Alone, Book 3: The Journey (13 page)

Chapter 25

     If Dave thought an auto supply store would be the one place safe from looters in search of food or drink, he’d have been wrong.

     The glass window in front of the store had been smashed. There was broken glass piled on the sidewalk in front of the window, which Dave stepped on gingerly to keep from slipping.

     It wasn’t the biggest store he’d seen in the chain, but he figured that in a small town like Blanco it was probably the only option.

     And he was sure he wasn’t the only one who drove a Ford Explorer before they all died.

     Hopefully they had the part he was looking for.

     On the floor he saw the remains of what the looters had come after. Empty bags of potato chips, cookies and crackers were strewn about everywhere.

     An empty sales rack, which once sat proudly on the sales counter, proclaimed “Tom’s Tasty Snacks: 50 Cents.”

     On the other side of the floor, a soda machine lay on its side, its heavily damaged door pried open and all its drinks gone.

     The money box lay next to the machine, still full of quarters and dimes and nickels.

     Apparently money was no longer worth picking up. Not even for lowly looters.

     Dave didn’t fail to catch the irony of the situation. At first he looked around the place and shook his head, amazed that animals would break in and take what they wanted, leaving such a mess behind.

     Then it occurred to him that he, too, was planning on looting. Taking something that didn’t belong to him, with no intention of paying for it.

     Of course, he’d gladly have paid if there was a means to do so.

     But one thing he didn’t expect to see on this bright and sunny day was a friendly sales clerk greeting him at the door and asking how he might be of assistance.

     If Dave had thought it odd not to encounter any living soul on his way into town or his short excursion into it, he didn’t let it stop him.

     He was, after all, on a mission.

     And since he never saw another human body to that point, he might be forgiven if he got just a little bit sloppy and stopped looking over his shoulder.

     But then again, he should have known better. It wasn’t that long before he was wearing desert cammies and inhaling the burning hot sand north of Fallujah. And every morning at roll call, Gunny Gonzalez always gave Lance Corporal Speer and the rest of the platoon the same tired speech.

     “I’m tired of sending people home in body bags, tucked inside aluminum caskets. I’m tired of writing letters to mamas telling them how noble their boys were, how they fought the brave fight. How they were heroes for their country.

     “What I want to tell them, what I’m tempted to tell them, is that their boys screwed up. They got sloppy. They got complacent. Complacency, gentlemen, is your ticket to a speedy plane ride home, and a nicely folded American flag that your mama can put on her mantle.

     “I’m tired of writing those damn letters. I don’t want to write any more of them. If any of you screw-ups get yourselves killed today, I don’t care how dead you are. I’m personally gonna kick your dumb ass.

     “Now get out there. And be careful.”

     Dave never heard the footsteps, crunching on the broken glass on the sidewalk outside. He never saw the face peering into the broken window.

     He was too busy looking for parts.

     Finding the parts catalog wasn’t difficult. It was made easier because he didn’t have to fumble around in the night’s darkness. The catalog told him to look for part number GL-8694RM.

     Simple enough.

     But it didn’t tell him where to find it.

     He found the aisle marked “Starters, Alternators, Generators,” but all the boxes looked alike.

     He muttered, “Sheesh!”

     He’d have said something else, but he wanted to keep his promise to Lindsey to clean up his act a bit.

Chapter 26

     Dave found his alternator after looking only five minutes or so. He pulled it off the second shelf, took it out of the bulky box, and placed it aside. He considered himself lucky, for he knew the search could have gone on for an hour or more. And there was no guarantee they’d even have one.

     So he thought he’d push his luck a bit more.

     He went to an adjacent aisle. This one was marked “Batteries, Carbs, and Ignitions.”

     He had a hunch that since this was probably the only parts store in town, they might serve farmers as well as city slickers.

     And if that was the case, they just might have something else he could use. A spare battery.

     Sure enough, on the bottom shelf halfway down the aisle, he came across a blue and white box with the words, “Battery, Farm and Implement, 12V, Dry.”

     It was the last word that got his attention.

     He opened up the box to find an old fashioned battery, with little caps the user could unscrew to put water in and extend the battery’s life.

     It was just like the battery he used in his first car.

     Back in the days before the government mandated sealed batteries and messed everything up.

     Dave looked around for the acid he’d need to fill the battery and give it its initial charge.

     He couldn’t find any.

     He suspected it might be stored in a smaller building or shed outside because of its hazardous nature.

     He went to the back door of the store, to find it was locked with a high security padlock and heavy chain.

     Dave remarked to no one in particular, “Well, that’ll keep out the looters. Of course, you guys might want to patch that big frickin’ hole in front of the store.”

