Zombie Fallout 3: THE END .... (34 page)

"Is that so bad?" Carol asked. "We have a house and at least enough food to get us through the next month or so. Then when the weather turns we can plant everything we need to."

I truly felt bad for her. She had not been happy since she left her home in North Dakota. She wasn't looking ahead. I really tried to be gentle but it's just not in my nature. "This place would be great for about a week Carol, and then we'd be dead." Too blunt? She was taken aback at my candor. "Eliza will regroup if she hasn't already and the next time we meet she won't be so kind." I said, as I rubbed my jaw, the pain of Eliza's blow still fresh in my mind. Why I wasn't eating out of a straw right now was still a mystery to me.

"Michael, I can't keep doing this. This running, and hiding and fighting, I can't do it." She started to cry.

Tracy rounded the corner at just that moment. "Jesus, Mike what the hell did you say to her?" Tracy asked, as she wrapped her arms around her mother. "Come on Mom, let's go sit in the living room, you're freezing." She shot me a wicked glare as she turned her mother around.

I shrugged my shoulders, a victim of circumstances yet again.

"You ready?" BT asked me as he came out of the kitchen. He passed Tracy and Carol as they headed into the living room. "Jesus, Mike what the hell did you do?"

"You too? Are you kidding me? I'm going to the barn," I said indignantly.

"Do you mind if I go with you, Dad?" Nicole asked as she adjusted her gloves.

She still hadn't told me she was pregnant, and as always I was hesitant to put her in danger, especially now that she also carried the future of the Talbots. I took a long look out the side window. Everything still seemed alright and nothing smelled afoul, and I meant that literally.

"Sure, come on." I told her. I kind of had to take her. If she got to crying, Tracy would blame me for that too.

Travis was watching. He didn't look like he was in any big rush to go into the cold.

"Hey bud, could you do me a favor and go hang out in the bedroom that overlooks the barn and just keep a watch out?" I asked Travis.

He seemed pretty relieved that his part didn't involve going outside. "No problem," he said. Tommy quickly fell into step behind him, never once looking over towards me.

"Hey Tommy, if you could keep an eye out on the other side that would be great," I shouted to his back as he headed up the stairs. I think he grunted a 'yes' in reply.

"Relax Tommy, we can't pick who we're related to," I heard Travis tell Tommy as they made it to the top of the stairs. "If we could, I would have traded Justin in years ago." Tommy laughed. It was the first time in a while. It was a welcome sound.

"I heard that little brother!" Justin shouted from the general direction of the pantry.

CHAPTER THIRTY - JOURNAL ENTRY 24 -

The barn was a treasure trove of trash. Broken tools lined the walls. Various sized engine blocks created a haphazard maze. In one of the far corners, debris and trash was piled so high, that any shifting of contents would cause an avalanche of refuse. I was surprised, seeing as how the house was so tidy. My guess was the house was Mrs. Powell's domain, and the barn belonged to Mr. Powell.

"Great." BT said sarcastically. "Of all the farms in Pennsylvania we have to find a hoarder's."

I shrugged my shoulders as I was climbing over a small wall of transmissions.

"Ever build a car?" I asked BT as I got to a stack of carburetors.

"Didn't I tell you?"

He said it so earnestly I had to turn and see if he was telling the truth. He wasn't. BT was still scaling the transmissions when I made it around a stack of radiators that had to be at least 10 high and 5 across. The majority of stuff here was garbage with two notable exceptions and I was staring at them. The first was a 1950's pick-up truck and the second one was an older John Deere tractor.

Nicole had come up beside me. I was apprehensive about her climbing all over the rusted metal lest she hurt something inside of her. I could tell she appreciated all the extra help I was giving her as she traversed the pile but she was also giving me a look of 'What gives?'

BT had finally mustered his way up to me, a nice looking mahogany cane in his hand. "Ah, so this isn't the only thing in here worth something," he said, holding his cane up.

One tire was flat and the bed of the truck was exposed. All three of us had the same thought. BT voiced it first. "Gonna be pretty cold in that truck bed."

"Sure is, too bad you can't drive with that busted leg of yours."

"Nicole, have I told you lately that your dad is not a nice man?"

I shrugged my shoulders again. "Doesn't matter much if there isn't a spare," I said pointing to the flat. "On the other hand, that tractor is making me sort of gleeful."

"Gleeful?"

"Just an expression."

"Yeah, just don't stand too close," he said holding his cane up to make sure that I knew he had a weapon. "Can't really see what a tractor is going to do for us? We can't all fit and there's no cab for any of us to stay warm."

"Not the tractor itself but what it runs on."

"Diesel? That thing runs on diesel?" BT asked hopefully.

"Pretty sure and these farmers usually store it in big 55 gallon drums."

BT looked a little deflated. "This place looks like a graveyard for all things busted, you think he was even using that thing?"

"I hope so, plus it looks like we came in from the wrong side. The barn is free and clear on the other side."

"So he could drive that thing in and out."

"See, now
you
look gleeful."

"Watch it, Talbot."

"Don't worry, you're not my type."

"What, too pretty?"

"Yeah that's it." I said as I reached up and clapped his shoulder. This was the first break we'd had in a bit. I just hoped it panned out.

