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

by Taylor Michaels

  "Look, Your Grace, you can see in the screen what's outside."

  George couldn't stop himself any longer and burst out laughing.

  "I told you this wouldn't be easy, George. Do the best you can." John pressed on the accelerator and the electric car headed, almost silently, back toward the lodge. All during the trip, Binky concentrated on the screens, his nose sometimes touching the screen. When they finally arrived, he jumped out of the car and began wandering around. It was now completely dark and the black car was practically invisible.

  Masako stepped off the front porch and approached the Dark Devil. She looked at John and said, "I can't thank you enough for the pig's head. I never imagined I would say those words. I never thought anybody would say those words. And tonight, we'll eat a roast pork dinner. I know pork isn't your favorite, but Marceau did a great job on it. Isn't this a great day? Ten more minutes and you would have missed dinner. I'm glad you made it back in time. I was beginning to worry."

  Binky walked over to her and then walked around and around her, three times. Finally, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Don't know who I am, do you? Can't see me, can you? Boo!"

  She turned, slapped him hard on the cheek and said, "Cut that out, you nut case. I can see you just fine and I can put a giant hole in your head." She pulled out Elspeth's giant revolver from her fanny pack and placed it against his temple. "Get the point? Stay away from me."

  Binky closed his eyes and collapsed to the ground.

  Fred walked over from where he had been standing on the porch and started laughing, then fell back against the car. "John, you thought having Elspeth around made life interesting. Ha. Now Tom isn't here to keep things straight. And you have two of them."

  "Two of what?" Masako said, running over to Fred and putting the pistol against his head.

  "Come on, Masako," John said. "Put the gun away. I assume this is Elspeth's gun," he said, looking at it, before helping her put it back into her fanny pack. "Let's go eat dinner. Fred, help me with Binky. I'm looking forward to a great, but extremely strange, meal."

  Chapter 66 - Another Visitor

  John relaxed, or was as close to relaxing as he could be, on the porch after dinner, mulling over the last few months in his mind. George's gasifier project had provided heat and electricity. He was right that the higher efficiency of the system used less wood than the fireplaces. Their supplies of cordwood would easily last through the winter. Time previously used for chopping wood was now available for other things. Their original solar panels had been supplemented by Joe's panels and his other equipment. That provided almost all of their daily electricity requirement, further reducing their need for cordwood.

  Food was finally plentiful. The garden had been productive. Their latest troubles had pared the group down to seven, plus Binky. That was good from a food supply point of view, but not so good for defensive capability and was really bad for morale. Those lost were good friends and good fighters. Most of all, he regretted the heroic death of Charles, a close and valuable friend for three years.

  After a brief sentimental moment, John reverted to his musings. He had changed their nightly scavenging missions into search missions, looking for other humans and mutants, partly for protection and partly to look for people to add to their group. So far, he had not been successful in finding anybody, except for a few mutants.

  As he stared off into the distance, he saw light, a flash of light. Then another. He stood up and walked down the stairs and away from the noise of the lodge. Fred, Masako and Pierre were in the living room arguing about battle tactics. Apparently, Masako had been reading some of John's books. Binky was half-asleep on the sofa.

  The flashes continued and, finally, John could hear the noise of a vehicle, perhaps several. He ran inside and said, "Noise and lights outside. Pierre, where is that sniper rifle? You're going to need it. Fred, grab your rifle and position yourself on the upper flank. Take one of those night vision goggles with you."

  "You want me to take the lower flank?" said Masako, jumping up from the sofa.

  "I hope we won't need that. Stay with me. Everybody else find yourself a rifle and a defensible place to shoot from inside the lodge. Open some windows. Make sure you have enough ammo."

  Binky stirred in the recliner, turned over, then went back to sleep.

  John and Masako crawled through the tunnel to the barn and opened the big door. They climbed onto the tractor, which had been reinforced against bullets with steel plates, and waited and watched. As the tractor was originally designed for one, it was snug, but Masako wasn't complaining. Neither was John.

