worthless gear and the hole in the fence were the only signs of what had happened.
Back on his quad, he returned to the bridge. This time he pulled the quad off the road on the side of the overpass and hid it. Taking his carbine, he crept from car to car, looking and listening at each stop for anyone manning the roadblock. He hoped the rednecks were here. If he found anyone, he wouldnât give them the chance to deter him this time. Retribution would be fast and merciless; he didnât care what the law had to say. DJ had bent a few laws when he was younger, and a couple of them had landed him in some mild trouble, but what he had in mind now would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances. But what was heretofore unthinkable was now necessary. Thatâs just the way things were. The world had turned hard, and heâd just have to be harder.
He finally got to the other side and saw that the bridge was clear. A few minutes later, the river that had caused him so many problems was now in his wake. He hardly noticed, as he was still brooding about his latest shortage of gasoline and the loss of much of his gear.
*Â *Â *
Gabe woke up and immediately knew something was amiss. His brain raced, trying to figure out what was wrong. It took several seconds for him to realize that he simply wasnât used to waking up this early on a Saturday, and certainly not without a hangover. He couldnât recall why he hadnât had anything to drink last night.
Jane Walker had insisted that he eat dinner with them. He was amazed at how well the woman was dealing with life without electricity. She had oil lamps, running water, and even a woodstove. She wasnât using it yet, but winter was coming. Heâd wondered how sheâd come to have these things, but he hadnât asked. In fact, he hadnât said much at all last night. Robby had blathered on and on about how Gabe had stopped the thief and how cool it had been. Jane had said thank you about a million times, but Gabe had kept quiet. He had eaten, expressed his gratitude with a mumbled âthanks,â and gone home.
He lay back down for a moment, thinking about the events of yesterday. He was glad Jane had been there. Otherwise, he would have been in jail. Deputy Harris might have reacquainted Gabe with his nightstick, too. Gabeâs hands felt up and down his ribs. It had seemed like forever before the purple circles had gone away. Even though it was more than a year ago, Gabe thought he could still feel the slightest tenderness in those spots. He hadnât had a drink in town since, because he certainly didnât want to relive that experience. It had been bad, even in the semiconscious state heâd been in at the time.
Pushing those unpleasant memories out of his mind, he got out of bed and put on his clothes from yesterday. He scrunched up his nose at the strange mixture of alcohol-laced sweat and Aqua Velva. After he pulled on his boots, he grabbed a clean bucket and went outside. The air was heavy, and he noticed some dark clouds on the horizon. He made his way behind his shed, where he had a rainwater collection system that fed into fifty-five-gallon barrels. He normally used it to water his garden between rains. Scooping up a full bucket, he carried it back into the kitchen. It had some small particles floating in it, and he wondered how he could get them out. He knew he could boil the water to purify it, but that wouldnât rid it of the floaters. He saw the coffeepot on the counter, and an idea came to him.
He grabbed a coffee filter out of the cabinet and duct-taped one side of it to the bucket underneath the spout. Then, by tipping the bucket and holding the other side of the filter, he was able to fill a large pan with water while keeping the particles trapped in the filter. He lit the old propane stove with a match and set the pot on a burner. It finally started boiling, and he let it go for five minutes. When he took
Back on his quad, he returned to the bridge. This time he pulled the quad off the road on the side of the overpass and hid it. Taking his carbine, he crept from car to car, looking and listening at each stop for anyone manning the roadblock. He hoped the rednecks were here. If he found anyone, he wouldnât give them the chance to deter him this time. Retribution would be fast and merciless; he didnât care what the law had to say. DJ had bent a few laws when he was younger, and a couple of them had landed him in some mild trouble, but what he had in mind now would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances. But what was heretofore unthinkable was now necessary. Thatâs just the way things were. The world had turned hard, and heâd just have to be harder.
He finally got to the other side and saw that the bridge was clear. A few minutes later, the river that had caused him so many problems was now in his wake. He hardly noticed, as he was still brooding about his latest shortage of gasoline and the loss of much of his gear.
*Â *Â *
Gabe woke up and immediately knew something was amiss. His brain raced, trying to figure out what was wrong. It took several seconds for him to realize that he simply wasnât used to waking up this early on a Saturday, and certainly not without a hangover. He couldnât recall why he hadnât had anything to drink last night.
Jane Walker had insisted that he eat dinner with them. He was amazed at how well the woman was dealing with life without electricity. She had oil lamps, running water, and even a woodstove. She wasnât using it yet, but winter was coming. Heâd wondered how sheâd come to have these things, but he hadnât asked. In fact, he hadnât said much at all last night. Robby had blathered on and on about how Gabe had stopped the thief and how cool it had been. Jane had said thank you about a million times, but Gabe had kept quiet. He had eaten, expressed his gratitude with a mumbled âthanks,â and gone home.
He lay back down for a moment, thinking about the events of yesterday. He was glad Jane had been there. Otherwise, he would have been in jail. Deputy Harris might have reacquainted Gabe with his nightstick, too. Gabeâs hands felt up and down his ribs. It had seemed like forever before the purple circles had gone away. Even though it was more than a year ago, Gabe thought he could still feel the slightest tenderness in those spots. He hadnât had a drink in town since, because he certainly didnât want to relive that experience. It had been bad, even in the semiconscious state heâd been in at the time.
Pushing those unpleasant memories out of his mind, he got out of bed and put on his clothes from yesterday. He scrunched up his nose at the strange mixture of alcohol-laced sweat and Aqua Velva. After he pulled on his boots, he grabbed a clean bucket and went outside. The air was heavy, and he noticed some dark clouds on the horizon. He made his way behind his shed, where he had a rainwater collection system that fed into fifty-five-gallon barrels. He normally used it to water his garden between rains. Scooping up a full bucket, he carried it back into the kitchen. It had some small particles floating in it, and he wondered how he could get them out. He knew he could boil the water to purify it, but that wouldnât rid it of the floaters. He saw the coffeepot on the counter, and an idea came to him.
He grabbed a coffee filter out of the cabinet and duct-taped one side of it to the bucket underneath the spout. Then, by tipping the bucket and holding the other side of the filter, he was able to fill a large pan with water while keeping the particles trapped in the filter. He lit the old propane stove with a match and set the pot on a burner. It finally started boiling, and he let it go for five minutes. When he took
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