Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) by A American (learn to read books TXT) 📕

a couple of people. Thankfully, we all wear these.” He rapped his knuckles on the Kevlar helmet sitting on his head.

“What happened to him? He just quit coming out to play?”

He smiled. “No. He came out at nearly the same time every day. We finally just laid an ambush and shwacked his ass.”

“Shwack em!” Ted shouted from where he stood by the MRAP.

After a moment, Sarge was twirling a finger in the air and shouting, “Mount up!”

I nodded to the young soldier I was talking to and climbed back into the Hummer. Once Sarge was in, we pulled off as the soldiers waved.

“So, the road is clear all the way?” I asked.

Sarge nodded. “Yep. Put your foot into it. Let’s roll.”

And so, while it was a long ride, it was a completely uneventful one. I marked the trip by noting the passing of landmarks I recognized. Exits to places like Live Oak, Madison, Monticello and then Tallahassee. Getting to Tallahassee always gave a false sense of coming to the end of your trip. But Eglin was still a very long way ahead, just a stone’s throw from Alabama.

As the road signs told me we were getting closer to Tallahassee, I started looking for exit 217; it wouldn’t be much farther ahead. Passing the 216 mile-marker, I slowed a bit and used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe the window. The sky was still gray, and the falling rain made everything outside look like the sky. But after passing the exit, I saw the little Ford sitting right where I’d left it, its silver paint blended into the surrounding murk; but it was there.

“What are you looking at?” Sarge asked as he grabbed the wheel and pulled the Hummer back into the center of the road.

“That’s my car back there. That’s where I was when this shit all started.”

Sarge looked over his shoulder, “No shit. Damn, you were one hell of a long way from home.”

“Want me to shoot it?” Dalton asked from the backseat. Sarge swiveled in his seat, giving Dalton a look and shaking his head. Dalton shrugged, “Just offering.”

We passed several other checkpoints on our travel. But in Tallahassee there was a much larger presence. Here too, we were waved through, not bothering to stop. As we came out the other side of Tallahassee, I slowed to a stop in the road. Sarge looked at me and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I need a break,” I said.

“I’ll spell you,” Dalton said as he climbed out.

Sarge got out and stretched, then told Ted to fuel all the trucks. “No sense in wasting the stop.”

“Roger that, boss,” he replied as he headed back towards the MRAP.

I walked to the front of the truck and took a long piss. When I turned around, Sarge was leaning on his door and asked, “You done now?”

I lifted my leg and farted loudly. “Am now,” I replied with a smile.

He just shook his head. “You’re getting as bad as Mike.”

“We’ve had this discussion already,” I replied, then looked around. “You know. This makes me feel good.”

“What? Pissing and shitting yourself in the rain?”

“No,” I waved a hand at the road. “Being out here knowing there’s nothing to worry about. That the military has taken control of this area.”

He nodded. “I’m honestly surprised they’ve come out as far as they have.”

I laughed. “Hell, I wish they’d come a little farther. Well, a lot farther.”

Sarge grunted. “Why? You’ve got us.”

Now I grunted. “Yeah. You really instill confidence.”

Sarge looked sideways at me before looking back over his shoulder. “I’m going to go supervise this goat rope or we’ll never get out of here.”

“Get ‘em in line,” I replied as he walked off.

It didn’t take long for me to hear Sarge shouting and cussing. It made me laugh. The sounds of his old ass raising hell, Mike and Ian cussing him back and metal drums scraping and banging, making enough noise to wake the dead. It made me wonder if he really was helping. I heard an empty drum hit the road and turned back to see it rolling into the median.

I walked back to where the chaos was taking place and asked Sarge if we should keep the drum.

“Naw,” he replied. “We need the room. We’re going to be bringing a fuel tank back with us.”

“How the hell are we going to pull that?” I asked.

Sarge looked at me quizzically and asked, “Who said anything about pulling it?” He looked back at the guys and Jamie and shouted, “Saddle up! We still got a long way to go!”

In a deep sing-song voice and mimicking an air guitar, Mike replied, “And a short time to get there!”

Sarge just shook his head and stomped off. I followed him back to the truck with Dalton. He was wiping his hands on a rag. “Damn, diesel fuel stinks.”

“Not as bad as gasoline.”

Dalton got into the driver’s seat and I climbed into the backseat and pulled my bag over as he pulled off. I fished around inside and found the Biltong that Mel had packed for me. I was starving and quickly unwrapped the dish towel she had placed it in and took out a piece and took a big bite. It looked like she packed all of it, as there was a lot. I handed a piece up front. Dalton quickly grabbed it and I handed another piece up.

“What’s this?” Sarge asked as he took it.

“Biltong from that cow.”

“No shit? I remember you talking about it.” He took a bite and nodded. “Not bad. Pretty close to the real thing.”

“It is the real thing. How can it not be the real thing,” I asked? “It’s dry meat.”

He clamped his teeth down on the piece of meat and pulled. Getting a piece, he replied, “Cause it ain’t the same.”

“You’d bitch if you were hung with a new rope.”

“I’d bitch if I was hung with a rope made from the pubic hair of virgins!” Sarge barked. “The result is the same. Dead.”

I chewed on