The Off Grid Survivor Box Set: Complete The Off Grid Survivor Series Books 1-4

by Connor Mccoy

  Like it matters, Lance thought. If Derrick hated this Conrad Drake person, why did Lance care, as long as Lance got what was promised for his services?

  A loud shout jolted Lance back to reality. He and the other men spun to a space near Derrick. Ethan was running backward, spinning his rifle back down into the grass. Then he opened fire three times.

  “Ethan! What are you shooting at?” Cal ran up to him, drawing his weapon.

  “A snake! A damn copperhead! It was near my foot!” Ethan cried.

  Derrick stomped through the grass to the place where Ethan had shot. He then stopped and bent over. “There’s no damn copperhead. It’s a small water snake. It’s not poisonous at all.”

  Ethan panted loudly. “Really?”

  Derrick glared at him. “Yeah.” He then stopped so close to Ethan that Derrick’s nose nearly brushed Ethan’s. “So, in addition to wasting precious ammo, you might have woken up Conrad’s old busted ass and alerted him that something’s going on out here.”

  Ethan stammered. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Well, here’s some helpful advice,” Derrick replied, “If it doesn’t kill you first, don’t shoot it. Got that?”

  Ethan shook. “Fine, fine.”

  “Good.” Derrick then turned around and gazed back in the direction of Conrad Drake’s property. “We’re still far enough away. These tall grass blades should still cover us. We’ll just move in a little slower.” Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Kendall, Ricardo, keep your scopes handy. I want you to look at Conrad’s property every few minutes.” Derrick started walking. “If we’re lucky, maybe he’ll step outside. Good time to let him know he’s been relieved of his property.”

  Liam followed the scent to the kitchen. Camilla was seated at the small table with a large smoking pot and a few cups. She was drinking heavily from one when Liam stepped through the doorway.

  Camilla quickly had taken the cup off her lips. “Hey. Looks like I got your engine started. Wasn’t sure if you were a coffee drinker.”

  “Wasn’t until a year ago,” Liam replied.

  “Sit down,” Camilla said before taking another swig. Liam obeyed. Camilla then poured some coffee into another cup. “I figured this was better than vodka. Used to enjoy that when I lived in New York, but I guess I didn’t want to trade in for a new liver.” She gently pushed the cup toward Liam. “I had a couple of boyfriends who may have appreciated a good drink a little too much. Guess that’s why I wanted to get out to the Midwest.”

  Liam took the cup. “You said you were like a nomad. Did you ever want to settle down for good?”

  Camilla sighed. “I thought about it. I thought about it a lot, especially lately. Maybe it’s time to admit that I’m too old to run around the U.S. of A. and actually get a home to look after.”

  “I hope this isn’t too personal, but are things good between you and my dad?” Liam asked after another sip.

  “Uh? Oh, sure.” Camilla poured herself more coffee. “It’s like how something runs warm and hot. It’d get hot, really hot, then warm again.” She smirked. “Look, he’s your father. You probably don’t want me giving you dirty details. Looking at you, you probably know what I mean.”

  Liam coughed. “Yeah. No, I was just curious why he never mentioned you. I didn’t know if there was a rift.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Camilla turned her cup around. “I guess neither one of us knows if we want to drop anchor.”

  Just then, Carla showed up in shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair remained a mess. She had gotten dressed hastily. “Hey, where’s the fire?” she asked.

  “Waiting for you.” Camilla quickly poured Carla a cup of coffee.

  As Carla sat down and took it, Liam eyed the assault rifle behind Camilla, resting against the wall. This was the first time Liam hadn’t seen the shotgun with Camilla. “Looks like you traded your guns up,” he said, hoping he’d pull some information out of her.

  Camilla nodded. “Yeah. Went from a little piker to heavy duty.”

  Before Carla or Liam could make a comment, they all heard a popping noise from outside. Camilla turned to the kitchen window as Carla said, “Sounds like someone shot a firework out there.”

  Camilla glanced out the window. Conrad’s fields were visible, but the land toward the horizon was largely obscured with tall grasses and weeds. “Well, someone might have shot something out there,” Camilla said. “Could be someone hunting.” She turned away, her expression grimmer.

