by Schow, Ryan
“Connor works there.”
“Doing what?” Harper asked.
“We used to run an ammunition reloading business. Sold parts out of the house when we first got off the grid. Then Connor wanted to open a small range and sell ammo on the black market. We got the range set, then we bought everything we needed—primers, the brass, smokeless propellant, bullets, you name it we have it.”
“No kidding?” Harper said. “Skylar didn’t tell me that.”
“He’s got a top of the line press, all the equipment to drill out the AR15 lowers…but now no one can buy anything tactical. It’s all outlawed under the Chicom rule. We still sell some ammo, but it has to be approved by the Sheriff first, and that old man has a lot of leftist lead in his ass. You know those progressive types. Connor’s still trying to kick the rust off his brain these days, although the worse it gets in the cities, the easier he seems to grasp things.”
“What kind of ammo does he make?” Logan asked, thinking their stolen pistols could be more than just paperweights if they had some ammo stores.
“It’s mostly .223’s, .308’s and 30.06’s, even some .243 Winchesters now that kids are shooting, too.”
“Can he make 9mm rounds?” Harper asked.
“He’s got a ton of brass for that, but you know those guns are outlawed, too. Only the Chicom police have the authority to carry.”
Logan said, “We’re carrying now.”
Stephani smiled and said to Harper, “Skylar said we’d like you two. After you get some rest, I’ll take you down there. You’ll need to see it anyway. Hell, maybe Connor will even teach you a thing or two before the tear down.”
“You’re getting rid of it?” Logan asked.
“When the barn is built out, we’re going to relocate most of the ammo to a vault we’ll be installing inside. If it gets bad, then clean, reliable ammo will be every bit as valuable as clean water and food. And it will need to be close.”
“How are the rounds Connor makes compared to store bought?” Harper asked.
“Hand packed rounds are always better, more accurate. The range we have down the hill, that’s where we shoot. It’s where Orbey realized she’s a better shot than all of us. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all crack shots. But Orbey…she’s surgical with her Remington.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility,” Logan said.
Stephani stopped and thought about it. Then she asked, “How so?”
“The best shot always has the most kills,” he said. He was thinking of the sickness inside him that seemed to only be getting worse since he shot the Chicom policeman after the bomb. He never wanted such a burden. Nor was he sure how it would affect him. Then he went and killed three more men, Pete being one of them. He was already having nightmares and he hadn’t even fallen asleep yet. “Orbey seems too sweet to have to carry such a burden.”
“The poachers have finally gotten under her skin. She knows times are changing fast. We all do. More on that later. Logan, there’s a cot down here, if you want.”
“You tell me there’s hay up there and a breeze and it’s like heaven, then you offer me a cot in the dirt? No way. I’m sleeping up there.”
“What about Harper?” Stephani asked, glancing at the woman.
“She’s tougher than us both,” Logan said. “She’ll love the cot.”
“Do I get any say in this?” Harper asked.
“You’ll be able to sleep there every single night after I leave,” Logan said. “I have to drive through the night into God knows what kind of problems, and the last thing I need is a sore back.”
“Wow, you’re no gentleman,” Stephani said, disappointed.
“I’m pragmatic.”
“If you say so,” she said.
“Look, bee keeper, I’ve just been told by my girlfriend that I’m not her boyfriend, I’ve put my life on the line to get Harper here, I’ve killed four people and lost my best friend to a bomb. I’ve had no sleep and I’m pissed off. And this is all too much when I think about getting my ass back in that Jeep and doing it all over again.”
“Um…” Stephani said.
“What?” Logan asked, his composure slipping.
“The Jeep has to stay here. Skylar has an old motorcycle she fixed up for you.”
He stood there, aghast.
“Are you kidding me?” he growled.
“He can have the hay,” Harper said. “The cot is fine. I’ll just take it up there with me.”
“Unbelievable,” Logan grumbled.
Chapter Ten
The loft was a wide eight foot walkway around the rafters. There were six openings cut into the slanted roof he assumed were defensive positions against an attack. There were two at the front and rear of the large barn, and two each on either side for a total of six sniper’s nests. Knowing the way Skylar was thinking, these could be used in the event of an invasion, poachers or otherwise. He was looking out one of the sides when he turned to see Harper laying down in the hay. There was enough room for two, he reasoned, but it would be close.
“Wow, this is so much better than the cot,” she said, scooching down into a nest of her own making. “It molds right to your body with a little work!”
Down the side of the hill, he saw the far edge of the town and the river that ran near it. It would be a good water source if ever they needed it. There was a lot of rain in this area, though, judging by how green it was, so hopefully the rainwater catch would be enough.
“How shy are you?” Harper asked.
“Apparently I’m a vagina repellant in my own home, so if you’re thinking about sleeping with me and wondering if I’m going to get frisky in my sleep, trust me, I won’t.”
“I’m a cuddler,” she said, somewhat shy.
“Let me smell your breath,” he said, walking over and kneeling down beside her. She looked at him funny. “I’m not going to let you spoon me, so if we’re cuddling, your face will be in mine and I don’t want you breathing on me if your breath smells like ass.”
