Ryan Westfield - Surviving Chaos

If she got up and tried to leave, they’d undoubtedly see her.

“No, don’t tip the bucket like that. You’ll never get enough water.”

“Damnit, I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well, it’s not good enough.”

There was a roughness to the way they spoke that made Mandy’s heart race harder. The more she listened to them talking, the more they didn’t sound like nice men. They cursed at each other, insulting each other, while doing what sounded like a very simple task.

The more Mandy heard them talk, the more she knew she didn’t want to be seen by them.

If it came down to it, Mandy would fight.

“All right, that about does it, I guess.”

“Are you kidding? What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s fine. It’s enough for the plants.”

The plants? What kind of plants were they talking about? Maybe they were growing food.

“That’s not anywhere near enough. You’re just lazy. You’ve been smoking too much of the product.”

“You’re one to talk. And who cares anyway? It’s not like there’s anyone to sell to.”

“Haven’t you been listening to me?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I know what the hell I’m talking about. This isn’t anything big. So the power’s out? So what? It’ll come back on. And when it does, people will be stressed the hell out. And what’ll they want?”

“Weed.”

“Yeah, weed. So you have been listening to me then.”

“Maybe.”

“Well listen now. You’ve got to remember the plan. We’re going to be rich. All we have to do is keep growing. All the other growers will have been freaking the hell out. They won’t have any product. We’ll be the only ones.”

“But come on, dude, we’ve already got a ton stored in the RV.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot. But not enough. Don’t you understand? We’re talking about real money here. This is the real deal. The big haul. We’re going to be retired after this. And I’m not talking the Jersey shore. I’m talking Maui. Hawaii, Taiwan. Have you ever seen those Taiwanese girls?”

“I dunno, man. How the hell would I know?”

“You’d know ‘em if you saw ‘em. Hottest things on the damn planet, that’s what.”

So they were growing marijuana? And apparently in complete denial about the EMP.

Mandy had once read an article about people who operated clandestine marijuana farms on state land. Often they set up their farms deep in state parks, where they were unlikely to be found. Pretty much all state land worked though, supposed Mandy.

These weren’t the types of people she wanted to run into. They’d likely do whatever it took to protect their grow operation, especially given the fact that they were under the delusion they’d eventually get rich off their work.

Suddenly, it hit her.

Her huge mistake.

She’d left the water jugs out there, by the creek.

She looked frantically around her, thinking that maybe she’d taken them with her when the truck had first shown up.

But they were nowhere to be found.

Mandy could have screamed. She couldn’t believe she’d made such a basic error.

“Hey, man, what the hell are you doing bringing those little jugs out here? We need a ton of water for the plants. Don’t you know anything, you idiot?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Those little jugs there. Enough for drinking water maybe, but not all our plants.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t bring those.”

“You didn’t?”

“Swear on my mother, man.”

“Well, shit.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It means we’ve got company.”

“You mean for dinner?”

“No, idiot. I mean there’s someone else here. Or there was. Come on, get your gun out and help me look. The last thing we need is a witness. Or competition.”

Mandy was terrified.

But she kept it together. She knew what to do.

They sounded like idiots. They were probably terrible shots. One of them sounded completely incompetent, and Mandy doubted he’d be a threat.

The best thing to do would be to strike first.

Mandy moved swiftly, exposing herself for just long enough to get a look at where they were.

They were headed in her direction. They were both tall men. One looked like a stereotypical stoner. Tall and skinny, with long, dirty hair and a scraggly beard.

The other had a bit of a belly on him. He was more squarely built, and had short hair and rimless glasses. He looked more like a banker than a pot farmer.

Mandy aimed her gun at the big one. He seemed like he was the leader. His voice seemed to match his body, now that she saw him.

Mandy squeezed the trigger. She felt the recoil.

She’d missed. He didn’t fall, or scream out.

Mandy ducked back behind the tree just in time. She heard a bullet hitting the other side of the trunk.

The two men were shouting at each other.

“Get Danny on it, asshole. He can’t hear the shots.”

Danny? Who the hell was Danny? What were they talking about?

Mandy moved swiftly, exposing herself to fire briefly. But she did it on the other side of the tree. Such a simple trick. And yet so effective.

They were expecting her on the other side. She got off one shot before they saw her. They’d taken shelter behind trees as well. But she missed again. She wasn’t yet a good enough shot to hit very small targets, and they weren’t exposing much of their bodies at all.

Her heart was pounding.

But this wasn’t the end.

She was going to fight. She’d take them out. The only advantage they had was the fact that there were two of them, compared to one of her.

Her advantages? More determination. A stronger will to live. Not being stoned.

Mandy heard the noise too late.

Footsteps. Close by.

Something pressed into the back of her head.

Mandy didn’t dare to move.

She knew it was the barrel of a gun.

She waited, completely frozen. But no one spoke.

Shouldn’t they tell her to raise her hands above her head? To drop her gun?

Unless they were going to simply kill her right then and there.

If that was the case, the should just get on with it. Better to just die quickly than to draw the whole thing out.

Why didn’t they at least tell her what they were going to do?

The silence was almost more terrifying than the gun that was pressing harder and harder into her skull. She felt the cold steel against her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

“He got her!”

“Danny did?”

“Who else, moron?”

“I didn’t hear a shot, though.”

“Don’t you know Danny? He’d never shoot anyone unless he had to.”

Mandy heard the footsteps of the two men approaching.

So Danny, the guy they’d talked about, was the one with the gun against her skull. She should have been more careful. She should have taken the third man into consideration. But she’d assumed he wasn’t there, since she’d never heard them talk to Danny. And she’d never heard Danny say anything.

“Good work, Danny,” said one of them. Probably the tall skinny one.

“He can’t hear you, asshole.”

Mandy opened her eyes to see the two men in front of her, pointing their guns at her.

The bigger one, who looked like a banker, was making signs at the man behind her. At first, it didn’t make sense.

Then it hit Mandy. He was using sign language. The man who held the gun to her head must have been a deaf mute. That was the only explanation. That was why she hadn’t heard him talking, or the two others talking to him. They conversed with him in sign language and gestures, and nothing else.

“All right, honey, drop the gun. You know the drill. Or at least you’ve heard it in movies.”