"Bingo!" BT yelled as he got to the other side of the tractor. He was pointing with his cane to the left hand side of the barn at four 55-gallon drums of something.

He had already found the drums, so I was going to make sure I found the fuel. I rushed passed him. "Glory whore!" he shouted.

The first drum fell over as I pushed a little too forcefully while checking for any contents, nearly smashing Nicole's toes in the process. The second also fell away. BT was beside me as I got to the third barrel. What started off sweetly was quickly turning sour. I was getting anxious. The third barrel had a hand pump secured to the top for dispensing the fuel. It didn't move nearly as easily as the first two, but it did not hold its ground as firmly as I would have liked when I pushed against it.

"Maybe twenty gallons," I told BT. "But that's a complete guess."

"That's a start, right?"

"At 11 miles to the gallon it won't get us halfway to where we need to go."

"How many gallons does the hummer hold?"

"I think around forty, forty-two maybe."

"You going to check the fourth barrel?" he asked apprehensively.

"Why don't you, my luck isn't so good today."

BT whacked his cane against the side. The sound was resoundingly positive. The impression of fullness reverberated joyfully in our souls.

"Probably should make sure it's not cow piss before we celebrate too much." I told BT.

"Wait, what? Why would a farmer need cow piss?"

"He's messing with you BT," Nicole said with a smile.

"This is where I'd laugh my ass off if you weren't such a friggen giant." I smirked at him.

"Just check it," BT said, and I could tell by the sound of the words he wanted to add an expletive at the end.

I unscrewed the small air tap and was welcomed with the slightly metallic, bitter smell of a full drum of diesel fuel. If it was gas we'd have to take the truck and no one would relish their time in the back no matter how many blankets we could stuff back there.

"Now what?" BT asked.

"Well, first I'm ripping the upholstery out of the drivers' seat in the hummer. I don't care if I'm sitting on bare metal, there's no way I'm sitting back down on the remains of that poor bastard. Then I'm driving that thing over here, filling it up. Maybe see if there is anything worth draining out of the tractor. Then I'm going to need a little help polishing off those beers and then tomorrow we head out."

"Sounds like a plan," BT said as he headed out what was apparently the front door of the barn. With only bits of straw to impede his progress, he made good time.

"Hey, don't sweat it. I don't need any help." I shouted to his back.

"Good thing," he replied. "I'm tired and my leg hurts."

"Always with the leg, how long you gonna milk that?" BT flipped me off and then I lost him in the glare of the snow-shine as he opened the door. "Real nice, you know that hurts my feelings right?"

Nicole took this moment while we were alone to ask a question. I figured this was going to be the big reveal.

"Dad, can I talk to you?"

"Sure sweetie. What is it?" I asked as I turned away from the drums to look at her.

Two sounds took this most inopportune time to fight simultaneously for my attention, my son's shout of warning and the high-pitched whine of a small vehicle engine. Sounded like a damn mini-bike but I couldn't figure out how someone could possibly be driving one in this snow. BT was no more than two strides from the door when I caught up to him. His gaze led right to the intruder astride a snow mobile.

"Oh, that's what that is."

"He's got a rifle," BT said, squinting with his hand shielding the sunlight from his eyes.

"Doesn't necessarily mean trouble. Wouldn't you have one if you had the choice?"

"I hear your words Mike, but they're not making me feel any better."

"Yeah, me neither. How close would I have to get to use a pitchfork?" I looked back towards the house. Travis was pointing towards the vehicle and now people were lining the windows on the first floor to get a better view. "I wish they'd be a little more inconspicuous."

"Yeah me too." BT agreed, never looking towards the house to see what I was talking about. "Umm, Mike."

"Yeah?" Just then the snowmobile revved high and shut off. The ensuing silence was not nearly as peaceful as it had been a moment before his arrival. Expectancy hung in the air.

"Good to see you're doing well, Mike." A cold calculating voice shouted across the vast white waste.

"Durgan." BT and I said simultaneously.

"He's like a cockroach," I bitched. "Can't kill him."

"Mike, we need to talk!" Durgan shouted.

"I'm a little busy right now, I've got some muffins in the oven and I really don't want them to burn!" Durgan didn't laugh. I glanced over at BT. "He really doesn't appreciate my humor."

"In this, I'm in agreement with him." BT answered.

"Let the muffins burn Mike!" Durgan shouted angrily.

"That's hilarious, he believed me." I smiled with satisfaction.

"See, that's your problem," BT said. "You have piss poor comedic timing."

"Au contraire."

BT turned to face me. "Oh come on, you throw these huge words around, I bet you don't even know what half of them mean."

"I do know what half of them mean," I lied. I had turned to face BT, neither of us looking towards Durgan. The rifle shot changed that quickly.

"I'm fucking talking here!!" Durgan screamed. I could see an arc of spittle fly from his mouth even from this distance. "I need to talk to you now Talbot, there will be no more warning shots."

"You're the one with the motorized get up, why don't you come over here?" I replied.

"Not a chance, come here now or I start taking some pot shots through the windows at your brood over there."

"Asshole," I muttered

BT and I started the trek across the field.

"Not the colored one!" Durgan shouted.

"Who?" I asked back.

"The Negroid, he is not welcome here."

"Negroid? Who's a negroid?" I asked.