The Survivalist (Book 11): Solemn Duty by Bradley Arthur

Author:Bradley, Arthur [Bradley, Arthur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Infected
Published: 2018-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

Tanner, Samantha, Reverend Purdy, Tyler, and Brock stood together in the now empty parking lot at the rear of the complex. Neatly laid out on the bed of a pickup truck was a dingy red gas can, six empty pickle jars, and a clear bag stuffed with Styrofoam packing peanuts.

Brock nudged Tyler. “What’s this bozo think he’s doing?”

“No idea.”

Ignoring the peanut gallery, Tanner picked up two of the jars and passed one to Samantha.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Just follow my lead. This is one of those teaching moments.”

She perked up, knowing that such lessons usually only came around once, and more often than not, they were pretty darn interesting.

Tanner poured a few ounces of gasoline into his jar, and Samantha followed suit.

“Now what?”

“Now we mix.” He grabbed a handful of foam peanuts and stuffed them down into the jar. Almost immediately, the foam began to melt into the fuel. As the peanuts slowly drew down in size, he added a few more drops of gas and then more peanuts. “Go on,” he said to Samantha, “get busy.”

Still not seeing the point, she dumped a handful of the peanuts into her jar and continued adding them as they slowly dissolved.

“What exactly are we making? Gas pudding?”

Instead of answering, he said, “What do you do when you come across a hornet’s nest?”

“Easy. I go the other way.”

“If you can’t go the other way?”

“I can always go the other way. That’s the definition of the other way.”

He growled. “What I’m asking is how do you destroy the nest once and for all?”

Eyeing the gasoline, she said, “Burn it?”

“Exactly. Only thing is, you need for it to stay lit long enough to kill the entire nest. Otherwise, you end up with a whole bunch of pissed off insects.”

“Yeah, so?”

He picked up a twig from the ground and gently stirred the mixture in his jar. When he lifted the stick out, it was covered in a glassy off-white substance, the texture slightly thicker than that of honey. Stepping away from the gasoline, he pulled a small box of matches from his pocket and struck one on the bed of the truck.

“Watch and learn.” He held the match to the white substance, and it immediately ignited, a rich orange flame enveloping it like it was coated in whale fat.

“Congratulations, Einstein,” Brock said with a sneer, “you just created a marshmallow.”

Tanner flicked the substance onto the man’s boots. When he went to stomp it out, the flame spread to the second shoe. Pretty soon he was dancing around with both boots covered in small sticky clumps of burning goo that, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t be put out. When the fire began to burn through the leather, he was forced to pull off the boots and fling them away.

“You son-of-a—” he said, advancing toward Tanner with his fist cocked.

Reverend Purdy quickly stepped in front of him.

“I think Mr. Tanner was making a point, and a very effective one at that.”

Brock growled and marched away in his socks as he went in search of another pair of boots.

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