The Survivalist (Anarchy Rising) by Arthur T. Bradley

Author:Arthur T. Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: apocalypse, pandemic, survival, survivalist, prepper, survivalist adventure, survivalist fiction
Publisher: Arthur T. Bradley

Chapter 16

Mason drove his truck north along Highway 161, flipping down the visor to block the early morning sun. Coveralls sat with his back against the passenger side door, the Supergrade leveled at Mason’s gut. They had left the outskirts of York, and with every passing mile, Coveralls seemed to grow more irritated.

“It just isn’t right,” he mumbled under his breath.

Mason glanced over at him, not liking the tone of a man holding a gun on him.

“What’s that?”

He leaned over and poked Mason in the ribs with the Supergrade.

“You getting a free pass like this.”

“That rubs you raw?”

“You bet your ass it does.”

Mason stared straight ahead, thinking about the situation and his limited options. Coveralls had just shown a weakness that could perhaps be exploited. He was angry, and angry people made mistakes. He glanced at the glove box, wondering if the Glock was still inside. He put the odds at better than even. If he could get Coveralls’ attention on something else, there was a chance that he could have a pistol in his hand pretty quick.

“Why do you think Alexus let me go?” he asked.

“What kind of dumbass question is that?”

Mason shrugged. “You think it’s just the gold then?”

Coveralls cocked his head, his interest clearly piqued.

“Why else?”

“No, you’re right. That’s probably it.”

Coveralls leaned over and jabbed him again with the muzzle.

“Hey! There’s no need for that.”

“Why, then?”

“The truth is,” said Mason, “I think she’s a bit sweet on me.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

They sat quiet for a few seconds while Coveralls mulled things over.

Finally, he said, “What makes you say that?”

“You didn’t hear about our little bedroom rendezvous last night? Forget it,” Mason said, waving his hands. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You and Alex? You two . . .”

Mason looked at Coveralls with a big toothy smile.

“That, and then some.”

Coveralls’ face flushed, and his hand tightened on the pistol.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said under his breath. “She’ll hang you when this is all over.”

Mason shook his head slowly.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I think she wants me to step up and help run the militia.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. She’s got me to do that.”

Mason shrugged. “Beats me. Women can be pretty confusing. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’ll keep you on.”

“Just shut up and drive,” Coveralls said, turning to look out the window. “How much farther, anyway?”

“Not far at all. Maybe twelve miles.”

“Twelve miles? You said it would take all day.”

“Getting there won’t take long,” he said, “but retrieving the gold is going to be a pain.”

Coverall squinted his eyes and studied Mason.

“There isn’t any gold, is there?”

“You won’t believe me until you see it, so I’m not going to waste my breath trying to convince you.”

Coveralls jabbed him again.

“So help me, God,” he said, “if you try to pull something, I’ll put a bullet in your gut and leave you for the vultures to pick apart piece by piece.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No?”

“No. You’ll empty the entire magazine into me, and then stomp me with your boot until even my own mother wouldn’t recognize me.

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