About halfway home, they came across a gasoline station with no cars outside. John made a U-turn and pulled into the station. Before getting out, he told Cho to call each person individually and make sure they understood the situation. He topped up the tank and went inside.
"How's it going? Do you have any gas cans?" he said to the eighteen-year-old male cashier.
"Sure, over in the corner. What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just saw four state police cruisers flying toward town with blue lights and sirens. They only have four out at the local substation. They were going like bats. Over one hundred, I'll bet. Anybody gets in their way and it'll be a horrific collision. Bam! A giant fireball. Blood, guts and burning gasoline everywhere. Covering both cars."
"I didn't see them. I just pulled onto the highway a few miles back up the road. Going to see some friends out in the country. Worried I would run out of gas."
"I'll be surprised if they don't hit someone. They shouldn't drive that fast on public highways. I go fifteen over the limit and I'm some kind of criminal. They're going fifty over and it's a public service. Just not right. Not right at all."
"You should be a police officer. Sounds like you have a natural talent for driving," John said, trying hard not to laugh.
"You're right. I'll think about that. You know, someone like you, a totally innocent person, could be pulling out slowly from a side street, minding your own business, obeying the law, and you're t-boned by one of these speed demons. That's what they called me for going seventy. A speed demon. Can you believe that? You'd be dead in a heartbeat. Blood everywhere. A giant fireball. Toast. That's what you'd be. Toast. Extra crispy."
"Thanks. I'll be extra careful. I appreciate the highly graphic warning."
John took three plastic gas cans and several handfuls of whatever he could find. The cashier was outside looking down the highway. He put two twenty dollar bills on the counter and left. Before going back to the van, he filled the gas cans with gasoline. He managed to squeeze them into the back of the van, already stuffed full, then drove off.
"You not get more?"
"I thought gas was the most important, Besides, we have no room in here for anything else, unless you want to walk. Have a bag of chips. It might be your last," he said, tossing her two bags of sour cream and onion flavored Ruffles. Did you find anybody to talk to?"
"Talk to everybody. They go. Cho say be careful. Take guns."
"Good. Let's go home and unload. We may have time for another run tonight."
Chapter 23 - More Panic
Masako sat in the back as Fred pulled the SUV into a parking space of the largest grocery store in town. Charles was riding shotgun and actually had a shotgun in his lap. It was not going to be a fun trip. She wished she could have stayed back at the lodge, but this was their last best chance to get prepared before society totally collapsed. The parking lot was half the size of a football field, but was nearly full and Fred had to park far out in the lot.
Masako, Charles and Fred walked hurriedly into the store, while trying to appear normal and calm. Masako didn't feel calm. She didn't feel well either. Cho didn't sound calm on the phone, but Cho was always calm. Even though Masako was flanked by two strong men, highly competent in self-defense and trained in crowd control, she felt for her automatic. The hard contours under her jacket still didn't make her feel safe, but they made her feel better.
She looked at the place where the shopping carts were normally kept, near the outside door, but the space was empty. Charles saw her and ran back out to the parking lot, found a cart and quickly ran it back in. "Here, you push the cart," he said to Masako. Looking at Fred, "You load it and I'll stand guard." Charles had taken command, although Masako thought Fred was closer to John, whom she considered their leader, and should have been giving orders. She didn't hear Fred complain, and she decided not to either. Charles had some murky secret agent history he never talked about. The residents of the lodge tended to stay away from him. But as long as John trusted him, she would have to.
The first section of the store was produce and most of the bins were empty. Masako pushed the cart until Fred told her to stop. He grabbed two bags of potatoes and a bag of onions and tossed them into the bottom section of the cart. From the area of the cash registers, she could hear shouting. She looked over and saw that a man was pushing into the line and another man was yelling at him. Other people joined in and the shouting became louder. Several store employees ran toward the shouts.
"Keep going. Pay it no mind," said Charles, placing his hand on her back and shoving.
She started to object, but again, decided not to. Other things were more important. She looked up the first aisle and saw a group of people. Two men were arguing. A woman was screaming to one of the men to stop and another woman was crying. The others were just watching.
"Skip that one. The next one looks clear. Go. Hurry," Charles again placed his hand on her back and pressed.
Fred snatched two cans of baked beans with each hand, tossing them into the cart until he had emptied the row. "Up ahead. Rice. Go."
Masako felt she was in a trance. Her vision was blurred. The shouting at the front of the store was louder and louder. More and more voices were joining the shouting. Some employees came from behind doors at the back of the store and ran past her toward the front. Her vision began to dim when she saw Fred's eyes were in front of hers, his nose almost touching hers.
"Wake up. Masako. Come on. This is important. Don't zone-out on me."
He slapped her face twice. Or Charles did. She wasn't sure. She blinked twice and her vision began to clear. "OK, I'm OK. Stop that slapping. I just lost it for a minute. What do we do?"
"Push the damn buggy, lass," said Charles. "Go! Push! This is serious. Come alive," he said with a firm slap on her rear. "Up ahead, rice."
