The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 (72 page)

And on that third night
Jackie had led him to a building much farther away than the one in
which they all live. She’d set her lantern down near a makeshift
cot on the floor complete with a blanket and pillow. Then she’d
removed her top. Cory hadn’t needed a whole lot of encouragement.
She’s an attractive woman, and they were both unattached and
unmarried. For
her,
it was more about the comfort and filling the void
of a man’s touch. For Cory, it was
simply
physical. They sneak away most
nights and return before everyone rises in the morning.

Tonight he’s planning on
going on a run for supplies. At least that’s what he told her and
the others. If he finds
supplies
, that’s fine. Mostly he needs
to get away for a short time by himself. He may leave for a few
days. Possibly he may not come back. He’s not sure. He doesn’t
really want to stick around the armory with them, become attached
to any of them or stay longer than necessary. Unfortunately, he
also doesn’t want to leave them unprotected and vulnerable. They
were extremely lucky so far that nobody had traveled onto the
deserted armory property who would mean them harm. Very lucky,
indeed.

Some of them have lost
family and friends already. Cory certainly doesn’t want the rest of
them to become victims to lawless bastards, too. They are
good
people who
need protection and training.
A
lot
of training.

The first week he’d settled
in at the armory he’d broken into the semi-underground bunkers.
Almost all of them were empty, but there were three on the far
outskirts of the base, that once he’d used bolt cutters and a
pry-bar to open, had contained cans full of ammo. It was mostly
7.62, 9
mill
, .45 and .223 rounds. Perfect for him but not for the group
as they only have two shotguns and a .22 pistol. He’s still not
sure how they have managed to stay alive.

“That’s it, just cut
along
the hide
right here,” Cory instructs again. “Good, Marvin. And then we’ll
start cutting the meat.”

Another of the men has come
forward to help. Cory would like some of the women to learn this,
too. They may not always have the men to help them. He’d taken
Jackie and two other women and the only able-bodied man hunting
with him this morning before dawn. Sometimes the
hunt
is difficult
and
time-consuming
. But if a person knows
what they’re doing, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel, as Derek
had once phrased it. Two days ago, he’d taken the same
hunting
party,
and they’d
shot
two turkeys. Jackie’s friend, Steph, had shot one,
and the man, Didier, had
shot
the other. The remaining men are
literally too old and out of shape for traipsing through the forest
hunting wildlife. The women and Didier, who isn’t much younger than
the other old men, need to hunt to enable their survival. Those
chickens aren’t going to keep them fed forever. Jackie had told him
that they’d
been
to various FEMA camps at the beginning, but that
those hadn’t lasted long.

When they have the deer
completely cleaned, the meat stripped away, some bones thrown to
Damn Dog and the crazy ass cat that lives at the armory with them,
they gather for lunch. The women in the building have
started
lunch
with rice, onions, garlic and chunks of deer meat that were
delivered to them earlier. They have an open fire pit with a black
kettle suspended over it on a steel bar for cooking. One of the
other women has cut up vegetables from the garden and has spread
them out on a platter. Most of their meals are vegetarian. Cory has
not been impressed, to say the least.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night or the
night after,” he says later to Jackie privately. He has pulled her
to the far end of the building outside. Clouds have covered the
sun, predicting a storm on the horizon. He doesn’t care. He’s been
traveling for months in the elements. A little rain won’t hurt him
now. He needs to get away from the group for a few days. Cory packs
his sack with a few carrots and potatoes and some of the cooked
deer meat wrapped in a cloth.

Jackie frowns as he knew she would,
“Really? Two days? Can’t you just go for a day and come back
tonight or in the morning?”

“No, we need some
supplies,” he lies
easily
. “I’ll be back when I
can.”

“Be careful,” she yields.

Then Jackie moves in and
hugs him, presses a soft kiss to his closed mouth and steps back.
He doesn’t want her feelings to become too
serious
for him. He may have to
leave in a few
days,
if not tonight, for good.

“Yep,” he replies and leaves her. He
mounts Jet, whistles to Damn Dog, who immediately trots forward to
him.

They leave going southwest
toward an area he’s already been. There is a small college near
Ravenna that he’d like to investigate. He remembers studying about
it in government class about a shooting that happened
there
many decades
before. There may actually be some supplies over there, but who
really knows anymore? Kent State University should be a few miles
from the armory, and he hopes to make it there by
nightfall.

A few hours later as the
sun is getting low, he arrives at the college. This place doesn’t
look to have survived any better than Reagan’s college. A few of
the buildings have been
burned,
the black charcoal still
staining what’s left of the brick structures. He sticks to the
perimeter near the surrounding forestry before going in. It doesn’t
appear as if anyone is living on campus and probably haven’t since
the fall.

He dismounts and leaves the
horse in a congested copse of trees where it can graze. He circles
the buildings with the dog, coming around to what looks like some
sort of
student
center or possibly a cafeteria. He’s not sure. He never went
to college. He toured a few, didn’t get too excited about the idea
of it. He’d wanted to enlist like his brother, but that had been
stripped away from him. The back door is locked, but with a few
kicks, it swings inward. He brushes his unkempt, long hair back
from his face and moves forward. The interior of the building is
shadowy and dark in places where the waning light from the windows
does not reach. Scanning the area, he discovers that he has
come
into
a
student lounge area. Sofas are dispersed here and there. Tables and
chairs are set up for the students to intermingle and study. Rows
of
single
chair desks are in a long line against the far wall where
computers are stationed. He moves quickly through the massive and
long room and comes
to
a set of swinging double doors. He listens a
moment before pushing one open.

