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

by Taylor Michaels

  "Oh come on, Fred. Isn't this fun? Isn't the blood surging through your veins right now? We're stealing a truck worth a hundred thousand dollars from the state. Isn't the adrenalin pumping? Aren't your fingers tingling? Isn't everything brighter and clearer than before? Isn't your life more interesting now than it was two months ago?"

  "That's an old Arab curse isn't it? 'May you lead an interesting life.' You are one weird dude, John." He revved the engine, popped the clutch and was off.

  * * *

  The next morning as the sun rose, they were back at the construction yard with the truck and two motorcycles. John unlocked the gate and opened it as George backed in the truck. Fred started the fork lift and began loading the culverts. John placed some wooden cribbing to keep the culverts from rolling off the flatbed. When the truck was loaded, they tossed the straps over the load and secured them to the clamps along the sides of the bed. George pulled the truck out of the yard as a sheriff's cruiser drove by slowly, made a U-turn and returned. John felt his heart race, knowing they had been caught in the act, and felt for the hard steel of his gun. The officer opened the window as John was locking the gate.

  "What are you guys doing?"

  "Doing our jobs, Deputy. Just like you."

  "Where are you taking that truck?"

  "Back to Reynolds. This project has been cancelled. I don't care. They pay me fourteen dollars an hour to bring 'em here and they pay me fourteen dollars an hour to take 'em somewhere else. I only ask questions if I don't get paid."

  "It's been cancelled?"

  John noticed that the Deputy was adjusting his seat belt and thought he might be getting out of the cruiser, so John stepped closer to the car, blocking his way. If the Deputy thought John was being cooperative and was on the up and up, he might not snoop around any more. John leaned on the top of the window.

  "That's what my boss said. He didn't say anything else. By the way, what's going on? My wife wanted me to stay home today and go to the store with her."

  "The Walmart warehouse ran out."

  "What do ya mean, ran out? Ran out of what? Better not be beer. I've only got one six pack left and I'm gonna need two tonight."

  "Most everything. People found out and rushed the store. Started buying what was left, then just took everything. Stole it all. The employees left their jobs and joined in. It was a real free for all. After it was over, more people came and some gasoline bombs were thrown. The whole store burned down. You must have driven by it if you came up the interstate. You didn't see it?"

  "It was dark when we drove through town. I didn't see anything, but I thought I smelled something funny."

  "What are you guys doing with motorcycles? I thought you drove trucks."

  "George, our driver, brought the truck from Reynolds. He lives there. We live west of here. They wouldn't let us drive our trucks home yesterday because they were low on gasoline. Delivery was supposed to come yesterday. It didn't. We had to bum a ride with one of the guys. Had to bring our rides today. If I have to buy my own gasoline, I'm gonna pay the least I can and enjoy it the most I can. You guys got plenty of fuel?"

  "I haven't heard anything."

  "Could we come over and fill up the truck? We may not have enough to get back to base."

  The officer was beginning to look like he didn't want to be part of this conversation. He got lucky when the police radio squawked and the dispatcher talked about a riot in progress on the corner of Stone and First. The policeman said, "Nice talking to you guys. I'm outta here. Riot downtown. Quickie Mart. Gonna be another crazy day. Yesterday was bad enough. Three officers had to go to the emergency room. Sorry to bother you."

  * * *

  It had been a hard day of planning and work. John was glad for the distraction. His life was changing and the whole world was changing. Riots in the stores and in the streets. Looting was something he never saw in this quiet peaceful country town when he was growing up. He wasn't sure he shared Cho's philosophy that a new and better world would emerge out of the ashes of this virus. He decided that he needed some fresh air and the evenings were quiet and relaxing in the country, so he went outside on the porch.

  "What's up Fred? Mind if I join you? It's a nice evening and it's been a crazy day. Dinner was good."

  "Plenty of room. It's your porch. Just waiting for the news on amateur radio. This guy comes on from time to time. Not regular. What are you up to?"

  "Just thinking. It's nice to actually be doing something. I spent most of my life watching other people doing things. Building things. Now, I'm able to do something myself. It makes me feel good. Like I'm alive. You know?" He eased into the white rocker next to Fred.

  "Shoulder still bothering you?"

  "A little. Pierre did a good job. He says I'll be OK in a week. I asked him if I'd be able to dance next week. He said sure. I said that was good because I could never dance before."

  "That must have been one of your father's jokes. You're not that old. Masako said you changed as you became a spy in that summer camp you two went to. Stopped being John and became 'The Spy,' " Fred said, using his fingers to make quotes in the air. "You were so used to conning people that you just couldn't stop."

  John was taken aback by that remark. "Really, she said that? I didn't know she felt that way. But, that phase of my life is over. Things have changed. I envy you guys. I always did. You actually did things. Good things. Interesting things. I just watched."

  "Sounds like you're really beginning to enjoy this plague," Fred said, with a laugh. "I might understand that, since you're immune." Fred finally voiced what had been on his mind since he had joined this group. "You really don't believe we're immune, too. Do you?"

