The Survivalist: Madness Rules Part 7

"A time or two," he said, extending his hand.

John stuffed the Commander into his waistband and grabbed Mason's hand. Jules dropped to the ground a few feet away and rushed over to help. When they finally got John out, Mason took a quick look at his wound. The bullet had pa.s.sed through the upper thigh. There was still a little blood oozing out, but it hadn't nicked the femoral artery or splintered any bone-a through and through as people were apt to call it.

"Not my finest moment," said John.

"It happens. Can you put weight on it?"

He stood up straight, wincing slightly from the pain.

"I won't win any races, but I can walk."

Mason did a quick a.s.sessment. Night was nearly upon them. The chances that John could hobble his way back to Mason's truck before the town's bloodthirsty residents came calling seemed slim.

"We're going to have to make a hard choice here."

Jules stepped over to her husband, and he draped his arm across her shoulders for support.

"We're not leaving John, even if I have to carry him the whole way," she said.

"Understood. So, either we all try to make it or Bowie and I run for the truck." He didn't have to tell them that neither option was without risk.

John and Jules looked to one another and, without saying a word, seemed to arrive at the same conclusion.

"We'll only slow you down, Marshal," she said. "You go, and we'll hold out here until you get back. We made it last night by hiding John in the car and my going up top. They did their awful best to get to me, but apparently they're not the best climbers."

He nodded. "If it worked last night, it should work for at least the next few minutes. Just keep quiet and try not to draw any undue attention."

"Does that mean I have to get back in the trunk?" John asked, looking at the oil-stained carpet and rusty tools lining the floorboard.

Jules stared up at the tower of crushed cars.

"Are you strong enough to climb?"

He sighed. "No."

She placed her hand on the lid of the trunk.

"Then you've got your answer."

CHAPTER.

5.

After driving the flatbed truck a mile down Wilc.o.x Road, Tanner and Samantha came across a small auto service center with two gas pumps out front. The hose and handle from one of the pumps had been torn away and was lying on the asphalt nearby. The other pump, however, looked to be in pretty good shape.

Three red plastic tanks sat to one side of the building, as did a bulldozer, a dump truck, and several huge piles of freshly dug dirt. It appeared as if the service station owners had been in the process of installing new fuel tanks.

"We should check for gas," he said, easing the truck into the small parking lot.

Samantha looked over her shoulder at the road behind them.

"Okay, but let's hurry."

"You still feel like someone's watching us?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's just been a while since we had to deal with anything awful. It seems like we're past due."

"Don't jinx us," he said, swinging open the truck's heavy door. "You coming?"

"Of course," she said, grabbing her rifle.

In addition to the two pumps, the service station consisted of a repair shop and an attached auto parts store. The sign for the store was lying on the ground, white shards of broken gla.s.s all around it. Two cats lay next to the sign, staring up at them as they approached.

"Here, kitty kitty," Samantha said, holding her hand out like she had a treat.

The smaller of the two cats, an orange tabby, immediately darted around the corner of the building. The other, a big black tomcat, rose up and hissed, refusing to give ground. Tanner stepped forward and flung it away with his boot. It tumbled along the ground, scrambled to its feet, and ran after the first cat.

"That wasn't nice," she said, leaning around the corner to see where they had gone.

"It was time he learned a lesson."

"What?" she snorted. "That convicts are mean?"

"That he needs to choose his fights more carefully."

Tanner gave the front door a tug. It rattled but didn't open. He peeked in through the gla.s.s but could only make out a counter and a few items lying on the floor.

"I see a couple of gas cans in there. Even if they're empty, they could come in handy."

Samantha slung her rifle over her shoulder and wandered over to the shop's rollup door. She reached down and pulled up on the small handle. To her surprise, the door slid up a few inches.

"Here," she said.

Tanner hurried over with his shotgun at the ready. He motioned for her to take a step back, and then shoved the door all the way up. Inside the shop was a large pneumatic lift surrounded by tool chests and rolling carts. Beneath the lift was a rectangular pit used by service technicians to drain oil and other fluids. Dozens of tires, most of them with stickers still on their treads, were stacked along the far wall. A quart of fresh oil lay spilled on the concrete floor from where someone had driven over it.

He led them through the shop and into the small parts store. A waist-high counter was stacked full of boxes with names like Bosch, Holly, and Champion. Behind the counter were six tall shelves, most of them empty except for a few gray plastic bins. He poked around a bit, finding an a.s.sortment of car parts... spark plugs, hoses, brake pads. Great for a hobbyist wanting to build a homemade dune buggy but not much use for a post-apocalyptic traveler who hopped from car to car.

