The Survivalist: Madness Rules Part 11

"You shouldn't have tricked me the way you did. Taking my... honey, and then not letting me go. That wasn't cool." There was a coy smile on her lips that suggested her feelings of betrayal were tempered with memories that weren't all bad.

"It was pretty crummy, I'll give you that. And maybe one day I'll lose a little sleep over it. Right now, I'm more worried about a.s.sholes with guns." He looked over at Samantha. "You guard these three. I'm going back out to watch for their friends."

Samantha nodded. "Okay, but try not to kill anyone."

"Believe me," he said, "I'm trying."

The second wave of rescuers was much less subtle than the first. Two Jeeps and a large sedan pulled up on the road about twenty yards in front of the garage. They turned their cars so that the headlights faced the shop. Tanner watched as six men climbed out. Every single one was carrying either a rifle or a shotgun, but they all appeared to be scared s.h.i.+tless-a dangerous combination to be sure.

To his surprise, they didn't split up, take cover, or make any effort to advance on the building. Nor did they try to shoot the place up, which would have done absolutely nothing to help their compatriots' cause. Instead, they stood close to their vehicles doing not much of anything. After nearly a full minute, one man finally got up the nerve to step forward.

"Don't shoot!" he said, cupping his hands around his mouth like a bull horn. "We just want to talk!"

If they had split up, it might have been a decent ambush play. As it was, they seemed to be sincere enough. Of course, that didn't mean one of them wouldn't get a wild hair and do something stupid.

"Guns on the ground!" Tanner shouted from the tree line. He kept his command short and immediately shuffled to his right after calling out.

The group talked among themselves for a few seconds and then set their weapons down on the pavement.

"Now, back up!"

They moved as one big group, taking a few steps back, their eyes constantly searching the trees.

Tanner came at them from the side, careful to stay out of the direct s.h.i.+ne of the headlights. He held his shotgun at shoulder level, ready to make a mess of things, if needed. They were so focused on the area where they had last heard him that they didn't see him until he was almost at them.

He continued forward until he was standing directly over their weapons. There was no guarantee that one of them didn't have a pistol stuck behind his back, but getting it in play before he took a load of buckshot wasn't a gamble most men would take.

"Hands!" he shouted. "Let me see them!"

The men slowly brought their hands up, their eyes wide with fear.

Tanner took his time looking them over, slowly panning the shotgun from one man to the next. They ranged from just past p.u.b.erty to approaching retirement, with nearly every decade in between represented. They were dirty, and their faces were spotted with beards slowly filling in. If a little mud had been smeared on their cheeks, they could have pa.s.sed for miners who had just crawled out from the hole.

"Who's in charge?"

The man who had stepped forward earlier raised his hand a little higher. He was in his forties, a little plump around the middle, but with arms thick from a lifetime of hard work.

"That would be me. They call me Bronco."

"All right, Bronco, which of you jokers has our stuff?"

"Mister, we didn't know what Pete and his sister were up to."

"Sure you didn't."

"We've got your packs in the Jeep." He pointed toward the closest vehicle. "I'll get them if you like."

Tanner turned to a young man standing beside Bronco. He was short and thin, and had a head full of stringy hair that couldn't have looked worse if he had crawled through a sewer.

"Are the packs really in the Jeep?"

The boy looked around before answering, not at all happy about being singled out for questioning.

"Yes, sir."

Tanner pointed the shotgun directly at his face.

"Okay, Bronco, you go and get the packs. If you screw with me in the slightest, I'm going to blow this boy's head off."

The young man started to protest, but Bronco patted him on the shoulder.

"It's all good, Frankie. Just stay still, and you'll be fine." He turned to Tanner. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You are."

Bronco walked over to the nearest Jeep and lifted out the two backpacks. He carried them over and carefully set them on the ground a few feet in front of Tanner.

"It's all there. You got my word that nothing was taken."

"All right. Now, you men load up and drive back to the paper mill."

Bronco's eyes widened a little, like he had been splashed in the face with cold water.

"How'd you know-"

Tanner waved his shotgun. "Go on now. I mean it."

"What about our people inside?"

"I'll let them go after I make sure you didn't take anything from the packs. If something's missing, I'll take something of theirs in return."

"Something of theirs?"

"Most likely a finger. Depends on what looks easiest to lop off."

Bronco made a concerned face but motioned for the men to get back into their cars. They quickly loaded up and eased down the street. Tanner watched until the three-car caravan disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight, he hurried back into the shop.

Samantha was standing next to the window, her rifle pointed toward their captives. Both men were now conscious, and Nipples was telling her brother that everything was going to be okay.

"Time to go, Sam," he said, tossing her one of the gas cans.

"Did we get our packs back?"

"We did. Go put yours on while I cut them free."

Samantha turned to the captives.

"We're going to let you go now, but you should quit stealing from people. Not everyone's as nice as we are."

Tanner knelt in front of Nipples and gently lifted her chin with his hand.

"She's right, you know. Next time, you might not be so lucky."

She started to say something but bit her lip. Now was not the time to get an att.i.tude.

He reached around and cut her hands free.

"You can work the tape off your ankles and from the others. I imagine your friends will be back shortly."

She nodded. "Thanks."

Tanner stood back up and started for the door.

"Big man," she said.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

"You were right about one thing."

"What's that?"

She winked. "I'm not going to forget you."

Tanner grinned as he went out the door.

Tanner and Samantha drove south on Wilc.o.x Road, packs safely tied to the back of the flatbed truck, weapons resting on the floorboard next to their feet. Both windows were down, and the warm night air swirled around the cab. The sound of bugs, frogs, and bats serenaded them from the thick forest lining both sides of the dark street.

"I watched you from the window," she said.

His gut tightened. Had she seen him with Nipples? Tanner's discussion of the "birds and the bees" with his own son had involved a Playboy magazine and a couple of cold beers. He doubted that was going to cut it in Samantha's case.

"Watched me when?"

"When you dealt with those men outside."

"Ah," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "And you were proud of me, right? I didn't kill a single person."

"I was proud of you. I think I'm rubbing off on you."

He smiled. "We're both changing each other."

"I guess. But I think I'm changing you more."

"If you say so."

"I'm confused about one thing though."

"What's that?"

"Was all this really necessary over a couple of backpacks? It's like the woman said. They were just trying to survive."

"Maybe so, but I didn't like their means."

"What are means?"

He thought for a moment before answering.

"Means are how you go about getting what you want."

"And means matter?"

"Darlin', means are all that ever really matter."

CHAPTER.

9.

General Hood stood at attention, staring straight ahead, his thick frame filling out the tightly pressed uniform. He might have been mistaken for a Terracotta Warrior had it not been for the thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead and the Colt .45 hanging on his waist.

"We have a problem, Mr. President."

President Pike walked over and slowly closed the door to his office. His movement was calm but deliberate, telling any who might be paying attention that this was just another government matter: nothing to see here, move along. Yumi sat in his chair with her feet up on his desk, her skirt riding up her silky thighs.

"What kind of problem?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off Yumi's legs.

"I received a message this morning from Lenny Bruce, a message that I would cla.s.sify as threatening." When Pike failed to respond, the general continued. "If you recall, Lenny is the leader of Fresh Start, a community rebuilding in Lexington."

Pike nodded, transfixed as Yumi slowly slid her skirt higher and higher.

"Sir," Hood said a little louder, "Lenny's the man we made a deal with regarding the rifles taken from Glynco. He's going to be a problem."

Pike forced himself to turn away from Yumi, and she giggled.

"Oh fine," she said. "Talk to the general. You obviously love him more anyway."

Pike cut his eyes at her, and she giggled again.