by Newman, AJ
Walt said, “All you do is whine. Meg, please throw me that pillow beside you. Those rocks might be a bit tough on my as…oops wound.”
“Ann, watch out for that dirty old Injun,” Tom said as they drove away.
Meg sat beside Tom as he drove toward his home. They intended to quickly raid his place then go to Bob’s house and take as much of his supplies as possible before leaving. Meg was deep in thought about their future when an idea popped into her mind. “Tom, where will we go? Where will we be safe? I hate abandoning my Saloon.”
“Meg, I have an idea about that. I think we should stay close enough to keep an eye on things but not so close that we run into Carlos or his men. I think we should head over to Sedona. The convicts headed toward Prescott. Let’s face it; your Saloon is almost out of food and alcohol, so it’s just another building.”
That got Meg riled up. “But it’s…”
“Hold on Meg. I know it means a lot to you, but your life means a lot more to me than that old building. We will set up another Gold Dust Saloon when the world settles down. I know how to make wine and brew beer. You know how to run a bar. I guess what I’m trying to say is …”
Mattie was in the back seat with Cristy. “Tom, shut up, stop the truck, and kiss mom.”
Cristy added, “Dad, kiss my new mom before she comes to her senses and finds another man.”
The truck slid to a stop, and Tom took Meg into his arms. They kissed. Tom regained his breath. “Meg it took this disaster to make me realize that I took you for granted. I don’t ever want to do that again.”
It only took them about an hour to scour Tom’s place for anything useful enough to take up valuable space in the trucks. Tom surprised them by opening his barn’s door and pointing at a 12-foot landscaping trailer with wooden sides about three feet tall. “Mattie, back that F350 up to this trailer so we can load it up. We will play the game of taking everything we can haul and perform a triage every time we find something more useful than something we already have. I’ll go fire up my old F250, and we’ll have two diesel trucks.”
Tom went to the shed attached to the barn and opened the doors only to find a heaping pile of twisted metal under a gaping hole in the roof. “Sons a bitch, a freaking meteor hit my truck.”
Meg saw the disappointed look on Tom’s face. “Babe, it’s only a truck, and it probably wouldn’t run anyway. It was a 2019, wasn’t it?”
“Darn, you’re right. It had all the electronics and was stored in a wooden barn.”
They loaded Tom’s stuff into the trailer and drove toward Bob’s place. Tom led them in his old Ford truck with Mattie driving the big 4x4 behind him. Only Sally had ever been there, and Bob never showed her everything he had worked so hard to build. She knew about the house and garage, and she had been in them. He told her about the bomb shelter but never took her in it during her only visit.
Sally cried as they drove up the driveway because she knew she would never see Bob again. Then she broke down and bawled. “It’s bad enough that Bob is dead, but Lisa and Luke are probably dead also. Bob loved the boy so much.”
Meg consoled Sally while Tom, Mattie, and Cristy entered Bob’s home. They were amazed at how organized the small house was and surprised by how it was constructed from overseas shipping containers. The bottom level was a warehouse of survival gear, food, and fuel tanks. Tom worked at figuring out how to get the three fuel pumps working while the others carried food and ammunition down to the trucks.
Tom had just filled the trucks with diesel for the 4x4 and gas for Tom’s truck when Sally opened a hidden door to the garage. Bob had covered the two barn doors with sculptured Styrofoam and painted them to match the hillside. They blended perfectly into the hillside, and only a close examination would find them.
With the doors open, they saw a modern Ford 4x4 powered by a diesel engine. Beside the truck was an old biplane that looked brand new. Sally pointed to the plane. “Bob told me that flying was one of his hobbies that he kept secret. The plane was his vehicle for bugging out to safety,” she said before crying again.
