The Scorched Earth (Book One of The Scorched Earth Saga) by Mixon Terry

Author:Mixon, Terry [Mixon, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Yowling Cat Press
Published: 2017-02-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Tom eased into the trees and met up with Moshe where he was keeping an eye on the front gate. Even in the winter, the brush between the trees was sufficient to keep them concealed.

The clothes they’d picked up from the outdoor store were predominantly camouflage in nature. That proved useful in situations like this.

The visitors had arrived in a beat up, older model Ford. Its predominant color was rust. The men standing by the gate looked to be in about the same condition as the truck.

One of them took the lock they’d broken off the gate and dropped it. He raised the gate and gestured for his friend to drive inside.

“What do we do?” Moshe asked.

“We send them packing,” Tom said grimly. “We can’t let them see our supplies. That would make them do something stupid. Frankly, I’ve killed enough people already this week. I’d rather these two live to bother someone else.”

Tom brought his radio to his lips. “Greg.”

“Here, boss. I’m across the drive, watching them from the left.”

He scanned that section of the woods, but couldn’t see the young man. Whatever he’d done, he’d hidden himself pretty well.

“I’m going to step out and send them on their way. I’d prefer not to kill them, but if they become threatening, take care of business.”

“Copy.”

Moshe had his AR, so Tom wasn’t worried about backup from the side either. The older man was an excellent shot.

Tom hefted his rifle and slowly walked over to the road inside the campground. The men didn’t notice him until he stepped out onto the pavement. That certainly got their attention.

The truck, which had been advancing, screeched a little bit as it came to an abrupt halt. Both doors popped open and the men came out with rifles in their hands. To Tom’s eye, they looked like beat up lever action 30-30s. Neither had a scope.

The driver stepped out a bit from his vehicle. “You just hold it right there.”

Tom agreeably stopped walking. He had his AR across his chest dangling on the strap. He could get it into action quickly if he needed to.

“Howdy,” Tom said. “Anything I can do for you boys?”

That had sounded awfully Texan. Tom wondered if stress made his accent digress to that of his youth.

“I think we should be asking you that,” the passenger said. “You’re not from around here.”

“Nope. Just passing through. I’m afraid that my friends and I are using the campground today. We’ll be gone tomorrow. Sorry for the imposition.”

Two men looked at each other. The driver shook his head. “That’s a bit of a problem. We know the owner of this place. I don’t think he’d take too kindly to trespassers.”

“Might not,” Tom agreed. “That doesn’t change the facts, though. We don’t want any trouble, but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist you turn around and head back out.”

The driver laughed. “You might have that fancy gun, but I don’t see any of your friends. I think we’ll come in and take a look for ourselves.

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