by Davis, James
“I don’t give a rats ass about your life!” Sharp said as he slammed his cup down on the table and got up. He walked around to the crystal decanter and poured himself another drink. He slammed the drink back and turned back to the soldier who was still standing with his back to Sharp. Sharp walked behind his desk and pulled open the top drawer.
“I guess if you want something done you have to do it yourself!” Sharp growled before pulling a nickel-plated revolver out of a drawer and pointing it at the back of the soldier’s head. Before the soldier had a chance to respond, Sharp fired a single round. The man was dead before he hit the floor.
Sharp placed the revolver gently on the desk and turned toward the window behind him. He stepped over and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood next to an American flag and peered out the window silently for a long moment before speaking.
“Diaz, have one of your grunts get this shit cleaned up and then meet me at the chopper. We’re going back to Tennessee!”
Clay and Hank pulled up to the front of a Walgreens and stopped. Clay pointed at the shattered front doors and snapped his fingers, Sarge jumped down from the bed of the truck and darted inside. Clay pulled the truck around to the back of the store and parked. They got out and stacked up at the back door, waiting for Sarge to clear the building. Clay eased the door open and waited. After a handful of minutes Clay heard a faint bark.
“Alright that’s our signal.” Clay said as he flung the door all the way open and moved inside, rifle raised and ready for a fight. Sarge came around the corner and looked up at Clay. His tongue was hanging out of the side of his mouth and he was panting pretty hard. Clay reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears before patting him on the side.
“Good boy, now stack up.” Clay said as they went through and cleared the building for a second time.
“I didn’t know Sarge was trained like that.” Hank said.
“What did you expect? He was a war dog.” Clay replied. Hank just shrugged it off as they cleared the last room.
“Alright, you go find the over the counter stuff and I’ll see if there is anything left in the pharmacy.” Clay said. Hank didn’t reply, he just headed deeper into the store. Clay climbed over the pharmacy counter and looked around. The shelves were almost completely empty. He quickly looked around at all the shelves but didn’t find anything. He switched his rifles tac light on and swept the beam of light across the floor. At the very bottom of the front shelves were red baskets full of prescriptions that had been filled. Clay shook his head at the pure stupidity of the previous looters that had searched the place for drugs. He set his rifle down on the counter with the light aimed toward the wall above the baskets.
“Sarge, on guard.” Clay said as he started grabbing baskets and setting them on the counter. Sarge barked and sat on his haunches watching for any sign of trouble. Clay started tearing open the prescription bags and checking each medication inside. He found several bottles of Amoxicillin along with a ton of pain killers and other medications. He grabbed one of the small shopping baskets next to the counter and started tossing everything in it. He still needed to find the flu shots. The antibiotics would help, but they had to have those shots. The flu was deadly without modern day hospitals and doctors. He looked out across the store and saw beams of sunlight shining through the doors. He could hear Hank shuffling through the one of the aisles as he hopped back over the counter. Clay clicked his tongue twice and instructed Sarge to follow him. He hardly ever used Sarge in this way, as a tool because he figured the dog had been through enough already.
“Hank, where ya at?” Clay said loud enough that Hank would hear him but not so loud that someone outside could hear him.
“I’m over here! aisle nine!” Hank shouted at the top of his lungs causing Clay to wince. He found the correct aisle and started down it toward Hank.
“Think you could be a bit louder next time?” Clay asked in a sarcastic tone.
“You know what I probably could if y…” Hank started, getting louder with each word.
“Very funny smartass. You find anything good over here?”
“I found a few things. Jerky, chips, candy, nothing too fancy. What about you?”
“I hit the motherload. Seems the criminals were too stupid to grab the filled scripts. I got a ton of painkillers and Amoxicillin, but no flu shots.” Clay said.
“Let’s load up and go down the street to the CVS.” Hank replied. Ten minutes later they went through the same routine, Sarge went in first followed by Clay and then Hank. They cleared the rooms and then stopped to have a closer look at the place. The shelves were knocked over and the front wall looked as if a grenade had hit it.