Tom raced over to the truck and inspected the 2035 F250 4x4 Crew Cab. It was as large as the F350 but wasn’t a dually, which would haul more and pull more. Tom drove the 4x4 truck out of the garage, topped the truck’s two fuel tanks off, and then filled the four 15 gallon Titan Sidekick auxiliary tanks that were bolted to the inside of the truck’s bed. Tom poked around the tanks while filling them and saw they were plumbed directly into the two original equipment fuel tanks. Tom was very pleased that both trucks had auxiliary tanks.
Mattie watched Tom fuel the auxiliary tanks. “Tom you do know that these trucks will draw a lot of attention and that every asshole and cop will want to take them from us. We might as well place a target on our backs. At least Bob’s truck has been spray painted camo.”
Tom snapped around toward Mattie and Cristy. “Ladies, please search the garage for paint. Dark colors only please.”
Tom finished fueling the tanks and walked into the garage to see the ladies looking at something. He walked up to see them bending over two small minibikes that looked like something from fifty years ago. They consisted of a frame, engine, and wheels with tires. An idea jumped into Toms mind. “Ladies grab those ratchet straps and follow me.”
“Tom, can we take the paint down to the truck first?”
“Yep, hurry up. Cristy, you start painting the truck to match the other while Mattie and I fasten these minibikes to the back of the trailer,” Tom replied.
Tom held the 75-pound vehicles up to the mesh tailgate while Mattie secured them with the nylon straps. He watched his daughter have a great time vandalizing the once beautiful truck with the black, gray, and OD green paint. His mind shifted suddenly, and a frown covered his face because he wondered how he would keep Cristy safe from the dangers of this perfect storm of horrible threats.
Cristy looked up, saw her Dad watching, and gave him a big grin. She saw the frown become a smile and that made her happy. She had been a daddy’s girl and was lost without him after she was told he was dead. It took a year to stop crying and fit in with her aunt’s family. She couldn’t imagine what her dad had gone through knowing that her sister and mom were dead and he had to hide to protect her.
Meg and Sally walked over to Tom. Meg placed her arm around Tom’s waist. “Tom, we’re going to fix some grub. Bob’s refrigerator is still working so I’m taking some steaks, and you’re going to grill them. Steak, baked potatoes, and whatever else we can round up is what we’re having for supper. Bob also has a nice selection of whiskey and ice cold beer.”
“I feel sorry for Walt and Ann. I left them with a canteen and several bags of jerky.”
After eating, Tom walked back out to the hidden garage and poked around for a while. Mattie’s words echoed in his mind all through supper. He knew she was right about someone trying to take the trucks away from them. He knew all along that fuel shortages and breakdowns would eventually lead to the vehicles being parked most of the time, but he never thought about police trying to confiscate his vehicle. He decided what he had to do.
Tom explored the workbench’s small parts bins and nut and bolt storage until he found several toggle switches and enough wire to accomplish his goal. It only took an hour per truck to wire in the kill switches to cut the fuel off to the engines. He placed the switches under the dash by the steering wheels and went in to join the others.
Meg asked, “What have you been doing out there?”
“I fixed the trucks so no one could steal them.”
Mattie overheard the conversation. “How?”
Tom beamed with self-satisfaction. “I installed fuel cutoff switches.”
Mattie thought for a minute. “So the truck will start and run and then die.”
“Yes, I thought about an ignition cut off but thought we’d want the bastards to drive away and be a few miles down the road when they find out they have a boat anchor instead of a great truck. If the truck doe
sn’t start while we are held at gunpoint, they could just torture us until we tell them how to start the trucks.”
Meg asked, “How far will the trucks travel before the engine dies?”
“A few miles, I wired in a time delay that should let fuel flow for a few minutes. I’m not an electrician, just a jackleg who knows a little bit about autos and wiring. I could build a great time bomb by using the same equipment and an ignitor on a gas-powered truck. It’s too darn hard to get diesel to do much more than burn.”
Meg was impressed with Tom’s ingenuity. “Tom that should work, but we’ll need to hide for a while before going to find the trucks. I’d be pissed if I took the time to steal a truck and some asshole installed a hidden cutoff switch. I’d either shoot up the truck or go back and shoot up the bastard who sabotaged the truck.”
