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

by Taylor Michaels

  "About once a month, somebody shows up and wants to kill us or steal our food. You would be required to give your all then, too. It's never easy and it's never the same. In some ways, it's interesting and invigorating. I suppose defending your life always is. But no shirking is allowed. And it's not likely to be much better for years. But we're young. We can afford to wait for that better world, if we aren't killed first." John stopped speaking to laugh. "I'm not good at giving pep talks, am I? Half of our group has died bringing us this far. Not the best odds and a terrible pep talk."

  "What about Hans? I put you onto him. Doesn't that count for anything?"

  John heaved out a deep breath. Chung was still thinking like the old days. "It counts as doing what had to be done to survive -- one day. No extra credit. No special points. Part of that day's work. No time off for good behavior. We each do what we must do. Every day. And so far, we had only a handful of days off. We work seven days a week. So, how does that sound? You still believe your chances are better here?"

  Without hesitating, Chung said, "Definitely. If you people are willing to work like that, then you have a strong will to survive. Your chances of surviving are as good as they can be. But, from what everybody has said, you attract trouble. It just keeps coming. And these new people are completely strange. Binky is the definition of strange. And this business with the Forest Rangers is trouble. When, I shot that guy, my whole body was shaking."

  "Good shot, though. You can probably add saving my life to your list of accomplishments."

  Chung's eyes widened. "I forgot about that."

  "And, I don't attract trouble." John's tone was defensive and his words showed it. "It just shows up at the front door. Every week, like clockwork. Binky and his friends claim to be on their way to California. Their first attempt to leave didn't work out. I'll believe he's going if he makes another attempt soon. Otherwise, we'll have the talk. Simca says Binky's a genius." John half-laughed.

  Chung tried to manage a grin, but it looked more like a grimace. "Simca's strange. I don't trust her. Zack has no interest in anything at all. Just floats through life. Nothing affects him. Not a nerve in his body."

  "What about Joan. I've seen you with her once or twice."

  Chung gazed out the side window, the trees passing them by, before he spoke. "She's totally closed-mouthed. Doesn't say much. Actually, she doesn't say anything. I don't know what's going on in her mind. That worries me. I talk and she listens. She never says anything. An occasional smile."

  The lady in the GPS system interrupted and announced that 'your destination is near.'

  John sat upright. "Showtime, Chung. Check your rifle and your pistol. Make sure your pistol is cocked."

  Chung eye's were riveted to John's gun. "Hey, Big Guy, I noticed you carry a revolver. A six shooter. Why? With an automatic, you can take fifteen shots or more." He raised his gun in front of him.

  "Reliability. Revolvers are the most reliable. If a bullet misfires, I just pull the trigger again. Also, it has an internal hammer which won't snag on my clothing when I pull it out. Firing shot number one first is more important to me than being able to shoot bullet number seven last. My life, my gun. Your life, do what you want."

  John pulled the monstrous SUV into a narrow side road where the brush scraped against the vehicle on the sides as he drove slowly. He continued until the vehicle was camouflaged from the main highway by the trees and brush. They meandered through the forest toward the place Fred had marked on the map. They found themselves in a small clearing, staring at a log cabin about the size of a large house. It had to be the Ranger Station. Atop the building was a satellite dish. John pointed to the antenna and said, "That's how they communicate. The satellites are powered by solar panels. They will keep working for years. Probably, some panels here too, somewhere. I don't hear a generator." John led Chung around back, staying inside the wooded area far enough to minimize their chance of being seen if the log cabin were occupied. From the back, the solar panels on the roof were obvious. "I wouldn't mind taking those with us, too. Or maybe Fred and George can come here later. Let's look for some gasoline."

  They continued walking around the building and found a gas pump on the other side of the Ranger Station. "All the comforts of home. I wonder how they check the amount of gas in the tank? I don't know if we have enough to go back. A fill-up would be nice. I've seen people drop in a pole. Low tech, but I suppose it works. I see one in that lean-to. So, the last question is, are we alone?"

  Chung gave John a long look. The look said, "I'm not sure I signed up for this."

