FORSAKEN: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES (17 page)

“I want the plan for getting the Strykers fueled ready by morning!” he yelled at Ava as he stormed away to find another bottle of whiskey.

Ava walked up to the rooftop of the pump station where Rambo and Mad Dog were quietly sharing a bottle of tequila.  They liked to keep to themselves.  Ava couldn’t blame them.  She lit a cigarette and then offered one to each of them.  They accepted, and in turn passed over the tequila bottle.  She took a big mouthful and downed it in one gulp.

“Ahh,” she exhaled, smiling, and then inhaling a lungful of smoke from her cigarette to wash down the tequila.

Mad Dog watched Ava and sneered.  Then he looked over at Rambo.  “Now there’s a broad for you,” he nodded.  “Always admired a woman who could hold her liquor.”

Ava handed the bottle back over to Rambo who in turn took a long drink himself.

Rambo swallowed the tequila as though it were water.  “I always admired one who could fuck,” he mumbled, staring into the dregs of the tequila bottle.

“Well, you boys are in luck, because you’re in the company of a woman who can do both…and do both well.”

The men laughed. 

“You’re alright,” said Mad Dog.  “Not like any woman I’ve ever known.”

“Me either,” said Rambo, running a hand through his long, greasy black hair.

The men were tough, hardened not just from post-flu life, but through rough living well before the flu ever hit.  These guys lived a post-apocalyptic lifestyle before anyone had even heard of the Su flu.

“So what’s it like being the only chic around here?” Mad Dog asked.  “Gotta be kinda cool, right?  I mean, I can only imagine being the only dude surrounded by a bunch of badass broads.”

Ava snorted, “It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me.”

“You miss gettin’ your toes done and all that girly shit, right?” Rambo asked.

“Not really,” Ava shook her head.  “I was never really into that kind of crap.”

“Well, if you’re down for a pedicure, I’m sure Rambo here will join you,” Mad Dog laughed.

“Fuck you,” Rambo sneered, tilting the tequila bottle back and finishing the last few ounces in one giant gulp.  Then he tossed the bottle behind him and over the roof’s ledge.  A few seconds later, they heard it smash below.

“I don’t want to see Rambo’s feet,” Ava grimaced.  “They’d probably have to break out the grinders to sand down his nails.”

Ava finished her cigarette and stood.  “You boys staying up here for a while?”

“Yeah,” came the response.

“You want another bottle?”

“Sure,” they answered, perking up at such offered service from the boss.

“Then go fucking get it yourself,” Ava sneered at them as she left.

The two men looked at each other and grinned as Ava walked back downstairs.

“Now
that’s
a broad,” Rambo nodded.

“You said it,” Mad Dog agreed as they watched her go.

* * *

Bushy was back to Ava with her requested information less than 48 hours after she initially provided him with the envelope containing her three potential gas station targets.  He obviously wanted to make an impression on her, and did.  Ava liked efficiency and appreciated timeliness. He’d also lost the beard, shaving about ten years off his appearance in the process.

Ava took the information he had scrawled next to the names on the list up to the roof of the pump station with her where she could have some privacy.  Two men she didn’t know very well were manning the rooftop machineguns.  She sat down and quietly studied the data; then she pulled out her cigarette lighter, flicked it on, and touched the flame to the paper.  She held it until it was almost entirely consumed and then dropped the remnants over the ledge.  She watched the scrap of flaming paper flutter to the ground below and burn to blackness, then stood and walked back downstairs to find Jake. 

She had located the perfect target for their fuel needs as well as the best fit for the continuation of her own grand scheme.

When she explained the plan to Jake, he was all for it.  He was itching to get the Strykers refueled and ready to go. 

