The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set)

by Taylor Michaels

  "Cho's OK?"

  "Yeah, sure. You know her. She's always OK, other than worrying about her world coming apart. She's here, as well as three folks I know from England, two from France, one from Scotland and one from Japan. Masako. You may not remember her. I introduced you to her a few years ago."

  Fred stopped for a minute to think. John knew that he had been interested in Masako. So why say it so casually like that. Something was certainly going on.

  "By the way, I'm also going to contact George Michels, from Texas. If you could meet us in about a week, maybe ten days, along the coast, maybe Virginia, if I can manage it, that would be nice. A large SUV, maybe four-wheel-drive, would also be good."

  "I'll think about it."

  "Sure. I'll call you with details in a few days. Make sure you bring all your toys and any more you can find. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

  Fred thought about what John said, but John's conversation was, as usual, confusing at best. He never said anything about the virus. But he said Cho's world was coming apart. That was code for China having trouble. He had heard the news stories about the virus in China. Maybe John was overreacting. He knew John had lived in China and now John said he was going to retire. Retiring at twenty-five was surely a joke. From the stories John told, he had the sweetest of deals in China. Parties, women, drugs, and all the money he needed. No real work to do. He wouldn't give that up unless something serious was going down. The end of the world? No, that was too farfetched. But, what else could it mean?

  To quit his job, sell everything and live off the land. That was asking quite a bit. Especially when there was no compelling reason other than John's vague insinuations. Fred spent the night searching the internet, especially social media. By the time the sun rose, he had pieced together forty-six different bits of information that might mean that John was right. On the other hand, he could find thousands of bits of information to support the idea that aliens were routinely abducting people, mostly women.

  Why would John call and say those things unless it were true? Maybe he was drunk or maybe he had discovered some strange new Chinese hallucinogenic made from some weird flower only grown in one province in the mountains. Fred reviewed everything John said, but the puzzle was no clearer.

  No, that was wrong. The puzzle was clear. It was just that the price to play was too high. Quit his job. Sell his stuff. Sell his pickup. Then, he thought about Masako. He searched through his box of memorabilia and found her phone number. If she didn't have a new number, she could clear things up. He dialed and waited.

  "Hello, Fred. How are you? Be nice to see you again."

  "Yes, it'll be nice to see you, too. Where are you?"

  "England. Packing."

  "I was just thinking about everything. I wasn't sure what to bring."

  "Sounds like you are packing, too. I hope so. I suppose the answer is to bring everything you will ever need."

  "Sounds like a lot of stuff. I just wanted to check with someone who doesn't talk in code all the time."

  "He thinks it's necessary. You know John. Could be that he's right this time, though."

  "Right. I hope so -- maybe not. See you later."

  Fred turned off the phone and stared into space. If John were crazy and on some drug, then Masako was too. She had always been levelheaded and always knew what was going on, because of her father. Maybe that's all he needed. After an hour of continued musing and arguing with himself, he called the office and left a message that he was taking some downtime. John had better be right.

  After packing, he went to the bank, withdrew all his money and changed his address. Next stop was his favorite gun shop. Last stop was the auto mall. He leased the nicest, most reliable and largest SUV he could find and arranged for the longest lease they had. He sold his pickup to cover the upfront fees and received ten thousand back. He paid his first three months lease fee to make sure nobody would come looking for him any time soon. If John were right, he would be well off or as well off as he could in an end of the world as we know it situation. One more stop, he thought. A couple cases of whisky would be a good idea whether John was right or not. Maybe even better if John were wrong. A couple turned out to be eight. He put them in the back and covered them with a tarp.

  * * *

  George Michels was short, five seven, a little heavy, with dark hair and a dark complexion. He was born and bred in Texas. Everything he wanted was in Texas and he had no reason to go anywhere else. He had heard the story of the man who did leave Texas, but didn't find anything worthwhile and immediately turned around and came back. George always believed that man was smart.

  George was raised on a cattle ranch and, early in his life, he became a mechanical and electrical whiz. He took every machine on the ranch apart to see how it worked and maybe also because he was bored. Then, he took his father's car apart. He forgot to tell his father and was grounded for a month when his father found his car strewn all over the floor of the barn.

  All of his mother's kitchen appliances suffered a similar fate. She always knew he had worked on something when she found a dirty fingerprint on the casing. After a few years, George was tired of taking things apart to see how they worked and started taking things apart to make them better, which he generally did. Sometimes an extra weld, sometimes a gusset, sometimes a part needed to be ground smooth, sanded and polished, sometimes a part needed to be sharpened. Small changes, evolutionary changes, but all for the good. The Michels household ran like clockwork -- unless George had the clock taken apart, again.

  When he graduated from high school, George went to work for a company that manufactured tractors. Four years later, his company opened a factory in China, about fifty miles west of Shanghai and about a hundred and fifty miles east of Ruhan. Three years after that, the factory in China began having problems and the management sent George to find the problems and fix them. He had developed the reputation of being the best troubleshooter in the company. Although he had to leave Texas for a while, he thought of it as a good way to show the world how smart Texans were, perhaps to contradict the Aggie jokes some people liked to tell.

