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

by Taylor Michaels

  They entered the distillery, one at a time, with Charles first. He checked out the immediate area. No one. With a wave of the hand, he motioned for John and Cho to enter. While Charles set the bomb and the timer on the still, John and Cho searched the room. John found two gallon jugs of what appeared to be high proof alcohol. He showed them to Charles and said, "I really wish we could take this still back with us. I hate blowing it. If we could just take the condenser."

  "Even if we could remove it without being heard, we drop it in the street and everybody here would be awake in a heartbeat." Charles set the timer on the bomb and tilted his head in the direction of the condenser. "You notice something about that condenser? If they were just using this alcohol for fuel, the condenser could be steel. But, it's copper. These guys must consume most of what they make. That's why you don't see much around."

  "You're right, Charles. But, not after tonight."

  "They say the military travels on its stomach, but it's actually the liver. I've never seen a military installation in the field without a still."

  Cho grabbed the jugs John found and said, "Evidence. Take back."

  "You watched too many of those 'Moonshiner' shows before the TV went out. We don't need evidence. We are not the Feds."

  "I forget. Still take alcohol."

  "If we were the Feds, we might be in that bunker eating steak and getting fat instead of being hungry and losing weight. Charles, you ready to go?"

  "It should take us ten minutes to get back to the car and fifteen to get back to the warehouse. I set it for thirty minutes. If they have communications, then they should blast out of that building like a swarm of hornets just after we arrive."

  "Let's go."

  John cracked the door open and peeked out. Two guys, carrying rifles, were walking down the street in their direction. He closed the door quietly.

  "Oops. Maybe they're guards going back to their rooms," John whispered.

  "Maybe they are guards coming here for their two gallons of 'shine which Cho has appropriated as evidence," Charles said.

  "You stand behind the door, I'll stand on this side. Try to take them quietly."

  "Cho have better plan. You two stand behind still. Cho take care of guys. No problem."

  John looked at Charles and raised his eyebrows. Charles raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. John slipped behind the fermenter and turned off his flashlight. Charles followed.

  The hinges squeaked as the door opened and the two burly men entered, turned on the light and closed the door.

  One punched the other as he saw Cho standing, arm overhead, in the middle of the room. One stopped in mid word when he finally saw what was in her hand. He started to raise his rifle. The last sounds they heard were swoosh sounds as one knife, then a second soared through the air, hitting the two men in the chest. They fell with two thumps to the cold wooden floor. Cho ran over quickly and hit each on the head with her gun.

  "Wow, Cho. You learned that from Mama? I never knew."

  Cho smiled and appeared full of pride as she spoke. "Little from Mama. Most from Marceau. She one tough broad. We practice while we wait for food to cook. French food take much time to cook." Cho pulled out her knives and wiped the blades on the guys' shirts. She kept calm and didn't rush. It was war and she was a soldier. She thought of Mama and knew Mama would be proud, as a tear formed in her eyes. She quickly shook it away and sifted through the men's pockets, extracting two bunches of keys. She picked up the two rifles from the floor and handed them to John along with the keys.

  "I forgot how good you were at going through a man's pockets."

  "Like riding bicycle. Some things never forget."

  "How far away are you deadly?" said Charles.

  "Six meters. Maybe more. No practice on live target. Marceau be proud. She good teacher. Knife not good for fast kill. Knock on head to put to sleep. Then die."

  "Charles, will we'll ever need these keys?"

  "You never know. We may come back here when this is over to see if we can find something valuable. I hope it all won't burn down, but I made sure it was powerful enough."

  * * *

  On their way out of town, Cho climbed up the ladder on the side of the white building and took out the guard on top with her knives. Fred and George shot the ones in the water towers with bows and arrows.

  John, Charles and Cho returned to the Dark Defeater. Cho jumped into the back seat with both gallon jugs of alcohol and the two rifles, with Charles driving this time.