“Darn, I need to stay on your good side.”
“Babe, we have another problem,” Meg said.
“What’s that?”
“Sally is going to pieces. I’ve talked to her, and she is crying all the time. I know losing Bob was devastating but she has to put her big girl panties on and move on, or she’ll die or get us killed.”
Mattie interrupted them. “Mom, I agree. Usually, she would have months to grieve. Now it’s time to get with the survival program or die.”
Tom thought for a minute. “What are you saying? We can’t just leave her on the side of the road.”
Meg’s head shook as she thought about Sally. “I don’t know what I’m saying, but she has to start packing her own weight very soon.”
***
Walt sat on his good butt cheek watching Ann roast the rabbit over the fire. She slowly turned the stick to make sure the rabbit cooked evenly. “Walt, how is your ass?”
“It still burns, but the pain has subsided a bit. I won’t be sitting on that cheek for a long time. The sun is going down, so you’d better get that rabbit cooked before someone can spot our fire.”
“Walt, I’m sorry about Maria. She seemed like a good person.”
“She was.” That was all Walt could muster. He didn’t love Maria, but she was a big part of his life. He missed her.
Ann picked the rabbit up by both ends of the stick that impaled it and then stuck one end in the ground to let it cool before eating. “It’s done and shouldn’t be too tough since it was a young rabbit. Do you like rabbit?”
“I can’t say I like it, but I’ve eaten hundreds of the varmints while I was growing up on the reservation. We were lucky to have a rabbit. My father drank up our money and was a worthless piece of crap. He died in a car wreck, and we were much better off without him.”
Ann had a tear in her eye. “I was lucky and had a great father. He was a Marine and took good care of mom and me.”
Walt responded. “I thought once a Marine, always a Marine.”
Tears flowed down her cheek, and Walt knew he had stepped on it. “What’s wrong? Did I offend you?”
Ann wiped her tears on her sleeve. “My Dad died in the first Iranian war. A damned Iranian drone killed him and the General he was guarding. I hate those bastards. That’s why I joined up and volunteered to fight in the second war. I shot hundreds of the cowardly bitches and hoped that I killed enough to make up for them killing the best man the Earth had ever seen.”
Walt asked, “How did you kill that many? I thought the battles were fierce but over quickly.”
“The battles were. I volunteered for search and destroy missions that eliminated their outposts and safe houses. I killed many of them with a sharp knife to their throat.”
Walt rubbed his throat. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
Ann thought back to when she saw Walt take out those convicts back in Clarkdale. “Walt, come to think of it, you were pretty handy with a knife back in Clarkdale.”
“Experience from my misspent youth,” was all Walt said about the topic.
By the time they finished eating the sun had gone down. Ann shivered under the light blanket even though Walt had made them a bed out of a thick pile of leaves. “Walt, roll over and spoon me. My butt is cold. We can keep each other warm.”
“Sorry, but you come over to this side. I can’t lie on that side of my ass,” Walt replied.
She moved around to his front side and cuddled up against him. “Darn, you put off a lot of heat for an old man.”
“I always get hot when a young chick tries to take advantage of me.”
“Shut up, you old pervert and go to sleep.”
Walt lay there for a minute. “I’m not old.”
☆
Chapter 2
The van stopped on the highway south of Prescott. “Doll, you should stay with us. We still have some primo weed and a bunch of pills.”
The blonde amazon lady gave the old hippie a middle finger salute as she pulled her favorite pistol from her paddle holster. She held her Les Baer Black Bear 9mm behind her back waiting for trouble. “No Bill, I told you that I don’t do drugs and am just trying to get back to my father and a little town called Stony Creek. Besides, I don’t think I ever told you that I’m actually a Federal Marshal and should arrest your sorry ass.”
“I thought you were in college.”
“I was in college getting my master’s degree in Criminology, and my studies would tell me that you are a drug pusher. It’s your lucky day because drugs don’t matter much now. Get the hell on down the road, and I won’t shoot you.”
