by Connor Mccoy
“Really? Where?”
“Hold up.” Rod started scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Here.” He shoved it into Lance’s hands. “It’s thirty miles down State Road 22, south of here. There’s a turnoff. You can’t miss it.”
Lance nodded. “Thanks.”
“You want to thank me. Go there and stay there. Because until we expand the fields in town, this place doesn’t need any more mouths to feed, and certainly not able-bodied youngsters like yourself. You understand me?”
Lance shook his head. “Right, right!”
“Good. And be grateful you got this information. This job is still in this state. Anything else, and you’d have to head north into South Dakota or Minnesota. That’s be one hell of a trip, wouldn’t it? Now get going.” Rod then shut the window and locked it, loudly.
Lance almost crumbled the crackers in his hands, but his ever-present hunger stopped him in time. Instead, he stuffed them in his jeans pocket and ran off.
As he dashed from the shop toward the first round of refugee tents, fresh anger welled up inside him. How could this town treat him like this? How could he, someone who’s lived here all his life, be refused food? Wasn’t he in the same boat as everyone else?
The problem was, Lance Wilkins wasn’t a rancher or a farmer. He had been a cashier for a parts store. It didn’t require more than punching a few buttons on a cash register or using a computer to handle inventory. It paid him enough for a good life in his cramped apartment. He still rang up a thousand dollars in debt on his credit card, but hey, who didn’t have that problem?
Then the power went out, and Lance found himself with no job and no worthwhile skills. Not that it mattered, since money now was worthless as well. The only way to get food was to grow it. That didn’t sound like too big a problem, until the town accepted a whole bunch of refugees from up north. The sheer number of people overwhelmed the local farms. Then the survivors had to make choices. Some people were asked to leave, to find other farms nearby and help expand them. That would take off some of the pressure down here. Indeed, a few of the residents decided to pull up stakes and head out for greener pastures.
Lance had not. He fumed. He effectively had been squeezed out. He didn’t know how to farm and struggled with it, but now it didn’t matter as the refugees, including those who were sick, had to be fed first. Lance had no assurance of any food beyond the bare minimum to survive. So, for the past few days, Lance had resorted to begging. Soon, he even began stealing. It would be an apple here, or a pear or a squash there, when someone had their back turned.
He looked at the paper in his hands. Thirty miles? That would be one hell of a long walk. But it’d be better than journeying to Minnesota, that’s for damn sure.
As he passed by the latest round of tents, he spotted a bicycle leaning against a wooden light post. The owner absentmindedly had left it there instead of securing it. Perhaps the owner did not think anyone would take it.
Whoever he was, he would be dead wrong.
That morning Lance pedaled away from the refugee camp and out onto State Road 22. He vowed he wouldn’t stop by this place ever again. He would find his own way in the world, and wouldn’t be hungry again.
Chapter Four
Jack paced around the young lady. Molly was the victim of Marco’s little “hissy fit” last night. She stood perfectly still, having calmed down a lot since her ordeal. She was a pretty young lady in her twenties. Jack had taking a liking to her recently, having put her in one of his clothing store’s fine dresses. Marco had stopped by during one of the fittings, and it was plain he wanted to help himself to Jack’s conquest.
The door to her quarters was closed. Jack wanted to be sure no one could hear what would come next. For added security, he had a woman outside keeping watch, one who hated Marco and agreed to help out Jack. Should Marco come around, she would knock on the wall in a specific manner.
“The seeds of doubt are planted in Maggiano’s mind.” Jack flicked his fingers, imitating someone dropping seeds into the ground. “Now, we’re ready for the final step.”
“I don’t understand,” the girl said.
“We need a little bit of visual evidence.” Jack patted Molly’s shoulder. “Maggiano isn’t going to care if you don’t look a little battered for your trouble. He cares about your physical appearance, your looks. He can always work with that. But if Marco had caused some obvious harm, well, that’s different.”
“But he didn’t…I mean, I’m not…”
“I know. That’s why we have to make you look the part,” Jack said, “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
Molly trembled. “I-I don’t know. I don’t want to.”
“What are you talking about?” A tinge of anger rocked Jack’s voice, but then he stopped and suddenly raised an eyebrow. “Of course. What a fool I am. You’re still traumatized. I supposed exposing yourself to another man must be difficult.”
Molly nodded.
“But this is different. Your body is now a weapon, a tool of revenge.” Jack fished his hands under her jaw and chin, and braced her face so she looked at him. “It will help you make the man who hurt you suffer a thousand times over for what he did to you. I swear it. But I need you to help me.”
“Okay,” she said softly. She obeyed, and took off all of her clothes.
Jack smiled at the sight before him. He already had fitted one of his red dresses to another of the ladies this morning, but nothing compared to Molly. This girl, with her magnificent form, was definitely his favorite. “You are a goddess.”
The woman smiled, perhaps for the first time in a while. Her smile made it even harder for Jack to do what he had to. “A shame I must do this.” Then he drew a small knife.
Molly’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
Jack suddenly grabbed her and cupped her mouth. “Relax. I’m creating the evidence.” She struggled, but Jack pinned her to the wall. “Don’t worry, these will not be life threatening and will heal in time, I promise.” He whispered, “Sadly, some sacrifices must be made.”