  “But if you ask me, I think it’s getting a little crazier out there.” She folded her arms. “Look, I can’t beat around the bush any longer. It’s not good out there. In fact, even in the countryside there’s been some skirmishes. And when I say skirmishes, I mean gunfights between groups, almost war stuff.”

  She then looked through the doorway to the living room. “I was doing a little busy work last night. I think it’s time you lovebirds grabbed some ammo. Get dressed and I’ll show you.”

  Derrick brushed the latest bundle of tall weeds out of his face. The rest of his party followed his lead. Derrick then stopped at the edge of a barbed wire fence. “Finally,” he muttered. He turned to Teller and Kendall. “Still nothing?”

  The pair shook their heads. “Place has been quiet all morning,” Teller said.

  “Perfect.” Derrick tapped the fence post with his knuckle. “Well, Conrad, it looks as though we’re going to have ourselves a nice little reunion, you and me.” He smiled. “Yeah, you always thought you were better than me, didn’t you?”

  He turned his back to the fence, facing his men. “Alright, here’s how it’s going to work. You’re all going to spread out, two on the east side, two on the west, and two in front. When I give the word, you start unloading bullets inside that house. You stop only when I say. Since I don’t expect anybody but Conrad in there, it’s going to be short and sweet. But even when we see his corpse on the ground, we’re not going to rest until we’ve given the house a big going-over. You never know if Conrad has taken in some strays.”

  “Strays?” Lance asked.

  “Strays, you know, other survivors.” Derrick passed Lance by. “Maybe a woman or two.” Derrick chuckled.

  “But are we going—” Lance began, but couldn’t finish his question when Ethan and Teller walked by, bumping into his arm. Lance then turned to George, who passed by much more slowly.

  “George, are we going to kill anyone else?” Lance asked.

  George kept his eyes on Derrick. “Oh, I’m sure we’re not.” He chuckled, a tad nervously for Lance’s tastes. “They see us coming, they’ll head for the road and won’t look back.”

  Lance swallowed. George didn’t sound so sure.

  Before Lance could ask anything, Cal closed in and walked evenly with him. “Hey,” Cal said, “look, you might want to stow this wimp talk of yours before someone hears it. If you’re not ready to spill some blood for your food, your ass is going to starve. That’s the way the world works now.” Cal lingered a glare on Lance before he quickened his pace.

  Lance clenched his jaw tightly.

  Liam had to admit, he wasn’t expecting his father’s living room sofa to be loaded up with guns and clips, much less big rifles. Carla looked no less impressed. The two of them, fully dressed in fresh pants and shirts, eyed the arsenal as Camilla approached the left end of the couch. She looked up at them and smiled.

  “Yeah, you’re all surprised to see this, aren’t you? You might call it the latest in home security,” she said with a wink.

  “If we’re in another world war.” Carla looked up. “Okay, no joke, you really think something bad’s about to hit us?”

  “Where’d all this come from?” Liam asked.

  “Your dad’s stash,” Camilla replied. “He’s got an arsenal in the basement. He’s spent years collecting bullets, clips, magazines, guns and rifles for what was to come.” Camilla now fixed on the two young adults in front of her. “Now be honest. No bullshit. What’s your
experience in using firearms?”

  “A few shots in Redmond,” Liam said while shifting his right leg back and forth.

  “Had training with my adopted dad’s family.” Carla leaned over one of the rifles. “Can’t say I’ve ever trained with an assault rifle.”

  “It’s not too hard.” Camilla picked up one of the rifles. “You handle it like you would a rifle. Your dominant hand, you know, if you’re left-handed or right-handed, it goes on the pistol grip. That’s what you use to pull the trigger. Your other hand holds the weapon and does the reloading.” Camilla picked up one of the magazines.

  “Now, this is your mag.” She turned the gun upside down. Conspicuously, no magazine was loaded into it. “This is where you stick it in, but make sure it’s secured. Oh.” She then pointed to a small lever on the right side of the rifle. “This is the safety.”

  Carla picked up a rifle of her own and looked at the top of it. “Is this a scope?”

