Read Online We Go On (THE DELL) by Stephen Woods - Free Book Online

much hope. That's the one thing you can count on with the Road
Gangs. They aren't much for backing down or reconsidering once their blood is
up. I started toward the gate and Dave fell in beside me. I stopped and looked
at him. "Dave I want you to stay with the heavy gun truck."
    "Fuck that! I'm not letting you go out there
alone."
    "Dave, I really need you to stay with the truck."
He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. "Look, I've got to go
out there and try to talk to these bastards. If shit goes bad, I need you
directing the 50 cal. to save my ass. Besides, if I get dinged, you have to
take charge. Both of us can't go out there. I need you here."
    I could tell he didn't like it but he saw the logic in my
thinking. He nodded and went back beside the truck. I heard him telling the
gunner to make sure he covered me. Even though I knew Dave watched my back and
that every gun we had was currently aimed across the road, I still felt exposed
as I turned and started back toward the gate.
    It's a funny feeling walking into what you already know is a
killing ground. I've bluffed my way into several tough places just by acting
badder than the guys I confronted. It used to work well when there had been
consequences for shooting a cop. Now though, I knew the crew across that highway
didn't give damn if I was a cop or the Pope. If it wasn't for the guns we had
pointed in their direction, they would have already opened fire. It's a funny
feeling, kind of like being told your fly’s down on a day you skipped wearing
underwear and realize it's been a couple of hours since you last went to the
toilet. Exposed.
    There wasn't anything to do but to do it. I walked right up
to the center of the gate and stopped, put my hands on my hips, and yelled
across the road. I asked what they wanted and that I would talk to whoever was
in charge. Silence. That's not at all what I expected in return to my
challenge.
    In most feudal societies getting elected Boss is not a
matter of popularity, charisma, or education. All of those characteristics
might help but the one that puts a guy on top is intimidation. The little
scrawny geek might know everything there is to know about survival, battling
zombies, or re-establishing society but nine out of ten times it's the six-
foot-four-inch, 250 pound monster with the twenty-inch biceps who gets elected
leader. I'm kind of the exception because I'm none of those things. I think I
got it because nobody else wanted it but they wanted somebody to blame when
things went wrong. Anyway, the rougher the crew, the rougher the Boss has to be
and this bunch looked rough.
    I got exactly what I expected. A man, and I use that term
loosely. He looked more like a grizzly bear in jeans and sleeveless shirt, had
broken away from a group of four to five others clustered around an old red
Chevy pickup, and made his way toward the edge of the road. He carried a sawed
off shotgun and his size made the 12 gauge look tiny. He had to be close to
seven-feet in height. The full beard and shaggy hair added to the bear-like
appearance. He stepped up the edge of the road and stared back at me.
    I thought to myself, he looks like a reasonable guy, I can
talk to him. Then the other side of my brain kicked in with, ‘yeah, right.’
Either way, I had to do something and “I'm Scott, can I help you?” was what
came out. I sounded like a door greeter at Wal-Mart, I could have kicked
myself. So I followed up with, “Jeez, you're a big guy. Where do they get
enough food to feed you?” I knew if I looked down, I'd find my balls rolling
around on the ground so I kept looking straight ahead at the giant I tried to
intimidate. Maybe if I asked him about his ensemble. I thought the green
baseball cap clashed with the red check pattern of his sleeveless shirt. I
heard Dave groan in the back ground. Not an auspicious start.
    Man-bear continued to stare back at me without answering. I
figured this was a good time to re-group, so I put on my