Read Online Bug Out! Part 11: Motorhomes on the Dark Road by Robert Boren - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Boren
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for now.”
“Not much left of the fighters,” General Hogan said. “Look at that mortar. It’s not one of ours.”
“Really?” George asked, inspecting it. “Chinese.”
“Figures,” General Hogan said. “They still want revenge for us blowing up their man-made islands.”
“That was several years ago,” the Sheriff said.
“Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t matter,” General Hogan said. “Most people don’t know how close we got to a hot war over that.”
“Look at all that lead,” the Sheriff said, looking in what was left of the trailer, and the surrounding ground.
“We ought to gather it up,” George said. “I saw all the reloading stuff in the workshop, just down the steps from the trap door in the barn. We could make a lot of bullets.”
“I’d only use it for the pistols and the AKs,” the Sheriff said. “Pure lead would foul the hell out of the hunting rifles.”
“True,” George said.
The Sheriff pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and took the license plate off the trailer. He did the same with the cab.
“Wonder if any paper made it through the inferno?” George asked, as he climbed into what was left of the cab. The glove box was melted shut. He pulled out his knife and pried it open. “Yes! There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and put the contents in there.
“Shit, look at these,” General Hogan said.
“What’s that?” the Sheriff asked.
“Nerve gas mortar rounds,” General Hogan said, his brow furrowed. “We’re lucky they didn’t get blown up. Looks like they were next to the other mortar rounds over there.”
“Wonder why they didn’t use those?” the Sheriff said.
“I know why they didn’t use them,” George said. “I was up on that barn, remember? We had a good wind, and it was blowing from behind the park, in this direction. If they would have used this stuff, it would have gotten them, not us.”
“Shit, that’s right,” the Sheriff said. “Let’s take this back with us. The wind almost always blows in this direction. Might be a good last ditch weapon.”
“Yeah, but look those rounds over carefully,” the General said. “If they’re damaged at all, we don’t want them.”
“Okay,” the Sheriff said. He saw a metal box about thirty feet away from the mortar, and went over to get it. He shook the dirt out and put the nerve gas shells and the other mortar rounds into it. “Gonna need help carrying this back.”
“Here comes Malcolm in the jeep,” George said. “I’ll flag him down, and we can load them into the back.” George waved his arms, and Malcolm turned the jeep towards them, going into the rough field, slipping into four-wheel drive.
“Quite a mess, huh?” Malcolm said, getting out. Kurt got out and followed him over.
“Glad you guys showed up when you did last night,” George said.
“Seriously,” General Hogan said.
“Can we load this box into the back of your jeep?” the Sheriff asked.
“Sure. What’s in it?” he asked.
“Mortar rounds, including some with nerve gas.”
“Holy shit,” Kurt said. “We keeping that?”
“Yeah, just in case,” General Hogan said.
“The wind blows in a good direction for us to use this as a last ditch defensive weapon,” George said. “Let’s load it up.”
George grabbed one end of the box, and the Sheriff got the other end. They walked it over to the jeep, with Malcolm behind them. He opened the back and they lifted it in.
“Anybody heard from Charlie or Gabe?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah,” the Sheriff said. “They got attacked on route 50, a little ways from Monarch. Two vans, lead lined.”
“What happened?” Kurt asked.
“They won,” the Sheriff said. “I’ll fill everybody in on the details when we get back to the clubhouse.”
“Yeah, we got a lot to talk about,” George said. “When do we expect the away team to get home?”
“Hopefully inside of four hours,” the Sheriff said. “Assuming
“Not much left of the fighters,” General Hogan said. “Look at that mortar. It’s not one of ours.”
“Really?” George asked, inspecting it. “Chinese.”
“Figures,” General Hogan said. “They still want revenge for us blowing up their man-made islands.”
“That was several years ago,” the Sheriff said.
“Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t matter,” General Hogan said. “Most people don’t know how close we got to a hot war over that.”
“Look at all that lead,” the Sheriff said, looking in what was left of the trailer, and the surrounding ground.
“We ought to gather it up,” George said. “I saw all the reloading stuff in the workshop, just down the steps from the trap door in the barn. We could make a lot of bullets.”
“I’d only use it for the pistols and the AKs,” the Sheriff said. “Pure lead would foul the hell out of the hunting rifles.”
“True,” George said.
The Sheriff pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and took the license plate off the trailer. He did the same with the cab.
“Wonder if any paper made it through the inferno?” George asked, as he climbed into what was left of the cab. The glove box was melted shut. He pulled out his knife and pried it open. “Yes! There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and put the contents in there.
“Shit, look at these,” General Hogan said.
“What’s that?” the Sheriff asked.
“Nerve gas mortar rounds,” General Hogan said, his brow furrowed. “We’re lucky they didn’t get blown up. Looks like they were next to the other mortar rounds over there.”
“Wonder why they didn’t use those?” the Sheriff said.
“I know why they didn’t use them,” George said. “I was up on that barn, remember? We had a good wind, and it was blowing from behind the park, in this direction. If they would have used this stuff, it would have gotten them, not us.”
“Shit, that’s right,” the Sheriff said. “Let’s take this back with us. The wind almost always blows in this direction. Might be a good last ditch weapon.”
“Yeah, but look those rounds over carefully,” the General said. “If they’re damaged at all, we don’t want them.”
“Okay,” the Sheriff said. He saw a metal box about thirty feet away from the mortar, and went over to get it. He shook the dirt out and put the nerve gas shells and the other mortar rounds into it. “Gonna need help carrying this back.”
“Here comes Malcolm in the jeep,” George said. “I’ll flag him down, and we can load them into the back.” George waved his arms, and Malcolm turned the jeep towards them, going into the rough field, slipping into four-wheel drive.
“Quite a mess, huh?” Malcolm said, getting out. Kurt got out and followed him over.
“Glad you guys showed up when you did last night,” George said.
“Seriously,” General Hogan said.
“Can we load this box into the back of your jeep?” the Sheriff asked.
“Sure. What’s in it?” he asked.
“Mortar rounds, including some with nerve gas.”
“Holy shit,” Kurt said. “We keeping that?”
“Yeah, just in case,” General Hogan said.
“The wind blows in a good direction for us to use this as a last ditch defensive weapon,” George said. “Let’s load it up.”
George grabbed one end of the box, and the Sheriff got the other end. They walked it over to the jeep, with Malcolm behind them. He opened the back and they lifted it in.
“Anybody heard from Charlie or Gabe?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah,” the Sheriff said. “They got attacked on route 50, a little ways from Monarch. Two vans, lead lined.”
“What happened?” Kurt asked.
“They won,” the Sheriff said. “I’ll fill everybody in on the details when we get back to the clubhouse.”
“Yeah, we got a lot to talk about,” George said. “When do we expect the away team to get home?”
“Hopefully inside of four hours,” the Sheriff said. “Assuming
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