Just inside the door sat the two small gas cans he had seen from the window. He checked them. Empty. He was about to toss one to Samantha when he caught movement coming up from behind her.

"Down!" he shouted, swinging his shotgun in her direction.

Samantha dropped to her knees, fumbling to get the rifle off her shoulder.

A dark-haired woman in her early twenties hurried in through the door. She wore blue jeans and a skin tight white t-s.h.i.+rt with the words "Got Milk" screen printed on the front. The s.h.i.+rt was so thin that Tanner had trouble pulling his eyes away from the enormous nipples protruding beneath. From the worried look on the woman's face, she was in some kind of trouble.

Tanner lowered his shotgun as Samantha scrambled over to him.

"Help me," the woman gasped, rus.h.i.+ng toward them.

"Easy there," he said, holding his hand out to act as a barrier. "What's going on?"

She never slowed her advance, and Tanner was unsure of exactly what to do. Before he knew it, she was at him, hands and b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing firmly against his chest.

"Please," she begged, "help me."

"Help you what?"

"Help me," Nipples repeated, pulling at his s.h.i.+rt. Her eyes were wide with panic, but there was an odd smile tickling the corners of her mouth.

"Lady, I don't know what kind of crazy you're selling, but we're not buying." He turned to Samantha. "Grab one of those gas cans, and let's get out of here."

She did as instructed, never taking her eyes or her rifle off the strange woman.

Tanner heard the quick patter of footsteps coming from outside the building. He stepped over to the window and saw two men darting away.

"You've got to save me," Nipples said, pulling at his arm. "They're after me."

Tanner tightened his grip on the shotgun. Something didn't feel right.

"Step the h.e.l.l away from me," he said, stiff-arming her back a few steps.

"Fine," she spat, "be like that." Without another word, she whirled around and marched out of the building, like she had just caught her husband in bed with their babysitter.

"What was that all about?" asked Samantha.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. Sit tight while I check it out."

As Tanner stepped out of the small repair shop, he saw Nipples hurrying toward an old yellow taxi cab that had pulled up alongside the store. The same two men he had seen running away were sitting in the front seat. He glanced over at the flatbed truck. His and Samantha's packs were both missing.

"Hold it!" he shouted, bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder.

Nipples glanced back but continued running.

He squeezed the trigger, sending a load of buckshot over her head.

"Next one will be in your b.u.t.t!"

She stopped, looking back and forth between him and the men in the taxi. Before she could make up her mind, the car sped away, heading south on Wilc.o.x Road.

Tanner heard Samantha coming up from behind him.

"What's going on?"

"d.a.m.n thieves stole our packs."

Samantha looked over at the truck and then back at the woman who stood in the parking lot with her arms crossed.

"They're just backpacks," she said, putting a calming hand on Tanner's arm.

"No," he said, "they were more than that. They were everything we had in this G.o.dforsaken world." He walked toward the woman, letting the shotgun slowly lower. "Darlin', you got some explaining to do."

When he got to within a few feet, the woman puffed up like she was about to proclaim her innocence. By the time Tanner realized that she had something in her hand, it was too late. The blade licked against his side, cutting through his s.h.i.+rt and opening a small gash along his side. Thankfully, the knife slid off his ribs, never penetrating deeper than the skin.

Tanner instinctively struck out, hitting her in the face with his left fist. The blow was more of a reactionary pop than a full-powered punch, but it caught her squarely in the eye, and she went down hard.

Samantha walked up next to him and touched the unconscious woman with her foot. When she didn't move, Samantha turned to Tanner and shook her head.

"What?" he said. "She started it."

Samantha stood watch over the unconscious woman like she was guarding a prisoner of war. They had dragged Nipples into the parts room, but she had yet to stir.

"Are you sure you didn't kill her?"

"Is her chest moving?" he asked, taking a second look through the boxes of parts for anything that might be useful.

"I'm not really sure," she said. "It's so big it's hard to tell."

Tanner laughed. "Trust me, she's alive."

"What are we going to do with her?"

"Aha," he said, holding up a thick roll of duct tape.

"What's that for?"

"Taping her up."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because they'll be coming back for her."

"What makes you think that?"

Tanner walked over, rolled the woman onto her belly, and secured her hands and feet.

"Because," he said, "women like this don't get left behind. Not for long, anyway."