American Apocalypse by Nova

Author:Nova
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ulysses Press
Published: 2011-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DELIVERY

I rolled down my window, as Max did his. From the house I could faintly hear a radio playing country music. Far off in the distance I could hear automatic weapons fire, coming in short, staccato riffs.

Max smiled at the guard. “Hey, what’s up? Got a delivery here for Thermopylae Incorporated. This the right place?”

“Yes, sir, it is. I need both of you to step out of the vehicle. Please bring your personal belongings and any weapons you might have.”

“Okay, buddy. Not a problem. Leave the truck here? Or move it and park it?”

“No, sir. Exit the vehicle, bring your gear, and report inside the building.”

Why do these guys always sound like robots? I wondered. Was it the movies? The military? Or did the movies just copy the military’s strange little reality? I swung out of the cab and dropped to the ground. I could hear the thud of Max’s boots as he dropped to the ground on the other side. I grabbed the gym bag I was using as luggage and waited for Max to come around the front of the truck. We filed into the house—someone had turned the music off.

We entered what would have been the living room. It had a long counter built across it, about two-thirds of the way back. Behind that and taking up one-third of the wall space were a number of steel lockers. An American flag was hung on another wall, and a couple folding chairs were on our side of the counter. Everything was spotlessly clean. I liked that. I had to take a dump and had been putting it off. I liked a clean bathroom, and I had not seen any indications that there were any in West Virginia.

We walked up to the counter. I was watching Max out of the corner of my eye. He swung his bag up onto the counter, and I followed a heartbeat behind him, not that it was all that heavy. A box of ammo, my cleaning kit, a set of clothes, shave kit, and volume one of Gibbon’s Fall of Rome series. The ammo and the book were the only things giving it any weight.

“I need all your weapons on the counter, gentlemen.”

The counterman was somebody different. He was a black male, past middle age, yet he still had the bearing of a soldier. I was a bit taken aback by him being black. After the chief’s comments, I had expected an all-white crew here. The guard who had stopped us at the chain had come in with us, but he was now standing in a corner of the room watching us. I took off my gun belt and put on the counter. Max followed by pulling his Colt from its holster in the small of his back and setting it next to my gun belt. You could feel much of the tension leave the room.

“One more time: I want all your weapons, including knives; anything found on your person outside this room will be confiscated, and I know you don’t want that.

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