  As soon as he arrived in China, George began making changes. He watched how the maintenance and operations people were working and which equipment was having problems. Within two weeks, production had increased thirty percent and quality was nearly up to standard. Finishing his work required rebuilding many pieces of equipment that were not made well by the local supplier. That would take months, but George enjoyed it. The biggest problem remaining was that George was bored sitting in his apartment drinking Chinese beer on weekends. However, even in Shanghai, rumors of John's parties were legend among the expats. George loved a good party, as did all Texans, and soon went searching for John. He only had to say 'Ruhan' to the ticket agent at the train station to buy a ticket, and only had to mention the name 'John' to a taxi driver in Ruhan to be delivered exactly where he wanted to be. The driver even showed him up to the fourth floor where John lived and stayed for a few beers and a chat with one of Cho's friends.

  In the remaining six months George was in China, he rarely missed one of John's weekend parties. George was never sure whether he was John's friend or John's research project. John revealed the fact that he was a spy and even told George of some of the secrets he had uncovered and sent back to his handlers. George was surprised that John would trust him with information that could put John in prison or at the least, have him ejected from the country.

  John frequently asked about his work, but George wasn't aware that he had any important information of interest to a spy. He saw no reason to withhold anything, especially since John was so forthcoming about his own activities and had shown him such trust. And after all, he was spying for the US, which was a part of Texas. He assumed John's questions were either idle curiosity or casual small talk. John, of course, was rarely idle, always curious and didn't engage in small talk.

  John never asked for money or implied that George should pay fo
r alcohol or for the use of one of John's guest rooms on weekends. John treated him like an honored guest and long-lost brother. George always suspected that John was a bit homesick and the presence of another American made it easier for him to handle the culture shock of such a strange and different land, but he was never sure and thought it better not to bring it up.

  George was aware that John and Cho were a couple, but was never sure of their precise relationship. They were always negotiating or planning something. Like they were running competing businesses where each was trying to steal clients or goods from the other. It was obvious that Cho was running some kind of escort service but it wasn't a brothel, as she didn't have a building. According to some of the men he met at John's parties, the girls' rooms were scattered around the city as though they were the private property of the girls and maybe they were.

  Cho had fixed him up with one of her 'friends' a few times, but never intimated that he should pay anything. Ostensibly, she was just being nice by introducing him to a local girl. And that may have been the situation. George had often decided that it was better to accept something great rather than ask too many questions and risk losing it. That would be like looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth and then being bitten. A real Texan would never do that.

  Finally, George's work was finished and the plant was running like a lightly oiled clock. But for the first time in his life, George didn't want to leave and go back to Texas. He even told his bosses back in Texas that some of the problems were worse than they really were to extend his stay a few more weeks. In the end, he had fixed all the manufacturing problems, retrained all the maintenance people, rebuilt all the equipment including the time clock and he knew it was time to go.

  To his surprise, although he left John over eight thousand miles behind, John didn't stay eight thousand miles behind. A month after George returned to the US, John showed up on his doorstep. They went out drinking and George introduced John to all his friends. John appeared to like Texans, enjoying their easy camaraderie and their good temperament. John once said he would like to see a drinking contest between the Texans, the French and the British, apparently giving credence to the idea that Texas was a country unto itself. A concept that many Texans held near to their heart.

  After that visit, John was a regular, showing up unannounced every few months. Twice, he even brought Cho, who seemed to be hitting on George's friends as she sat beside John at the bar. He took John aside once and asked him what was going on. John laughed and said, "Cho never slows down. She will be the only hundred-year-old woman with two hundred years of lifetime experience. She's making friends. Just business. She's practicing. Don't worry about it." So, he didn't.

  * * *

  George's phone call was different from Fred's.

  "Hey, George it's John. How's it hanging?"

  "Not so good John. This virus thing has me uptight. The blogosphere is full of rumors, some pretty strange. Maybe it's just all blown out of proportion. Maybe it's all hype. But, I don't think so. Sounds bad. You know anything about it? You're over there. Close to the action."

  "I don't actually have anything to say about it. I wanted to let you know that I've left my job and I'm heading home to the mountains."

  George wondered why John didn't mention China, but then decided that not referring to China would keep any NSA listening programs from becoming suspicious.

  "You did have a sweet setup, over there," said George, also avoiding mentioning China. "Too bad it's over. What're you going to do in the mountains? What happened to that crazy girl you were with?"

  "She's still around. Still crazy. Thought we'd start housekeeping together. Maybe do some hunting. Settle down. You know. Lay in some groceries and plant some veggies. Maybe get a dog. My father had a lodge with a bunch of cabins. It's mine now. You're welcome any time. You can have your own cabin. Hey, you can even move in if you want. Plenty of room. Two hundred acres. You wouldn't be in anybody's way. Climate's not bad. You won't be sorry."

