Read Online Castroville: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 7 by Darrell Maloney - Free Book Online Page B

had no plan to deal with it, they had to think on their feet. But they couldn’t think on their feet because they were exhausted. And they were going by rote, their minds almost on auto-pilot and doing only the things they’d been programming it to do. They were unable to think on the run, and to make that split-second decision to save their own lives.
         “So they got killed instead.”
         “So what’s the solution?”
         “The solution, dear lady, is to do your homework. Find out what we can. We’ll never know exactly what’s behind those walls. How Tom is restrained, for example, or the way the barn is laid out.
         “So we find out as much as we can, and make plans accordingly, based on what we’re sure of. We’re sure he’s in the barn. Or if not, then somebody else is that needs to be rescued. We’re sure of the number of guards they have in the daytime. By the time we go in, we’ll be sure of what their nighttime strength is.”
         “And the things we don’t know?”
         “That’s where the stress factor comes in. We don’t beat ourselves up and deprive ourselves of sleep obsessing about things we cannot change. We tilt the odds in our favor to the greatest degree we can. And then we go in with clear heads, knowing we’re entering a fluid situation where things can and will change quickly and often. We use time and surprise as our allies.
         “And because we are mentally prepared for anything, we are able to adapt quickly to react to circumstances as they change.”
         “And that works?”
         “Not always. But usually.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    -14-
     
         In the sprawling ranch house at the Lazy R Ranch, Jack Payton sat in an overstuffed easy chair watching an old western video.
         He lived the life of a king, by most standards. While most of the survivors in and around Castroville scratched out a meager existence from day to day, he had nearly every creature comfort he’d possessed before the blackout.    
         He’d always been a powerful man. And brutal enough to make other men fear him. Those who didn’t follow him out of respect followed him because they were afraid to cross him.
         Or they ran.
         And that was okay with Payton. The runners were cowards. And he didn’t like to surround himself with cowards.
         Here he was, in the prime of his life, with no one at all to answer to. He no longer had to abide by prison rules and regulations. No longer had to kiss a boss’s ass to earn a meager paycheck. No longer had creditors to pay money to. No longer had women to answer to.
         Here the women answered to him. Here he was king. Other men called him boss and said, “Yes sir, no sir.” Other men asked what he needed done or what he wanted.
         It was a newly harsh world, where most people toiled to grow crops for their daily meals from the central Texas soil. Where they canned their extra vegetables and prayed to their gods above that their stores would be enough to last them through the coming winter. Who sent their men out daily to hunt and fish to supplement their diets.
         Of course, not all of them lived so harshly. Many of them signed on as ranch hands for the Lazy R. The pay wasn’t much. Payton was too greedy to pay good wages. But the wages were adequate, and there were other benefits as well.
         Not the least of which was an electrified house, powered by generators the ranch’s original owners had saved from the blackout.
         The rightful owners. The ones now dead at Payton’s hand.
         Working for Jack Payton wasn’t a bad life. The men did as they were told, followed his instructions, and were given a comfortable place to sleep at night. Good food to eat that they didn’t have to scratch for. A weekly allotment of whisky, and the affection of a few prostitutes