The Off Grid Survivor Box Set: Complete The Off Grid Survivor Series Books 1-4

by Connor Mccoy

Camilla shook her head. “No. Sorry, but I didn’t bring any little ones into this world.” Then she looked at Liam. “None with your father, either. Hey, you could have opened that door and found yourself with a little half-brother or half-sister.” Then she laughed loudly.

  Liam coughed. How the hell did Dad hook up with her? She might share his interests, but damn, she’s a million times more expressive. I think she’s talked more than I heard my dad talk during my whole life.

  Liam decided to change the subject from his dad’s love life. “So, we’re safe here?” Liam asked, “You were wondering if we had a safe trip over here. It’s been pretty wild out there. I’m hoping Dad’s home can be a safe place to raise our family.”

  “Well, thanks to your dad’s hard work with the crops and animals, we can live off the land until you two are old and gray.” Camilla’s head bowed slightly toward her cup. “But the truth is, no one is really safe anymore, not even here.”

  “What do you mean?” Carla asked.

  Camilla curled up one of her fingers. “Your dad’s butted heads with a few people over the years. Some of them think he’s a crazy coot. Nothing really bad went down with them. But one man’s different. He’s like your dad’s evil twin. His name’s Derrick Wellinger. Guess your dad didn’t mention him, right?”

  Liam shook his head. “We really didn’t have a lot of time to catch up on the past thirty years.”

  “Well, it’s too bad we can’t bury Derrick in the past, but the truth is he’s become very dangerous recently.” Camilla sipped again. “Derrick and Conrad met maybe twenty years ago. The two of them got along well in the beginning. Derrick was another prepper. He had his own homestead off State Road 22. He bragged he was going to turn that place into his own little country if the U.S. ever got nuked or shut down.” She formed air quotes with her fingers. “The Republic of Wellinger.”

  Carla smirked. “This guy sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “You have no idea.” Camilla suddenly hiccupped. “Excuse me. At first, they seemed to share similar interests. But things went sour pretty quick. Conrad had good instincts. I knew he was successful in the city before he went off the grid. He didn’t leap for the cheapest land he could find. Derrick did.”

  “Sounds as though he really stepped in it,” Liam said.

  “Oh Lord, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Camilla laughed.

  “The land was far worse than Derrick thought. He didn’t bother to check the water table. He didn’t get more than a slight history of the land, so he didn’t know if it was a good crop producer. He didn’t even check the soil. It just had some good-looking trees and he figured he was up Easy Street for the price. Then during the first spring he found he couldn’t grow a damn thing.” Camilla’s eyes widened. “Then your dad offered to help.”

  “Didn’t turn out well?” Liam asked.

  “Derrick said no. Then he still couldn’t make the land fertile. Then he realized he’d have to empty out half his savings to re-till the land or accept Conrad’s help.” Camilla bit her lower lip. “He took some supplies, some fertilizer, and some seeds from him, then made it clear Conrad had to stay away from his property after that. Conrad didn’t care. Derrick never forgave your father for giving him charity.”

  “Sounds like this guy has ego issues,” Carla said.

  “It only got worse after that,” Camilla said. “Derrick’s rage just built. He knew he wasn’t in your dad’s league. He saw what Conrad had turned this property into, and it just bit him in the ass every time. Then the sun did its damage to our world. Now Derrick’s out to prove he’s not a failure. When I saw you two lovebirds show up, I was afraid Derrick sent you.” She sighed. “Thank God I didn’t do anything stupid, especially now that I know that Carla’s carrying.”

  “That’s why you came here,” Liam said, “You wanted to warn him.”

  “Warn him, sure. Actually, I was planning to stay and help defend the house. Two guns are better than one.” Camilla patted her hip. “Of course, I always said he shot better than me.”

  Carla turned to Liam and rolled her eyes. Liam wondered if Camilla still was talking about guns. “So, you expect Derrick to send somebody here?”

  Camilla’s expression turned a little grimmer. “I heard from a little birdie when I was bartering for seeds a few miles north. Derrick had put out the word that he was offering good land and crops if you had a good aim to offer him. Now, I know Derrick’s not talking about his land. I put two and two together and figured he might be looking to take some land for himself, by force.”

