William Weber - Surviving America's Collapse

After moving from house to house for nearly thirty minutes, they reached the corner of Lakeview and Woodland. That was when John spotted the black pickup rolling slowly through the intersection. He held up his arm, hand in a fist, and the group stopped, dropping for cover. Both he and Frank peered out from behind a burning bush shrub, watching through the scopes of their rifles.

The truck was moving very slowly, as though they were looking for someone.

“A patrol?” Frank whispered.

“I hope so,” John replied. “I can’t imagine they’d be looking for us specifically.”

Eventually the pickup moved out of sight and they continued on. The front doors on many of the houses they encountered were ajar, the wood frames splintered from being kicked in. Likely it was Cain’s men, scavenging for food and other valuables. None of the houses seemed to be occupied and John was left to wonder where the people had all gone.

Before long they reached Tipton’s Pharmacy. It was a small family-run place that had been there for years. Many of the locals continued to buy their prescription drugs from Tipton’s for that very reason. In Knoxville a warm smile went a long way.

The front door and window were shattered. It was beginning to look as though they’d come all this way for nothing. As the group approached, a body lying face first over the shattered front window came into view. Blood pooled below a man in jeans and a white sweater. Only the sweater wasn’t white anymore, it was splattered with blood and dirt. The lack of a wound on the man’s back told John he had likely been killed as he entered the store.

The glare from the sun overhead made it difficult to see inside the darkened store. Glass crunched under their feet as they drew near.

“That’s far enough,” a voice shouted from inside. It was a man and he sounded old.

“Jeb,” John called out. “That you in there?”

“One more step and I’ll give you what I gave that looter.”

John wasn’t more than a few feet from the body now and he could see the dead man was wearing a Memphis Grizzlies sweater. He didn’t look a day over thirty. Certainly didn’t fit the stereotype of a hardened criminal. More likely he was a family man from the neighborhood, coming to fill a prescription for someone in dire need, much like them.

“We don’t want any trouble, Jeb,” John told him. “We got some sick people over on Willow Creek Drive and we need some medicine for them. Is Marlene in there with you?”

“My wife is fine, John. I’ve known you for a number of years now, but I’m telling you that no one’s gonna take my stuff by force. Not if I have a say in it.”

The truth of the matter was, John hadn’t expected the pharmacy to be occupied. The idea of Jeb standing guard with his wife hadn’t factored into things.

“We don’t intend to take anything, Jeb. Especially by force. Why don’t we give you a list of what we need and we’ll see if we can make a trade.”

Jeb was quiet for a minute. “Go ahead and toss that list in here, John, and I’ll have a look.”

John did as Jeb asked and backed away. The dead body lying on the shattered window was starting to stink and John was happy to move away from it.

“I think I can get you most of this,” Jeb said. “Packed the insulin fridge with some ice when the power went down and it’s been keeping real nice.”

“That’s good, Jeb.”

“So what’s your offer then?”

John hadn’t brought anything to barter with. He had to think fast.

“When’s the last time you or Marlene had something to eat, Jeb?”

Jeb was slow to answer. “It’s been a while. Neither of us has set foot outside since the lights went out. I ain’t gonna let those vultures swoop down and steal all my hard work.”

“I don’t blame you. Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” he said. “But mostly I’m thirsty. Bit ashamed to admit the wife and I’ve been drinking from the toilet these last few days.”

“Give me a minute, Jeb, and I’ll see what I can do about that.” John moved a few feet away to huddle with Frank and the three deputies. “Give me your canteens,” he told the deputies. Reluctantly, they removed them from their belts and handed them over. “What about food? Any of you bring anything to eat?”

Frank opened a pouch on his vest and produced a bag of trail mix. “It isn’t much, but it’s all I got.”

John had water in his CamelBak, but not a stitch of food. This would have to do. They moved back near the broken window. “Jeb, you still there?”

“Course I am. Told you I ain’t going nowhere.”

“We can offer you three canteens of water—”

“Not good enough,” Jeb shot back.

John sighed. “Our street is struggling to get by as it is. What if we made room for you and your wife in our community? We’ve got barricaded walls and some food, but most of all, protection from roaming gangs. It’s only a question of time before they find you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we ain’t leaving?”

John felt the hope slipping between his fingers. Cantankerous as he was, Jeb’s inventory would have made a nice addition to Patty’s store of medical supplies. Just then John remembered something. In a utility pouch were crackers from an MRE he’d opened weeks ago. They were still sealed and hadn’t gone bad.

“All right, Jeb. Here’s our final offer. Three canteens of purified water, one bag of trail mix and sealed crackers from an MRE.”

There was silence for a while after that. Then Jeb spoke. “Still a weak offer, John. But I’ll tell you what. You hand all that over and I’ll give you your insulin and half of the heart meds you asked for. I ain’t giving you any valium or any Danaparoid or Benazepril. You come back with something besides water and crackers and you can have the rest.”

John sighed. If he’d known Jeb would be here he might have brought some gold and other tradable items. For now he would take what he could get. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Jeb.”

“Good, now go ahead and toss those things in and I’ll get your meds.”

“Here they are, Jeb,” John said, dangling them in the open slot where the window once stood. “Bring my meds and we’ll make a clean swap.”

Jeb grumbled. “Fine.” There was movement from inside as Jeb shuffled around. At one point it sounded as though he was arguing with someone. The deputies continued to scan the perimeter as Jeb finally returned. This time he came right to the window and handed them a brown paper bag. In turn, John gave him the canteens and the other food. Jeb smiled, looking pale and thinner than usual.

“Wife’s in there bitching to high hell. Figured if I showed myself and y’all shot me, you’d be doing me a favor.”

John smiled. “The offer still stands to join us.”

Jeb shook his head.

“Sad to hear it, Jeb. We’ll be back then to get the rest. Keep yourself safe.”

“Godspeed,” Jeb replied and disappeared back into the inky darkness of the pharmacy.

John and the others made their way south along Lakeview until they reached Woodland. The expedition so far had been long, tiring and stressful. They would all be glad to get back to the relative safety of Willow Creek.

Huddled behind the corner house, John peered out to ensure that the coast was clear. When he didn’t spot any threats he gave the signal for them to move. Crossing over open terrain was one of the most dangerous times for a soldier and John’s heart hammered in his chest as all five of them sprinted across Woodland Drive. They were less than halfway there when John heard a noise on their right. Sounded like someone whistling, the sort you might hear at a concert or when someone was hailing a cab.