by A. American
“I was. But I was in the truck. Well, more correctly, I was on top of the truck.”
Confused, I asked, “You rode all the way to town on the roof of the truck?”
Mike nodded. “It was too crowded inside. Smelt like feet and ass in there.” He slapped the top of the truck and added, “Fresh air up here.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You ain’t right, man.”
He smiled and nodded. “That’s already been established.”
With a wave, I left him and started walking towards the PD. Even here in town there was a lot of debris lying around. Leaves, limbs and palm fronds littered the ground. Unlike at home, there were also shingles and pieces of aluminum siding or fascia. I kicked a piece as I walked and wondered if the people in town would clean any of this up. I highly doubted it.
At the jail, I found Shane, Sean, Mitch and Michelle sitting in the rocking chairs out front. Two quart jars sat empty on the ground between the chairs. I said, “Looks like Miss Michelle brought you boys some lemonade.”
Sean leaned back in his chair and patted his belly, “Yes, she did indeed.”
“Well, I see you guys have met already,” I said.
Shane nodded. “We’ve been talking for a while. Waiting on you.”
“Good,” I replied. “Saves me some time. You guys get things sorted out?”
Shane stood up. “Yeah. We showed him the courtroom.”
“Looks good to me,” Mitch said. “I don’t think we need much room.” He nodded at Michelle, “Michelle is going to be the clerk. You know, to help keep things organized.”
“That’s a great idea,” I replied.
As we chatted, three MRAPs came rolling past us, headed south. “What’s that about?” Sean asked.
Watching them drive away, I replied, “They’re going to run a recon down south. We’ve heard the Russians and Cubans are working together and may be coming up from the south.”
“What? Cubans?” Mitch asked.
I nodded and went on to tell them about the nuclear strike against the Chinese fleet off the coast of California. They were all stunned and listened intently as I told them all I knew. A couple of questions were asked and I answered them as best I could. When it was done, we all sat in silence for some time.
As we were all lost in our thoughts, Aric strolled up. He stopped and studied us for a moment before saying, “You all look like someone just killed your puppy.”
Shane nodded at me and replied, “Mister good news here just told us about the Chinese fleet.”
“Ah,” Aric said. “Yeah, that could be a problem. Let’s just hope they don’t retaliate.”
“What good would it do them?” Mitch asked.
Michelle looked particularly forlorn. She shook her head and said, “How much more suffering can we endure?”
I glanced over at her and warned, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
She considered the reply for a moment before giving me a knowing nod. “I guess it could always be worse.”
I stood up and said, “I guess we’re going to head back to the armory. I want to go check on the farm on the way home.”
Mitch stood up and said, “We’ve got this under control here. We’re going to get things set up for the court to make it as efficient as we can.”
“Good deal. But hopefully you won’t have too much business.”
Aric and I left them and headed back to the armory. We went up to Grove Street and headed north. There are several large old homes on the road and I was looking them over as we walked. At one, there was an older man in blue coveralls out cleaning the yard. He stopped and waved a gloved hand as we passed.
We were discussing the beef Thad was processing as we approached Orange Ave. Caught up in the thought of thick steaks, I wasn’t paying attention to a group of people standing around a building on the corner. It was an old service station from years long gone by. In recent years, it had been a number of different failed businesses.
Most recently, it had become the hangout for Porky and his clan. And they were out in force today. By the time I noticed them, they were already well aware of our presence. I nudged Aric and nodded in their direction. “Got it,” he replied.
As we got closer, a man stepped out into the road, crossing over to our side. “Mr. Hound would like to have a word with you,” and he nodded towards the old service station.
I looked over to see Porky sitting in his barber chair. I laughed and said, “I ain’t got time for his shit today.”
Another of the men came running up and said, “We aren’t asking.”
I looked at Aric and shrugged. He half smiled and shrugged in reply. As quickly as I could, I drew my ASP, extended it and smacked the guy in the head as hard as I could. The other man was somewhat stunned and stood there. I squared off with him in the road, waiting to see what he would do. He looked at his friend on the ground, now holding his head, and stepped back, holding his hands up. I pointed the ASP at him and said, “Smartest thing you’ve done today.”