  “You got it. Several of the assault rifles have targeting scopes, including this one.” Camilla walked to their side and pointed the gun forward. She then raised the eyepiece up to Liam’s face. “There you go. Get your target between the crosshairs and squeeze the trigger. But you gotta keep in mind that your targets might not be standing still, so pay attention to how they move. If you think they’re headed into the crosshairs, take the shot.”

  Carla looked at Liam with a wry smile. “Big league stuff, right, partner?”

  Liam chuckled. “You got that right.” He looked through the scope. The television set was right through the crosshairs. “Okay, I’m a little dumb when it comes to this stuff, Camilla, so tell me, can these guns fire more than one bullet at a time?”

  “Total bullshit,” Camilla replied. “Squeeze once, shoot once. That’s the deal. You want to lay down rapid fire, you got to squeeze the trigger faster.”

  Liam lowered the rifle. “Have you ever had to use these?”

  Camilla sighed. “Yeah.” She reached for a belt of magazines on the couch. “Stories for another day. See this?” She handed it to Liam. “One for you and one for Carla.” She then handed Carla her own belt. “Keep these with you. You don’t want to run out of ammo in a firefight, or it’s your ass.”

  As Carla fished the belt around her shoulders, there was a knock at the front door. Camilla spun around quickly. “Damn,” she whispered.

  Liam’s heart quickened. Who could that be? Given what Camilla had been telling them, Liam couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenarios—a solitary killer, a band of thieves, or even a small army.

  Camilla picked up a .45 ACP. “You two run to your bedroom and get out of sight.” She started walking toward the front door. “I’ll give the all clear if I can.”

  “Don’t you want some backup?” Carla asked.

  “Just go, sweetie. Now,” Camilla said.

  Liam picked up his rifle again. “Let’s do it,” he said. Carla grabbed her own weapon and fled with Liam into the hall.

  Camilla waited until the two were gone before undoing the lock to the front door. All the while, she kept the .45 ACP behind her back. If she had to, she’d lay out a possible assailant with the first shot.

  Then she opened the door, confirming one of her worst fears.

  “Well, good afternoon,” said Derrick, wearing a sinister smile on his face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Clutching his stomach, Jack stumbled through the streets under the morning sunlight. His stomach rumbled again. The warehouse was too far away, and he was too weak to make it like this. He had been wandering the streets for a day and a night, and he desperately needed something in his stomach. He coughed. His throat was dry. And to top off his troubles, he had no men left to assist him. He was utterly alone.

  Damn Tom. Damn that old codger. Damn Sarah. Damn all of them! His mind was a never-ending litany of curses toward people who he imagined had wronged him. He even threw in Marco Valentino for old time’s sake, despite feeling sure Marco was long dead.

  What if he was truly alone and had to fend for himself? The thought sent chills down his back. The boys at the warehouse, if there were any left, might have decided to be their own bosses and lock him out, or perhaps they’d flee with all the weapons and supplies.

  My home. I still got a place in town. I had the guys barricade it. Yeah, I still can hide out there. If I can just get my ass over there.

  And so, he staggered down a couple of streets, when a stream of voices stopped him cold. He glanced at the back of an old store. A lone woman was stepping outside it, pushing a bicycle. He recognized her face. She was definitely one of the women who had escaped Maggiano’s warehouse.

  “Tamara!” Jack hobbled over to her. “Tamara!”

  She turned her head. Her eyes widened with terror.

  “Hey, hey, easy!” Jack raised his arms. “Look, I got nothing. I’m not here to hurt you, or anybody, really. I’m in the same boat as everyone else, just wanting to survive. I see you got a sweet pair of wheels here. Where’d you get it from?”

  Tamara hesitated. She just stood there with a slight jitter traversing her body.

  “Hey, come on. I just want a bike to ride home. I’m through with Maggiano’s operation. One hundred percent out. I just want to disappear. You understand what I’m saying?”

  Tamara nodded once. Good, good. He was making the connection.

  “You know I’m not a bad guy. I did all I could to keep the men’s mitts off you. Even gave you that great skirt.”

  Tamara nodded again, even talking. “Yeah.”