  George knew that John was back to his old habit of talking in code. By not mentioning China, John certainly meant that China was important. So, what he read in the blogosphere was right. Maybe no hype. Maybe no exaggeration. Probably really bad.

  Laying in groceries must mean John was going to prep for something horrific. Maybe an SHTF episode. John wouldn't leave his great setup unless something overwhelming was going to happen. By saying he was welcome, then saying he could have his own cabin and then repeating that he could move in permanently, John was making a strong invitation. Really strong. A serious proposition.

  And the final, 'You won't be sorry' was clear code that something bad was going to happen if he didn't join John. The blogosphere had it right. The end was coming and John was in China doing his job where it started; so, he knew. 'Nuff said.

  "Sounds interesting. Give me a couple days to sleep on it. I'd like to talk again."

  "Sure. We'll all be on the coast for another week or so before we head back there. I'll call again in a few days with details. You might even like to join us here - on the beach before we go back. It's raining now, but it'll be better in a few days."

  "Right. Later."

  The code was clear. John was coming by sea and landing somewhere on a beach. George switched on the computer and went to Weather.com. The maps showed no rain on the west or gulf coast and the only rain on the east coast was in Virginia. So, John was landing in Virginia. When he said 'we all' it meant more than just he and Cho. It also sounded like John wanted him to provide transportation.

  George spent three days with little or no sleep, thinking over what John had actually told him or what he thought John told him, but John had really only inferred. He got more drunk than he ever had been, drinking three bottles of whisky. Large bottles. In two days. Some people made lists and argued about each item, slowly throwing away the most trivial until only the most important were left. That never worked for George. This was his method.

  His parents had died a few years before and he had been wondering if he should stay in the old home place. But if not, where would he go? Dallas? Houston? Corpus? Amarillo? El Paso? No, the trip to China had left a hole in his life. He yearned for another adventure. It wasn't that China was better than Texas, of course not. That would be silly. But the travel adventure had filled a void in his recent life.

  In his early life, his quest for adventure was satisfied by his mechanical and electrical undertakings. Taking things apart, sussing-out their inner secrets and putting them back together, most of the time, better than they were before. The harder it was, the more he liked it. But, he learned everything he could about electrical appliances, tractors and about tractor factories and that challenge was now gone. Even his pickup had shared all its mysteries. A new challenge was now needed.

  If John and the blogosphere were right, the next few months and years would be one serious challenge. An amazing adventure, if things went really badly. And if he didn't partner with John, he might be dead in a few months. It really sounded like fun. An adventure to end all adventures. Fighting for his life with all the strength, innovation and energy he had. No holds barred. Do what had to be done. No matter what it was. Wow! His whole life had prepared him for this. How could he turn it down? As he began to sober up, the answer peered at him through the fading clouds of his drunkenness. Eyeballs staring at him, telling him this would be the adventure of a lifetime.

  Somehow, recovering from inebriation was not the simple matter of just changing from being almost completely incapacitated to being stone-cold sober. It didn't work like that. His mind was full of the dense clouds of confusion interspersed with a few patches of blue-sky clarity of thought. George had some of his best epiphanies during this shadowy time when the alcohol began to fade and great chunks of reality began to ever so slowly creep into his mind.

  It was a time when it became easy to sort out the important from the trivial. The important stared at him from between the clouds with bloodshot eyes and
the trivial hid behind the blackest of the clouds, fearing to show itself. The conclusion became obvious. Maybe it always was. Maybe he had wasted three bottles of whisky, or was it two, and two days or was it three? No. This is how big decisions are made. Anyway, this is how George Michels made big decisions.

  He called the local real estate office and told them to sell his house as soon as possible and put the money into his bank account. He went that afternoon to the lawyer's office and signed all the papers. The next day, he sold the pickup, bought a black SUV, spent a day checking it out and fixing the big flaws, took all the guns and bullets he could find and headed east.

  As he was passing through Dallas, he received a call from a Fred Samuels, a friend of John's he'd never met. He made an appointment to meet Fred in Richmond in three days.

  Chapter 16 - Going Home

  After only a few hours of sleep in a small motel, the group had a late breakfast at a local buffet restaurant at a large table in the corner, away from the few other customers.

  "Harry, how are you this morning? How's the shoulder?"

  "Not bad, John. Pierre took care of it last night and changed the dressing this morning. Gave me an injection. I'm feeling pretty good, actually. Thanks again, Pierre."

  "You are welcome, Harry. I thought this would be a vacation, but as soon as I set foot in your country, Jean, I am working. Is this how you treat all your guests?"

  "You're not complaining about being able to have some shooting practice last night are you?"

  "No, mon amie. But, I did not think the Wild West came all the way from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean."

  "It don't," said George. "Stops at the Mississip'. Those were just plain ol' pirates. Bad boys. Them's all over. Like rattlesnakes. You just got to stomp 'em where ya find 'em. And if you can, you gather 'em up and fricassee 'em. They makes good eatin'."