He continued to back away as we crossed the street. Seeing he wasn’t going to be an issue, I turned my attention to the rest of the group. They had all backed up to the shade of the service station, except for one. I figured we had the situation under control, until I heard a shotgun rack. I looked over to see Porky sitting in his barber chair smiling smugly, and a man with a shotgun leveled in our direction.
“Now, Mr. Carter, I will abide violence,” Porky said as he heaved himself from his chair. “I politely asked you to stop and speak with me.” He looked around at the people gathered and added, “Did I not? I simply asked you to stop and have a word and you resorted to violence against these men.” Again, looking at the crowd and waving a finger in the air, he added, “Unarmed men! Unarmed men, mind you!”
“Well, Porky, I guess we see thing different. You had these morons stand in the road in front of us and tell me you wanted to speak to me. I told them I didn’t have time for your shit today and they told me they weren’t asking. Now, does that sound friendly to you?” I pointed to the man with the shotgun and added, “not to mention you’re the ones holding a gun on us.”
He stamped his pudgy feet and screamed at me, “Do not call me that!” Jabbing a fat accusatory finger at me, he said, “You call yourself the Sheriff? You claim to be the law here and yet you mistreat innocent citizens in this manner? You, sir, are a Pharisee!”
I shook my head. “A what?” I knew what he was calling me. But I was hoping to annoy the shit outta the fat turd.
Porky stammered and stepped closer to me, close enough to poke me in the chest. “You know exactly what I mean!” He grabbed the gold star pinned to my vest and snatched it off. “You, sir, do not deserve to wear this!”
Now I was pissed. As he pulled his grubby fat arm back, I grabbed it and spun him around as I drew my pistol. I did it faster than even I thought I could. The group under the awning let out an audible gasp as I put the muzzle of my .45 to Porky’s temple and looked at the man holding the shotgun. “I will only tell you once to lay that scatter gun on the ground!” Porky squealed as I held him around the neck. He was soft and squishy. His skin unnaturally clammy under the heat of the afternoon sun. It was like holding onto a giant frog.
The man hesitated for a moment, looking between me and Aric. Aric’s response was to slowly raise his rifle until he was looking down the barrel at the man. The man hesitated as Porky began to croak. “Shoot him!” The man gripped the long-barreled shotgun a little tighter and I wasn’t going to give him the chance. As soon as his eyes darted to Aric again, I swung the Springfield out and fired, hitting him in the chest.
The shot staggered the man, he stepped back and looked down in disbelief, still holding the shotgun. Aric made sure he didn’t get to pull the trigger. Three rounds from his carbine dropped him in the street.
“Watch them,” I said. Aric nodded and I took a step back, positioning my knee behind Porky’s leg, and pulled him back and around. He crashed t
o the ground face down, his straw hat falling onto the road. He began to crawl away. I grabbed his belt and pulled him back as he clawed at the trash in the road and rolled him over.
“Get off me!” He squealed as he pawed at me with both hands.
I back-handed his face hard and it stunned him for a moment. When his fat mouth opened to protest, I stuck the muzzle of the pistol into it. “You’re going to shut the fuck up and listen to me. I should kill you right here and now. But we don’t do things that way anymore. So, for the rest of your life, however long that is, every day you wake up, you better thank me. Because every new day you see is a gift from me.”
While Porky and I had our discussion, I glanced over at the people in front of the old service station. It was pretty obvious that none of them wanted any part of what was going on. Whatever bullshit Porky had sold them had obviously turned and they were no longer interested.
I removed my pistol from Porky’s mouth. He stammered and it almost seemed he was about to cry. Standing up, I pulled him to his feet, with much effort on my part. I pushed him towards the old service station. Pulling his whale-like arms behind his back, I applied a cuff to one of his wrists. But it was obvious that short of dislocating one of his shoulders, which I wasn’t against, there was no way I could get him into a single set. I had to get another set of cuffs and link them together before I would have him restrained. So I just held onto the one cuff for the moment.