“Come on, let’s hurry up and get the hell out of here. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this place.” Hank said. A few minutes later they were getting back in the truck empty handed.
“Well that was a bust.” Clay said as they drove around to the front of the store.
“Stop the truck!” Hank said in a frantic tone.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Clay replied as he applied pressure to the brakes. Hank jumped out and ran over to the front door, which was barely hanging on by a single hinge. He snatched something off of the door and turned back to look at Clay as the color drained from his face.
“What is it?” Clay asked again as he watched Hank walk back to the truck. He climbed in and handed Clay a single sheet of paper. Clay looked down at the paper and felt a shiver run up his spine. On the paper was a picture of Clay and Hank with writing on the top and bottom of the paper that stated that there was a reward of 50,000 rounds of 5.56 ammo and six months of food for anyone that captures Clay and Hank Mitchell alive and brings them to the Fort Alvis front gates.
“Signed by President Sharp. How the hell does he know that we’re back here?” Clay said, his voice full of anger.
“One of those damn U.N. pricks must have gotten away in the middle of the ambush.” Hank replied.
“We need to get back and ask the rest of those assholes some questions!” Clay said as he shoved the truck into gear. They spent the next few hours searching for another store that had a pharmacy. Finally, when they were about to give up their search Hank spotted a small mom and pop pharmacy on the edge of town.
“Over there.” Hank said pointing across a field to a small block building. Smithfield Drugs sat next to a pawnshop and across the street was a Save-a-Lot food store that looked like it had been picked clean. Clay stopped out in front of the drug store and got out with Sarge right behind him. The store looked like it hadn’t been looted yet which was a good sign, they’d have to remember to come back this direction when they needed to make a supply run. As they approached the front door, they spotted another one of the wanted posters. Clay ripped the poster off of the door and turned back to Hank.
“How the hell did they even print these damn things?” Clay asked. Hank shrugged and started to reply when the sound of a bell jingling caught their attention. Before Clay could turn around, he felt the cold steel of a shotgun press against the back of his head.
“You move and I’ll send you straight to hell boy! Nod if you understand what I’m saying.” The raspy voice said. Clay nodded and just stood there waiting for the man to make his next move.
“Martha, get their guns!” The man said. A few seconds later a short plump woman with silver hair and green eyes stepped around in front of them holding a hand cannon. The Smith and Wesson 500 Magnum pressed firmly against Hank’s chest as she stared directly into his eyes and began tossing his guns to the ground with practiced ease. When she finished, the man behind him cleared his throat and said.
“Let’s get them inside, hun.” They guided them into the store and Clay started looking for a quick way out of this situation. He had no doubt that Hank was doing the same thing. The store shelves had been pushed against each wall so they were out of the way. A single queen size mattress lay in the middle of the floor and a bed sheet was hung up from the floor to the ce
iling in the corner of the room. Flies buzzed around in the corner and the store smelled terrible. Clay assumed that the corner was where they had been using the bathroom. The man must have seen the look on Clay and Hank’s faces because he quickly got their attention.
“Clay and Hank Mitchell.” The man said with a huge smile on his face.
“You boys are worth a pretty little penny.”
“Look sir, we don’t want any trouble. Whatever you’ve heard about us from that idiot Sharp, it’s not true. He killed my wife and enslaved my entire group after taking our farm. The man has to die.” Clay replied.
“I don’t give two shits about your bitch wife or your farm! You assholes are terrorists and you will pay for what you’ve done to this country!” The man spat back. Anger burned inside of Clay and the man could see it in Clay’s eyes.
“You think them hard looks scare me boy?” he said, thumping Clay in the forehead. Clay clenched his fists and ground his teeth as the anger now flowed through him like the life blood in his veins. This man was going to be begging for his life if Clay ever caught him slipping. The man thumped Clay in the head once more.
