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

“Got yourself a little slice, too, no?”

“A… slice?”

“That girl you were hanging with. Keepin’ your bag warm at night, eh?”

Jeffries went quiet. A hard look settled over his face. He unslung his rifle and leaned it up against a log on the side of the road. Montez watched him do this, slightly confused. He asked, “Hey, uh, what the hell are you doing, hombre ?”

He didn’t answer. He drew his sidearm and laid it down on the log next to the rifle, followed by his knife. He turned away from these weapons and approached his friend. That hard look was still there, and he held his fists balled up at his sides.

“You need to take it back.”

“I need to… what the fuck are you going on about?”

“Take it back, ’Zuma. You got to take it back, or we got bi’ness.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re serious!”

Jeffries advanced a step.

“ Ya , alright already, I take it back, you crazy fuckin’ cracker! Real professional, man! Since when the fuck do you start pickin’ fights on watch? What shit is that, anyway?”

Jeffries looked at him a moment longer, making sure it was done. When he decided it was, he nodded, turned back around, and proceeded to rearm himself.

“It’s like that with her, huh?” Montez asked.

Jeffries nodded. His back was still to his friend. “Yeah. Figure it might could be.”

“Shit, brother. Like, what are you gonna do?”

“Not a damned clue.”

“Shit,” Montez repeated. He turned back to the mountains, saw movement out in the distance, and repeated, “Shit!”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone out there!” He glassed through his rifle’s optic. “Looks like that big motherfucker with the beard…”

Jeffries grunted. “Jake. Well, that didn’t take long, I guess.”

Montez looked over at his friend, alarmed. “ What didn’t take long?”

Jeffries shook his head. “Easy, now, don’t get all bowed up. Just meant he wasn’t gonna wait on Otter to make the next move. Ain’t his nature.” He leaned and spat absently into the hard-packed gravel along the side of the road. “Well, let’s us skedaddle over yander an’ see what he’s about. Figure we better cuff him up; Otter’s like to blow his stack if’n he come walkin’ in free-handed.”

The two men advanced along the broken pavement to meet Jake halfway. He strolled along easily, showing little in the way of concern, back upright and shoulders low in a relaxed swagger. Montez kept his rifle screwed tight into his shoulder with the chevron glued to Jake’s sternum. Jefferies was easier going; he let his rifle hang while eyeing his Marine friend sidelong. He shook his head and rolled his eyes a little but didn’t say anything. They had all been through a thing or two, and Lum wasn’t about to begrudge a man his caution.

At a hundred feet out, Jake pulled off his heavy overcoat, pinched the collar in his fingers, and shook it out hard at arm’s length. He continued to hold it well out to the side and then lifted the hem of his t-shirt and underlying thermal high over his belly so that his ribs were exposed. He slowly turned a full circle, showing the men every inch of a waistline thick with muscle. He finished by facing them, having let the overcoat drop a bit though he continued to hold it out from his body.

Jeffries nodded at the man and said, “Nice to see yah again.”

Jake held his head dipped to the left in Montez’s direction. The two veterans couldn’t tell if this was intentional or not, though the man’s eyes tracked towards the Marine’s rifle barrel. Lum thought he detected a smile hidden at the corners of his eyes.

“What’cho want, man?” Montez asked.

Jake’s gaze left the barrel and alighted on the man’s eyes. Any hint of a smile that might have been there playing behind the curtains was long gone now. “I’d like to see your boss if he has the time. There are probably some things we should discuss.”

Montez tightened his hands on the rifle but said nothing. Jeffries had already keyed his mic and was speaking into it quietly. Jake continued to stand there, motionless save the slow movement of his chest, breathing shallowly; eyes unwavering. Montez found it difficult to look away from his eyes—they were brown, and the pupils looked unnaturally small. Black pinpricks barely visible in the failing light.

“Zuma!”

Montez shook his head. “What?”

“D’jou fall asleep? Otter says bring ’im in.”

“I’m going to put my jacket back on now.”

“Yeah, go on,” said Jeffries. “An’ then we gotta restrain yah, okay? No offense.”

“Not at all.”

He turned to present his back to them, joining his wrists at the small of his back. Montez swung out a few feet to the right, cheek welded, and target acquired the whole time while Jeffries tugged on the flex cuffs. He patted Jake between the shoulder blades lightly to let him know he should turn around.

“Figure this, Jake. Otter’s nearabout vexed as he’s willin’ to be over the sitch’yation. He pulled me an’ the boys aside an’ jawed our ears off a good hour behind yer little meetin’, and we didn’t hold nuthin’ back, neither. That’s our commander, an’ we gave him a full accounting. Now, I don’t know what in hell you think you’re doin’ down here but… you just wanna watch out, hear?”

“I think I understand. I’m out here to try and calm it down if I can.”

“Well okay. Just about-face, then, and follow that road into yander camp. I’ll be behind, an’ tell you when to stop.”

Jake did as instructed, taking care to walk slowly and make no sudden movements. Already an unnaturally still man, he practically slid over the ground now, as though rolling ahead on a dolly. His eyes tracked from side to side as they proceeded, taking in the double-row of tents lined up on each side of the highway, stretching back towards the 191 for about a hundred yards. Beyond the line of tents, he saw a motley assortment of military trucks arranged in a semi-circle, forming a barrier between the encampment and the highway. They reminded him of circled wagons. He wondered briefly what it meant that there was no accompanying circle between the encampment and his mountains. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

There was still light enough for people to be out and about (he judged that it must have been around seven or so), and he looked at some of them as he passed by. He recognized a few, such as Jessop, Ortega, and Dawkins, but most of them were strangers. The faces of the people he didn’t recognize held nakedly curious expressions; the same look nosey neighbors used to wear when they parted their mini-blinds to watch the local troublemaker get hauled into a cruiser and carted off to jail. The people he knew looked stricken, as though seeing a good friend being led to a noose.

He wasn’t walking up the alley so long before he realized there was a third kind of face peeking out at him from the canvas. It was a hidden, furtive thing, at first not easily seen but unmistakable once it was noticed. This third face conveyed a numb kind of intellect; something subdued that waited out of habit rather than anticipation. Inwardly, he smiled.

He saw Warren step out into the open from under a tent flap. Their eyes met briefly before he looked past Jake to the men following behind him and asked, “There was no one else?”

“No, he wouldn’t have brought anyone with him anyway, sir,” said Jeffries.

“But you’ve confirmed it.”

“Well, so much as I can without a set of NVG’s or a decent patrol… yes. He appears to be alone, sir.”

Warren nodded and looked back at Jake. “Well?”

“I was hoping we could have a discussion.”