Read Online Collision Course by David Crawford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Crawford
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recognized the young men as predators. They would eventually run up on someone who would ruin their day, but until then, there was no telling how much death and destruction would be left in their wake.
As much as DJ hated them, he hated the older man even more. He had to know where the goods he was trading gas for were coming from. That gas should be going to help people like him. Of course, it was worth a lot more than what it had cost before the Smash, but to trade it as if it were worth its weight in gold was only giving the predators more reason to steal. The old man was the root of the problem.
If DJ had known who the sheriff was in this county, he would have contacted the man and turned the three in. But even if he did, the sheriff might have bigger fish to fry now that things had gone bad. Even worse, the sheriff might be corrupt and could even be in on the scheme. Law enforcement in small, rural counties was often on the take from what DJ had heard. If he really wanted to help out the people around here, he could take the three out when they showed up to make their exchange. He wouldnât do it, but it was entertaining to consider. He finally fell asleep thinking about all the fun ways he could punish these punks.
As the sun got low on the western horizon, DJ woke up. He fixed some dinner, ate, and then broke camp and loaded his quad. By ten after eight, it was pitch-black. DJ put on his night-vision goggles. He removed his rifle, turned the holographic gun sight to its night-vision setting, and set out for the store. When he was within fifty yards of it, he leaned up against a large fence post next to the drainage ditch running down the side of the road.
Unless someone stepped on him, he would be almost impossible to see. He was dressed in all black, and his balaclava covered his face with only the smallest openings for his eyes. He got comfortable and waited.
He didnât have to wait long. The pickup pulled up at eight thirty-two. The proprietor of the store came out with a flashlight and said something to the passenger, who got out and followed the older man into the store. The driver exited and pulled a gas can out of the bed of his truck. A moment later, the owner and the other man came out of the store carrying something. DJ watched the three of them walk a few feet toward him and set down their payloads. The owner reached down and removed a cover to his underground tank. He then threaded a long hose into the hole as the driver unscrewed the top of the gas can. A moment later, the old man was turning the handle of a manual pump. DJ picked his rifle up into shooting position and aimed at the old man. He moved the rifle from man to man until he had obtained a good sight picture of each one. He wondered what the men would think if they knew someone had a rifle on them at that moment. How would the other two react if he shot one of them? They would probably crap their pants. DJâs face was almost split in two by the wide grin under his balaclava. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
It didnât take long to fill the can, and when they were through, the three men spoke very briefly and parted ways. When the truck left, it shined its lights right on DJ, but the men didnât notice him. He watched as the store owner carried the pump and hose back inside and then came back out with a shotgun. He secured the door with two padlocks before noisily walking across the gravel parking lot. DJâs heart began to beat louder and louder as the man got closer. He flipped the safety off and gripped his weapon tighter. The man walked within twenty feet of DJ, but he kept his light directly in front of his feet. He crossed the road to a house that sat diagonally from the front of the store. He opened the front door and called in, then sat in a chair on the porch. The vantage point was almost perfect to guard the business.
A minute later, a woman brought out a tray to the storeowner and he
As much as DJ hated them, he hated the older man even more. He had to know where the goods he was trading gas for were coming from. That gas should be going to help people like him. Of course, it was worth a lot more than what it had cost before the Smash, but to trade it as if it were worth its weight in gold was only giving the predators more reason to steal. The old man was the root of the problem.
If DJ had known who the sheriff was in this county, he would have contacted the man and turned the three in. But even if he did, the sheriff might have bigger fish to fry now that things had gone bad. Even worse, the sheriff might be corrupt and could even be in on the scheme. Law enforcement in small, rural counties was often on the take from what DJ had heard. If he really wanted to help out the people around here, he could take the three out when they showed up to make their exchange. He wouldnât do it, but it was entertaining to consider. He finally fell asleep thinking about all the fun ways he could punish these punks.
As the sun got low on the western horizon, DJ woke up. He fixed some dinner, ate, and then broke camp and loaded his quad. By ten after eight, it was pitch-black. DJ put on his night-vision goggles. He removed his rifle, turned the holographic gun sight to its night-vision setting, and set out for the store. When he was within fifty yards of it, he leaned up against a large fence post next to the drainage ditch running down the side of the road.
Unless someone stepped on him, he would be almost impossible to see. He was dressed in all black, and his balaclava covered his face with only the smallest openings for his eyes. He got comfortable and waited.
He didnât have to wait long. The pickup pulled up at eight thirty-two. The proprietor of the store came out with a flashlight and said something to the passenger, who got out and followed the older man into the store. The driver exited and pulled a gas can out of the bed of his truck. A moment later, the owner and the other man came out of the store carrying something. DJ watched the three of them walk a few feet toward him and set down their payloads. The owner reached down and removed a cover to his underground tank. He then threaded a long hose into the hole as the driver unscrewed the top of the gas can. A moment later, the old man was turning the handle of a manual pump. DJ picked his rifle up into shooting position and aimed at the old man. He moved the rifle from man to man until he had obtained a good sight picture of each one. He wondered what the men would think if they knew someone had a rifle on them at that moment. How would the other two react if he shot one of them? They would probably crap their pants. DJâs face was almost split in two by the wide grin under his balaclava. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
It didnât take long to fill the can, and when they were through, the three men spoke very briefly and parted ways. When the truck left, it shined its lights right on DJ, but the men didnât notice him. He watched as the store owner carried the pump and hose back inside and then came back out with a shotgun. He secured the door with two padlocks before noisily walking across the gravel parking lot. DJâs heart began to beat louder and louder as the man got closer. He flipped the safety off and gripped his weapon tighter. The man walked within twenty feet of DJ, but he kept his light directly in front of his feet. He crossed the road to a house that sat diagonally from the front of the store. He opened the front door and called in, then sat in a chair on the porch. The vantage point was almost perfect to guard the business.
A minute later, a woman brought out a tray to the storeowner and he
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