“I asked you a question boy!” he said, thumping him even harder for the third time. It took everything Clay had to squash his anger back down so he didn’t himself or Hank killed.
“That’s alright, you can keep playing the tough guy routine. Them U.N. boys will show you just how tough you ain’t!” The man cackled before turning back to Martha.
“Go close the door, I got these two.” Martha set the large pistol on the counter and waddled her way to the door. When she got a few feet from the door Clay turned his head and shouted.
“ATTACK!” Sarge barreled into the room and launched himself at the woman. Sarge latched on to her throat and the two crashed to the floor. Growling and gurgling sounds filled the room as Sarge ripped and tore at the woman’s throat and face.
“Martha!” The man screamed, as he aimed the gun at Sarge. As soon as the gun was off of Clay, he jerked the KBAR from the sheath on his hip and slammed it up through the man's upper arm, causing the gun to fall to the ground. Before the man could scream, Hank’s blade sank to the hilt in the man's side. Clay stepped back and shouted.
“Heel!” Sarge’s attack stopped immediately and Clay turned back to see Hank step in, give his blade a hard twist, and then jerked it back out as he stared directly into the man’s widened eyes. When he didn’t fall to the floor Hank took his blade and shoved it up into his gut several times and then stepped back and swiped it across the man’s throat. Blood spurted from the man’s neck with each heartbeat but he still didn’t fall to the floor.
“Well this bastard is a tough old coot ain’t he?” Hank said before taking a step forward and kicking the man in the chest like a scene right out of the movie 300.
“Hey Leonidas, are you done?” Clay asked in a mocking tone as he wiped the blood away from Sarge’s face with a shirt he grabbed from the floor.
“You’re welcome.” Hank replied. Clay just shook his head. Usually he was the crazy one but Hank had gone off the deep end this time. They searched the store and found shelves full of flu medications from Tamiflu to Zanamivir.
“Hell yeah!” Clay said, pumping his arm up and down.
“Grab that trash bag.” he added. Hank knelt down and grabbed the large black bag from the trash can and dumped the contents out before he held it open for Clay to start raking in the various medications. The packages and bottles of the flu medications were easy to stack in a shopping basket. After grabbing it all they packed everything into the truck and headed back to the farm.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“We’re going to have to watch our asses here on out. At least until we take care of Sharp. Every bad guy from here to D.C. is going to be on the hunt for us with that kind of reward being offered.” Hank said as he stared out of the window. This was truly a terrible situation to be in. Sharp would send an army to the farm to get them. If they stayed at the farm it would endanger everyone’s lives, and there was absolutely no way they would allow that to happen.
The answer was simple. They had to get out of there and get spotted staying somewhere else so Sharp didn’t send his army to the farm. The only problem with that was finding somewhere they could be spotted without surrendering themselves to the soldiers at Fort Alvis.
They pulled up to the front gate of the farm and waited on the guard to open it. Once they were inside, they quickly jumped out and took off toward the bunker to get Bailey. She was sitting at the kitchen table talking with Bear and Johnny, all three were wearing painters’ masks.
“We found a ton of meds and flu shots!” Hank said as they crossed the room.
“That’s great but you two should not be down here without masks on. Have a seat and let me give you guys the first shots.” Bailey said as she stood up and pointed to her chair.
Clay sat and watched as she stuck the needle into the vial and pulled back on the plunger. The liquid filled the syringe and she quickly turned and sank the needle into Clay’s bicep.
“Ouch! You could have warned me first!” Clay said, as he rubbed the knot in his arm. As soon as she was done, Clay went and got Karen and the kids. Clay scooped Emma up and sat down with her on his lap. He started talking to her and keeping her attention on him as Bailey quickly stuck the needle in. It was over before Emma could even turn her head, but she didn’t cry. Not even once.