Looking at the group standing to the side, I said, “Anyone else want to talk?” None of them made any sort of gestures. “Do you people see the issue with the way these men acted?” I surveyed them for a moment before shouting, “Do you!” Several of them nodded as I continued. “What in the world makes any of you think you can step out in the road and force a person to stop? And remember, they weren’t asking! Not only that, but to pull a gun on the Sheriff? Are you fucking stupid?”
Porky was fidgeting and I tugged on the cuff, turning it into his wrist. He let out a yelp as the metal cut into him and he struggled harder. I pulled on his arm, spinning him around and it was in that moment I realized I had underestimated him.
I saw the flash of silver in his hand and felt it as he pressed into my left side. His eyes were wild as he said, “You, sir, are going to die!”
There was a pop and I felt a burning in the left side of my chest. My carbine was hanging from its sling and I’d holstered the pistol. Porky and I were face to face and neither of them were going to help me now. A smile spread over his face as the pain set in. I heard the clicking of a revolver cylinder rolling over. He was cocking it for another shot. But I wasn’t about to let this sack of shit kill me. Not before he died anyway.
I pulled the ESEE from its sheath and jammed it into his neck at an upward angle, just under his jaw. The smile evaporated. With my left hand, I grabbed his pistol and pushed it away from me as I withdrew the knife. Turning it over in my grip, I stabbed it into the lower left side of his back, aiming for his kidneys. I stabbed it into him over and over. At some point I heard several loud shots, but ignored it. I was intent on seeing this man finished.
Porky’s grip on the pistol weakened and I stripped it from his hand as he collapsed, gasping for breath as blood poured from his neck. He reached up in a feeble attempt to stem the flow of his life that was gushing out with every beat of his heart. He was sitting on the ground. His hands falling limp into his lap. He looked down at the crimson that covered him and the road.
The pain in my side was growing in intensity. But I had on armor, it couldn’t be that bad. I took a step towards him and felt short of breath. I rapped him on the head with the little silver revolver. He didn’t react other than to look up. I looked at the revolver and said, “You thought you were going to kill me with this.” More shots rang out around me, but I ignored them and raised the little pocket gun and pulled the hammer back. “But I’m going to kill you with it.”
He started to say something, but all that came out was a gurgle. I settled the muzzle of the gun on his forehead. It felt so heavy and it slowly began to lower. I pulled the trigger. The .32 caliber bullet hit Porky at the base of his throat. His eyes went wide for a moment and he gurgled again, before collapsing in the street.
My chest started to hurt and I reached back where the shot hit me. Looking at my hand, I was shocked to see blood. How can that be? I asked myself. I’m wearing armor. Then I heard the shouting and saw Shane, Sean and Mitch. Looking around, I saw several bodies lying in the street. Aric was bent over one, searching them.
I looked back at my hand. “You alright?” A voice asked.
I looked up to see Mitch. “I think he shot me,” I replied and held my hand out.
Mitch’s eyes went wide. He grabbed me, saying, “You need to sit down!”
As I tried to lower myself to the ground, I coughed and my mouth filled with the familiar taste of iron, or like sucking on a penny. I spat at the road, it was blood. Mitch helped get me to the road and rolled me over and started taking my body armor off. He ripped open my shirt and pulled the IFAK from the plate carrier as he shouted.
“I can’t breathe,” I managed to say.
Aric was on his knees beside me. “Don’t worry, man. We’ve got help coming. Just hang on.”
It was getting harder and harder to breathe. I could do that math even in my current state. Somehow, that pudgy piece of shit managed to put a bullet in my lung. He wanted to kill me, I thought. At least he didn’t get to see it.
I heard tires crunching the storm debris. It stopped nearby and I heard people shouting. Then I saw the old man standing over me, looking down. Seeing him boosted me. If only for a moment. The look on his face took away any hope seeing him had brought me. Then he slowly faded away.
