by Greg Dragon
Skull calmly handed them his license and registration. “How you doing today?”
The big cop looked at the license plate on the SUV and then the identification. “California? You’re way off the freeways, partner.”
“I was trying to get around all the traffic and maybe find a place to buy gas,” Skull improvised.
“Good luck with that,” said the smaller cop. “Everyone in the state is scrambling to buy gas now. Damn thing caught everyone by surprise. Not just gas but other stuff too.”
“Other stuff?” Skull asked.
The big cop gave his partner a stern look, shutting him up. “Where you headed to?”
“Amarillo,” Skull said, thinking of the destination he entered in the GPS. “I’ve got family there I’m going to visit.”
“Really?” asked the big cop. “Seems like a strange time to hit the road, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“You mean with the crazy attacks and all?” asked Skull. “Well, my parents have been bugging me to come visit for a long time and with everything that has happened, it just seemed like maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get out of California.”
The cop nodded. “You carrying any contraband, Mister Erickson?”
“Contraband?” asked Skull with a confused look.
“Yeah, contraband,” said the smaller cop. “Drugs, explosives, guns.”
“Guns are contraband in Arizona?”
The big man frowned. “Ever since the State Security Measures were enacted, it is illegal to transport more than one weapon in a vehicle. Why? Are you carrying firearms?”
“Me?” Skull laughed. “Hell no. I’m from California. If you even say the word ‘gun’ there, you get a ticket.”
“Then I guess you won’t have any problems with us searching your SUV, will you?”
Skull looked at both men and saw they had already made up their minds. They were likely just bored and before martial law he might have been able to push back and assert his right to refuse, but things had changed.
“No problem at all,” he answered with a smile, getting out and stepping aside.
“Stand over there please,” said the big cop, directing him near his partner.
Skull kept a sharp eye on both without seeming to. His weapons and gear were hidden, but a careful search would probably find them.
“Must get old sitting out here,” Skull said to the smaller cop, trying to distract him.
“You ain’t lying,” he answered. “All the action is up on the highways, but the chief thought someone might try and sneak through out here.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” asked Skull.
The cop shrugged. “You know. The usual suspicious types. The recent attacks have got everyone on edge; this is all mainly just a show of force. Calm everyone down and make them feel safe.”
Skull stiffened as he saw the older cop lift out a long black case. He laid it on the hood of the SUV and began to unzip it.
“Mind if I take a piss over here,” asked Skull slipping behind the smaller cop and on the same side of the police car. “I drank at least four cups of coffee this morning.”
“I hear ya,” answered the cop, his attention on his partner.
Skull slipped behind the second man and off the side of the road to a slightly elevated position. He noted both men were wearing body armor under their uniforms.
“What...the...hell?” said the big cop turning slowly. He was holding the detached heavy barrel of Skull’s sniper rifle in one hand, the stock in the other.
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Cover design by Jun Ares
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Table of Contents
Knights and Demons: Tanshuku
Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western
You Will Be Like God
Ink: Red
Numbers Game
Swarmers
Thrown Away
The Flense: China
Zombie Maneuvers
The Moon Dwellers
No Kinda Life
The Protectors
Reaper's Run