Hank tried to do the same with Toby but as soon as Bailey stuck him with the needle his face twisted in a mask of complete anguish and he screamed at the top of his lungs as if someone had just stabbed him with a knife. After the kids were done, Bailey got to work vaccinating everyone else.
As Hank and Clay left the bunker, a cold breeze blew across the farm stirring up autumn leaves. The leaves swirled into the air, rotating like a small cyclone before dispersing and floating gently back to the ground. They looked around, and spotted Dub leaving the barn. Jeff and Randy had spent the last few days transforming the large building back into Dub's workshop.
Clay raised his hand in the air waving it side to side, attempting to get Dub's attention. Dub noticed the men and started walking toward them. Clay and Hank jogged together over to the old man.
"You boys alright?" Dub asked as they caught up to him.
"We need to show you something." Clay said
Dub stared at them for a moment before throwing his arms up. "Well, let’s see it boy. I ain't got all day."
"Not here, don't need everybody all riled up." Clay replied.
"Well, let's step into my office." Dub grinned, motioning for the men to follow him and turning to walk toward the barn. Clay and Hank followed him.
"Where’s Jeff and Randy?" Hank asked, realizing he hadn't seen them since yesterday.
"Sent ‘em out huntin. Told ‘em not to come back til they could fill my freezers. Winter's comin and our supplies ain't loo-" Dub started. Another strong breeze raced across the farm blowing Dub's dirty green hat off of his head. As the wind threatened to send the hat flying, Dub reached out quickly, plucking the hat from midair and slapping it back in place atop his head.
"Nice." Hank said, clearly impressed with the old man's reflexes. Dub nodded.
"Anyhow, winter'll be here soon and our stock don't look good. Hopefully, them boys of mine come back with some good news." Dub said, finishing his sentence and grabbing the barn door, swinging it open.
The three men stepped inside the dark building. The only light came from the open door. The men looked around admiring the new setup. Shelves had been put back in place around the edges of the building, tools and equipment lined the walls.
"Love what you've done with the place." Hank said, looking around.
"Rustic, yet modern." Clay joked.
"We come in here to jerk each other off, or you got something to show me?" Dub demanded with an arched eyebrow.
Clay reached over and slapped Hank’s shoulder. Hank reached into his pocket and retrie
ved the flyer. He unfolded it and handed it to Dub. He held it close to his face, squinting his eyes. Leaning back against a workbench, he sighed, placing the flyer on the bench.
"You boys really got into the shit. Where'd you get this?" Dub asked.
"They're plas-" Clay began, but a fit of coughing stopped his sentence in its tracks. He coughed for several seconds, his face turning red. Hank pulled a water bottle from his backpack, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Clay.
"You good?" Hank asked, concern clearly written on his face.
Clay took a long drink of the water and nodded his head, taking a few seconds to catch his breath. "I'm fine." he said, handing the half empty water bottle to Hank.
"The poster, boy, where'd you get it?" Dub asked, showing no sympathy for Clay.
"They're plastered all over town, probably from here to D.C.." Clay replied
"People'll itchin to cash in. Better beef up our defense." Dub suggested.
Hank nodded. "I'll double the tower guards and gate defense." Hank said.
"Better assign some patrols too, at least every hour." Clay added, grabbing the bottle of water from Hank's hand and taking another drink.
"Them are fine ideas, but most of the fellers here can't get outta bed, they ain't capable of patrollin shit." Dub said, running his fingers through his long white beard thoughtfully.
Hank let out a long sigh, folding his arms across his chest, "We'll just have to stay around here until we can get everyone on their feet." He replied.
"You might have to grab a rifle and get up that tower yourself." Clay added, slapping Dub on the shoulder.
"Like hell!" Dub chuckled, walking toward the large barn door. When he stepped outside, he noticed the few people that hadn’t fallen ill scrambling to get under cover. He looked out across his land for intruders, but saw nothing.
“What in the hell are they running from?” Dub muttered as he continued to look around. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the steady wompf wompf wompf of a large chopper in the distance.