  Carla chewed on one of her fingernails. “Think he might come here?”

  Liam let out a sigh. “Son of a bitch.” He just knew things wouldn’t go this well for them.

  Camilla nodded. “Could be. Look, you two might want to consider bailing out of here. Maybe Derrick’s not that crazy, but if he is, you may have jumped out of a frying pan and into a blazing oven.”

  Liam leaned back in his chair. “Maybe. But where would we go? Any town we’d go to would be a wreck.”

  “Camp out in the woods, maybe?” Camilla asked.

  Liam shook his head. The thought of having to leave again terrified him, and this time out into the unknown. At least when he had left Dad, he was heading to a comfortable and supposedly secure house.

  “Look, we don’t know for sure that this Derrick is coming here to start trouble. Maybe we should wait a little while. Besides, Dad might show up. If Carla and I leave, he won’t know where to find us.”

  Camilla smiled. “Truth is, I’d like to have some company under this roof.” Looking up at the ceiling, she sighed. “It’s damn lonely without Conrad.” Then she looked at them. “Hey, why should I be spooking you with stories like that?” Camilla then rose from her chair. “Let me gather all this up. You two must be tuckered out.”

  Camilla took the glasses to the kitchen. Carla then scooted her seat close to Liam. “What do you think?”

  Liam sat back in his chair. “About what? Pick your topic, I think there’s a bunch of them.”

  Carla chuckled. “About Derrick, and that our butts may not be safe.”

  Liam gave it a little thought. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Carla. “But God knows I’d rather stick around here than try finding somewhere out in a city or town filled with psychos who may want to blow our brains out.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m tired of running around. I want someplace normal for us. And this is probably the best it’ll ever get.”

  Carla scooted a little closer. “I think this place is great.” She wrapped her arms around Liam. “And I don’t want to run any more either.”

  Liam bowed his head, leaning it in Carla’s direction. “I wish Dad was here. And Mom. I want them both back.”

  Carla leaned in a little closer and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure your dad will be back soon.” Then she chuckled. “Oh my God, this is going to be awkward.”

  Liam looked up. “Why?”

  Carla chuckled. “Think about it. Your dad, his ex, his ex’s boyfriend, and your dad’s girlfriend, under one roof. What do you think that’s going to be like?”

  Liam sucked in his lower lip. “Maybe we should just build a log cabin in the woods and live there.”

  Carla laughed.

  Lance pedaled as fast as he could, but so far State Road 22 had nothing to offer him but more fields on either side. Where was this turnoff he was supposed to find?

  Damn, I hope I didn’t miss it! Lance’s arms quaked with rage at the thought. The monotony of this journey could have dulled his senses so much that he might not have noticed the turnoff as he passed by. He was reduced to daydreaming about his old life as if he was watching reruns of a reality TV show. He thought of his last birthday, his twenty-second, and how he had guzzled cake, potato chips, and beer.

  His mouth started to water. Those were three things he knew he’d never get to taste ever again. Lance swore loudly. Why’d he have to be born now, in this time, if this kind of hard life was all
he had to look forward to?

  He shook his head, flinging sweat off his brow. No, he hadn’t reached the turnoff yet. The journey was thirty miles. He hadn’t pedaled that far yet. He knew what pedaling a long way felt like. He had tried reaching another town once, about forty miles west, only to turn back when he heard barking dogs in the distance. A refugee at one of the camps told horror stories about survivors being attacked by feral animals, and Lance sure as hell didn’t want to risk that.

  Lance’s stomach started rumbling, no longer satisfied with the crackers he had eaten a while ago. Food. Dammit, he needed to eat. No, he had to keep going. If he stopped, he feared he wouldn’t be able to climb back on and start again. Besides, he was out of food. He had no choice but to press on.

  So, he pushed onward for another agonizing hour. His vision started to blur. His deprived body protested loudly.

  Grass, he thought. Maybe I’ll just munch on some grass. That should shut my stomach up.