  John returned to the back of the ranger station and scurried to the corner, then peeked in a window. The kitchen was filled with dirty pans, chairs and a table, but nobody could be seen. He crept around the building and checked all the windows, still seeing no signs of life. Chung followed, with some hesitation. Once around at the back again, he looked over at Chung, "This is the dangerous part. If anybody is in there, they saw us coming and they're prepared. Cover me."

  "You didn't bring any body armor, did you?"

  John's lips disappeared and he briefly closed his eyes before saying, "That's the one thing I didn't think about. We'll be taking a risk. I'll try the door." John hopped over the railing of the back porch and twisted the knob on the weathered back door. "Locked," John whispered. He took his wallet from his rear pocket and removed his lock picks.

  "Just bash it in," Chung whispered, kneeling beside John and carefully looking around, checking out the area.

  "Too much noise. Plus, once we're in, it's ours. We could come back here. We could bring the Dark Demon this far with a few extra batteries, if we were sure we had a way to recharge it. The rangers probably had a key to the door. Should have brought them. Might be a good base camp for hunting. We've hunted most everything within miles of the lodge."

  * * *

  The lock clicked and the knob turned. John crept in and began to check out the building. From the kitchen, he carefully tiptoed into what looked like a reception room. From there he checked out two small rooms with desks and then three small bedrooms. The bedrooms had bunk beds and chests for furniture. The closets contained Forest Ranger uniforms as well as casual men's clothing. Before entering each room, he took the precaution of stopping and listening for any sounds. Once, he was sure he heard Chung's heart.

  "Is that it, Big Guy? Are we alone?"

  "Not sure. Did you see any signs of a basement or an attic?"

  Chung shook his head. "I didn't see any windows when we were outside."

  "That's no guarantee. Let's recheck each room and each closet for access to the attic or basement. And check each rug to make sure no trap doors are hidden under one."

  In the hallway, Chung tried to lift a small carpet, but it wouldn't move. It was glued down. He felt around the edge and found a corner that would lift up. Underneath was a recessed ring and the outline of a trapdoor. John pointed to the trap door and whispered, "I wish that wasn't there. This is more and more dangerous every second."

  John put his finger to his lips and motioned for Chung to go to the back side of the trapdoor and then lift the ring. Chung took off his belt and put it through the ring. The large buckle caught on the ring. He stood behind the door and slowly began to pull on the other end of the belt. Four shots hit the door before it was open a foot. Chung jumped back as the trapdoor slammed shut. Two more shots hit the trapdoor. John crept back, being careful to make no noise, but a floorboard creaked. Two more shots were fired and tore through the floor boards. John looked at Chung, who was standing in the doorway of the second bedroom, and held up eight fingers and then drew a question mark in the air with his finger. Chung held up five fingers three times, then returned the question mark.

  John looked around for a heavy object and saw a small bookcase in the reception room. He picked out two large books and tossed them onto the trapdoor. They landed with a slam. Two more shots were fired and two more chunks of wood flew from the door as two more ho
les appeared. He tossed two more books and heard two more shots. Two more books were followed by a single shot.

  John ran to the trapdoor, opened it, put in his head, then his hand holding his gun and pointed the gun around the basement.

  "Don't shoot. I'm out," called out a female voice. "What do you want?"

  John wasn't expecting a female voice. He saw no women's clothing in the closets. "Come on out. We won't shoot. We just want some information."

  John stepped back into the reception room and watched around the corner as a middle-aged, attractive, blonde woman climbed out of the basement, gun in hand. He jumped back around the corner and yelled, "Drop the gun. Toss it over to the doorway."

  "It's empty."

  "Drop it or die. If I don't see it on the floor in two seconds, I'll shoot."

  John heard the gun hit the floor and slide. He looked around the corner and saw the gun a few feet in front of him. "Put your hands up. Chung, where are you?" A bedroom door opened and Chung stuck out his head. "Get out here. Frisk her while I keep her covered."

  "You sure about his Big Guy? How about I cover her and you frisk her?"

  "I'm surprised you'd be willing to pass up the opportunity," John said, smiling.

  "All the women I've frisked before were willing. She doesn't look willing. She looks dangerous."

