Stranger

Forty-four

They were back within three hours. And when they saw I’d found one of their precious stores of gasoline-a niggardly thirty gallons stored in cans beneath a mound of motel debris-they were pissed-really pissed.

Tony roared up first on the Harley in a cloud of swirling dust. He glared at the fuel cans lined up against the remains of the motel wall. There was no, “Hey great to see you, buddy… glad you made it back alive.” Instead: “What the fuck are you doing, man? Michaela told me you’re going back to Sullivan.”

“That’s right?”

“So, you’re running out on us, huh? Going back to a nice soft bed

… man, you are a pile of shit, you know that?”

“I need to go back.”

“Yeah… need. You need to save your yellow neck.” Climbing off the bike, he rocked it back onto the stand. “And how the hell did you find that gas? That’s ours.”

“I followed my nose. Look.” I pointed at one of the Jerry cans. “It’s leaking. I could smell it twenty paces away.”

“What do you need all that gas for? There’s thirty gallons there.”

“Twenty-five now. You stored it in cans that leaked.”

“Hey, but we need that.”

“But I need it more.”

Tony’s hand went to the butt of his pistol. “There’s no way on earth we’re going to let you take what’s left of our gas so you can go running back to your soft, pussycat town.”

I looked at him. “ ‘What’s left of our gas’?” I repeated his exact words. “You mean this is all you’ve got?”

Tony looked uneasy, as if he’d let some secret slip. “Sure, we’ve got more gas. We’ve got a store up at the cabins.” He slapped the tank of the bike. “What do you think we run these on-morning mist?”

“How much gas? Ten gallons? Fifteen?”

“Enough, Valdiva.”

By this time the others had killed their motors and had climbed off the bikes. Ben looked puzzled. Michaela and Zak were angry. They immediately replayed the conversation I’d just had with Tony. Why did I need the gas? It wasn’t my gas. It was theirs. Why was I scuttling back to Sullivan like a whipped puppy?

Ben chipped in. “You’re crazy, Greg. You know what happened last time. They’ll lynch you if you go back there.”

Michaela shook her head. “You rat. After last night… I mean, I thought we had something together. Now you’re leaving?”

Tony spat. “He’s got a yellow streak up his back… this wide.” He held his hands apart.

Disgusted, Zak swept his hat from his head to strike it against his thigh. “Go back to Sullivan, homeboy. But don’t expect a lift from us. And don’t think you can take that gas, because we-”

“ ‘Because we need it,’ ” I mimicked. “I know.”

“So what are-”

“Just listen to me for one minute, OK?”

Grudgingly they looked at each other, then Zak nodded. Michaela still glowered.

“First answer some questions.”

Zak sounded suspicious. “What kind of questions?”

“How much gasoline do you have?”

Michaela shrugged. “With what you’ve found around fifty gallons.”

Tony added defiantly, “But we’ll find more.”

“OK. Where?”

“We’re good at finding supplies.”

“Yeah.” Zak nodded. “See for yourself. We’ve done all right so far.”

“How much ammo have you got left?”

They shrugged.

“OK, don’t give me an audit down to the last shotgun shell,” I said. “Give me an approximate figure.”

“OK, OK.” Michaela held up her hands. “We have around a hundred shotgun shells. Maybe three hundred rifle rounds and a few dozen rounds for handguns.”

“That’s not much, is it? Not if you’re going to keep twenty people alive over the next few months.”

“Like I said”-Tony rested his hand on the pistol butt where he’d pushed it into his belt-“we can find more.”

“But where? The towns are picked clean.”

“We’ll do it.”

I moved in close to meet him eye to eye. “Tell me: When was the last time you found some gas? Some ammunition?”

Tony glared back. “Two weeks ago. A stack of rifle shells.”

Michaela sighed. There was a defeated look in her eye. “Greg, it was three weeks ago, and we found three rifle shells in the trunk of a wrecked car.”

“Three shells won’t win a war, will they?”

“Michaela.” Tony glared at her as if telling her to keep her mouth shut.

“What have we got to hide, Tony? It’s looking like crap. We haven’t found any gas in a month. In a couple of weeks we’ll have to dump the bikes and go on foot.”

“We can manage, Michaela. We got by in the past.”

“ ‘We got by in the past’?” I echoed. Boy, oh boy, this time I let them have it. Words came out like machinegun bullets. “What good is that? Don’t you see? You can’t live like this, grubbing for cans of beans in ruins and running from place to place. Listen to me; it’s time to stop living like hobos. It’s time to start living like Vikings!”

“Like Vikings?” Tony gave a dismissive laugh. “Yeah. What do you suggest, Valdiva?”

I took a deep breath. “Do you have any dynamite?”

“Dynamite! Hell no.”

“What do we need explosives for, Greg?” Michaela asked, astonished. “We carry what’s essential. Food. Ammunition.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“And what’s this talk of Vikings?” Ben asked, be-mused. “What do Vikings have to do with anything?”

“Because, Ben, we’re going to start taking what we need to survive.”

Zak scratched his bald head. “Well, Valdiva, you talk the talk, I’ll grant you that. But how we going to take what we need?”

I looked ’round at the faces that were either puzzled or downright hostile. Only Michaela’s had softened. I sensed she trusted me to offer some kind of hope. Jesus, I prayed I could. “Listen: This is the plan. There’s a Jeep back at the garage I’ve been staying in. All it needs is gas. Once I have a full tank I drive to Sullivan. There, I’m going to pick up explosives. I’m sure they’ve got dynamite and detonators, haven’t they, Ben?”

“Sure, there’s a place that supplied the quarries, but-”

“Once I’ve got the dynamite we open up that nuclear bunker. There’s a crazy guy there who’s sitting on enough gasoline to float a ship. There’ll be military hardware. Mortars. Rocket launchers. Grenades. Machine guns. And probably a million rounds of ammunition. See? We’re going to start living like Vikings. We’re transforming ourselves from losers to winners. We’re taking control of our lives again.”

Michaela’s face lit up. Zak nodded, a grin breaking across his face. Even Tony’s expression changed to one of excitement.

Only Ben looked worried. “Greg, that’s a great idea. But everyone in Sullivan will hate our guts. How do you propose to get them to hand over dynamite? All you’re gonna get is a bullet between the eyes.”

I shot him the devil of a grin. “Trust me, Ben. We’re Vikings now. We can do anything.”