American Apocalypse IV - Heartland Chapter 8c

I told Thursday "Go get one of them midget honor guards and tell them to find Zane and bring him here." I smiled at Mr. Lowell and said "You don't have a problem with that do you?"  He was looking a little ill and just nodded his head in agreement. "Good" I told him.  I added "We just had a misunderstanding...didn't we?" He nodded again. I let him go and stepped away from him. He looked like he was going to bark any second.

I smiled at Mrs. Greene. She didn't return it. Instead she snarled and said "You wait. You heathen, foreigner loving, terrorist piece of crap. You wait..." She shut up. Not because of me. Mr. Greene was giving her the death glare though I didn't find it all that scary. I told her, speaking quietly, "Talk to me like that again and Mr. Lowell  will be cleaning your head off the wall with a sponge." She looked like the type that keeping her mouth shut was something she wasn't accustomed too. I gave her ten minutes before I painted the wall with her poor excuse of a brain.

Thursday strode into the office. He was perking up. I guess the old guy enjoyed this. It had to be better than sitting around in a village outpost watching a lot of nothing go by. I also noticed the gloves he had tucked into his WWF belt were now on his hands and the hammer was out and being carried.  The hammer looked different too. It was lighter in color but it was inside illumination rather than a metallic shine.  Mr Lowell was gripping the counter edge tightly but his color was better.

"What's up Thursday?"

"One of the little men went to find him. He will bring him here."

"Thanks Thursday."

I looked at Mrs. Greene and asked her "Got anything to say?"

She opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shut it.  I laughed.

Two minutes later I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Light ones. Kid sounding ones. Honor Guard kid came in and saluted the room, he said "Corporal Zane Morton is here." He then did a snappy about face and left. Probably back to his post.  That's when Zane stepped in the room, saluted, and said "Reporting as ordered sir." 

I stared at him. He wasn't much to look at. Just a scrawny kid in a green t-shirt and khaki shorts. His corporal stripes had been drawn his t-shirt sleeve with a black magic marker. There was just a couple problems that I was trying to process and I was having difficulty doing it.  The flow in the room changed when he entered. Not just a little. A lot.  He didn't have any African American ancestry. At least not in the last 40,000 years or so. No, that I was certain of. What was also I was certain of was I knew who his daddy was. It just didn't seem possible. I tried doing the math in my head but it wouldn't compute. I was looking at Max's son.

American Apocalypse IV - Heartland Chapter 6d

One of the reasons his truck had caught my eye was the two silver rams heads on the hood. He caught me looking at them and said "Yeah, this is a Dodge times two. I added them myself." and he laughed. He went on to say  "I like to think of them as goats though. All right now.  Let me pull out. You can load them dogs up in back and hop in." As he walked around the front of the truck I noticed he had put on his WWF belt and the hammer was riding inside a loop in it. I thought about that as he got in and shut the truck door.  "Don't let him get to close" was my conclusion. Armor or no armor. Helmet or no helmet. Getting smacked with a sledge hammer was going to hurt.

He tossed his gloves in and started it up. I recognized that sound. The chitter of a diesel engine running.  Then he hit the gas. That didn't sound like Chiefs diesels. I stepped back to let the smoke it was blowing out the exhaust dissipate. I was used to weird smells coming out of diesels because Chief ran ours on whatever he could find. This had a darker, almost like what iron smells likes scent.  I liked this smell better. Sometimes Chiefs diesels exhaust made me hungry. Especially when he was using peanut oil.

I dropped the tailgate and told Woof "Hop in Woof." I was surprised. He leaped in like he had been doing it all his life.  The rest of the pack, except for one followed him right in. The exception was the one who had been scratched by the ricochet. He hesitated, then looked up at me with a sad look. I yelled "Get in the fucking truck!" He jumped in. I closed the gate, and walked around to the passenger side thinking "That numb nut actually thought I would help him up."  I climbed in, sat back and looked around. Everything had been redone in leather including the dashboard except for the floorboards. They had untanned deer skin on them.

"Nice ride" I told him.

He grinned "Yep. Can't beat a '89 W 250 Cummins Turbo Diesel. Got a  Powerstroke intercooler, S300G turbo, with pryo and boost, and a 727 tranny."

"No shit" I replied.  Mentally I sighed and thought "A gear head. Jeebus."

He nodded solemnly and replied "Yep. No shit."

"So what are using for fuel?" I asked him.

"Blood." he replied, then put the truck into gear, looked over at me, winked, an added "Christian when I can get it."

Thanks to LA Confederate for the diesel help.

American Apocalypse IV - Heartland - Chapter 2

They were on foot, and far enough away that the heat from the asphalt made them look like they were emerging from the ocean. They did not look like a crack unit of road warriors from here, but they had survived this long so they had to have something going for them.

"Okay. I'm going to stand in the middle of the  road. If they keep coming we will see if they want to talk. If they scatter then we hunt them down."  I looked at Ricky and Loco. They were okay with that.

I strolled out into the middle of the road and watched them approach.  In the background I heard Ricky and Loco take up positions on either side of me. Ricky had a car to take cover behind. Loco had to make do with flopping in the grass on the side of the road. I was carrying a Marlin 30-30 on a leather sling over my shoulder. It was also known as the Appalachian AK. I liked it, but I figured I would be swapping it out for a real wood stock AK or M-14 as soon as I found one. I wasn't a big fan of rifles but they had they were useful when you had to really reach out for someone.

I reached in my shirt pocket and stuck the two cigarette butts I kept there in each ear. My hearing was good, real good, thanks to Freya.  That had turned out to be a mixed blessing.  My vision, which was always good, was better too. Cigarette butts in the ears was my new idea. I had yet to test them but I figured anything had to help. My head really rang the last few times I had to slap leather and the headaches were a bitch afterward. It was easier to find gold nowadays then a couple of aspirin. Shelli wanted me to look for willow trees while we were out here because they grew aspirin or something. I had just pretended like I hadn't heard her. You start going down that road with people and you would end taking requests for all kinds of shit. I don't do personal shopper very well.

While my mind was running random crap like that through it the rest of my brain was watching the people approaching. One old man with gray hair and a really good old testament prophet beard. He was walking in front and had spotted me about a minute ago. A young guy, long hair and a decent beard also was pulling a garden cart with a tarp covered load. Off to one side was an even younger kid with no beard, probably because he didn't have the juice to grow one yet. They were all armed. Cart Puller had something slung over his shoulder. I couldn't tell what it was and a handgun on his hip. Grandpa had a handgun and a genuine black plastic assault rifle of some sort. Youngster had a shotgun and no handgun that I could see. They were all wearing knives. No body armor that I could tell. Decent boots and each one had a day pack.  This might be interesting.