She rolled her eyes and blew her breath in his face, then raised her brows.
“Okay, fine,” he said.
The light was dim enough to not feel like broad daylight, and there was a cool breeze slipping lazily through the apertures in the roof. He slid in next to her and she scooted up beside him, resting parts of her body on his while wiggling back down in the hay.
“I was worried about having to sleep on a hard mattress when I came here,” she said. “How stupid is that?”
“Of all the things going on, you were worried most about sleep accommodations?”
“My concern wasn’t exclusive,” she said.
“Okay,” he replied, his eyes closed.
“You’re like a pillow to me,” she said, pulling him close. “If I had a brother, I’d sleep with him like this.”
“That’s just weird.”
“I know,” she said, sounding as tired as he was, “but go with it.”
They had that comfortable place against each other, not face-to-face as he’d feared, but someplace where everything sort of fit like a puzzle without it being too awkward.
Before he knew it, he was awake, but that was because he’d been jolted from his sleep by the sound of gunfire. Another shot went off, just down the hill.
“What the hell?” Harper asked, waking up as well.
They both got up, scrambled down the ladder and hustled outside. Standing just outside the barn, listening, they heard nothing.
Logan scoped out what he could see, then said, “Follow me.”
They cut through the trees, staying low and quiet as they made their way to the main house. Logan spotted Connor, Orbey, Stephani and Cooper behind the stacked woodpile just outside the home’s back door.
Cooper was taking a dump right out in the open, and completely ignoring Stephani who was chastising him for pooping in such a vulnerable spot.
The ladies had their rifles, and Connor had a fat cigar in his mouth. He was looking at the
dog and chuckling.
Logan and Harper ran from the cover of a rather large tree, then ducked behind the woodpile with the others.
“What’s going on?” Harper asked, winded.
Stephani looked at them and said, “I told you already.”
Logan looked at Connor, who grinned and blew out a cloud of smoke. He wasn’t armed and he wasn’t looking too concerned. He shrugged his shoulders then pointed just above his nose and said, “Bad eyes. Orbey is the better shot.”
The crack of gunfire was followed by a bullet digging into the roof. Connor didn’t even flinch.
“Who’s shooting at us?” Harper said.
“Poachers,” Orbey said. “Same as before. I told those boys this is private land, but they didn’t listen then and they won’t listen now.”
“Give me the binos,” Stephani said.
Orbey handed the binoculars over without taking her eyes off the scope. Because they were shooting high, Stephani looked at them just over the top of the pile. The dog came back, plopped his ass in the dirt beside Connor and watched everything unfolding, his big pink tongue out, panting. Another shot rang out, hitting the roof again.
“Dumbasses,” Connor said, pulling out his cigar to spit. He scratched Cooper’s back, causing the dog’s eyelids to get exceptionally heavy.
“Why not call the Sheriff?” Logan asked.
“Not doing that anymore,” Orbey said, her Scottish-Irish accent thick. “Stephani said she told you that.”
“I did,” Stephani said.
“I thought you were just bowing up,” Logan admitted. No one said anything, so he said, “So you’re really going to kill them?”
“I’m good with a shovel,” Connor said.
“Me, too,” Harper added.
“You don’t know that,” Logan said, glaring at her.
“The hell I don’t,” Harper said with a frown. “And when did you lose your nerve?”
“I didn’t lose it. It’s just…they’re not the Chicoms. If they can fight, maybe we can use them later. We just need to turn them in the right direction when it’s time.”
“You can’t co-opt these idiots,” Connor groused. “Besides, they’re taking game off our land, food we might need if things go south. Plus, they know where the hives are and they haven’t shown an ounce of respect for either me or the ladies. In my book, that’s about as green of a green light as you need.”
Orbey looked up at them, then Stephani, and then back at Connor. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Everyone nodded, indicating they were. Then Stephani said, “What about you, Orbey? Are you okay?”
What a terrible thing God sometimes does, he thought. By virtue of her talent, she was forced to do the dirtiest job of them all simply because she was better with a gun.
Another shot rang out, the bullet sinking into the log pile on the other side. Everyone but Connor was jolted by the impact.
“I’ve been firing warning shots and all they’ve been sending back are F U shots,” Orbey said. “I’ve never encountered such rude children. It’s upsetting.”
Two more bullets pelted the woodpile. Everyone ducked down even lower now, Cooper going prone as well. Well, everyone except Connor.
Logan wondered if the man had a death wish.
“At least you won’t be wearing their blood like the tampon sisters here,” Stephani finally said, casting a sideways glance at Logan. At this point in time, Logan was sure Stephani had a crush on him.
Orbey looked down at Cooper and said, “What about you?”
He gave a short yip, his tail wagging in the dirt.
“Alright,” she said, grabbing her box of ammo, a large looking beanbag and her Remington 700. She moved to the end of the woodpile, staying low. She popped the beanbag on a flat piece of firewood, dropped the stock on it, then adjusted the site until she found her sweet spot.
Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths, Logan more than others. He was seeing the sweetest lady he’d ever met getting ready to strike down a life. He hated the way he was feeling for her. So much so that he almost offered to take the shot instead. He wasn’t practiced though, so he figured he’d just end up looking foolish, or worse, spoil her shot.