  Shortly, two sets of headlights could be seen on the highway. One set stopped at the curve down the hill and the other continued on to the front gate. Someone stepped out of the vehicle, a large, black SUV, and began waving a light. A bullhorn said, "We are with the government. Come down here and talk with us." The message was repeated three times before the bullhorn went silent.

  "So, what do we do, John? Shoot them?"

  John laughed. "We talk. First, anyway. I'd rather not shoot everybody we meet, although lately, it usually turns out that way." John started the tractor and slowly made his way down the zigzag driveway lined with junked cars to the gate in the barrier fence also made of junked cars. Once at the barrier, he climbed down and walked to the gate, after checking to make sure his three twenty-seven Magnum was nestled in the small of his back. Masako sat in the tractor and held her rifle on her lap.

  The man with the bullhorn placed it on the hood of his giant black SUV and said, "Hello, my name is Adam Benson. The government is coming out of hibernation and is back in control of the country. Our first goal is to complete a census of who is left. Our leaders would like you to fill out these papers." He handed John a thick manila envelope. "We noticed your place has electricity and central heat. On the blank piece of paper enclosed, you should describe that system. Provide any diagrams and other information we might need to understand it."

  "We don't need for you to understand our heating system or anything else," Masako said, climbing down from the tractor with her rifle still in her hand. "In fact, since you weren't here protecting us or providing medical care, we don't owe you anything. The lawlessness died down a month or so ago and now you're coming out of hibernation. Where were you three months ago when we were under attack by a new gang every week?" She moved close to the man, her nose close to his and her rifle almost hitting him, as she gestured wildly. She raised her voice almost to a scream. "We don't need you now! Do something useful for us and we may help you. Otherwise go away and leave us alone." She turned, walked two steps back to John, turned again, cradling the rifle in her arms and glaring at the man.

  Adam Benson appeared unaffected by the words and spoke in a monotone. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but this isn't optional. The government did provide this road and many other public works, which I'm sure you use every day."

  Masako didn't hesitate with her reply. "The people who built this road are all dead and the people whose taxes paid their salaries are also dead. And now, there's nowhere to go, because there's nobody around to visit. You haven't done anything for us and you aren't doing anything for us. We owe you nothing. If you want something from us, you'll have to barter for it. What are you going to trade?"

  "We will do more for you, but it will take time for us to become organized. This census is part of that organization. We want to know how many people are still around and what resources are available."

  "Our resources are not available. Not to you, anyway. They were paid for by the lives of a dozen people. By the lives of our good friends who died defending this property. That was when you people were comfortably living in a hole in the ground and eating steak while we were risking our lives every day and eating grass from the lawn."

  The man looked blankly at Masako. Her obvious opposition took him aback. How could anyone argue that the government had authority over the country? Authority over the people? He had not expected this
to be easy. Nobody wants to pay taxes. But taxpayers are not normally so openly hostile. The way she kept waving around that rifle, he was worried for his safety. He glanced down the road, looking at the car containing his partner, glad that he brought somebody to help, but concerned that his partner was too far away to help.

  John finally stopped staring off into the night sky and said, "Don't worry. I'll fill out your forms. Not a problem. Then, I'll drop them in the mail, the minute I've finished. A few 'forever' stamps are left in the desk."

  The man turned to his vehicle, stopped for a moment and then turned back. "I'll stop by to pick up the package next week." He turned around the SUV in the middle of the road and drove back past his companion at the corner. A minute later they were both gone.

  Masako stared at John and said, "Why did you do that? Now he'll come back."

  "He was coming back anyway. At least now we know he won't be back for a week. We can be ready for him."

  "How will we do that? Tell Pierre to shoot him? That's what I'd do -- if I were running this place. Shoot him."

  "Masako, I keep saying this. I don't run this place. I owned the land and I invited all of you here, but that was a long time ago. In my mind, if not in time. This is a democracy. If you can convince the group it is best to shoot this SOB the next time we see him, then we'll do it."

