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

They stopped about fifty yards out from the convoy. Back in the Ford, three civilians looked out over several thousand tons of undeniable U.S. military capability, interspersed with Soldiers and Marines milling about on foot with rifles. From the backseat, Oscar said, “We’re being invaded, eh?”

“Let’s relax,” Amanda said. “Remember: these are Lum’s people.” The others nodded and slowly exited the truck. Amanda lingered behind, working to calm the unease twisting around in her stomach. She climbed out of the truck, leaving her rifle behind in the cab.

They all met up with Lum and his boys over by the Humvee before advancing as a group. As they walked, Amanda saw more movement out by the trucks, noticing quickly that civilian refugees were filing out into the streets to stamp their feet and stretch their legs. They seemed to just keep coming as she watched, bunching up into groups before spreading out over the highway a bit to make room for more clusters of people as they climbed down from the trucks.

“Hey, Lum, how many people did you say there were at the camp?” Amanda asked.

He blew air through his lips noisily before saying, “Some two-hunner’d, or thereabouts.”

She looked back at the crowd of people spreading out over the highway. “They must have brought everyone…”

“That’ll be the Otter,” Dawkins noted, gesturing forward with his chin. At the head of the column, a figure stood slightly removed from two other men positioned behind him. Even in all the gear, he had piled on, Amanda could see he was a powerfully built man, rivaling Jake for sheer mass. Unlike most of the others, he wore no helmet; there was only a somewhat bulky headset with a thick wire running down to the radio riding the front of his rig. He regarded them silently as they approached, unmoving, and Amanda was reminded of one of those giant stone heads on Easter Island.

She didn’t know what to expect, really; perhaps a round of saluting followed by a barrage of military jargon she would be unable to understand, yet none of this happened. Lum offered a relaxed wave and said, “Otter. Hey, Peggy.”

The other man’s monolithic face cracked into a broad, gap-toothed grin. In a rumbling voice, he said, “Get the hell over here, Sergeant.” Without any further warning, the men were all standing together, vigorously shaking hands, slapping each other’s backs, and even hugging in a few cases. They laughed and insulted each other bitterly, and then laughed harder before engaging in another round of back-slapping. Despite any reservations they might have held regarding the sheer size of the force or its disposition, Amanda, Oscar, and Fred could not help but grin at the display.

From her left, Amanda heard Fred laugh softly before carefully asking, “Lum? Did… you just call that man Peggy?”

The Soldiers or Marines or whatever they were stopped talking abruptly and turned to face him with unreadable expressions. The man to whom Fred referred stepped forward from the group and said, “Yeah. Pegleg , see?” He lifted a pant leg, exposing an artificial limb that was all shining steel and black composite.

Showing naked surprise, Fred blurted, “Well, goddamn!”

The other man straightened up and said, “That’s one way to put it.” He extended his hand and said, “I’m Montez. Most guys call me Montezuma. Jeffries is the only guy that gets to call me Peggy .” This last statement was delivered with a pointed expression.

Fred nodded, enveloped the man’s hand in his own giant, black mitt, and said, “Montezuma, it is. Good to meet you. I’m Fred, and this is Oscar and Amanda.”

Montez shook with each of them in turn. The larger man approached from behind and said, “It is outstanding to finally be able to put some faces to names. I’m Commander Otto Warren, United States Navy, but you feel free to call me Otter, okay?” He shook with Amanda first. He filled up her entire field of view, and she realized idly that he was a few inches taller than Jake. His hand felt more natural, though; it was somehow easier for her to wrap her fingers around it for a firm grip than it was with Jake, who seemed to come with his own bizarre set of rules and proportions. She noted other things about this man as well or thought she did. He seemed much more direct; more simple. Amanda imagined him attacking every problem in a similar fashion: dead ahead at full speed with no concern given for resistance or difficulty. It was the way he stood that suggested this, facing her square-on, and the way he looked at her; intensely direct and unflinching.

She realized that her brain had kicked into overdrive, attempting to record everything it possibly could to take back to Jake. To prepare him.

She heard Oscar’s scandalized voice blurt out from behind her: “ Puta Madre! ”

She whirled to look at him, but his attention was fixed beyond her or anyone else standing in their cluster of people. He looked out towards the line of giant, prehistoric-looking trucks in slack-jawed dismay. As she rotated to match his direction, hoping to see whatever had seemingly shocked the words out of Oscar, Fred added his own perspective in a crumbling, collapsing voice.

“Oh… shit. Oh man, oh, Christ…”

They all saw Wang, lumbering along towards them on three legs; one of them God-given while the other two were donations of the Elysium Fields FST. His one unoccupied pant leg had been cut short, tied up into a knot close to his hip, and flopped around uselessly as he stilted along, a simulacrum of the stump he lacked. Oscar and Fred both muttered more things to each other as he approached, but Amanda missed the details of the exchange. All of her attention was bent on Wang. She noted how he articulated the crutches so easily, swinging over the upheaved asphalt like some kind of graceful, tripedal beast out of a science fiction movie. His hair had been cut aggressively short, to keep it out of his eyes, she presumed, and the barrel of his rifle protruded up over his shoulder.

She thought, “ Okay. They’re letting him go armed, anyway. That’s a good sign. ”

The click of his crutches against the ground became audible along the final hundred feet of his traversal, sounding oppressively loud. Within the last twenty feet, Otter broke the silence by saying, “Now, here comes an odd character. I’ll say this much: if the rest of your people are anything like Wang, well… you’re living in fine company if that’s the case.”

Wang smirked and rolled his eyes as the final distance was negotiated and said, “I’m afraid Otter makes more of me than I deserve.”

“Don’t be piddlin’,” said Lum. “The man ain’t given over to exaggeratin’.”

The young sergeant’s voice was stern, but any of the bite his words might have held was dispelled by the smile he failed to contain. He looked Wang over, nodded, and said, “Mighty fine, see’n yah upright ’n all.”

The intention to say anything further was momentarily stymied when Fred rushed out between the groups of people, his hulking, dark mass confounding their view of each other as he passed. Two large strides and he was upon Wang, throwing his giant, meaty arms around the smaller man’s neck and shoulders, who was nearly knocked off his foot. Saved from falling over by Fred’s suffocating crush, Wang could only groan and slap lightly at the man’s sides.

Fred pulled back before too long, holding on to Wang’s shoulders with bracing hands, ensuring he was stable before letting go. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he coughed out, “We… heard you took one to the leg, but…”

Wang laughed and nodded. He took a steadying breath (perhaps himself emotionally impacted from Fred’s display) and said, “Yeah, but it was a really big one.”