Another head suddenly poked through a side door, and a hand with a pistol followed. Missy crouched as she raised her pistol and shot three times before the man could pull the trigger. The driver floored the van and drove away. Johnny screamed and fell out of the van tumbling on the asphalt mortally wounded. He looked up to her and saw the pistol in her hand. The flash lit up the night, and the sound echoed for several seconds. That was the last thing he ever saw in his drug-addled existence. The van stopped a short distance down the road, and another body was dumped on the highway.
Missy walked quickly toward Stony Creek and thought she could get there by early morning. She had her hiking boots on, so her feet were in good shape. She wore her father’s old Army field jacket over her black battle dress uniform and tactical vest. Her hair was in a ponytail covered by a black baseball cap. She was ready to face whatever confronted her.
Missy had an undergraduate degree in Criminology and joined the US Marshal Service right out of college. With no prior field experience other than working as a deputy for her father, it took her longer to become a Marshal. She didn’t know that her uncle pulled some strings to help advance her career along the way. She was known as a hard-assed ball buster, and she begged to be assigned the most difficult cases. Her supervisor began to believe she was actually a sociopath. She could stand toe to toe with a perp, shoot, kill the man without blinking, and go on about her day as though nothing had happened.
She was the Ice Queen of the Albuquerque field office and was delighted with the title. In fact, she had a black baseball cap made with the initials IQ embroidered on the front. She went through dozens of boyfriends who couldn’t warm her up or warm up to her. She adored her father and told many stories about how he handled Mexican drug dealers and thugs.
She stopped and topped off her magazine to replace the shots fired during her separation from her traveling companions. The Black Bear magazines only held nine – 9 mm rounds but it was easy to conceal, and she used it as her backup weapon. Her Berretta 9 mm was holstered on the front of her tactical vest along with six extra magazines for each weapon. She also had a hunting knife strapped to her right thigh and brass knuckles in a pouch attached to her vest. She couldn’t use them at work, but they were a great equalizer in civilian life. Her mouth often overloaded her ability to whip large men in a bar fight.
Missy walked into town announced by a yellow haired mutt who wagged its tail and joined her as she walked down the middle of the street. She walked straight to the Sherriff’s Office only to find a strange man in her fat
her’s favorite chair with his feet propped up on the edge of the desk. “Hey, you. Where is the Sheriff?”
The man had his Stetson pulled down over his eyes. “I’m the Sheriff. What can I do for you?”
Missy was shaken that her father wasn’t the sheriff anymore. “Where is Slim Perkins?”
“Who the hell is Slim Perkins?”
Missy was getting very agitated. “He is the Sheriff of this county.”
“Oh, him. He got killed in a fight with the Mayor’s people. Slim did something stupid, and he and his followers were ambushed by the Mayor’s people. It was quite the battle. Many people died. The town folk asked us over in Clarkdale to take over the town’s operation and police force. The Sheriff is buried in the town cemetery. He is either a villain or a hero depending on who you talk with.”
Missy had calmed down and forced herself not to cry for her father. “Thanks, I’ll see if I can find any of my old friends now.”
“What’s your connection to the dead Sheriff?”
“Oh, nothing much. He helped me out of a tough scrape several years ago. Is the Mayor or her daughter Mattie still around?”
“Sorry, they were both run out of town along with several others for trying to make the town their own personal kingdom. They ain’t much welcome around these parts.”
Missy walked out the door and headed toward the saloon.
Bill came out from behind the corner. “You done very good. Mr. Fox will be pleased how you handled those questions. Put a tail on her and see what she wants in town. Keep me informed.
“Will do Boss.”
The town was devastated by the first meteor strikes and had suffered hundreds of small impacts since. Nothing shocked Missy since she had seen this in every city they passed through on the way west. There were riots in the large cities, and most were burned out hulks of their former selves. She started west three days after the collapse and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep during the entire trip. She had slept with one eye open and her 9 mm in her hand.