Fred ran to the end of the aisle as Masako started pushing the cart. He grabbed a large bag of rice, turned and threw it to Charles who caught it carefully and placed it into the cart as if they had practiced the maneuver for years. Fred tossed another bag and Charles caught it and plopped it in also.
The whole world was moving in slow motion as she put one foot in front of the other, pushing the cart slowly up the long aisle. The guys were treating it like a game, but she knew it wasn't. Maybe their antics were meant to reassure her that she was safe. After what felt like forever, she finally made it to the end of the aisle where Fred was standing and he dropped the last bag into the cart. "Touchdown. What's next?"
"Next aisle. Canned meat. Good survival food."
Charles moved ahead and pushed two carts to the side of the aisle while pulling the cart with Masako holding on. He received hard looks from people near the carts, but didn't slow down. Fred followed, with one hand on Masako's back. When she caught up with Charles, he had an armful of canned ham. Fred joined him and they cleared out all the cans. The cart was nearly full as she reached the front of the store. The lights had become bright and her face was warm.
She looked over at a group of people and saw one man lying on the floor with blood on his face and another man kicking him. Two bystanders were pulling the kicking man away. Charles walked over, pulled his gun and whacked the man on the side of the head, hard. The two holding the man let him go and jumped back at the sight of the gun as the man who was kicking fell to the floor.
Charles pointed his gun at the man and said, "Who was at fault here?" as the man cowered on the floor.
A woman near the front of the group pointed at the man Charles had knocked down and said, "He was. He tried to push his way into the line. The other man objected and this man hit him with a can. Then, he knocked him down and kicked him. Shoot the pig. He deserves to die."
Charles looked down at the man and said, "I don't want you to do that anymore. I want you to be nice," as he pointed the gun at the man's knee and fired. The man screamed and grabbed his knee.
After the shot and the scream, Masako quick
ly scanned the store to make sure nobody was doing anything threatening. The clerks had all left their cash registers and were running toward the back of the store while the customers ran for the front door with their shopping carts. She could see much pushing and shoving and heard a few screams.
Charles looked over to her, smiled and said, "Time to go."
Masako began to feel light headed and everything went black as she fell forward and slumped over the cart.
"You carry her," Charles said, picking up Masako and handing her to Fred like a sack of potatoes. Charles took hold of the cart and ran to the door with Fred close behind. When they reached the SUV, the cars around theirs had already gone. They heard a crunch and looked back to see that two cars, one going down an aisle the wrong way, had collided. They could hear screams and gunfire as they finished putting Masako and the groceries into the SUV. "You going to drive," Charles calmly said to Fred.
"Sure. Where to next?"
"I wouldn't mind a pizza. Might be our last."
"And beer. Also might be our last."
* * *
After receiving Cho's call, Tom turned the SUV around and headed back into town.
"What are you doing, Tom?" Elspeth said.
"This might be our last chance. We just passed a small grocery store."
"Our six hours are up. We can go home. That's the rule. We only have to shop for six hours."
"The rules just changed. We may never be able to buy anything again. Or if we can, this will be as easy and safe as it gets."
"In that case, back to the ABC store."
"Elspeth, don't you have enough?"
"You just said we may never be able to buy anything again."
"We can make alcohol."
"From what? Do we have all the things necessary? Do you even know how to do it?"
"No, but you know that George or Fred or Charles does."
"Sod it. Back to the ABC store."
As they approached the liquor store, a small white block building with windows in front, Tom saw that the small parking lot was full. "This won't be easy. Are you up for it, Elspeth?" he said, parking the SUV at the side of the road.
"Definitely," she said, pulling out her giant revolver and checking the chambers. "All bullets. No shotgun shells. That's good. I won't need more than six, will I? You never know," she said, opening her purse and taking six more bullets from a box and putting them into her pocket. She put her purse under her seat and the big gun into a pocket. "Ready."
"It's not the wild west, Elspeth. We are going to shop, not do target practice."
"What do the Yanks say? Six of one, half of a dozen of the other. Reminds me of the spring sale at Harrods in London."
"You never took a gun to Harrods -- did you?"
"I always took a gun to Harrods. You don't know what those women were like. I hit one once with my purse with the Judge in it. She never got in my way again."
Tom opened the door and saw that a line of six was waiting in front of the cash register. Several others were wandering the aisles. A police officer sat in a chair in the back corner, behind a large stack of empty boxes.
"See, it's going to be peaceful. Easy peasy. Get in the queue, Tom. I'll shop."
The others in line had one or two bottles each and paid with cash, moving the line quickly. Elspeth looked around the store. Seeing the pile of boxes, she took two, nodding to the officer who appeared half-asleep. She went to the Jim Beam section and grabbed bottle after bottle, putting them into one of the boxes. She sat the full box at Tom's feet and went back for the other. The men in line weren't sure if they should pay more attention to buying their bottles and leaving or whether they should follow their instincts and watch the young woman in the tight dress bending over and filling a case of whisky, ten feet away. When Tom made it to the front of the queue, he had two cases stacked in front of him and Elspeth was standing beside of him with one hand in her pocket. He knew what that meant and he didn't like it. This day had been bad and was quickly becoming worse.