  "I don't believe you drink that much, Cho," said Charles, with the corner of his mouth upturned and winking at John.

  "Forget it. Charles not get one gallon. Cho not drink enough. This fix. No tell Elspeth or Cho write Charles' name on knife."

  Charles looked at John. "She's kidding, right."

  "I wouldn't bet on it."

  Charles set a new speed record, driving to the warehouse. The infrared illuminators on the Dark Deviator were barely enough to see the road ahead and George's power monitor yellow light came on twice, signaling the batteries were overheating and Charles had to slow down.

  Fred and George followed the Dark Demon back to the warehouse and took up their positions on the other side of the warehouse from the other five. Just as the explosion was timed to go off, the occupants, as Pierre predicted, came running out of the warehouse for their vehicles. John, Cho and George concentrated first on the vehicle tires, then the running men. Screeching of tires and clanging of metal against pavement and bullets firing disturbed the still night. Bodies were flying from motorcycles and limping bodies and blood could be seen in the headlights of the vehicles.

  Pierre, Harry and Fred aimed and shot at the guards on top of the building. The next ten minutes were dangerous with bullets flying in all directions. Each bullet counted. Pierre's marksmanship was on exhibit as he dropped three men in rapid succession with head shots. He didn't need to see well to inspect the bodies and know where the bullets landed. After the gunfire died down, they checked for survivors. Three were shot in the head. Two others were riddled with bullets in the chest and abdomen, one they recognized as the man who wanted to sell information about the attack on their compound. One moaned and was the recipient of Cho's knife.

  Next, they made their way to the warehouse and, room by room, they quietly searched, guns ready for any unexpected surprises. One man, crouching behind a door, shot at them as they entered the central corridor. They fell back, but Charles had a plan. He circled around, picked a lock and entered through another door. He came up behind the shooter and easily subdued him. They marched the man to a small room and Charles, his strong arms on the husky man's shoulders, forced him into a metal chair as Fred tied his hands and feet. Charles searched the man's pockets, taking out his wallet. Leafing through its contents, he found money and a driver's license, useless tokens of a world that once was. The man's name was Barry Farris.

  Charles pulled up a chair in front of the man, only a foot separated the two. He paused for a moment looking closely at the man's face as if trying to figure him out, without asking any questions.

  "Tell us everything you know, Barry," said Charles.

  "I don't know anything, guys. Really." The man twitched and began twisting in the chair.

  "I was in Iraq, Afghanistan, others, Barry," Charles said in his best Scots accent. "MI-6. Did some interrogations. Those Al Qaeda boys were tough, but they always talked. Some screamed like a little girl for a few minutes and some for a few hours. One for two whole days, but they always talked. How long do you want to scream, Barry?"

  "Hey, come on guys. I don't want to scream at all. I just don't know anything. You're wasting your time with me. I'm just a small fish." He clenched his jaw tightly to stop the twitching.

  "In that case, we'll start with the small stuff, Barry. How did you become involved with these guys you don't know anything about?"

  "Hey, guys. I really don't know anything. I just work in the office. Paperwork. That's all. I d
o the inventories. Post guard schedules."

  Barry's eyes darted from one of his captors to the next before landing on Cho, possibly hoping to find some sympathy. He couldn't have been more wrong.

  She tightened her lips and squeezed her eyes almost shut. "Tell all or I kill now." She walked over and whacked him on the side of the head with her gun, then pushed the gun against his forehead. "Talk or die." John had to press his hands on her arm to make her lower the gun.

  "You know, Barry," said Charles. "She doesn't believe you. And I don't believe you, either. I believe you are the brains of this outfit, and if we kill you, all our problems will be over. What is left of your gang will drift off into the forest and will never be seen again. They will never bother us, again."

  "We never bothered you the first time," said Barry. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know who you are or where you came from. I don't know anything. And I don't know who bothered you. It wasn't us."

