White Wasteland by Jeff Kirkham (best color ebook reader .txt) 📕

glass. “We secured and consolidated the merchandise for a few blocks around here when everything went to shit. We got a Krogers, a Harbor Freight, a couple auto parts store and a Walgreens.”

“Why are there three hundred zombies camped outside?” Evan asked.

“Here to trade, I guess.” The boss shrugged his shoulders. “We’re wheeling and dealing. Bringing the shining light of Capitalism to a dreary world. Doing our part for ailing democracy.”

Evan pointed toward the office. “And, are those girls wheeling and dealing too? Do you cut them off a little smack for their trouble, big guy?”

“Who are you to judge?” the boss glared at Evan.

“I’m the man pointing a gun at you. You want to try me? See if I’m comfortable putting down a corrupt shit bag like you?”

The bossman squared his shoulders then thought better of it. He leaned against the bar and pointed a gold-ringed finger at Evan.

“The day will come when it’ll be me holding the gun. Then I’m gonna remind you of this conversation and your impoliteness. When that day comes, you won’t have a tank backing you up.”

“Oh yeah?” Evan set his whiskey tumbler down on the bar. “I’m free right now.”

The boss man glowered. “Someday. It’ll just be you and me.”

Evan raised the barrel of his AR and aimed between the man’s eyes.

“He’s a cop!” Larry the Lieutenant shouted. “Don’t kill him.”

Evan pointed the rifle five degrees to the right of the man’s head and fired. The mirror behind the bar shattered, and huge chunks clattered on the bar and the floor. The boss man’s head rocked away from the overpressure, but otherwise didn’t move.

All the team’s guns came up. The skanky girls rushed out of the office to see what’d happened and half the guns swiveled toward them. They turned around and ran back inside. Evan brought his rifle back to the middle of the boss’ face.

“Because you wore a badge, I’m going to let you walk away instead of die in a titty bar. I wouldn’t normally turn my back on a man who’s threatened me, but I’m going to make this exception…You want a promotion?” Evan asked Lieutenant Larry.

“Ya-yeah. I guess so. I mean, yeah.”

“Okay, then you’re the warlord now. High-five.” Evan didn’t give the man a high-five. He kept his rifle on the boss. “But you’ve got to shoot this Italian Stallion if he ever sets foot here again. Here’s your job description, Larry: be less of a victimizer-asshole than this guy. Can you hang?” Evan punctuated each phrase by poking the ex-boss in the chest with his flash suppressor.

“I can do that,” the lieutenant answered.

“More specifically,” Evan continued. “No drugs. No taking advantage of kids…the only person you get to murder is helmet-hair, ex-warlord here if he ever comes back. And, no buying stolen goods”

“Mr., uh, Hafer,” Lieutenant Larry waved around the room. “Everything’s stolen goods. Like…everything.”

“Good point. Let’s just say you actively police the crime in this area, then. Like a cop again, okay? Do your job as a cop. Apocalypse or not. My men will be coming back and forth through here and if you don’t want to be replaced,” Evan nodded at the man under his gun, “you’ll need to run a clean operation.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll be checking up and so will my troops when they come through. Also, I need my NVGs back—the ones we dropped last night.” Lieutenant Larry nodded. “And I need an empty water barrel.”

Evan held up a finger to pause the conversation. His outside team leaders were chattering on the radio, asking about the shot fired. He clicked the push-to-talk and replied. “This is Actual. Everything’s solid. We’ll be out in two mics.”

Evan turned to the closest of his men. “Flex cuff this guy.” The man pulled a flex cuff from Evan’s chest rig, flipped the ex-boss around to the back bar, yanked his hands behind his back and zip tied them together.

Evan dropped his rifle to the low ready. He addressed the lieutenant. “There were some ass-monkeys shadowing the daughter of a friend of mine. She owns a pawn shop down the street. If I find out that you’re letting men prey on kids, there’s going to be a problem.”

“Which pawn shop?” Larry the lieutenant asked. “Golden Spike Pawn?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?” Evan countered.

The lieutenant flicked a glance at his ex-boss. “No reason.”

The morning dawned over Zombietown and Evan felt damned righteous.

His men had scoured the camp, policed up all the guns then “re-gifted” them to the zombies who didn’t look like total shit bags. Tweakers, crazies and low lifes need not apply. Evan didn’t care overmuch about public safety at this point. His mission was the primary concern. He needed State Street, from the Homestead in the north to the Traverse Mountains in the south, to be free of problematic criminals.

Everywhere his men looked, someone had dropped a gun in the Zombietown bazaar. If he had allowed it to become a public Easter egg hunt for weapons, the meanest assholes would end up with all the guns in their Easter baskets. Instead, Evan had his guys scoop up the gats, put them in a huge pile, and hand them out to people they thought would do good things with them. Moms were at the top of their gift list.

“Just give ‘em to the people who look like they won’t commit travesties, okay?” Evan gave Tommy the job of handing out the pile of guns. “Whoever you think.”

Tommy let loose a belly laugh. “Won’t that be, ya know, like profiling? Sexist, agist, racist and prejudiced.”

“Yeah. Of course it’ll be all those things. I don’t give a crap. You decide.”

Tommy boomed again with laughter. “Okay, boss. I’m your one-man profiling stand.”

Evan wondered if he’d been fair with Tommy, the night before, when he’d considered removing him as 2IC. Everyone liked the guy and for good reason.

Tommy stood over six feet tall and was big as a house. He looked like the kind of guy you’d want