goes off. Anybody we would meet on the road and have an unplanned showdown. I really don't want that. What do you think?"

  "Sounds like a plan I can live with," said Fred.

  "And me," said Pierre.

  The next day they slept through the day and awakened at midnight. John, Charles and Cho took the Dark Defeater and drove to Meadowvale. They parked
outside of town, behind some trees and waited. Everything had run smoothly on the roads. No other traffic. They had seen no one and, hopefully, no one had seen them. About one o'clock, noise could be heard in the direction of Meadowvale.

  "Hear that?"

  John and Cho perked up at Charles' question.

  "What? No hear nothing," Cho said, leaning forward on the back of John's seat.

  "Voices. From the guard tower. Changing of the guard."

  "They're more careful than we are," Charles implied, looking around the area, searching for any movement around the Dark Demon. "You think the people in the truck were new guards?"

  "Probably. We should start having a twenty-four hour watch."

  "Nobody would want to do it."

  "Good idea. I shoot who not want to work. Anybody go to sleep on duty get put in stockade."

  John rolled his eyes at Cho's comment. "We don't have a stockade. Let's talk about it when we get back."

  They surveyed the area for half an hour, but no one entered or left. John pulled out his radio and said, "Going in. You ready?"

  "Ten four."

  They sneaked into town at the point furthest from the guards. Covert maneuvers had been a way of life for Charles and John, with their spy training. They had no problem with such missions. Cho, however, was loud and acted on instinct. Charles and John kept an eye on her as they carefully made their way through the streets toward the distillery. Charles remembered how Fred had kicked a garbage can lid and followed Cho, being careful to watch her every move.

  As they passed by each window, they peeked in, but didn't see anything. Most had curtains and all lights were out. Charles, his heart racing and eyes dancing from one building to the other, stood guard as John picked the lock on the still building. Charles thought he saw movement from the building two doors down and tapped John's shoulder. All stood flat against the building, inside the doorway, John with his arm tight against Cho, until it was evident no one was coming. Then John continued with his lock picking.