  Masako's independent attitude had greatly increased after the incident at the bunker and the later operations at the high school. John wondered if he could now keep her under control. Not likely. She went from being constantly afraid to being constantly looking for a fight. She was a loose cannon and he needed to watch her carefully.

  John climbed up onto the tractor and pulled Masako up beside him. It was just as cozy as the trip from the lodge. He couldn't question a great attraction to her. But, he was still hurting from the death of Cho. Feeling for Masako hurt him as much as it comforted him. Somehow, he felt like he was cheating on Cho by having these feelings. He tried to put that out of his mind. Concentrate on the current problem. The government was coming out of their caves and, like a hibernating grizzly, they were coming out hungry -- and mean.

  Back at the lodge, everyone stood around the dining room table and looked at the census forms. Not only did the forms ask for the details of the people, including their social security numbers, birthdates, birthplaces and other information, they asked about firearms, ammunition, inventories of fuel, number and types of vehicles and farm equipment, availability of solar and wind power systems, size of farm and property, animals and many other things. Things that John and the others would prefer to keep and to keep secret from the government. They knew that the only reason the government cared about those things was because the government wanted those things.

  "What do we do, John? Fill out the forms?" said Fred. "Should we include the eighteen wheeler flatbed we borrowed from the county? And the backhoe? And all the books we keep on long-term loan from the local library?"

  "What do we do?" said Pierre, with trembling lips, the tendons in his neck standing out. He emphasized the word 'we' and was looking at his girlfriend as his hand began to shake. "Marceau and I are not citizens. We did not enter this country legally. They will not like finding us here. Mon Dieu. What can we do?"

  "I'm not here legally, either," said Masako. "We jumped out of a ship and came ashore in the dark of night. Under a hail of bullets." She stopped for a second and smiled. "That was a fun night, wasn't it? Did you plan for this, John? What about Plan B? We should make one. They could put us in jail."

  "Come on, folks. No need to worry," John said. "Millions of illegal aliens used to come into the country every year and nobody in government cared. If it comes to that, and I don't believe it will, we'll fake some identities. We've recovered many boxes of records from local houses. George put them in one of the storage cabins. For now, we do nothing. Maybe think about what we should do when they come back."

  "I like the original plan," Masako said, looking at each member of the group. "We shoot them. We shoot this guy and every guy who comes after that. As long as they come and as long as our bullets last."

  When her eyes once again landed on John, he looked into her dark brown eyes and had to smile. He did still love her and he did still love Cho's memory. "Let's call that Plan B -- for now."

  "I don't see the problem," said Binky. "Just give the blighters a check."

  Fred said, "They are smarter than that, Duke, or Your Grace. They will want all of our weapons, all of our ammo, all of our fuel, most of our food, and half of our people. They would probably want to use the lodge as their regional headquarters and they'd push us out into tents on the lawn."

  "Sticky wicket, that. Plenty of room for you on the schooner. You could come to California with us."

  "Binky, for now, you are lost and have no idea how to get to where you're going. We appreciate the invitation, but we'll call that Plan A minus right now," said John.

  Masako smiled. "I like it. Cruising out on the ocean. Sunsets on the waves. I say it's Plan A plus."

  John looked at her and said, "Hurricanes. Storms. Eating fish. Morning, noon and night. Fish, fish, nothing but fish. That would be almost as bad as Charles with all those boxes of Spam, Spam and more Spam under his bed. I could have handled that. But fish. Definitely not Plan A plus. Maybe D minus."

  * * *

  It rained for two days, not unusual for fall, but the pouring rain had made it impossible to do anything outside without becoming cold and wet. Activities inside were not much better because of the humidity. In the greenhouse, Marceau picked vegetables and Iris pulled weeds.

