Vendetta: Holding Their Own XVII by Nobody Joe

Author:Nobody, Joe [Nobody, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kemah Bay Marketing, LLC
Published: 2020-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Later, when the shock of Marko and Butch’s deaths had faded, I had to admit a wee bit of respect for Crystal. She, like so many folks after the downfall, had adapted and survived. It was a dangerous game she was playing. She had taken the gifts and skills God had endowed and used them to keep living while so many others had died. I didn’t like or agree with her methods or chosen occupation, but you had to give her credit on some level.

For a while, I was soured by not only the events in Dallas, but my stupidity as well. For a guy who was supposedly a lucky bastard, I felt like it was Friday the 13 th , and I just dropped a mirror when a black cat startled me.

As I settled down, I realized that good fortune might have been smiling down on me after all. Hell, for all I know, Crystal’s plan was to put a bullet in my head and then take my cash. I’m sure some of her victims didn’t go down without a fight. She could have easily split my noggin and helped herself. Maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket or book a flight to Vegas after all. Hit the tables. Bet the ranch while I am on a streak, I told myself.

Lesson learned and filed away, I returned to the campground to eat, rest for a bit, and regroup. Time was running out for Pete, which meant I might soon be unemployed. Terri wouldn’t like that, not one bit. She liked all the trappings of modern post-apocalyptic society like food and shelter. And as for Pete, well, my boss didn’t deserve to lose a company he had spent years building.

Pete probably employed over 400 people in his empire. Each of those employees had families that depended on their wages. Suppliers counted on income from Pete’s businesses. Texas needed men like him, and so did the recovery. If he closed up shop, the ramifications would spread like ripples across the economy’s pond.

As I finished my meal, I decided that Mr. Scalfaro’s property was still the best lead I had. I was convinced that Benny and his boys were being helped, or guided, or inspired by the old mafia boss. I hadn’t seen them last night because they had been up in Dallas doing their murderous dirty work. Would they return in triumph, stopping by his Uncle’s estate to brag on their accomplishments?

I had shot down their drone but couldn’t be sure they didn’t have a garage full of replacements. The smart thing to do would have been to give it a rest for a couple of nights before returning to the scene of my trespass, but I didn’t have time to dillydally and play it cool. If Mr. Scalfaro’s boys were on high alert because of my previous visit, then so be it. I had to rattle a few trees to see if any rotten apples fell to the ground.

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