Read Online THEM (Book 0): Invasion by M.D. Massey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M.D. Massey
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Then, he lowered his head, resigned. “I suppose you’re right. I keep thinking the way I did before the bombs fell, even though I know things have changed, maybe permanently.” He turned to look at me. “Thanks, for everything.”
Sarah pocketed the pistol in the back of her mom jeans and held out her hand, making confident eye contact as she did so. “Yes, thank you, Sully. You might very well have saved our lives. If you’re ever out in Rocksprings, look us up. Sam and Nancy Greer are my parents, and their place is just northwest of Rocksprings on old Sonora Road. Just look for the Greer Kennel signs.”
“You’re welcome, and I will.” I tipped my baseball cap at them. “Dan. Sarah. Be safe.” As I turned to leave, one of the kids ran up and hugged me around my leg. It was their little girl.
“Thanks for the dog, Mr. Sully. We’re naming her Buttercup.” Then she ran back off to where her brother was playing with the dog. I smiled, but all I could think about was the pair of little deaders who were tied up just fifty feet away.
I shook it off as I hopped in my truck, speaking to the couple through the window. “Remember, north to 41 and take that west, and you should have smooth sailing.”
I waved and headed out, praying that they’d have a safe trip home.
SEVEN
SKIRMISHERS
WHILE I FELT GREAT about helping Dan and Sarah and their kids, I was facing a conundrum regarding my gas situation. I didn’t feel comfortable driving all the way to Austin without a few cans of gas in the back for emergencies, and that meant I’d need to gas up those cans pronto. Ingram looked like it was going to be my best bet, although with it being so close to I-10, I wasn’t so sure it’d have escaped the infection.
I figured I’d just play it by ear and check the gas stations first, then try to siphon from some cars if I couldn’t get it from the source. Cars seemed like the easier play, but I wanted speed over simplicity, since I’d be exposed the whole time I gassed up. Siphoning took a whole helluva lot longer than a gas pump, so if the power was on in Ingram I’d take my chances at a station.
I kept my rifle handy and made sure I had my trouble detector on full alert as I pulled into the little town. Now, this is something strange , I thought to myself as I rolled through the main drag. Not a soul in sight, anywhere. Huh. There wasn’t a deader to be seen, nor were there any people milling about or ducking behind curtains or cars or what have you to avoid notice.
It rattled my cage a little that it was so quiet, considering the local population was roughly four times that of Leakey, but I decided that I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I circled the first gas station and convenience store I saw about three times slowly, checking inside and out for threats. Seeing nothing suspicious, I pulled up to the doors and parked so my truck door covered me in one direction, and the truck bed and camper would be covering me in another. Then I stepped out with my rifle to try the door, only to find it locked. Shit.
My next step was to try to jimmy the doors open. I suspected it’d be easier to use a crowbar to pry the doors apart than it would to smash the glass. Most of these gas stations used hurricane-proof glass in the doors, to make it harder for smash and grab criminals to ply their trade. That also made it safer for the night crew, should they be open 24-7 and doing business through a banker’s drawer. I dug around behind the seat of the truck looking for my Fat Max demo tool, then I heard a voice behind me and to my left.
“There’s an easier way to get in, you know.”
I drew my sidearm and turned quickly, only to see a kid of about 11 or 12 years old staring at me from the other side of the truck window. He had a shock of unruly dirty blond hair and was wearing an old Army jacket, torn up jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens that had seen better days. I looked around to see if he was alone, but
Sarah pocketed the pistol in the back of her mom jeans and held out her hand, making confident eye contact as she did so. “Yes, thank you, Sully. You might very well have saved our lives. If you’re ever out in Rocksprings, look us up. Sam and Nancy Greer are my parents, and their place is just northwest of Rocksprings on old Sonora Road. Just look for the Greer Kennel signs.”
“You’re welcome, and I will.” I tipped my baseball cap at them. “Dan. Sarah. Be safe.” As I turned to leave, one of the kids ran up and hugged me around my leg. It was their little girl.
“Thanks for the dog, Mr. Sully. We’re naming her Buttercup.” Then she ran back off to where her brother was playing with the dog. I smiled, but all I could think about was the pair of little deaders who were tied up just fifty feet away.
I shook it off as I hopped in my truck, speaking to the couple through the window. “Remember, north to 41 and take that west, and you should have smooth sailing.”
I waved and headed out, praying that they’d have a safe trip home.
SEVEN
SKIRMISHERS
WHILE I FELT GREAT about helping Dan and Sarah and their kids, I was facing a conundrum regarding my gas situation. I didn’t feel comfortable driving all the way to Austin without a few cans of gas in the back for emergencies, and that meant I’d need to gas up those cans pronto. Ingram looked like it was going to be my best bet, although with it being so close to I-10, I wasn’t so sure it’d have escaped the infection.
I figured I’d just play it by ear and check the gas stations first, then try to siphon from some cars if I couldn’t get it from the source. Cars seemed like the easier play, but I wanted speed over simplicity, since I’d be exposed the whole time I gassed up. Siphoning took a whole helluva lot longer than a gas pump, so if the power was on in Ingram I’d take my chances at a station.
I kept my rifle handy and made sure I had my trouble detector on full alert as I pulled into the little town. Now, this is something strange , I thought to myself as I rolled through the main drag. Not a soul in sight, anywhere. Huh. There wasn’t a deader to be seen, nor were there any people milling about or ducking behind curtains or cars or what have you to avoid notice.
It rattled my cage a little that it was so quiet, considering the local population was roughly four times that of Leakey, but I decided that I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I circled the first gas station and convenience store I saw about three times slowly, checking inside and out for threats. Seeing nothing suspicious, I pulled up to the doors and parked so my truck door covered me in one direction, and the truck bed and camper would be covering me in another. Then I stepped out with my rifle to try the door, only to find it locked. Shit.
My next step was to try to jimmy the doors open. I suspected it’d be easier to use a crowbar to pry the doors apart than it would to smash the glass. Most of these gas stations used hurricane-proof glass in the doors, to make it harder for smash and grab criminals to ply their trade. That also made it safer for the night crew, should they be open 24-7 and doing business through a banker’s drawer. I dug around behind the seat of the truck looking for my Fat Max demo tool, then I heard a voice behind me and to my left.
“There’s an easier way to get in, you know.”
I drew my sidearm and turned quickly, only to see a kid of about 11 or 12 years old staring at me from the other side of the truck window. He had a shock of unruly dirty blond hair and was wearing an old Army jacket, torn up jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens that had seen better days. I looked around to see if he was alone, but
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