American Apocalypse Wastelands by Nova Page A

and civil responsibility were the only things keeping events from getting really ugly. That and the possibility that what was happening to the local and state governments was temporary. They didn’t want to push too hard, since no one wanted to explain to Homeland Security how so-and-so ended up dead, nor who was probably collecting and pocketing the tax money.
    Tommy saved the best for last, as far as I was concerned. The nut job McKinley boy had taken a shine to Donna and had begun dropping by her place. He would also come by Tommy’s when he saw her car there. After all, they were neighbors. Apparently Tommy’s idea of discouraging him had been to hide her car in the garage. So
far that had yielded mixed success. It sounded like Nut Job was not big on no . His type never was.
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    We moved outside and sat around on the porch. Night came down from taking her shower smelling good. Real good. It just emphasized how bad the rest of us reeked of sweat.
    It was pleasant to see Donna again, but it was also a bit uncomfortable. I was happy that she and Night seemed to be getting along so far. At least there were no obvious claws yet.
    They were both Asian, but as Night had reminded me—the last time with a smack upside the head—all Asians were not the same. I was really glad I had choked back what was in my head, which was “But you all look alike.”
    Seeing them side-by-side I could see a difference. Night was Chinese while Donna was a Filipina. Different body types and facial features. I was starting to go down some X-rated hallways when Max snapped me back to reality.
    â€œOkay. Since we are together I thought we might talk about what we’re going to do.”
    Oh, damn , I could already feel myself going numb and we had just started. I hated meetings. I also was not thrilled about the glare Night was shooting me. Shit . I sat up straighter and tried to look interested.
    I managed to feign interest for about thirty minutes before I began to get restless. I really did not care about planting grains or deciding which were the best. I’d give it fifteen more minutes and then I was gone. I would deal with Night’s hissy fit later. Hey, I never even touched Donna!

    â€œI want to burn the farmhouse and outbuildings,” Max was saying, “which means we’re going to have to talk to Mr. McKinley.”
    â€œThat should be fun,” I added. That was just to let everyone know I was listening and involved in the conversation. It didn’t stop Night from rolling her eyes. She was really immature sometimes.
    I left the meeting when they went back to talking about cattle, goats, and chickens. Night and I had the trailer to bunk in. We were sharing it with Ninja, who had the other bedroom. He could charge his iPod but he still had no computer access, other than the half hour or so he could get on Tommy’s computer each day.
    I didn’t even bother to ask Tommy for time on it. I realized I really didn’t care if I was on the Internet. There just wasn’t anything out there that interested me anymore.
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    I walked across the yard and into the trailer. I suppose I could have found some chores to do but I didn’t feel like it. I had figured out pretty quickly the last time I was here that I wasn’t a farmer, nor did I want to be. Instead I sat down in the living room and cleaned my guns. I enjoyed doing that. Plus, it looked like I might be using them soon.
    At this point I had the shotgun, my Vaquero, and a black powder Colt 1851 Navy revolver. I loved that gun but I was really unsure about it. I had fired it in the backyard a couple weeks before we left. It had been in Jake’s armory. I had noticed it and instantly lusted after it, more so than his later generation Colts. Much to my surprise, he had given it to me.

    It felt better in my hand than the Vaquero. It wasn’t as accurate, nor did it have the range or punch. It also was not a gun you