  "No you didn't bother us, Barry, but we were on your short list. Weren't we?" Charles took out his forty-five revolver and pulled back the hammer. The click made Barry jump. He placed the barrel up to Barry's temple, looking to make sure nobody was in the line of fire. "Sorry Barry," he said as he pulled the trigger. The horrendous sound of the shot filled the room as blood spattered the wall.

  "So he was the leader?" said John.

  "Yes. From experience, I can say he had no reason to talk. If he told the truth, we would have killed him. If he told a lie and we caught him, we would have killed him. Ran across a few like him in Iraq. Never said a word. Almost arrogant. Most of them believed they would be given a pile of virgins in heaven and were ready to go, without hesitation. Don't believe Barry was like that. He just knew it was all over. Gotta admire him -- a little."

  "Cho know all that. Know many like him. Waste of time. Fèi wù."

  "I thought Charles was the fèi wù."

  "Not any more."

  George, walking in, startled the others, who turned quickly, pointing their guns in his direction, but quickly lowered them. Observing the scene around him, George said, "Blew him away, did you? I found the cache of sugar and cornmeal, but only a dozen gallons of alcohol."

  "What is it you Yanks say? I think it is 'I call dibs on one gallon.' "

  John smiled and said, "OK. I don't normally do this, but we'll split the take. Just this once and only with the alcohol."

  "You'll have to hang on to mine," said Tom. "Elspeth must never know."

  George continued, "We were right that they were living on the edge with the alcohol. Barely enough to get by. And, not that much sugar and cornmeal left, either. A dozen sacks maybe. They must've been counting on hittin' us for corn. Just waiting for harvest time."

  "I wonder why they operated two locations?"

  "Not sure, John," said Charles. "In the beginning they probably had this whole warehouse full of food. They must have looted several warehouses. Block walls and a fence. No windows. They figured this place was a fortress. They could have held us off for weeks, if they'd all stayed inside. Then they found that still that made high proof alcohol and they converted their cycles to alcohol. The town was a maze and would be hard to defend without a wall. You saw how easily we came and went. So they kept a few guards to protect the still. Everybody else was here. They probably received a radio message from town and were leaving to defend the place. Those guys weren't really military. If they were, they would have placed their guards differently. Either that or they were all drunk all the time."

  "How many escaped?"

  "None from here. No more than two or three from the town. Maybe none."

  John's mind turned to the main thing that had occupied his mind the last months. "What about food?"

  "A room with cans of veggies and a couple boxes of MRE's. Unless they have plenty of food in that town, and I doubt it, they were in trouble. Only a week or two of food left. By my count, they had twenty guys. Those guys ate a considerable amount. Remember when the man at the sporting goods store talked about a prepper group north of town by the river? These guys either were that group or, more likely, they took over that group. Then, they scavenged the town and killed all the residents before the virus hit. They were probably planning to take over us or the group south of town next."

  "From a survival point of view, this was a success. We had no casualties and we scored a few weeks of food. We're in pretty good shape unless something goes wrong." John stopped to think. Yes, they had scored some food with no loss of life, but they had killed twenty or more people. He really didn't like this new life. Kill or be killed. His life always on the line. A small mistake, like kicking a garbage can lid, could mean death. This was a new phase in their lives and not a good one.

  Chapter 37 - Hunting

  The night air was crisp and cool, a perfect night to be out in the country. Being in the mountains, the heat of mid July was not bad. The sky was clear, a perfect night for stargazing. Everything was perfect. A perfect environment for an imperfect existence of having to kill to keep from being killed. A perfect environment, except that life was uncertain and the pain in George's stomach had become a permanent part of his life. The food recovered from the warehouse would keep them alive another two weeks, but it was still not enough. He meandered onto the porch and sat next to John in the old rockers to view the perfect environment.

  "It's a perfect night, John."

  "Perfect, if I weren't so hungry."

  "Maybe that will change tomorrow night," George said, stopping his rocking.