  “So, we’re good. Might even say we’re friends.” Jack laughed before taking a few steps closer to her, so close that Tamara backed off a little. “So, tell me, where’d you get the bike from?” he asked.

  Tamara fidgeted in place. Jack’s irritation grew. “C’mon, Tamara. Where’d you get it?”

  She pointed to an open back door. This was the backside of a string of small stores in a strip mall. Jack rushed over to it. Sure enough, there were a pair of bicycles inside. Jack was only a fair bike rider, but his skills should be enough for a bike ride to his home in Redmond. He might even be sleeping in his own bed in a few days.

  “Great.” He smiled. “You’re an angel, Tamara.” He pulled the bike out, in the process knocking over a few metal pipes that lay on the side of the wall. They fell to the floor of the shop’s storage room with loud clangs.

  Jack walked the bike out into the alley, passing Tamara. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there and watched him leave.

  But then Jack stopped. He turned and approached her again. “Say, do you know where the other ladies went? The ones who broke and ran from the warehouse? I’m just wondering if they’re all safe.”

  Tamara just nodded.

  “Well, could you point me in the right direction? Just so I know they’re okay.”

  Tamara turned away, but Jack grabbed her by the arm. She squirmed. “C’mon,” he said gently, while gripping her in a way that wasn’t very gentle. “Tell me.”

  “Chatham Boulevard,” she replied. “They went…we’re going down there.”

  “Edge of town, huh?” Jack released her. He then turned to his bike. “So, they’re skipping Redmond.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll pay them a visit,” he said softly.

  As Jack talked to himself, Tamara reached inside the open shop and picked up a metal pipe half the length of her body.

  “So, Tamara, what would you say to…” Jack began.

  He didn’t finish his sentence before Tamara sent the pipe swinging right into his midsection.

  With a scream, Jack went down hard on his back. Wincing and wailing, Jack rolled over. Tamara hovered over him, gripping the pipe for dear life.

  “Ta-mara. What the…”

  Tamara’s eyes were like those of an animal’s. An inhuman fire blazed behind her pupils. Her cheeks twitched. Her skin was tight. She even bared her teeth like a jungle cat. Then, she let out a scream and sent the pipe smashing into
Jack’s stomach.

  Jack shouted in agony. A third strike hit his arms. A fourth struck his chest. Jack felt horrific pain in his rib cage. A bone or two obviously was broken. When Jack shouted out again, splatters of blood hit the ground.

  “Stop…. Stop…. Why?” he yelled out.

  Tamara just screamed and let the pipe fly again. By now Jack’s legs were broken. He couldn’t move to evade the barrage. Tamara just screamed and wailed while she beat and thrashed him.

  The worst part for Jack was that Tamara ran out of energy before the former clothing store magnate finally expired. She just collapsed onto the ground and sat there, heaving loudly until her breathing slowed. That left him about fifty more agonizing minutes to linger on the ground, a bloody pulp of a human being, to realize what he might have done to burn this roaring fire of revenge into this young lady.

  He finally realized, unfortunately for him, not all the ladies liked and appreciated Jack Sorenson. Not at all.

  Derrick smiled. “Camilla. What a pleasant surprise. Can’t say I’m totally shocked to see you opening his door. Did Conrad finally stick a ring on your finger and call you Missus?” He chuckled. “Or maybe it’s just plain living in sin. To be honest, I kinda like that thought better. A little bit spicier, don’t you think?”

  “Shove it, Derrick. What are you doing here?” Camilla asked.

  Derrick looked up at the ceiling. “Funny thing, the power went out in my place and I thought I’d come over to use your phone to call the power company,” Derrick replied.

  Camilla’s frown deepened. “You know your jokes get worse every year.”

  “I never did like women who couldn’t appreciate a good belly laugh. Now where’s Conrad?” Derrick asked.

  “He’s unavailable, so I’m speaking for him, and he says get the hell off his property right now,” Camilla replied.

  “Well, that’s curious. Now, when you say he’s unavailable, is he on the pot? Taking a bath? Out bartering for food?” Derrick glanced over Camilla’s shoulder.