Tom started to put the first box on the counter, but a loud noise interrupted him as a pickup smashed through the front windows of the store. Glass and pieces of the window frames flew everywhere, one barely missing Tom. Three men ran into the store. Two had guns, firing in all directions and yelling for everybody to get down on the floor. The other man started grabbing bottles and putting them into a cloth shopping bag. The police officer pulled his gun and shot the first man. When the second man heard the shot, he turned and drew a bead on the officer. Elspeth already had her hand on her revolver and in a heartbeat, she pulled it from her pocket and shot the man, not ten feet away. As usual, the sound was horrendous. The third man dropped his bag with a crash and alcohol poured out onto the floor. The man pulled his gun, his eyes darting back and forth between Elspeth and the officer. The officer didn't have a good shot without endangering the customers or the man behind the counter. Elspeth fired again and the third man fell. The police officer looked over, astonished, and said, "Thanks ma'am."
"Not at all officer. Any time. Glad to be of assistance."
The other customers ran out as Tom stood petrified in front of the counter holding his credit card. The man behind the counter looked at Elspeth and said, "Take whatever you want. If anybody asks, I'll say they were damaged in the gunfight. I'm leaving. I heard about the riot at Walmart. I'm not staying here." The police officer looked at her and shrugged as he inspected the two men. She took one case, Tom took the other, and they walked out to the car.
"And you said, I wouldn't need my gun."
"I said you wouldn't need more than six bullets."
"Where next?"
"I need a drink," Tom said opening the back of the SUV and shoving in his box.
Elspeth pushed in her box, pulled out a bottle from the box and opened it. "Good idea."
* * *
George received his call as he was in the barn working on his car with Iris. He had just finished cleaning his paint sprayer, when the phone rang.
"Hey, Cho. What's up -- yeah -- the white RV's here. Fred is taking it? OK. All I have is my cycle. OK. I'll do what I can."
Turning to Iris, he said, "It's Panic Day. The people downtown are rioting."
"Oh my God. What should I do? Panic? I can do that."
"Forget panicking. Can you ride a cycle?" he said, picking up a gasoline can and walking over to his motorcycle.
"Not really. Why? Are you going somewhere? In a panic, you should stay here. Stay safe. Keep me safe," she said hugging him.
"Sorry. Pierre is here. Go to the kitchen with Marceau and Pierre. If I'm not back in two hours, call the Texas Rangers. Tell them, there's only one riot. They'll only need to send one man."
"George, stop joking around, you really shouldn't go. You know what people are like. We've all talked about this every day since I came here."
"Since way before that, beautiful. See you later," he said putting his arms around her and kissing her. "Put a light in the window and smoke me a kipper."
George drove down the driveway and onto the highway. When he reached the mall, the parking lot was packed. He parked the motorcycle with the small covered trailer on the wide pedestrian walkway leading into the mall, pointed outward to make a quick getaway. Inside, he looked into the K-Mart store and it was a madhouse. People were screaming and yelling. A woman came running out, slipped and fell. He reached down and caught her just before she hit the floor. She looked at him with a smile and then with fear.
"Leave me alone," she said, running off.
George walked down the main corridor of the mall and all the stores were crowded. Even the shoe stores were full of people. A man and woman were walking in front of him and he could hear their voices.
"Vince, what is going on? Why is this happening? This used to be such a nice town. That man just took the shopping cart away from me. Jerked it out of my hands, and you let him."
"Honey, he was six inches taller, fifty pounds heavier and in far be
tter shape. If you'd let me buy a gun, that wouldn't have happened. Don't blame me."
"Guns. Guns. That's all you ever talk about. Man up, Vince."
Not seeing any stores where he could find something useful, George turned and went back toward K-Mart. He was tempted to stop the man and give him his spare gun, but decided against it. The man might have shot his wife.
K-Mart was still crazy and people were still screaming at each other. It looked like a fight had broken out and half a dozen men were throwing punches. One had blood on his face. Fred kept walking and began to wonder if this trip would be a lost cause. He could go looking for a small grocery store. Just near the side door, he passed the Radio Shack, one of the last still operating. Nobody was inside. Bingo.
As George walked in, a gong went off. He looked around for a few minutes, but nobody came in from the back room. He opened the door to the back and yelled, "Anybody home?" Nobody answered. He went behind the counter and took a handful of the largest plastic bags they had, then walked around the store and put everything interesting into the bags. George's biggest problem was that he found almost everything interesting. Outside, he stuffed the bins of his motorcycle with the items, locked the bins and started to go back inside. Instead, he went back to the cycle, got on and drove around behind the mall.
At a point where he thought the back door of the store should be, he found an unmarked door He parked beside the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He walked back around the building and went inside. At the K-Mart, he found a female employee just standing, dazed. "Excuse me, Miss. Could you give me a large plastic bag? The largest you have. Mine broke and everything is rolling all around in my car." The woman appeared to wake up. She smiled and walked to a nearby, unused cash register and pulled out a bag. "How about four of five. My bag was too small and too heavy. That's why it ripped. I should double bag." She went back to the counter, pulled out a handful of bags, and handed them to George. "Thanks. I don't think you can do any good here. Things are out of hand. You should go home."
The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set) Page 25