  "We're going hunting tomorrow, George?"

  "Yep."

  "So why did you want to talk tonight? You wanted to make sure I didn't forget and oversleep."

  George let a moment of silence hang between them, not quite sure what to say. He had been thinking about what to say and how to say it all day. "I wanted to make sure we was on the same page, as the fancy folks like to say. Our chances of killin' somethin' each week are less and less. Most of the times we go out huntin', we don't see anything and we don't bring anything back. I want to make sure we don't make a mistake that will kill the opportunity and not the dinner."

  "Let me translate that to English as they explained when I was in summer camp. If I cut through the PC crap, you want to make sure I don't screw up."

  "You didn't study politics in that summer camp, did you? I'm just tryin' to be nice." George said, rocking again.

  "I don't need nice. I majored in knowing what's going on. Tell me what you want to tell me."

  "You want it the easy way or the hard way."

  "Don't sugarcoat it. Always the easy, fast, simple way. Always."

  George stopped the chair abruptly and leaned into John. If that's what John wanted, then he wouldn't sugarcoat it. "Here it is. I hunt and you carry the rifle, the extra bow and a quiver of arrows. I look and listen for game, you walk behind, keep quiet, watch, learn. Don't screw up any opportunity I find."

  "OK, I can do that. What about rifles?"

  "You bring one rifle and you only use it to save our lives. Save ammo and save our lives. That's it. You OK with that?" George was glad that finally he was giving the advice that was needed. He sat back too many times and listened to John, but this was his turf. He knew how to hunt and he didn't need John screwing things up. John appeared to be taking it in stride and George began to relax.

  "Sure."

  "You are not goin' out to be a hero and shoot a buffalo to fill our bellies with meat for a month. We'll be lucky to see a turkey or a woodchuck."

  "How about a deer?"

  George shook his head. "A week after the panic, they were all gone. I used to read those survival blogs where people talked about movin' out to the woods and huntin' for animals after a SHTF episode. That works if everybody else dies tomorrow and none of the animals die. As it is, we had a panic first and everybody with a gun went out and killed everything that moved. Then, the people died. I think some of the animals died too. It all happened in the wrong
order and in the worst way. So, not much is left and we'll be lucky to find anything." He hit his fist on the arm of the chair. "Depressin', that is."

  "OK, get off the soap box. What time tomorrow?"

  "Four. You want a wake up call?"

  "No, I'll set the clock."

  "That'll wake up Cho. I don't want that woman mad at me. She doesn't do mad quietly."

  John half-laughed. "Cho doesn't wake up unless Cho wants to wake up. She could sleep through a nuclear blast next door or wake up when a pin drops. But, she doesn't complain. That's what I like about her the most. She takes what comes, the bad and the good, and she keeps going. I think she had a bad early life. Some of us peaked too early and we have expectations of life which are too high. Over the last few years, she thought her life was better than any time before and had no expectations at all. Now, she thinks things are better than if she'd stayed in China and better than if she's never met me."

  "Now, you get off the soap box and go to bed." George was happy he had a good friend like John in such a troubled world as this. Not just because John saved his life, but because John could be counted on. George ambled down the steps, throwing the word "Night" over his shoulder as he raised a hand in the air.

  * * *

  With the night crisp, the morning was even colder. Cool for the middle of July, but the mountains had that effect. The shadows in the dark appeared as ghosts. George saw a figure and was glad after he asked, "That you, John?" that he heard a familiar response. The grounds were secure.

  "Yeah, I came out to the barn to pickup the equipment. When did you find the extra bows and arrows? I remember the first ones."

  "On those trips to stock up. Three and four a day. Remember those? The good old days? When you could buy anything and never have to pay for it. Ha. Made me feel like a millionaire. I could buy anything, no matter how trivial. Wish I'd picked up more food though. I ended up buying boxes of arrows. The bows have the advantage of being quiet."