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

Jake sighed and began to explain in the same tone you’d use to explain to a kid why the sky is blue: “Honestly, the only thing that’s going on is that you people looked like you could use a hand. I’m here to offer my help if you want it.”

“Yeah? What makes you think we need any help?”

“You’re limping along in a bus that looks like it was salvaged from a monster truck show, for one thing. You’re missing a rear tire, half the windows are busted out, and the whole left side has an I-just-rammed-someone-off-the-road appearance. For another, it looked like you were trying to find fuel. You’ll need to go a little further up the road if that’s true.”

“Okay, but why would you just step out to talk to us?” I asked. “We’re all armed. You don’t even appear to have a Swiss Army knife.”

“First, you’re not all armed. You have two rifles and some sort of pistol between a large group of people. But aside from that, you folks are safe.”

“Safe?” I asked, shocked, despite my position. “Just how the fuck can you tell we’re safe?”

“You have women and children with you, and they’re not under duress. You don’t go armed all the time; when you guys are just riding along in the bus, no one is carrying a weapon. From what I could see, you even keep your weapons stacked in a pile in the back. You’re driving around with a busload of free, unrestricted people.”

“How… how long have you been watching us?”

“Oh, for quite a while. Another thing: you’re taking great pains to protect them all. You were the first person off the bus. You made it a point to scan the area first before bringing anyone else off; putting yourself at risk first. The weak and infirm (children mostly but I thought I saw some elderly, too) are kept on the bus in relative safety. You’re protecting weak people who don’t appear to be capable of doing very much to contribute to your own survival. You’re for your people, not for yourself. You folks are safe.”

I was dumbstruck. The man had eyes on us at least since we approached Jackson, with enough visibility to determine age ranges and capabilities. He knew our armament. He could have easily picked us off from a distance if he possessed the skills and had been so inclined. I broke into a cold sweat as I realized how close we could have come to another Denver.

I brushed a hand across my forehead and asked, “And why are you going to help us, man?”

“Because I’m for my people, too, Gibs. Things are ugly, but they can become a lot uglier if we allow it. Sometimes, chances are worthy.”

I stood a while looking down at him. For his part, Jake’s gaze had dropped down to center again, the computer going back into standby. I realized he didn’t make me feel uneasy anymore. Now, he just made me feel tired.

“He kinda has a point, Top,” said Davidson from behind me.

“Damn it, don’t call me that,” I said irritably. “I never went past Staff Sergeant.”

Jake was looking back up at me. “Keep my hands tied, if you like.”

I scratched my chin and considered him. Finally, I called out: “Oscar!”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice made distant by his position behind the bus.

“Stand down. I don’t think the dickhead’s dangerous. He’s just a regular dickhead.” Jake smiled for the first time when I said that; it was slight, but it was there.

“Come on,” I said to Jake while looping a hand into his arm to help him up. I removed my multi-tool from its pouch and used the cutters to sever the nylon straps at his wrists. His arms fell down to his sides as I walked around to his front to face him. His hands hung unmoving; overall, he was very still.

“Okay,” I prompted. “Make with the helping.”

“Sure,” he said, turned left, and immediately started walking up the street in the direction our bus had been traveling.

“Hey!” I barked. “Where’re you going?”

“To get my truck,” he called back. “You need some gas, right? Come on, you’ll see.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I followed after him while muttering, “Fucked up as a left-handed football bat…” Davidson honked in laughter.

Jake led me a few blocks north and then a couple of blocks west. I stayed behind him the entire time with the M4 aimed at his back. He didn’t seem to care; he just walked at an even pace, arms swinging lightly. I almost expected him to start whistling or try to make small talk or something. He did none of that; just walked happily along. As we rounded a final corner, we came upon a blue Ford pickup so high off the ground that the hood was level with my shoulder line. It was facing towards me and, as I moved further out to my right to pass around the front, I saw a long trailer behind it loaded down with a few plastic fifty-five-gallon drums.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Are those all filled with fuel?”

“Not completely but I’ve had a good run today. It’s pretty easy to get a line of cars going once they’ve been pushed out of the street.”

I looked in his direction and saw him regarding me calmly. “Any diesel?”

He nodded. “Yes, a couple of those drums have a duct tape ‘X’ on the lid. They have diesel.”

I stood for a moment while chewing my lip, trying to decide how to play this. After a few moments of indecision, I realized I didn’t have the first clue. A lack of food and sleep had made me dumber than a box of rocks.

I finally gave up on trying to be clever and let the rifle hang. “Okay, Jake,” I said. “What’s the plan?”

“I propose we drive back to your bus, fuel it up, and you follow me back to my place. We’ll get your people fed and figure out what comes next.”

“Why?” I asked, exhausted. When he didn’t answer, I shrugged and looked around. “What is this, a Jesus thing? You’re gonna try to convert us? Cook us in a pot? Sell us Amway? What?”

Jake looked off in a random direction, apparently to collect his thoughts. He looked back at me and then began to walk towards me. He held his hands out where I could see them, but it didn’t even occur to me to put the muzzle upon him at that point. I had just about surrendered to the stupid by that point. He stopped about a foot away, and I noticed he was a few inches shorter than me.

“I suppose you’ve been shot at? Shot a bunch of people as well?”

I nodded.

“Lost some people?”

I nodded again.

Jake breathed in deep; let it out. “Me too. I’ve met some good people out here as well, though. Just like you have. You wouldn’t be running yourself ragged trying to protect them if that wasn’t the case.”

He fished the truck keys out of his pocket, unlocked the Ford’s driver side door, and turned back to me.

“We’re stronger together,” he said. “We can do more together. How long are you going to stay out here looking? How long have you even been out here looking?”

I had no answer for him, so I only shook my head.

“You have to take a chance, Gibs,” he called over his shoulder as he climbed into the truck. He shut the door and looked back out at me through the open driver’s side window. “Whether it’s with me or that road, you’re going to have to take a chance.”

He turned the key in the ignition; the deep, rattling growl of a diesel engine echoed down the street. He faced forward in the driver’s seat and waited.

I scoffed at myself. Fuck it , I thought. I walked around the front of the truck to hop into the passenger seat.

It was a quick little drive to return to the bus; Jake pulled us up nose to nose with the grill while Oscar and Davidson stood aside. Both of them looked about as confused as a dog with a bone-shaped dildo. Jake shut off the engine, and I spoke up quickly before he could hop out of the truck.