Earthblood

“But you’re the man with the gun,” Jeff said pointedly.

“Sure. And I have a feeling that this brave new world we’ve dropped into might be ruled by the gun rather than the dollar.”

Jed Herne grinned at him, making a suggestive motion with his right hand. “Sounds like you’ve been reading some old-fashioned science fiction, Skip… I mean, Jim.”

“All right, but if we’re going to split up, then I want you to go with the best advice I can give.”

“What’s this advice, Jim?” Pete Turner asked.

Far below them they all saw the line of men threading out from under the crest of the hill. Everyone edged back under cover, taking care not to draw the hunters’ attention.

“They’re giving up,” said Kyle.

The group was moving steadily westward, toward the broken perimeter fence and eventually the distant state line with California.

A pair of coyotes broke from behind the burned-out wreckage of the Aquila and began to lope away northward. Several of the men raised rifles and opened fire. The puffs of white smoke were clearly visible, though the distance almost silenced the sound. It was possible to see the tiny spurts of sand around the fleeing animals, but none of the shots hit home and the coyotes escaped into the brush.

“Want to go back down and get your sunglasses, Jeff?” asked Pete Turner.

“If what that pinch-mouthed prick, Zelig, said is true, I’ll be able to find myself a pair at the first store I see.”

“You were going to give us some advice, Jim?” said Mac, sitting down cross-legged. “Then let’s get on with it.”

“Yeah. Listen up, everyone. This might well be the last time we get to be all together. Seems to me the only sensible course is to believe what we heard from the general. Everything’s gone to hell while we were away.”

“Maybe things got better since he left that cassette,” said Jed Herne.

“Could be they haven’t.” Carrie looked at the others. “Guys with rifles and shotguns breaking into the heart of the base and trying to slaughter us all!” The note of anger and disbelief rode in her voice. “That’s getting better, is it, Jed?”

Jim held up his hand to check the argument from developing.

“Most important thing is to get hold of guns. And don’t hesitate to use them when you have to. Killing’s a skill like any other. The way society’s gone, you won’t get too many second chances. Carry food and water when you can. Basic survivalist skills will help get us through.”

“I want to get moving, Jim,” said Mac. “Miles to go before I sleep.”

“No deep woods out there,” Kyle Lynch said quietly. “Just a lot of bloodred, dead trees.”

“We’ve all got enough hi-concentrate food for a couple of weeks, more if you’re real careful. And we all got water for a day but not much longer, even if you are careful.”

Jeff was staring at Jim Hilton as he spoke. “Why don’t you let someone else have your gun?”

“What?”

“You have all the best fucking skills. Outdoorsman and backwoodsman and survivalistman. You can make it better than any of us. I’m a city boy. I could really use that big mother on your hip.”

Jim smiled. “Then come and take it off me, Jeff. If you want it bad enough.”

“No way.” Jeff shrugged, holding out his hands. “No way, Jim.”

“Then you don’t want the Ruger badly enough, Jeff. Remember that.”

They agreed to try to meet again in the ghost town of Calico around November 15.

All that remained was to decide how they’d split up, following Jim’s insistence that nobody should think of traveling alone.

It didn’t take long to split into groups, and then they broke up the unit that had been the crew of the Aquila, uncertain whether they would ever get together again.

Chapter Seventeen

There was a battery-operated clock on the wall of the cabin, showing the date, as well as the time.

It was a little after five in the evening of October 3, 2040.

Jed had found an antique Winchester rifle in the main bedroom, bringing it along the hallway to the small, neat kitchen. He tried to lever the action, but it was jammed solid and he threw the useless weapon down in the corner.

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