  "She's desperate. I'm thinking those women you frisked before were desperate, too," John said, with a sly grin.

  "That's not a nice thing to say, Big Guy."

  Chung pointed his gun at her as John did the deed and the woman watched.

  "You can frisk me anytime, handsome. What did he call you? Big Guy? You are tall. Nice black hair. Cute. I'm sure we can get along. I won't be any trouble."

  "Maybe later. For now, what's your name?"

  She told them her name was Frances and her friends called her Fran. She had been rescued by the Forest Rangers just after the panic and had been living with them since. They had been prepared to be snowed in for the next winter and had plenty of food. Much of that was now gone and she had been raising a small garden in a clearing in the forest to supplement their stores.

  "You don't seem worried about the Rangers coming back."

  "I don't plan to be here that long. Chung is keeping watch. I saw a satellite dish on the roof. What's it used for?"

  "They talk to somebody on it. Email, I think."

  "I didn't see any computers or terminals upstairs. Is that in the basement?"

  Fran nodded and John said, "Show me. I'll follow you. Chung keep watch."

  "For what, Big Guy?"

  "For anything that might show up. She might have some friends we don't know about."

  "Yeah, Chung," Fran said. "Get with the plan or Big Guy's coming down on you, big time."

  John looked at Fran and said "Down."

  "I've heard that line before."

  "Down the stairs."

  "Oh yeah. You want to see my equipment."

  "You've heard that line before, too."

  "I'm beginning to like you, Mr. Guy. Do you have another name?"

  "Call me John. Down the stairs. Now."

  "Keep your pants on," she said, opening the trapdoor. "I'll help you take them off later. Or if you close the trapdoor and make Chung promise not to peek, we can do it downstairs right now."

  She finally led the way to the basement and showed John the computer the Forest Rangers used to communicate. She also showed him the bed in the corner where she slept. John guessed that she didn't generally sleep there alone and maybe not often.

  "How often do they use this? The computer, not the bed."

  She tilted her head and said, "Same answer. Almost every day."

  John looked through the desk, finding little. He kept an eye on Fran as he did so. Then, he turned on the computer. He looked at recent files on the computer and then in the downloads directory. Most of the emails were simply status reports sent each day. Most just mentioned the weather, level of food supplies and anything unusual, such as the day they found Fran. His interest was peaked when he saw that they had received emails over the past four days detailing their new mission to obtain inventories of John's lodge and two other locations within a hundred miles. No mention was made of what the information would be used for or of the previous group that visited the lodge. The forms were also downloaded to the computer.

  "Do you know how much fuel is in the tank out there?" John said, turning and looking at Fran. "I don't see anything about it here. Did they ever receive any deliveries of fuel or food."

  "Not since I've been here. I haven't seen anything."

  "Did they communicate with anybody else?"

  "Not that I know of. I didn't hear about anybody or hear them talk about anybody else. They were pretty freaked out by the virus. That's all they talked about. By the way, what happened to them? Where are they? What will happen to me? Did you kill them? Are you going to kill me, too?" Her voice quaked as she rapidly asked the questions.

  At first, John thought Fran was acting. When he saw tears in her eyes spilling over and running down her cheek, he began to question that. But he knew some people could cry on demand. It could still be an act. She seemed like someone who could do what she had to when she needed to. Maybe that was good, but to take her back to the lodge, he must trust her. Right now, he didn't. John nodded to the stairs and Fran led the way back up.

  "You aren't watching my butt are you, Big Guy? Wouldn't want you getting too excited, with that gun in your hand."

  "Move it." Once upstairs, John motioned for her to go into the kitchen and sit down. "Fran, our only plan was to find out what these guys were up to. They came to our home with more attitude than we thought a guest should show. We had a dispute. After that was a gun fight and after that, a burial."

  Fran's face wrinkled as she began crying. She dropped her head and quietly sobbed into her hands. "You're going to kill me."

  John was quick on the retort. "You've already tried to kill me. Thirteen times, by my count. Any more guns or bullets?"