     It was a minor setback. He’d just leave through the front door and walk around to the back of the building before he left town.

     Five minutes later he had the battery and the alternator in his backpack and was headed out the door. His backpack now weighed almost forty pounds, and he wasn’t looking forward to lugging it back to his Explorer.

     He didn’t know he wouldn’t have to.

     Dave returned to the front of the store and turned his body sideways to step over the brick window ledge.

     “Freeze, pal. Don’t you dare move a muscle.”

     Every fiber in Dave’s being told him to do the exact opposite. To act instead of freezing, as he was told.

     But the sound of the hammer being pulled back on a single action revolver told him he’d better do what he was told.

     “Slowly, put that bag down.”

     Dave put down the bag.

     “Now bring that other foot out of the building and turn and face me.”

     Dave slowly turned to find himself looking into the eyes of a grizzled man in his mid-seventies.

     His weather-beaten face was brown and leathery. He’d have passed as Hispanic were it not for his caucasion features and dirty blond hair.

     Dave couldn’t help but think he looked like John Wayne in his later years.

     But he decided not to mention it. The man didn’t appear to be in any mood for small talk.

     Or maybe he was.

     “Whatcha got in the bag?”

     “An alternator and a battery.”

     “Sure you do. Open up the bag and let me see. And you damn well better move slow.”

     Dave opened the backpack and tilted it so the man could see he was telling the truth.

     “Now what in the hell are you gonna do with an alternator and a car battery?”

     Dave’s mind was racing, and he made up the first thing that sounded plausible.

     “I needed an anchor for my fishing boat. I thought I’d tie a rope to the alternator. Ain’t much good for anything else.

     “The battery’s for making sparks to start my campfires.”

     Dave studied the old man’s face, for signs of anger.

     But he just nodded.

     Apparently the old codger bought it.

Chapter 27

     Dave didn’t know it yet, but his silver tongue wouldn’t be able to talk him out of this particular problem.

     The man he was facing was named John Savage, and there was never a name which more suited its host. He was a brutal sort, who’d more or less named himself Blanco’s police chief because the two surviving members on the town council were too afraid to deny him the title.

     And he’d ruled the town with an iron fist since.

     The reason Dave hadn’t seen any others around wasn’t because they weren’t there.

     It was because they were afraid to come out of their homes on the days when John Savage was in a foul mood.

     And the word had gotten around that he was on a rampage.

     Dave assumed that since the man looked a little like John Wayne that he might be fair and cut him some slack.

     Like the Duke would, in a similar situation.

     “Look, friend. I’d gladly pay for the items. But you and I both know that money’s no good any more. And there’s no one here to give it to anyway.”

     “Shut up. I didn’t ask you for no damn explanation. You got five hundred dollars in gold or silver in your pocket?”

     Dave was puzzled.

     It seemed like such an odd question.

     “No. Why?”

     Savage pulled aside one side of his open jacket, and Dave was able to see for the first time a gold badge pinned to Savage’s shirt pocket.

     “I’m the police chief in this damn town, that’s why. And that’s the fine you’re assessed for stealin’ from me. That’s why.”

     Dave was incredulous, but still thought he could reason with the man if he kept a civil tone.

     “With all due respect, Chief, I took those things from an abandoned parts store. One that went out of business a long time ago.”

     The old man suddenly rushed forward, reaching the gun out at arm’s length and within inches of Dave’s face.

     “That’s where you’re wrong, boy. The town council decreed that all the merchandize in the abandoned businesses belonged solely to the town’s survivors.

     “Of which, I am
one.
”

     Savage emphasized the final word, and Dave got the impression he considered himself perhaps the most important person in Blanco.

     For a brief second, Dave considered his options. He, at thirty six years of age, didn’t cotton much to being called “boy” by anyone.

     Not even an old coot.

     And he knew he was a lot faster and stronger than the old man.

     Stronger and faster enough, maybe, to brush aside the old man’s arm before he was able to fire a shot.

     But as quickly as he considered the option, he more quickly dismissed it. For one, if the old man did get a shot off, even if it went harmlessly into the nearby building, it would still attract attention that Dave didn’t want or need.

     Some of the town’s residents might come rushing to the old man’s aid. And he might be faced with many more angry men.

     Pointing many more guns at him.

     Also, it would go above everything Dave had always stood for.

     Dave had always been a law abiding citizen. Had always respected policemen. Had always defended them, when others might complain they were too unfair, too brutal, too corrupt.

     “They have a tough job to do,” Dave would tell them. “Until you’re brave enough to do it yourself, leave them alone. And when you go to sleep each night and say your prayers, thank God you have them around to protect you.”