The lighting in the
adjacent hallway is much better because of the long row of windows.
Some of them have been busted out, broken with chairs and one with
a table which is still suspended half in and half out of the broken
frame. He scans left and right, and then heads right. He ends up in
the cafeteria next where he doesn’t find much. A few canned goods
lying on the kitchen floor get stowed away in his pack. Then he
swings the M16 around
front
again and moves out. He jogs to save the last
vestiges of daylight so that he’s not forced to
move
around in the pitch dark.
From
time
to
time,
a ping or
ding
or pop will echo through the long hallways, but he
doesn’t run into anyone.

When it becomes nearly
dark, he leaves the main buildings and heads into the dormitories.
The sights and smells that greet him there are not so pleasant. The
building has been ransacked. There are two dead women, likely
students by the appearance of their dust-covered clothing, lying
prone and decomposed near the elevator. According to the elevator
floor indicator, there are six levels in this building. Damn Dog
growls low in her throat as the hair on her neck comes up. Cory
swings left then right and
creeps
along the wall silently. The dog
is on his heels.

Finally,
he hears whatever the dog had. There is a rustling
in an area off to their right in the far distance. A few moments
later a person who resembles a caricature of a former homeless man
appears around the corner.

Cory calls out, startling the other
man, “Stop there! Don’t move!”

The man, a man that he
now
realizes,
is an old man who walks in a semi-stooped over position,
instantly juts his arms skyward in complacent surrender.

“Don’t shoot, sir,” he
pleads.

Cory closes in on him and
immediately lowers his rifle. This man isn’t a threat to anyone. He
must be over eighty years old, his black skin covered in dark
moles, his unkempt, curly hair completely white. His flannel shirt
is
holey
.
The pants he wears look as
nice
as his shirt. Cory’s not even sure
why he’s wearing such hot clothing in the summertime, but perhaps
it’s all he has.

“You with others?” Cory
prods.

“Nope, not me,” the man replies
cheerily and smiles, revealing a lot of missing teeth. “I’m a
loner. Been a loner my whole life. Married a woman once, but that
didn’t work out.”

Cory furrows his brow at this
man.

“She
up’d
and run off with my
cousin. That’s ok, though. They deserved each other,” he
says
with
a
crooked smile. “Left our boy with me to raise. And that was fine
with me. Better than being raised by her.”

Cory has no idea why this old man is
telling him his life story. He has no interest in this.

“So I moved out to the
woods into my pappy’s hunting lodge and didn’t ever come back out.
Raised my boy out there. Worked for me. I come to town
‘bout
once a month
or so for supplies. Town’s kinda’ changed a bit,
but
…
”

“Where were you going in town?” Cory
interrupts.

“Oh, I just come here every now and
again,” the old codger starts slowly.

Slowly seems to be his only speed.
Cory is impatient to be done with him.

“What for?”

“I got a still, you know, for makin’
hooch,” he discloses behind his cupped hand as if he’s worried
someone will overhear him.

“Hooch? What the hell’s hooch?” Cory
asks.

“You ain’t never had
hooch
?” he
asks.

Cory shakes his head, peers over his
left shoulder just once to ascertain they are still alone, and then
turns back to the man.

“It’s moonshine, son,” the hooch maker
says. “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

Cory
glances
around,
walks forward and checks the area while replying,
“You obviously haven’t seen my chest.”

Hooch maker chuckles
bawdily.

“I’m done here,” the other
man says. “Wanna’ come back to my place in the woods? I’ve got a
batch
waitin’
for us there.”

“No thanks,” Cory
says
with
a
grimace and makes eye contact with the man. He has cloudy
brown
eyes
as if cataracts have taken over. “I’m not sticking around.
Just moving through.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. That’s
real
smart
,
young
man,” hooch maker says. “Not safe out there no more for
stickin’ around and
settin’
down roots.
There’s
some real crazies out
there.”

Cory would like to say that there are
crazies in here, too, but he holds his tongue. He tries to be
courteous toward his elders. His dad had raised him to respect his
elders, but this guy is a little off.

“Yeah, be careful,” Cory tells him as
he keeps moving farther into the building and then out the back
door. The dog and the old man are right behind him.

“You remind me a little of my boy,”
the hooch maker says.

“Yeah?” Cory asks but doesn’t really
care. He kicks in the back door of the next building. He’s found
the main cafeteria.

“Yessiree,” he confirms. “He was a big
kid like you. Strong as a bull, too.”

Cory would like to tell him
to shut his yap so that they don’t take a bullet from anyone who
might be on this campus. His dog trots ahead of him,
obviously
not
feeling any possible fear or trepidation of separating from him.
The old man just keeps shuffling along and jawing Cory’s ear off.
He rolls his eyes as he tries
to
sweep the area quietly
.