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

“Sure,” Jake said. “What’s up?”

“I know this area. There’s a Walmart just down the way, maybe five or ten minutes.” I pointed south down the 15 to emphasize. “We have a long way to drive. We need some tunes.”

Jake’s mouth quirked in what I could have sworn was the shadow of a smile.

Billy grimaced: “Uh, well, I dunno. I don’t want us to split up anymore, and I don’t want to leave the vehicles alone outside. Anyone could just walk up to the truck and help themselves. It’s risky. We don’t know if there’s anyone in the store…”

“Billy…” Jake said. Billy stopped talking and looked to Jake. “Music is necessary.”

I realize now how correct that statement is. We came pretty close to being wiped out as a species—I guess we still could be. Vaccines don’t exist anymore so something could come along and finish us off, I suppose. The winters up here are pretty touch-and-go sometimes, too.

Even so, after two years our little community has slowly grown and is beginning to thrive, which gives me hope and tells me that humans aren’t done. The Plague wiped out whatever was left over after the Flare did its damage and only a very small percentage remains, which means that creative expression was effectively halted. The development of the arts (as in music, movies, writing, or visual work such as paintings) was at a full stop in those early days. Now obviously, these things aren’t at an end—humans have been creating music, telling stories, and doodling on cave walls ever since we learned how to make fire. But at that time, as we all sat out in our campsite, the world might never see the composition of a new song, as far as we could tell. I think Jake and I both were a little homesick for our culture, not because we had been without it for so long but because we knew we would have to be without it for so long.

“Music… is necessary, yes,” Billy finally agreed having been infected.

“It’s not just the music,” I added. When they both looked at me, I elaborated. “You’ve done a fine job covering all the essentials in your kit, Billy, but those essentials apply mostly to men. There are some… uh… gaps to fill.” I grimaced and rolled my eyes at the unfortunate choice of wording.

Billy slapped his forehead. “Of course you need… I’m sorry. That never even occurred to me.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Aside from that, I was thinking we could grab some things for Lizzy to keep her entertained. Maybe some toys or coloring books if we can find them.”

They both nodded, and Billy said, “Absolutely.”

“This time,” Jake said, “You’ll go with Lizzy and Amanda into the store, and I’ll stay with the trucks. I think we’ve seen that Amanda is more than capable of handling herself… more capable than me, really. I seem to get soundly beat up every time I get into a fight.”

“You sure you can handle that?” Billy asked, pointing to his temple and gesturing over to Jake’s head in the same motion.

It sounded a little condescending to my ears, but Jake didn’t seem to take it that way at all. “Yes, I’m good. I’m actually doing better right now if I can stay in one place rather than walking around. I don’t think my inner ear is quite right yet. We’ll move all the critical items like food and water from the truck to the back of the Jeep where they can be locked inside. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Lizzy picked that time to emerge from the tent. Her hair stuck out in wild directions. She slept hard as a general rule and yesterday had been rough. “Hey, everyone,” she said and floated into the last empty chair.

“Good morning, Girly!” Billy said.

“Kiddo…” Jake added.

I got up and started doing what Elizabeth calls “Momming.” I got some plates and forks out of the “kitchen” and a bottle of water to share between us. “Here, Mija, have some breakfast.” I divided the meal equally between us (I have a hard time finishing off a whole MRE by myself; there’s a lot more in them than you’d think).

While we ate, Billy hauled the duffel bag out of the back of the Jeep and set it on the ground in front of him.

“Losing the van was a bummer but we’re not entirely bereft,” he said as he unzipped it. He reached in a pulled out one of the rifles.

“What all is in there?” Jake asked, leaning forward to look in.

“There’re four rifles: three AR types and an AK. We have more ammo for the ARs than we do the AK; I almost didn’t grab the AK because I didn’t want to lug an extra type of ammo on the road but the rifle is so damned reliable that I couldn’t pass it up. Aside from that, we have a few assorted pistols in 9 mm and some essential accessories.”

“More reliable than these other rifles, huh?” Jake said.

Billy sat back and pinned Jake with his best “I’m serious” look. “I could cover the thing in mud, dump it in a lake to rinse it off, and it would fire happily without a malfunction.”

“Well, I’m for that,” Jake said. “Which one is the AK?”

Billy reached into the bag to pull out a rifle that was all black and more solid looking than the other rifles I had seen so far. He pulled back the lever and peeked inside. Confirming it was empty, he handed it over to Jake.

“Okay,” Jake said while he looked it over. “This one’s all different. You’d better take me through it, so I don’t miss anything important.”

“It’s not bad. It has all the same controls you’re used to; they’re just in different places. The fire selector is on the other side—it’s that long bar above the trigger.”

Jake rolled the gun over and looked. “Huh. Liked the thumb lever better.”

“It’s just different, is all,” Billy said. “Okay, charging handle is pretty obvious—this one’s on the right, so you’ll have to take your hand off the grip. I’m not crazy about that myself, but some people don’t seem to care. Magazine release is that button just on the front of the trigger guard. Outside of that, fire it similar to the M4, cheek weld and all.”

“Magazine?” Jake asked with his left hand extended. Billy bent over and pulled a long, curved bar out of his bag.

“That’s thirty rounds,” Billy said. “There’s another one in the bag just like it. The AK fires 7.62. We have about two hundred rounds between the mags and some boxes.”

“How much of the 5.56 do we have?”

“Three hundred-thirty to three hundred-fifty, give or take.”

“And then just the assorted 12 gauge and 9 mm, right?”

“Yes,” Billy said. “Around two hundred of the one and maybe one hundred-fifty of the other. All of these are round numbers, you understand. I haven’t counted them off one-by-one in a while.”

“That’s fine,” Jake said. “So, all of that to get us all the way to Wyoming, huh?”

“I see what you mean. Yeah, I can only think of one place to get more along the way—I’m really only interested in that and stopping for refuels at this point. And music, of course!” he directed at me.

“What about when we get where we’re going?” Jake asked.

“Oh, I’ve been stockpiling a while; all sorts. It should hold us over if we don’t get any visitors. But we should make it a practice to always be scavenging for more. I have reloading equipment as well. The issue there will be running out of primers, jacketed slugs, and powder. We’ll have to be good about retrieving our brass.”

“Can I have a gun?”

Billy and Jake both froze at the sound of Lizzy’s voice. Things got intensely quiet as they waited for me to decide how I wanted to deal with the inquiry.

“No,” I said. “You’re too young for that.”

I saw her put her “but, mom” face on.

“Too young,” I emphasized.