  "I honestly don't know." John shrugged. "It could be. You, Charles and George. Cho is convinced. She talked to some people who should know. Or their parents knew. And, neither of you have it. That's a good sign."

  Fred made a sigh of relief.

  "But all kinds of other diseases are going to pop up, Fred. We should all stay away from other people for a while. It would be sad to make it through the plague and then die of flu. No more flu shots."

  "You're stayin' away from people," said George, walking up. "Not me, I hope." He rocked two chairs before picking one that looked sturdy.

  "John was saying that even though we could be immune to the virus, we have to stay away from outsiders who might have some other diseases."

  "They're damn dangerous normally, worse now. I'd hate to see what's goin' on in the big cities. Like drownin' rats. Each climbing on the other's back and pushin' 'em down into the water to drown."

  "If the guy on amateur radio comes on, we might find out."

  The screen door creaked and Masako stepped onto the porch. "What are you guys doing, now? Planning to dig more holes in the dirt like children?" She turned the rocker rejected by George to face the group and sat down.

  "You caught us, sweet cheeks. We're talking about building an underground bunker, like the President has under the White House, except without all the steaks and the little red potatoes and the California wine. We could make a pillbox, like in World War II. It could look out over our property and it would serve as a guard house. Small slit windows. The whole thing covered with dirt so nobody would notice it."

  "You don't have time for that. You've been working on those tunnels for a week. When will they be finished?"

  "A few more days. We have to cut a hole into the basement of the lodge. We made an entrance into the basement of each cabin. Each one has a door that can be locked. The main idea is that we all can safely go to the lodge whenever necessary."

  "Sounds good, I suppose."

  "So, Masako, you're telling people I changed into a zombie as I learned to be a spy? More so each year until I was finally on autopilot, scamming everybody, being honest with nobody?"

  Masako looked startled. She racked her brain to figure out how John had read her thoughts. Then it hit her. "Oh, no. Fred, you told him that?"

 
John beat Fred to the punch. "I made most of it up. He only told me a little of it."

  "Just popped out. Sorry. True though, right?" said Fred.

  "Well yes, but you just don't tell somebody they became a zombie. You soften it -- if you tell them at all, which I never would have." Masako threw an annoying look in Fred's direction. "Sorry, John."

  "No problem. It was a game. I suppose I was just intrigued by it. Like playing a video game, but in real time with real people. Spying gave me a major high. Really enjoyed it. Besides, neither of you would know this, but I was really good at it. In China, I knew everybody's secrets. Everybody's. Not just the Bug City people, but almost everybody else in town and everybody important within fifty miles. Who was doing what and why and to whom. I say almost because my landlady was in on it. She worked for the company and I never found out."

  "You didn't know that?" said George. "She told me, the first time I met her. Over a beer at the local bar."

  "Really? You were dating my landlady."

  "Yeah. Landladies know almost as much as spies. She knew a lot about what you were doing and she was a nice lady."

  "Yeah. I suppose she's gone now. Too bad. She was nice. Probably a better spy than I was."

  The radio made a crackling sound and then a produced a voice. The members of the group grew silent, straining to hear.

  "Good evening to anyone out there who can hear me. News from around the country and around the world. The virus in China is still at the top of the news. With China closing it's borders and cutting itself off from the world, a panic has struck the rest of the world. From what I've heard, a panic has struck in China too. That doesn't sound like news though, does it?

  "With Chinese imports disappearing from the store shelves, a panic of biblical proportions has set in and everything else has disappeared too. The virus has affected people in most of the world, but less than ten percent of the population have died and people have still been going to work, the ones without the virus, hopefully. Not enough people outside China have really been affected to reduce production. So, the panic is not important. Unless you are one of the thousands who have died in the food riots in all the major cities, you should not worry about it. Unless you are hungry, of course, then you're up the creek, because unless your gun is bigger than your neighbor's, then you're going to starve to death in the cold.

  "Administration officials say we have nothing to fear except panic because China only produces less than three percent of our goods. So, that's what people are doing, panicking, and that's what everyone is afraid of. Food went first, then gasoline, alcoholic beverages and of course toilet paper. Those and a number of other items are being hoarded. The President has signed an executive order declaring a state of emergency and declaring hoarding to be illegal. Anyone with more than a week's supply of anything will be considered a terrorist and dealt with accordingly.

  "My neighbor went to Sam's Club once and bought a package of toilet paper so big it wouldn't fit in her husband's sports car. He thought she was an terrorist at the time. Now the government has made it official. I suppose now we know why the government bought those three billion bullets which precipitated a panic in bullets and the subsequent shortage.

  "That's it for today. Keep on truckin', if you have a truck -- and some gasoline."

  A brief silence ensued. It was John who spoke first. "That didn't sound good, Fred."

  "It didn't sound surprising though, did it? We knew the panic would come. Now, we just wait for the virus and hope none of us is stricken with it."

  "Right. Stay at home."

  * * *

  It was late as the group had enjoyed an hour or so of chitchat, a reprieve of not talking about their prepping and more about just getting to know each other. Eventually the conversation steered once again to survival.

  "How are you, Masako? Getting bored with our new life?"