  Then, just when he was seriously going to stop to look for some grass to eat, he discovered the turnoff. He laughed loudly. This trip wouldn’t be for nothing after all.

  He made the turn. Hope gave him that extra burst of energy to speed up, even though the road’s incline made going fast slightly dangerous.

  As he crossed onto a flat, wide-open field, he discovered a fence stretched out before him. A tall, pudgy man stood in front of it, holding up a hand. Lance got the message and slowed down. Then he stopped, but was so weak he actually tumbled off and spilled onto the grass.

  Lance panted wildly. The agony of the journey finally had caught up with him. It was almost impossible to roll onto his side, yet he managed it. The man at the fence simply stared at him.

  Why isn’t he helping me? Lance thought as he pushed himself onto his palms. From there he finally sat up before climbing to his feet. His legs quivered. He had to spread his legs a little to keep from falling over.

  “So, what’s your story?” the man asked without a hint of concern.

  Lance wiped loose grass off his jeans. “I-I’ve come a long way.”

  “Yeah, I get that. What are you here for?”

  Lance straightened up. “To find work. I was told that Wellinger needed a strong hand. I could have food, water, and a place to stay.”

  “You heard right.” The tall man finally approached him. “You bring a piece with you?”

  “A piece of what?”

  “You know, a piece. A gun.”

  Lance shook his head. “I don’t have anything except a few clothes.”

  The man suddenly drew a pistol from behind his back. Lance froze. “Hey! What the hell is this? You’re not actually going to shoot me?”

  The man didn’t react for a whole minute. Fresh sweat poured down Lance’s face. Then, the man laughed as he turned the pistol around, the handle facing Lance.

  “A little joke. The gun’s not loaded. But you’re prepared to use it, right?”

  Lance nodded. “If I have to.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.” He offered it to him. “Name’s George. Friends call me Big G.”

  “I’m Lance Wilkins.” He took the gun. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I was beginning to wonder if anyone else would answer Mister Wellinger’s call. We did our best to put the word out.” George popped the gate open. “You’ll find there’s a few more of us here. Mister Wellinger will be by very soon, and he’ll let you know what you need that gun for.”

  Lance followed George a short way until George came to a stop. Lance looked around, finding five more men all standing, sitting on crates, or leaning on the fence. A red-bricked homestead lay a short walk away.

  “Here we are.” George grinned. “Stick around. Relax. This is where Mister Wellinger wants us to meet.”

  Putting his weapon under his belt, Lance frowned. With the short grass and bare spots of just dirt, this land didn’t look fertile at all. It didn’t look like anything that could grow a lot of food, and it certainly didn’t compare to the farms back in Lance’s hometown. So, where was the food for the workers going to come from? Did Wellinger have a supply line from better farms?

  Lance also took noticed that every man here was armed. Some had handguns on their belts, while others carried rifles. That probably wasn’t unusual given how violent the outside world had become, but George seemed particularly interested in whether Lance was armed. Clearly, guns were part of Wellinger’s upcoming task for them.

  “Oh, one more thing.” George then turned around and whistled. One of the men sitting on a crate reached beside it and picked up a plate wrapped in a plastic covering. Then he handed it to George, who handed it to Lance.

  Lance couldn’t believe it. Under that wrapping was a plate of dirty rice, meat, corn and potatoes! He almost wept with joy.

  George grinned. “Mister Wellinger is like our own personal Messiah.” George spread his arms. “He’s going to lead us to the Promised Land.”

  Lance looked around. Two of the men had heard George and nodded in agreement.

  “Dig in.” George slapped Lance’s arm. “You’ll need your strength. Mister Wellinger will be by with our mission.”

  Lance began unwrapping the plastic, but then stopped. “Mission?”

  “That’s what I said. It’s going to be exciting.” George then winked before walking off.

  Lance eyed the weapon he was just given. He couldn’t imagine what he would be asked to do with it, but after the hell he had endured the last few days, he flat out didn’t care what would be asked of him.

  Chapter Ten

  Conrad kept close to the wall as Marco walked by. Conrad feared any moment now that Marco would turn and spot him. But Marco didn’t look in Conrad’s direction or behaved as if he had no regard for anything around him except the straight path ahead to the open doorway.