  Fran tilted her head toward the basement. "There's a safe in the basement. It has a combination lock. I've tried to open it, but I couldn't. They gave me the gun just before they left. So, that's how you'll explain this to your friends. I shot first."

  "As I said, you fired the first thirteen bullets. We've fired none."

  Fran swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "Not yet. You will only need one. I can't defend myself."

  "Don't play the defenseless woman. You're anything but. You wormed your way into the group of Forest Rangers and they fed, housed and took care of you. Maybe you provided them with a diversion or two, but you had the better deal. You survived. Everybody else is dead."

  "Everybody's dead? Not everybody. You're alive."

  "Less than a hundred left in the state, from what I've heard."

  For a moment Fran's mouth was agape before she responded, "Oh. I didn't know it was that bad. They didn't tell me. Well, I planted a garden. I cooked their food. I cleaned and yes, I was their whore. We had a happy little arrangement until you came along." She ran her tongue along her lips. "I could have the same arrangement with you, Mister Guy."

  "I didn't just come along. I was sitting happily in my house, minding my own business, not bothering anybody, when your friends just came along. They threatened me and my friends. They were going to steal everything we worked for. Everything we killed for. No, they weren't the first we've killed. That number is approaching one hundred." John saw the silent gasp and horror on Fran's face, so he quickly defended his position. "And we've lost over half of our people in these last six months. We weren't going to hand over everything our friends died for. We paid too much. So, don't blame me for your life going sour. Our lives have been sour for over half a year."

  Finally, Chung spoke up. "What do we do now, Big Guy?"

  "Yeah, Mister Guy. Tell him what you're going to do."

  John caught himself before he said what he was thinking. Fran was accomp
lished at getting under people's skin and in making them reveal secrets through raw emotion. No way could he allow her to go back to the lodge. The place would be in shambles in a day. She would stir up everyone's fears and hatreds. They would be at each other's throats.

  "Chung, get me a rope. I saw one in the shed near the gasoline pump. Remember?"

  Chung was barely out the back door when Fran said, "Smart, Mister Guy. You don't want him to see that you're a cold-blooded murderer."

  "No," John said, his heart racing as he slowly squeezed the trigger of his revolver. He wasn't sure if the excitement was from knowing that he liked this woman or from the thrill of the kill. No, he hated killing and always did, but he had to admit that he had an adrenalin rush when it happened and he had to admit that he did find her attractive.

  The thunderous sound of the gun reverberated through the building and Chung lunged through the back door. "She came at you, Big Guy?"

  "Yeah," John bent over and opened Fran's fist. It contained a pair of scissors.

  "You saw her pick that up downstairs? While you were searching through the computer?" Chung's eyes were riveted to the pooling of the blood on the floor.

  "Yeah. Sure. You know, in a way, I really liked her. She was scary. I didn't trust her at all. She wasn't upset that her former housemates were dead. Perhaps, she thought she could kill us and then she'd have this place to herself. Or, she may have thought about going back to our place and starting a revolution. This reminds me of spying back in China. I knew that was dangerous, but it gave me a real high trying to stay on top of it all. To be in control and stay out of prison."

  "You think you could have ever controlled her?"

  "No. Not without putting a gun to her head twenty-four hours a day and I don't sleep well as it is. I'm beginning to wonder if she was the Rangers' sex slave or they were hers. Probably the latter."

  After burying Fran on the other side of the garden in the clearing behind the Ranger Station, John filled the car's tank with gasoline along with two of the drums he brought. Afterward, he dropped in the pole he found nearby. The underground tank was over half-full and, judging from its depth, contained several thousand gallons of gasoline. The ranger station would be a good place to come to hunt and could also be a bug-out site. The logs would stop bullets. Plenty of storage space existed in the basement and the kitchen would be adequate to cook meals. The solar panels could even recharge the cars. Marceau wouldn't be happy with the wood-burning cook stove, but if worst came to worst, it could save their lives. This, plus the retirement home in High Gap, would provide a safety net when the government next tried to coerce them. John decided he shouldn't remove the satellite dish, but he did take the computer and the modem. Perhaps George could make some use of it or he could go back to the Ranger Station and figure out how to remove the satellite dish so that they could listen for government activity.