Ava explained to Jake that their options of available targets had been minimized due to the X Family now controlling so many of the area gas stations as well as the shortened travel radius provided them by the Strykers current fuel levels.  He nodded that he understood and then moved on to more important things like deciding which bandana to wear for the attack.  His disinterest didn’t really bother her though; mainly she just wanted to inform him so that he didn’t come back afterwards when something went wrong – which she knew it would.  That’s how Jake was.  If something bad happened, he was quick to look for a scapegoat, but when things went right, there was no stopping him from taking all the credit.

The next morning, they rolled out.  Moving on a target just a day after providing Jake with the information was a little quicker than Ava had hoped he’d act, but she didn’t think it would alter her overall plan too much.

The raid itself went off without a hitch.  Some of the defenders scurried off or surrendered without firing a shot.  Jake was surprised by this.  He even mentioned the lack of backbone they showed and wondered why they hadn’t mounted any sort of real defense. 

He soon found out why.

As his men refueled their trucks and poured untold gallons of diesel into the armored vehicles, Jake hauled the location’s owner roughly inside the gas station to explain a few things about what was going to happen to him and his operation. 

Jake pushed the man forcefully down in a chair and got rolling on his now memorized spiel.  He told the owner how he would be working for Jake and making regular payments in fuel.  In return, Jake wouldn’t kill him, and would even protect him.

“You’re working for me now,” Jake leered down at him, brimming full of confidence.  “Each week, I’ll have my men bring their vehicles over and fill them up.  This ought to fulfill your protection tax to us.  Any questions?”

The station owner just smiled at Jake.

This of course pissed Jake off.  “What’s so fucking funny?” Jake spat as he punched the owner hard in the stomach, causing him to keel over off the chair and onto the floor where he coughed and sputtered from the blow.

Eventually, the owner managed to haul himself to his knees.  He stared up at Jake.  “You really fucked up,” he said. 

Confused, Jake glanced over at Ava who had been watching from afar, and then back to the trader.  Then he kicked the trader violently in the side, causing him to fall back onto the floor.  “What’d you say?” Jake asked angrily.

“I said…” the station owner said to Jake, coughing and wiping some spittle from his chin, “…that you really fucked up.  We already got protection here,” the owner glared at Jake.

Jake looked at Ava again, worried this time.  Ava just watched.

“Yeah, we’re under the protection of the X Family,” the owner said.  “And I don’t think they’re going to appreciate you coming here and taking their gas.”  The smile was back on the gas station owner’s face.

Jake was scared now.  The owner might not have seen it, but Ava did.  Jake’s right hand clenched and unclenched reflexively and the fingers on his other hand move independently as though they were tickling piano keys.  They were only signs someone who’d been around Jake for a while would recognize.

Jake swallowed.  “Well…” he said sounding somewhat uncertain now, “…guess that’s bad news for you and your men.”  He grabbed the station owner by the collar and pulled him to his feet, shoving him ahead and back outside through the station’s front door.

“Round up the rest of his men and bring them over here!” Jake yelled to his soldiers, pushing the station owner up against the side of the building face first and then spinning him around.

Jake’s minions rushed around grabbing several men who sat on the ground in front of the station – their hands bound behind them with plastic zip ties – and pulled them to their feet.

Ava saw the nearly unrecognizable Bushy among them.

“Line them up beside their boss,” Jake said.

“What are you
doing?
” Ava asked, walking up beside Jake.  This wasn’t part of her plan.

“If this place really is controlled by the families, we have to eliminate any witnesses,” Jake told her.

“But they’re going to find out anyway,” Ava argued.

“How would they find out if we kill these guys?  Who’s going to tell them?” Jake said, starting to get defensive.

“Word gets around,” Ava continued.  “The families have their ways of extracting the information they want.”

“Yeah, well, at least this will buy us a little more time since there won’t be anyone to give us up right away,” Jake said.

Ava realized she couldn’t argue the point with him.  She didn’t like to see people needlessly executed, but she couldn’t risk pressing the issue with Jake and having him get suspicious.

Suddenly Jake whirled around on Ava, catching her slightly off guard.  “I have an idea,” he grinned, holding out a pistol to her.  “
You
do the honors.”

