Bakerstown: An America Falls Thriller (The Drifter Book 2) by Scott Medbury

Author:Scott Medbury [Medbury, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Three loud gunshots ripped Ragland from a deep sleep. He bolted upright, the room dark, feeling for the hunting knife he’d lost the day before. He was still getting his bearings when the bangs came again. No, not gunshots. It was some damn fool rapping on the tin Coca-Cola sign next to the door.

He climbed off the battered mattress, rubbing his back, and realized just how cold it was with the fire out.

Grumbling, he staggered over and pulled the door open.

Kit, patched up and in fresh clothes, stood with her arms folded.

‘You been sleeping this whole time?’

Ragland squinted up at the cloudy sky.

‘What time is it?’

‘Time you got dressed, old man. Here,’ she bent and picked up a bag she’d left on the steps and flung it into his arms. ‘Fresh clothes. Towel. Home-made soap. There’s a shower behind this shack.’

‘A shower?’

Kit smirked.

‘Well, more like a bucket. I’m sure it’ll be an upgrade from bathing in rivers though. It’ll be cold. We don’t heat water for bathing until it gets to winter, just to conserve our resources.’

Ragland nodded. ‘Makes sense. Listen, about yesterday. You doing okay? It was a hell of a getaway.’

‘Yeah,’ she said, fidgeting with her jacket sleeve. ‘Claire checked me over. Nothing major. So, like, I guess I’m invincible, or whatever. Anyway, I just swung by to wake your ass up and give you the clothes. Marly’s expecting you in the square, so I’d hurry up if I were you. She hates tardiness.’

‘Roger that.’

She was right. The water was cold. He took an old dishcloth from the bag and used it with the soap to wash off the worst of it. Not knowing how full the tank was, he hurried himself up. It took vigorous scrubbing to shift the dirt and blood from his travels—especially his matted hair. He’d turned half-wild.

Feeling rejuvenated from his baptism, he rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt, socks, and some underwear. Pulling them on, the jeans were a little loose, but otherwise, everything fit.

Ragland smiled to himself, as he pulled the socks on. That Marly knew how to measure by the eye, that’s for sure.

With no mirror to check, he swiped his fingers through his long hair and beard, hoping for the best. He grabbed his old jacket, which was still dirty, and took it with him on his walk to find the town square.

Bakerstown looked very different in the daylight. The streets were filled with people coming and going, most busy with tasks or errands, by the looks of it. Men, women, and children delivering everything: long pieces of timber for the houses; wagons filled with water tanks; horses strapped with tools for the workers, and others loaded with fresh produce.

Spying the wicker baskets, Ragland had a hunch they’d be heading to a town square to share out the crop. He’d seen similar behaviors in other smaller towns and villages before. It seemed at the end of the world communities gravitated towards socialism in the real sense of the word.

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