Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

Ronny turned to look at Ned and said, “A what-now?”

“Biofuel,” Clay purred happily. “He’s making gasoline out of hunks of wood.”

“I-It’s not really gasoline, strictly speaking!” Ned quickly said, clearly uncomfortable at Clay’s lack of accuracy. “It’s syngas, or, uh, synthesis gas. It’s… it’s basically the byproduct you get from burning wood. A, uh, mixture of hydrogen, carbon monoxide, a little methane, and a lot of nitrogen. It’s combustible, see? All you really need to do after you’ve made it is mix it with the right amount of oxygen, and you can run just about any gasoline engine with it.”

“Any…” Ronny began, and then looked at Clay in confusion. “H-How?!”

“There still enough fire, Ned?”

He nodded. “Yes. It should run for approximately one hour with the amount of wood we put in.”

“Well, start her up again and show him,” Clay said with a smile.

Ned walked over to the other end of the table. Ronny realized there was more crap hooked up to the mess of parts and got in closer to see what it was. It was shiny with a thin stack of ribs running down the side, though the light was dim enough now that he had a hell of a time understanding what it was. Sensing Ronny’s confusion, Clay shined a flashlight on the component, which turned out to be a small motor. There were some wires running out of it, and Ned connected these to a large battery on the floor. He then reached out to the motor and pressed a button, after which it immediately roared to life. As soon as it was running, Ned disconnected the wires and started fiddling with a valve coming off the little motor’s intake; the motor itself sputtered anemically and surged by turns as he adjusted the setting until it finally died.

“It’s hard to get it right just by hand,” Ned offered sadly. “You have to kind of juggle the choke and the valve at the same time to get it right, you-you know?”

Ronny stood there with his mouth hanging open. After a few seconds, he asked, “It’s just wood?”

Ned’s face lit up happily, and he nodded. “Yes! Burned in a double-chamber, of course, but just wood! See, the smoke runs down to this water jar, here… that’s the first stage condenser. The water’s getting black like that because of all the tar. Then the gas goes to this other jar, which is just a bunch of sawdust and cotton that I’m using to filter it, and then it runs to the two-stroke’s intake. You just… you just give it a bit of oil and a spark, and it’ll start right up. It’s only dying out because I didn’t bother to optimize the throttle position with the intake valve. Once I knew it worked, I… uh, I kind of got excited and wanted to start scaling up.”

He shrugged in a “silly me” gesture and tittered happily.

Ronny looked over at the giant contraption in the middle of the floor, slack-jawed, and said, “That’s another one of those… gasifiers?”

“Yes,” whispered Ned, grinning widely. “I’m going to run a truck with it, once I finish the carburetor and throttle linkage. I don’t know what kind of efficiency it’ll get yet, but I’ve been through a few iterations on these… I’ll bet it’s pretty good…”

Ronny was speechless. He looked at Clay, confusion displayed nakedly on his face. The other man only laughed and said, “Ned, I believe that’ll do for the day. Let’s go ahead and close it all down and then get yourself some dinner. I guess you have some of your own stuff, but you’re welcome to anything we brought with us, as well, huh? You, Ronny…” he winked knowingly at the other man, “…you come along with me. I think you and I have a few things we need to air the fuck out.”

Clay left through the shop’s exit, clearly expecting to be followed without hesitation. Ronny stayed a moment, continuing to stare at the complicated looking apparatus (he had begun to regard it with the kind of awe most people reserved for a nuclear reactor) and the unassuming little man standing next to it, who smiled and offered an abrupt wave.

Ronny offered a dazed nod, understanding, the way cunning though not necessarily intelligent people do, that he’d likely just been introduced to the most important man in the crew, superseded only by Clay himself. He left the shop to follow after Clay, still feeling a little dizzy.

Ronny found Clay back up by the main store building, sitting in the same plastic chair that had been occupied by the Lead Devil himself only a few hours ago, who had only recently been laid to his final rest in a fresh grave on the property. Some of Pap’s men had seen to the act, digging up the earth silently but efficiently before laying his blanket wrapped body into the cool ground. They hadn’t known if the man was a veteran in life, but they folded up an American flag and laid it upon his chest just in case. Pap finished off the ad-hoc ceremony by placing an unopened bottle of beer in one withered hand before straightening up and saying, “Adios, Hoss.”

There had been a few grunts of approval from the others and even a thank-you from one, an offer of gratitude for the treasure trove of weaponry he had amassed over his lifetime.

Now having assumed his place in the Lead Devil’s lawn chair, Clay leaned back in relaxation with his booted feet stretched out before him, heels rested on an old box. He smiled at Ronny’s approach and gestured to the old, dusty Igloo on his left, on top of which sat a bottle of scotch and two cups.

“Have a look back inside the store, Ronny. You’ll find another chair. Bring it out and let’s chat a while.”

Ronny gave a guarded nod and went to retrieve the chair. He placed it on the other side of the cooler and sat down, facing the same direction as the other man. They had a fairly decent view of the property, with the heavily guarded front gate almost directly ahead of them some three hundred or so yards away—Ronny suspected they were so positioned so that Clay could see the headlights when the rest of their people eventually arrived. He settled into the chair but remained alert, eyeing Clay suspiciously in his peripheral vision.

After a few moments of amiable silence, Clay nodded and filled the two cups from the bottle of scotch. He held one of these between his hands, warming it in the chill night air, and nodded toward the other to indicate that Ronny should take it up. Ronny did, at which point Clay grunted and held his cup out toward the man.

“What the hell is this?” Ronny asked.

Sighing, Clay said, “Humor me, huh? I’m trying to get off on the right fucking foot, here.”

Pursing his lips while anticipating some sort of insult, he clicked the rim of his cup up against Clay’s. They both drank.

“Good, we’re drinking like civilized men, now,” Clay intoned. “You don’t like me, Ronny, I know this about you… and, to be honest, you’re not exactly my favorite end of the world butt-buddy. This is no secret.”

“No…” Ronny agreed while Clay had another sip.

“No, no secret. But since we’re drinking like a couple of civilized men, do you think we could also fucking converse as such? I’ll agree not to be a miserable prick if you’ll do the same.”

Ronny thought about it. He felt off-balance again, not knowing where this would lead. Clay had never approached him like this before; it was completely undiscovered territory. He decided to just ride it out for now and said, “Deal.”

“Good,” Clay nodded. He drained off the rest of his drink, pulled the top off the bottle, and set up a refill. Shifting in his chair, he gestured at the bottle and said, “Feel free when you’re ready. Now, I’d like to spend a little time discussing our new friend Ned, can we do that?”