She looked at him.  “Come on,” he urged, grinning at her and pushing the gun into her hand.  “It’s been a while since you’ve had any fun.  You can kill these assholes.  It’ll be good for you.  Plus,
you
fucked this raid up, so
you
should have to fix it.”

Ava silently but obediently took the gun from Jake’s hand.

Jake kept babbling on about how Ava hadn’t had the chance to show much backbone to the men lately and how they’d all get a kick out of seeing her put these guys down.  But all Ava could focus on was Bushy.  He was first in the line of prisoners, and as Jake guided her up directly behind him, all she could think about was how to stop this.  While she kind of liked Bushy, she also needed him in his new position.  Losing him would be a setback, and she had no desire to kill the man.  She was also afraid that the sight of potential execution could lead Bushy to betray her in an effort to save his own ass.  While she knew such an attempt would be futile if he tried, it could burn her in the process, letting on to Jake that she had been undertaking plans of her own behind his back.

She stood behind Bushy, the gun in her hand, her mind spinning as she tried to come up with some sort of excuse to get these men off the hook, but she couldn’t.

She started to turn around to say something to Jake.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Jake shouted.  “We ain’t got all fucking day here!”

His words forced her back around and pushed her forward in the grim task.

She slowly raised the gun, positioning it just inches from the back of Bushy’s baseball-cap adorned head.  She put her finger on the trigger, held her breath and began to squeeze.

 
Chapter 15

The morning of July 4
th
broke bright, sunny, and dry…just like every day before it for the past month. 

Joanna and Shane had departed a week ago.  We had hauled one of the town’s remaining abandoned vehicles – a mid-sized, 2009 SUV – from its garage and got it up and running for them.  We also gave them several weeks’ worth of food and water as well as all the fuel we could spare, which wasn’t much.  It got the SUV up to about a third of a tank.  Joanna was also given a rifle with a box of ammo and a handgun with 20 rounds.  It wasn’t much, but we didn’t have much to spare.

When asked where she would go, Joanna said she wanted to continue south.  She wasn’t sure exactly where.  She hadn’t seen the ocean for years she said, and Shane had never seen it.  The idea of spending some time – even if it was just a day or two – on a sandy beach where Shane could play in the sand and ocean waves appealed to her.  But mainly she said she was just going to play it by ear and see what was out there. 

Her lack of any sort of true plan worried me, but I had confidence in her.  Joanna could take care of herself –
and
Shane.

We were sorry to see her go.  Well, maybe not Claire.  My darling wife almost seemed relieved.  I was pretty sure she knew that Joanna had feelings for me.  I think women have a sixth sense for that kind of stuff.  I don’t think she quite knew whether I was – or had been – receptive to those feelings, and that’s why she wasn’t too broken up about Joanna’s departure.  Oh, she put on all the airs – she gave hugs, kissed cheeks, and told Joanna and Shane how much they’d be missed.  She loaded Shane up with toys to keep him entertained while they traveled.  But everything she did, while done pleasantly and helpfully, was also done in an effort to assist in readying Joanna and Shane for their departure as opposed to trying to convince them to stay.

I was extremely worried about the two of them venturing out on their own, but I tried to remain positive and supportive of Joanna’s decision while at the same time reassuring her that if she changed her mind or ran into trouble, she was always welcome back with us.  I realized that Joanna was so strong willed that urging her to stay would only push her away faster.

The morning of their departure was a somber affair.  There wasn’t much left to say other than to wish them a safe journey.  Jason cried that he would miss Shane.  Shane cried that he’d miss Jason.  Then Paul and Sarah began to cry too.  By the time Joanna and Shane made it to their vehicle, tears were being shed by nearly the entire group.  We all stood on the store’s front porch and watched as they pulled away and slowly faded from view as they traveled back down the dusty road from which we’d arrived just a few months earlier.