Three trucks were used for the recon trip. The plan was to run down to the Florida Turnpike. Construction was ongoing on the system and there was a connector that came as close as Sorrento. The convoy would leave Eustis and take the Orange Blossom Trail where they would hop on the 429 and head south. From there, it would be all interstate travel. Wide open roads with little chance of obstruction. They would have long views of the road ahead.
Mike, Ted and Dalton were in the lead truck with two Guardsmen. Jamie, Ian and Doc were bringing up the rear with two Guardsmen thrown in to round out the crew. The middle truck was all Guardsmen. A total of fifteen were on the trip. The trucks were loaded with as much weaponry as they could reasonably carry.
The DHS had fine gear. The confiscated MRAPs were fully functional and very well equipped. Since they weren’t sure what, if any, forces they would encounter, the trucks were very well armed. The lead truck had an M2 fifty-cal mounted to the turret. The middle truck had an M240B. For extra firepower, the rear truck, with Jamie at the wheel, had a MK 19 automatic grenade launcher. While it couldn’t do anything against armor, they just had to hope they didn’t encounter any.
Mike was driving with Ted, acting as the navigator. Dalton insisted he man the Ma Duce. Which was fine with the other guys. Mike liked to drive and Ted liked to sit on his ass and let him. Radio traffic was being kept to a minimum. Chatter in the truck though, that was another story.
“Damn, I’m glad to get the hell out of there for a while!” Mike shouted as he pounded his fist on the roof of the truck over his head.
Ted sat back in his seat and put his feet up on the dash. “Tell me about it. I was starting to get a little fidgety.”
“Yes, lads!” Dalton shouted as he watched the screen displaying his weapons sight picture. “It’s a fine day for a ride through the country!”
They were on OBT passing under the old railroad bridge just outside Mount Dora. It was long out of use, except for the Orange Blossom Cannonball you could ride during holidays. The route was lightly populated even before. There were few houses and nearly no businesses. But just ahead was one of those cookie cutter subdivisions the country was so fond of. In front of it, right on OBT was a shopping plaza called Stoneybrook Hills. It had a Publix and
assorted operations you’d expect in a neighborhood shopping plaza, grocery store, Chinese takeout, maybe a salon and a nail place. Everything the modern American wants and needs, conveniently located right at the entrance of the community.
But it didn’t look like that now. The decorative canvas awnings hung in tatters. The grocery store and restaurants were long since looted. Even the nail salon and insurance office were looted. Store fronts lay smashed. The parking lot was littered with trash of all kinds.
But this was our new world. The relatively clean and maintained one was gone. This new one was dirty, litter-strewn and falling apart. And it happened right before our eyes and no one really took notice. Who cares if the corner grocery store was falling in on itself. It was useless to us now. The well-stocked shelves of overpriced and in many cases, totally unhealthy, and in many more, mere food-like substances, were no longer there. We were pushed back over a hundred years. Now, if you want to eat, you have to find it, kill it or dig it up, collect it or grow it. Now, as it should be in the natural scheme, calories required a substantial investment of the same to acquire.
But Dalton wasn’t thinking about any of this as they rolled down the road. He was too busy playing with the controls of the fifty-cal mounted on top. It was like a video game and he was having fun. In a way, he hoped he’d have the opportunity to try it out. But at the same time, he knew better than to really want it. Maybe just a little.
They’d left Stonrybrook Hills behind them and passed through Tangerine and were coming into Zellwood. One of the Guardsmen had told them in the briefing to pay attention to this area. He said it was the home to a large migrant population. Not as big as it had been when the Zellwood farms were operating, but there was still a large number of people very likely to be desperate.
“Coming up on Zellwood,” Ted called out. “Keep your eyes open back there, Gulliver.”
“Right oh!” Dalton called back. Then he added, “But you call me that again and I’ll have to cut your other ear off.”
Ted looked at Mike, his eyebrows raised. Mike glanced over his shoulder at Dalton. Dalton stared back straight-faced. Mike looked back at Ted and said, “I think he means it.”