  "No, I'm spending all my time washing Fred and George's clothes."

  "Really? I didn't know you did that kind of thing."

  "Don't get any bright ideas."

  "I have another idea for our new toys, John."

  "What's that, Fred?"

  "We use the backhoe to reroute that creek out back. You know, the one about five hundred feet behind the lodge, at the base of the mountain. We checked it out."

  "You mean, dig a channel and bring the creek here?"

  "Sure. We build a small catch-basin out back from stones and let the runoff head to the garden. It would give us a backup water source close by and we wouldn't have to run the pump and waste electricity to water the garden."

  "Why not? Sounds like a great project and a load of fun. Masako would say it was just another opportunity for us to get hip deep in mud."

  "And, I'd be right. Men and boys. You guys never grow up."

  "Yes, maybe. But so what?" said Fred.

  "Count me in. When do you want to start?"

  "I'll think about it tonight and we can start tomorrow."

  Chapter 27 - Carla and Isaac

  Carla Smidts was the typical 'thirteen going on thirty' when she met John. Her father also worked at the Embassy and Carla and John went to the American School together. He was two years older in physical age and a decade younger in maturity, but she idolized him. Her father told her of many of John's successes and he felt that John was definitely going to make something of himself. Carla thought he was the most handsome boy she had ever met and the smartest. She attempted to distract him at every opportunity and succeeded on many occasions.

  One summer after John's stepfather had been transferred away and Carla's father had been transferred back to the US, her parents rented a cabin for a week from John's father, at Carla's urging. John and Carla resumed their previous romance, but John, even at that age, resisted any hint of a permanent relationship, despite her dogged determination. Carla was frustrated and, shortly after going back home, rebounded into Isaac's arms.

  Isaac Kaplan was a star football player and completely different from John. Physical and not mental, impulsive and not thoughtful, heavy not trim. Carla and Isaac continued their relationship until they were out of school and Carla became pregnant. They married and two sons quickly followed. Carla retained fond memories of John, even naming one of her sons after him.

  Isaac had intended to go to college on a football scholarship and become an accountant, but with a wife at home and a baby on the way, he took a job with his uncle selling used cars. Isaac claimed Carla intentionally became pregnant to force the marriage and keep him from having a career. She said it was his fault because he refused to use protection, saying it wasn't manly. He always thought his success was stolen by Carla. He thought he could have been a major player in college football and later in pro ball. Even so, Isaac was personable and became reasonably successful selling cars, although he never really worked at it.

  They bought a house in South Carolina not far from the car lot and settled down. Carla spent her time watching after their two sons and complaining about Isaac's lack of motivation. Isaac spent his spare time watching football and basketball games, reliving his former glory in his mind. He also did what he could to avoid Carla. He did find time for a few dalliances with secretaries and a sales lady his uncle hired. He and the lady had a friendly competition to see who could sell the most cars, but then it became too friendly.

  When the panic hit, Carla, like most people took her credit cards to Walmart and like most people, fought tooth and nail for enough groceries to last a week. When those were gone and everything else that was edible was gone, Isaac insisted that Carla begin going through her address book and Christmas card list, looking for people she could talk into helping. She went to every house in the neighborhood and the next neighborhood and begged and borrowed every can of food anybody was willing to part with, no matter how old or strange.

  Then, he made her go through all her journals and through their high school yearbook, calling person after person, trying to find help. When all resources were ex
hausted, Isaac brought up her relationship with John. Isaac claimed Carla had never gotten over him. Having Carla use John to get them food was a fitting payback, he said, so they drove to the lodge. They weren't sure John would be there, but Carla knew it was their last chance.

  Chapter 28 - New People

  Early June

  The next two weeks were busy with the completion of the tunnels, chopping and stacking many cords of firewood as well as some overdue maintenance on the buildings.

  Dinner was over and most of the group were in the living room, watching a DVD when Cho walked in from the kitchen and stood at the front windows. She peeked out and then quickly turned around and spoke.

  "John, car at front gate. What to do? We no have visitors." She spoke fast and her voice was high pitched.

  John immediately jumped up, as did the rest of the group, rushing over to the windows. He looked out, wondering 'What now.' As he headed for the basement, he said, "Pierre, cover me. I'll see what they want."

  Pierre went to the closet and pulled out his rifle. He had three stashed in various parts of the lodge downstairs, with two in the barn, one in the greenhouse and two in his cabin. He opened the window and took up his stance. "Oui. Take your body armor and do not put yourself between them and me. The body armor will not stop one of my shots. And make sure to use the headlights on the tractor. It is difficult to see in this darkness. I do not wish to shoot the wrong shadow."

  John scurried to the barn through the tunnel and started the tractor. Right now, he was glad that George had added steel plates to the sides and front for just such an occasion. Only a small portal remained open in the windshield. He drove to the front gate and peered through the hole at the four people. He recognized one of his past love interests immediately.

  "Carla, long time, no see. You haven't changed. What's up?"

  "It has been a long time. We've been hungry a long time. I remembered your father had this place. It looks like you are doing well. I thought I'd come to see if you were still here."