He held her tight, muffling her screams as he made the first cut on her thigh.
Tom reclined against the warehouse’s outer wall. “Jack Sorenson,” he said, “That’s probably the guy you saw before Maggiano showed up. I spotted him once coming in to see Marco about a deal.”
“So, all the big boys are staying in that warehouse.” Conrad rubbed his hands together. “If we took them all out, this city might be freed.”
“Save that for an army, if it ever comes around. We’re here to rescue Sarah,” Tom said, “I, for one, don’t want to be within twenty miles of those people ever again.”
“Right.” Conrad let out a loud breath. “I hate the idea of leaving Redmond in the hands of those thugs, but between the two of us, rescuing Sarah is perhaps the most we can do.”
Tom glanced at Conrad’s gun. It lay in its holster on the floor. Conrad had taken it off earlier. “So, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“It’s your dime. Shoot,” Conrad replied.
Tom cleared his throat. “I try not to judge people. I like to think I don’t care what other people do. I’m just a little puzzled why you decided to, you know, prep. Go off the grid, grow your own food, that kind of thing.” Indeed, with his gray hair and thick beard, Conrad looked the part of a grizzled loner, a big contrast to Tom’s clean-shaven face and upscale clothing, which had been dirtied and torn by the recent days’ events.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s worked out great for you. You can handle the apocalypse a hell of a lot better than I can.” Tom chuckled. “But what drove you to do it?”
Conrad leaned back against the wall. “Did Sarah talk a lot about my ‘crazy’ behavior?”
Tom shook his head. “Bits and pieces.”
Conrad looked up at the ceiling, trying to mentally put together how he’d tell this tale. “You know, the funny thing is, if you had met me, say, thirty-two years ago, you would have
met a man in a suit and tie and…” Conrad stroked his beard. “…a young face with no whiskers. I used to work for an advertising firm. I was one of their top salesmen.”
Tom smiled. “Really? Wow, that really is surprising. What changed? Did the divorce really drive you away from the city?”
“I think being on my own, being a rancher, was always in my blood from the start,” Conrad said. “The Drake family was a rough-and-tumble sort. We loved to fight, and I don’t mean the good kind of fighting. We had our ranch down south, near the border with Kansas. It was a place where drinks flowed and tempers flew.” He scratched his chin. “I grew up scared. I never knew when someone’s temper could lead to someone getting punched real bad, or if someone finally would grab a gun and end an argument in the worst possible way.”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Shit. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Since I couldn’t count on my dad or my brothers for a stable home life, I learned to fend for myself. I trusted only what I could make with my hands. I thought, once I got older, that I could join the rat race in the city. I married Sarah, had Liam, and things were normal, or so I thought.” He shook his head. “I guess I kept hungering for a different life. Maybe Sarah picked up on that. Maybe I didn’t know what I was doing until it was too late.”
Tom leaned his right arm against the office wall. “Sarah’s a woman who loves stability.” He gently punched the wall. “It’s hard to imagine her in your world of guns and ham radios and whatever else you got.”
Conrad glanced at the sunlight pouring through the door. “Well, it’s a world that’s got all of us whether we like it or not. We probably should start putting together our plan.”
“Right.” Tom spread his arms. “So, it’s a night raid. Guess we should start talking about our plan of attack.”
Conrad frowned. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about his original plan to attack the warehouse. “We probably should hold off on that for a moment,” he said. “Let’s think about this. Say we free Sarah. This city comes alive with all sorts of strange people at night. Actually, nighttime here is almost like daytime normally. We wait until evening, we might escape Maggiano’s men only to run into who knows what that’s lurking out there.”
“So, what?” Tom shrugged. “We’ll just come back here and hide until it all blows over.”
“And if they see us duck in here, they’ll shower the place with bullets. Actually, scratch that. We could barricade ourselves in, and then they turn around and torch the place.”
“Well, I’m sure storming a warehouse full of men with guns is going to be dangerous.” Tom chuckled. “You’re not going to tell me you thought this would be easy.”
“Of course not.” Conrad paced back and forth alongside an office desk. “But like anything in life, you need a plan. A way in, and a way out. We can’t get out of there and find ourselves without a way to escape.” He stopped, then reached for his backpack. “That place looked pretty sleepy to me. I bet those bastards won’t see us coming if we hit them now.”
“What?” Tom straightened up. “You want us to go in there now, in broad daylight?”
“You heard right. I think this is our best chance.”
Tom shook his head. “Yeah, our best chance to get picked off. They just have to see us coming and we’re lying dead on the concrete in about five seconds with blood gushing out of our chests.”
“We’ve gotten close to the warehouse already. We can make it inside before they see us. Besides, most of those men are inside and asleep. We go in fast and we can reach Sarah while they’re stirring from their beds.”
“And what about our escape? We won’t have the cover of night to help us.”
“But we’ll have a sleepy city and fewer hooligans to try stopping us,” Conrad replied. “If we can make tracks out of the warehouse district, we’ll have a lot more places to hide, maybe throw them off our trail.”