  Masako looked out the front window at the dreary gray sky, thinking that her life had changed so much, and for the worse. Seeing the rain finally stop, she decided to go to the greenhouse to help Marceau. But her last glance outside revealed a man bicycling down the road in front of the lodge. He stopped at the gate and parked his bicycle. Masako came out of her daze and realized that, again, something bizarre was about to happen. What to do? The answer was obvious, and cowardly. She would tell John. She felt spineless that she deferred to him so often. She should show more backbone. She should be independent. She should be bold and handle problems on her own. That would require going to the barn and driving the tractor down to the gate and maybe shooting someone. But John was in the barn. Perhaps, now was not the time to be independent or bold. Maybe tomorrow. She crawled through the tunnel to the barn where John, George and Fred were working on one of the Dark Darts.

  "What's up, guys?"

  "Workin' on the gasifier engine. Changin' oil. It can be a small engine because the train tracks are nearly level. Maybe ten horsepower. It acts as a pusher engine for the new Dark Dart train. Worked really well on the trip to Tennessee. Goes like -- a dart. On a sugar high," said George. "I wanted it in the back in case any carbon monoxide escapes."

  "We can go to the beach for a few days whenever we want," said Fred, watching Masako carefully for any signs of interest. Seeing none, he continued. "Go fishing. Go swimming. Have some fun. Not much fun these last months. We could be at the coast in three hours, tops. Not bad." He looked back at Masako, but still could see no interest.

  Masako looked at Fred and took a deep breath. "The last time we went to the beach, I was nearly killed by a man in a jet plane. John was nearly killed twice. Three times, if things had been a little different. I think I'll just stay home, thank you. Or I'll take the schooner with Binky. Plan A plus." Masako watched John for a sign of interest or emotion. She didn't see any interest or emotions and sighed deeply.

  "You here for a reason, or you just wanted to check out the beefcake?"

  "Not here for fun, Fred" she said without expression in her voice or on her face. "A man at the gate. Again."

  John knew they were being lax with their security, but, after all, they hadn't had any serious threats for over a month. Most people in the area had died. He shook his head back and forth at Masako's ramblings and breathed heavily. He walked ove
r to the door and looked out. "Sure, why not. Not another government man. I hope not. You guys cover me. If I don't make it back, don't bury me near Sarah. Beside Charles would be better. Or Elspeth, if there's space."

  Fred smiled and ran for the cabinet in the corner where he kept a rifle. He pulled out his radio and pushed the button. "Pierre. Battle stations. Visitor at the gate."

  John jumped onto the tractor and started it. His trip down the eight hundred foot driveway was slow, purposefully. If anybody wanted to take a shot at him, better to let them become antsy and take their first shot at a greater distance. Greater distance meant a greater chance of them missing. Arriving at the gate, John looked out at the man. He was tall, stoutly built and blond. "What do you want?" John was immediately sorry for his bluntness and his lack of finesse, but life had turned bad. Being nice was overrated. Finesse was overrated. Bluntness was underrated. Why should he be nice to someone who was probably going to try to kill him? Nice was a luxury that was no longer worth anything. Everybody he met these days tried to kill him or take his food or both. This man seemed decent and John really didn't want to kill anybody else. This new world was more brutal than he liked and it made him more brutal than he liked.

  "My name is Hans. Lunch would be nice," he said, with a German accent. "Undt a bottle of wine."

  "That's all, Hans? Lunch and a bottle of wine? What would you prefer? Lobster thermidor? A nice bottle of Alsace? White tablecloths? Real silver? Crystal wine glasses?"

  "Any of those things would be nice, but I will settle for whatever you are having for lunch. I can pay for the food. With information. In advance."

  "You're going to trust me to decide if the information is worth the lunch?"

  "Undt a bottle of wine, do not forget."

  John looked at Hans, trying to find any clues to the man's situation. Hans' clothing was clean and neat and he was overweight. He had not suffered from the virus apocalypse. No scratches or scars John could see. Most likely someone with the government. The man would have to be extremely confident to make such a proposal to a total stranger. Hans would have to be in possession of something he didn't need and something he knew John would want. "Of course. How could I forget the wine? What's the information."