Mountain Man Omnibus: (Books 1-3) by Keith C Blackmore

Author:Keith C Blackmore [Blackmore, Keith C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-29T05:00:00+00:00

17

The second to last gas station was part of one of the smaller, independent hardware shops Gus had once visited long ago. Trying to compete with the larger chains that had invaded the valley, Rodmell’s One Stop had had its business slowly sucked away until only the older, loyal customers frequented the business. Al Rodmell had been an old codger with a reputation as something of a bigot, someone not to cross, as well as a solid mechanic. It had been a year and a half ago, give or take a month, since Gus had last visited the One Stop, which sold gas, ethanol, and hardware and serviced vehicles, including the larger transports trucks. Gus remembered old Allister preferred to work on the big vehicles as, in his words, “That’s where the money is.”

At that time, Gus had found old Al and two of his sons, still in their blue work coveralls, turned into gimps. The three men had been some of the first gimps Gus had to put down.

Across from the One Stop was an out-of-place duck pond and sitting park, nestled between two great forested hills covered in melting snow. He parked his pickup in front of the duck pond, a little closer to the station and its tanks than he had the others. He got out of the truck with his Benelli in hand. The roads and immediate area were empty of zombies, and he saw nothing but smoke in the sky, even faintly tasting it on the air.

He quickly located the small manhole cover that gave access to the underground tanks and pulled it off with a crowbar. Standing and catching his wind for a moment, Gus realized that he was next to a hardware store and that old man Rodmell just might have carried motorcycle helmets. He didn’t like walking around without a visor, as he remembered all too well the incident where he thought he’d swallowed some deadhead’s fleshy matter. A dark time that was, probably the darkest, and he sent a silent thanks to Scott for saving him.

Uncapping the pipe, Gus jabbed the end of the bed-sheet fuse inside and walked the other end back to the truck. When the fuse ran out with ten feet or so to spare to his pickup, Gus walked back to the station. On the side of the building that had two bay doors for the service and repair department, Gus eyed a number of tall green and gray cylinders. The cylinders lured him away from the hardware shop, pulling him off his intended path like iron to a magnet. Some of the containers had numbers and letters stamped on the sides, but Gus didn’t know what they meant. He did know what was in the cylinders. Studying the dozen fuel containers, he remembered a conversation with a buddy who worked in propane. The guy had told him that the gas was stored as a liquid in cylinders, and a person could pour it out onto the ground.

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