Fresh sweat trickled down Tom’s face. “We don’t have a working car. We don’t even have bikes. There’s no transportation at all. We’re all on foot. What if Sarah’s in no condition to run? What if she’s hurt, or drugged?”
Conrad scowled. “Look, we do this now or never. If we delay, sooner or later someone will spot us and rat us out to Maggiano and his boys. Besides, our supplies are finite. Our food and water’s going to run out soon, and two hungry and thirsty men aren’t going to be more likely to pull Sarah’s hide out of the fire. No, this is it. We free her and then hightail it back to my place. There’s no other choice.”
Tom clenched his jaw. “Fine. But what about the distraction you want to set off? How are you going to do it?”
Conrad showed Tom his special project. “I made sure to pack some surprises. I just finished assembling them.” Then he laid his special creations on the floor. They were six small plastic tubes with small wiring looping out of them. Conrad turned one of them over, exposing a tiny box on the other side.
Tom frowned. “What the hell are those?”
“Plastic explosives. Not very big ones. I imagined I’d only need to blow out doors or maybe a wall, something to get you out of a tight spot. But if I attach these to those gas tanks, the stuff inside them will make a blast much bigger than what these babies can produce on their own.” Then he pointed to the box. “This here’s a timer. Cheap stuff, but it’s effective.”
Tom’s mouth stayed open for a while. “I don’t know why the hell I’d be surprised. So, building bombs is another one of your big survival skills?”
“Not exactly something you’d do in the suburbs, right?”
“Not unless you want Homeland Security beating down your door,” Tom replied.
“Well, nowadays we got nobody to rely on but ourselves.” Conrad put down the explosive, then pulled out a belt. “A little Velcro and a little tape, and these should stay put until I reach the tanks. Now, hopefully, we’ll intersect somewhere in the building. But first, you must keep an eye out and make sure you have a clear path inside. But Maggiano’s men may end up coming out of the warehouse on your end. So, you’ll stay and keep an eye out for how many show up. I’ll radio you and tell you where to go if there’s too many henchmen around for you to make an approach.”
Tom grimaced. “You sure these things won’t explode, you know, bigger than you think?”
“It’s just an educated guess, Tom. We’re playing this whole thing by ear. Besides, you said the women are probably on the northern side near the west. The propane will explode on the east.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah.” Conrad might know what he was doing, but Tom hated the thought that this might go wrong.
Conrad began fitting the explosives to the belt. “Look, um, you may want to get yourself together. Take a drink. Try and relax yourself. We’re heading out soon.”
About half an hour later, Conrad checked himself in the office mirror. His gun, taser and radio all were attached to his belt for easy use. He also had his extra clip on him just in case. His plastic explosives rested in a small belt slung over his shoulder.
His pack rested inside an office closet. Having his provisions on him just would weigh him down. He would go in with just what he needed to carry out this rescue. If their plan worked, they’d retreat back here, grab their stuff, and flee from the warehouse district.
If we’re lucky, we can make some distance before the sun goes down, Conrad thought. Otherwise, they’d escape from Maggiano and his men only to end up with the city’s crazed inhabitants going after them at night.
Beside him, Tom was looking at his gun on his belt’s holster. That seemed to be all he could do. He had no other armaments, and unfortunately, had nothing to protect his chest beyond a flimsy shirt and pants. This man clearly didn’t look ready for the ordeal to come.
But I guess that’s what makes a man brave, Conrad thought. He knew he had to say something to encourage him. Hell, it might help to encourage Conrad himself.
“Guess there’s nothing to do but to do it,” Conrad said.
&nb
sp; “Yeah. Guess so,” Tom replied.
Conrad looked at him. “I know I didn’t give you any choice in this. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you were pissed at me. But I want you to know that you should be proud of what you’re doing, putting your neck on the line like this.”
Tom loudly exhaled. “Well, like you said, I owe her one.”
“Yeah, you do. But you’re still going into this fight, and that matters.” Conrad sighed. “Look, I said we should go all out for Sarah, and I meant that. I just don’t want you to think this should be a kamikaze run. If you’re in a bind, and retreat’s your only option, then you take it.”
Tom looked a little confused. “What about you?”
“Let’s just say I won’t be so quick to make a run for it if I know I can free Sarah, regardless of the outcome.”
Tom twitched. Conrad sounded like he was alluding to a suicide run. “But your son. You’re going to have a grandchild. Don’t you want to see them again?”
“Yeah, I do.” Conrad bit his lower lip. “Right now, more than anything. It’s just that on the list of priorities, I think Liam seeing his mom again ought to come first.”
Tom nodded. “So, this really is just for your kid. Not for Sarah. I mean, you don’t owe her anything. She didn’t tell me much about your divorce, but from what I gathered in all this, you two had a hell of a falling out.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Conrad straightened up. “Maybe it wasn’t anything I did. Maybe it was. But I figure if I do this, it’ll prove to her in some way that I did once love her and I would put my ass on the line if she was in trouble. Other than that, and helping out Liam, I don’t expect anything from her.”
“If I was in your shoes I don’t think I could do it. I don’t know if I’d have it in me.”
