Matthew Mark - Dark Days Rough Roads

About half a mile before Blake reached the woods, he stopped right in the middle of the road in front of a small farmhouse on a corner lot by a small intersection. There was a lady standing there on the porch. Blake looked down the main road and raised his arm and gave a quick wave. Haliday came up behind him and they both took off. As far as the lady on the porch knew, there had been two pairs of bikes that went through. A multiplication of manpower through deception.

Next up, they caused a little trouble. They rode up close to a small town called Pigeon. Haliday scoped out a small gas station with only a few people near it. They rode up slowly and pulled in. A guy in his mid-twenties was standing there with a pistol stuffed in a thigh rig. Blake was facing this guy and Haliday made it a point to face the direction they came in from.

“You guys don’t look too familiar, how can I help you.” Blake looked around. Haliday looked around as well and then the ruse began. Haliday clicked his mic and said, “There are four bodies here, all armed. Hold your twenty.” The guy looked up the street and then back at Blake.

“Any chance we can buy some gas?”

“How much you need?”

Blake said, “We need to fill six bikes and six ‘two’ gallon cans.”

“Is that all?”

“For now, we might need to fill our trucks in a couple hours.”

“That’s going to be a problem for sure. Where you guys from anyway?”

Blake was good at this. “Just around,” he answered.

The moment was getting a little tense. Haliday clicked the mic again, “No, hold your twenty. Doesn’t look like they want to play nice with us.” Haliday glanced over at the guy who was standing there now. “Well? We get gas or not?”

The guy said, “No, we’re under orders not to sell it to anybody that doesn’t have a gas card.”

“Where do we get a gas card?”

“You can’t, the militia gave them out.”

“You mean the military gave them out?”

“No, the militia.”

Haliday looked at the guy. “So let me understand this. You guys are taking orders from a group of yahoos who think they run the country now? You guys have a say in that decision of how they would distribute what’s yours?” The guy didn’t answer. Haliday said, “Lets go, these people are suffering HUA.”

The guy asked Haliday what HUA meant.

“Head up ass.”

Haliday clicked his mic once more; “We’re coming back out. Have Dave in truck five fill up a couple gas cans for the bikes and meet us at…,” Haliday then stopped, looked at the guy, and said, “I’ll call you back with that info. Thanks for nothing partner. We’ll go find our gas elsewhere.” They high tailed it out of that area quickly.

Of course there hadn’t been any transmissions or any truck number five, but appearances counted here, not the facts. They found themselves a little place to hide. They sat it out for about two hours trying to listen to see what was going on. Haliday grinned when he heard the first message pertaining to them.

“Papa 1 is out at Alpha 10 with information. Stand by.” A few minutes passed. “Alpha 10 reports that there were at least four men on motorcycles who passed by a couple hours ago. They report there might have been more, but definitely saw four. We have a direction and will head out and see what other info we can find.”

About half an hour later came another transmission. “Papa 1 is out at Foxtrot Delta 3.” Haliday thought about that one, ok, fuel depot, these guys really wanted to play army. Good for them. Haliday openly laughed at the next transmission.

“Papa 1 to HQ we have reports that confirm six motorcycles and possible trucks in the area. Maybe up to five or more, but makes and models are unknown. There is an unknown number of hostiles. Seems they wanted gas and were denied. We understand the guys were some sort of wannabe Special Forces jerks with attitudes based on the way they acted.” Haliday got a kick out of this.

“Oh boy, these people are hilarious,” he said.

They pushed their bikes further into the woods and covered them up. Haliday broke out a small camp stove and some water. “Mac and cheese this evening, Blake, is that ok with you?”

“Sounds ok to me.”

“You want coffee or cocoa?”

“No, can I have something else?”

“Water, Kool-Aid, Arnold Palmer or Tang?”

“I’ll have some Kool-Aid.”

They finished their quick dinner and then checked in with the group. “Everything is going fine,” he said. “Tonight I want you to monitor the militia freq. and take notes. Do not worry about what you hear about us. I want you to concentrate on what they are doing. Have a couple people listen in to make sure you get as much info as possible.

“Ok Blake, you ready to go?”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, then let’s get busy.” Haliday double-checked to make sure the lights on the bikes were taped off. He rigged up the headlights so that you could pull a strip of tape off and it would uncover the light in case they needed to see. The moon was fairly bright and provided enough light to see at the speeds they were moving. They moved slowly using back woods trails.

They were coming up on a small road and turned the bikes off. They walked up to a stalled car and punctured the tank and filled their smaller gas cans. They went back and filled the bikes. They went back and topped off the gas cans. Haliday let the gas flow out of the tank though instead of plugging it like he had the other tanks.

Haliday grabbed a cigarette out of a pack in his pocket; he didn’t smoke, just used them for projects. He grabbed a wooden match and poked it through the cigarette near the filter. He grabbed a paper clip and bent it into shape. He placed this down by the gas on the ground. Looked like a little cannon pointing toward the sky. The cigarette would burn down, ignite the match which was close enough to the gas, and that would set it all ablaze.

This would buy them time to get out of the area. They walked back into the woods and took off. They were well enough away from the area when the gas ignited and the car became engulfed in flames. This drew the attention of the nearby homes as they came out to look at what was burning. This would be reported if it wasn’t seen by a patrol.

They hit another spot about four miles away and further north. Haliday showed Blake how to do it. “We don’t need the gas, but we need the diversion,” Haliday said. Blake looked at the car.

“Oh man, Mr. Haliday, it’s a Camaro,” Blake said.

“What’s wrong with that, they don’t burn? Blake, the car is useless. If it makes you feel any better I’ll write the owner a check. Let’s move.”

Blake set the makeshift fuse and they took off again.

“Last but not least, the grand finale for the night. This third car is where it gets risky. This is what we’ll do.” He explained the plan to Blake and they got ready to go. “If we get separated, you meet me back here. Let’s go.”

They cut the engines on the bikes and rolled down a hill about an eighth of a mile. When they stopped by the car, Haliday went and punctured the tank. No gas, though. He walked over to another one and same result. This wasn’t going to work out that well. There were no other cars far enough away from the homes.

He looked around and saw an older store by itself with a dirt parking lot that looked empty. He checked it out and it appeared it had been empty for probably 10 years or more. The people in the Thumb Area had it made. Nice rural areas, but they still had that American dream—they’d open a business; it would fail and sit empty. Simply not enough people around to support it.

He found an old bottle and poured a little gas inside with a piece of rag to make a Molotov cocktail. He lit it, then grabbed a rock and tossed it through a window. He tossed the flaming bottle in next. Blake and he started yelling and fired a few shots from their rifles and also Haliday’s .40. They got on the bikes and took off. There were plenty of flashlights and candles glowing now.