She squeezed the trigger, a loose ribbon of smoke coughing out the end of the barrel. The shot echoed through the canyon, but not before they heard a yelp. She fished out a fresh round, pulled the bolt and set aside the brass. Loading quickly but accurately, making it look easy, she set the bolt, sighted the downed man, let out her breath then squeezed the trigger again.
The crack of finality split the afternoon silence. Leaning back, she drew a deep breath, cleared the brass, set her rifle down and started to shake a bit. Connor went to her, sat down in the dirt with her and said, “It’s going to be like this, darling.”
“Maybe you could dig while I whip up some cornbread and chili,” she said, her hands shaking, her voice extra soft. “I…I need to cook.”
He nodded his head, gently squeezed her shoulder, then leaned in and kissed her. “This is a heavy load you’re carrying. Anything you need, you let me know.” He kissed her again, then said, “Anything at all.”
“Put him in the dirt and make sure I’ve got enough rounds on hand. I’m sure we’ll need more of them before this is over.”
Connor helped her up, took her gun, the brass and the bean bag and walked her inside. Logan started to go out there, but Stephani grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t be stupid.” She withdrew a revolver and said, “There were two of them.”
“The other chickenshitted out,” Harper said.
“Did you see him go?”
“He took off like a jackrabbit,” she said.
“You don’t know these guys.”
“We’re not paper tigers,” Logan told her.
“What are you going to kill him with if he decides to come back?” Stephani asked.
He looked at her, smiled and said, “You.”
Logan started down the hill, the two women following. A sharp whistle stopped them. Looking back, Logan saw Connor coming after them with a couple of shovels. He also had a light camouflaged-patterned jacket draped over his arm. It was a smaller version of the one he was wearing.
When he got near, he threw Logan the jacket and said, “They can sit down, but we’re going to be digging. No sense in you standing out like a sore thumb!”
“It’s gonna be hot,” Logan said, putting on the camo jacket.
“We could stand to shed a few pounds,” he said. Logan looked over his shoulder and Connor said, “Cooper’s staying with Orbey. She’ll want the company.”
When they got to the dead body, he was a hundred yards out, easy. There was a shot in his hip, then one in his forehead. Behind him, in a punched out burst of meat, were his last thoughts. Harper stared at the mess. Logan turned away.
“Just start digging?” he asked.
Connor said, “Yep.”
Logan sunk the spade into the soil, turned out a shovel full, then went after it again. The two men dug for a good hour before the women spelled them off. No one’s back was spared, but they got a decent sized hole dug a couple of hours outside of sundown. Logan and Connor shoved the dead man in the hole, then scooped his brains in after him. Stephani was already kicking dirt back in the hole. When the last of the earth was pushed and shoveled in, there was a bit of a mound. Connor leveled out the dirt, then rolled his neck, stretched his back and said, “Digging this damn hole is incentive alone to go back to firing warning shots.”
“We’ll just burn them next time and kick the ashes around,” Stephani said.
If he hadn’t seen the homicidal side of Harper—a woman who had not a stitch of personality in her eyes twenty-four hours ago—he would be worried about the company she was keeping. This was a very capable woman, though. And dangerous. If anything, these last few days proved to Logan this was not a world for saints and angels. If Harper and Skylar were right, only the monsters would survive. He felt his frown d
eepen.
Harper, Connor and Stephani started up the hill. He did not. He just stood over the grave of the man who would have killed them all for what? Food? The right to hunt illegally?
“You coming?” Harper called back.
“Give me a minute,” he said, unzipping his fly. He pulled himself out, then relaxed his muscles and pissed on the dead man’s grave.
He was a house cat before all this. It’s time to be the lion.
When he was done urinating, he shook twice, put himself back together, then grabbed the shovel and went up the hill to have some chili and see about getting home.
Chapter Eleven
Dinner was amazing. He was full, but not stuffed and seriously considering staying the night. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to have a job and his life in the morning.
Connor said he and Cooper would take him down to the shed where the motorcycle was stored away. Stephani wanted to come with them. Same with Harper. Logan felt Harper’s bond with him, how it had a great start but was stretching now, how it was so thin it would soon snap. He could see in her eyes she didn’t expect him to come back. He didn’t think he’d come back either. As it was, he’d be lucky to get home in one piece.
Before leaving, he hugged Orbey tight, thanked her for her hospitality and her wonderful cooking, and then he checked his pistol, the one he’d taken off the dead Chicom. Connor fixed him up with a twenty round mag of 9mm rounds after restocking the current one.
When they opened the shed at the base of the property, nearest the road—a small number hidden among the brush—Connor flashed his light inside and saw the old bike leaning against the wall. A gas can sat on the dirt floor beside it.
Connor handed Logan the key and said, “It’s like any other bike. It looks a bit dusty, but it runs right and it’ll get you home on one tank.”
“You sure?” Logan asked.
“If not,” Connor said, “there’s a siphoning hose in the compartment under the seat. There’s a fresh blade in there, too. A Karambit knife. You know what that is?”