  Marco, yeah, it’s got to be him, Conrad thought. Tom had described Marco a little during their journey to the warehouse district, and it seemed to make perfect sense. Looking at him, he looked every bit the thug Conrad had imagined him to be.

  In fact, Marco looked even worse now. Judging from the man’s appearance, he had been through hell. He walked with a limp in his right leg and his right pant leg was torn near the thigh. The look on Marco’s face was particularly horrifying. The skin under his right eye was dark, perhaps from an injury. A bruise marred his left cheek. His eyes were locked ahead of him, and they seemed almost demonic.

  By now Marco had passed Conrad. Thanks to Marco’s slow walk, he wouldn’t be at the front door in less than a couple of minutes.

  This fellow looks like bad news, Conrad thought. He thought of the gun in his right hand. Marco’s back was turned to Conrad. Conrad easily could take him out. If he was the one who stole Sarah away, then Conrad sure as hell ought to plug him for what he had done.

  Maybe. But the sound of a gunshot also could draw in the men from the outside. They could flood into the warehouse, and Conrad could end up with a firefight on his hands.

  Marco now was much closer to the door. Conrad decided to risk approaching him. He stepped out from his hiding spot and hurried to the next bit of scaffolding. Then he slipped inside. Marco didn’t turn around.

  Conrad was close enough to get a good view outside the door. He spotted some of the women, along with the three men with guns, plus Jack Sorenson on the far end.

  Only three? Maybe the explosion took a lot of them out, or they’re scattered around the grounds looking for me and Tom. In any case, the odds didn’t seem quite so bad.

  Suddenly, his radio buzzed. Conrad quickly grabbed it. He didn’t need Marco to hear that. He turned and held the radio close to his ear.

  “Conrad! Conrad, do you read?” Tom whispered.

  “Yeah. What’s changed?” Conrad asked.

  “I spotted a couple of men on the other side going back inside. Looks as though they may be easing back into the building. The smoke from your bombs looks like it’s dying down.”

&n
bsp; “Damn,” Conrad muttered. Maggiano’s men may be deciding that the fire isn’t a real threat to the building, and they can start herding the captives back inside. He couldn’t put this off any longer.

  “Tom, I want you to close in and shoot one of the gunmen. Maybe the girls will run free.” Conrad stood up and faced the open door. Marco just was stepping over the threshold into the open air.

  “You want me to open fire?” Tom asked with evident apprehension.

  “If the women don’t flee, I’ll at least have just a few to deal with,” Conrad said.

  “Conrad, are you sure?”

  “Do it now!” Conrad shouted, and then slapped the radio back on his belt as he quickened his pace toward the door.

  A raging inferno of anger burned between Marco’s ears. It fueled his battered body with the energy it needed to push that debris off his body, walk past the flaming wreckage, and leave the room before he succumbed to the smoke. He didn’t care to check in any of the rooms in the barracks, even the ones that had been damaged in the blast. If he heard any cries for help from the men’s barracks, they didn’t register. His ears still were ringing slightly, even after he had climbed his way out of that room. He might have suffered some hearing loss because of the explosion.

  If he had, it’d just be another reason to blow Jack’s brains out.

  The fact that Maggiano was killed in the cave-in was a bonus. Now Marco didn’t have to worry about being under the crime boss’s thumb any longer. That indignity was removed, plus Marco got to enjoy a taste of revenge for Maggiano having his boys strip him naked in that office to verify Molly’s “description” of her attacker. In one fell swoop, everyone who had wronged him was dead. All but one.

  And once Marco splattered Jack’s brains across the concrete, he’d take over Maggiano’s empire. He’d possess all the women, the armed men, the weapons, and the food. And last, but not least, the city of Redmond.

  But first thing’s first. Jack was going to die.

  Marco emerged out the door. The women all had evacuated out into the open. Jack was on the end of the procession, chatting with a woman in a red dress. Marco couldn’t make out what Jack was saying, but the nodding of the man’s head, the smile on Jack’s face, told him that Jack once again was working his magic on the women. It just enraged Marco even more.