few who think violence is strength.”
“Who are you again?” I asked the new guy.
“Johnny Apocalypse,” the dreadlocked man said with a smile. He put his hand out and we shook. “The voice of Radio Z.”
“I heard your broadcasts when I was in Kansas City. I’m Dave.” Amy introduced herself, and Johnny’s gaze went back and forth between the two of us.
“Dave from Kansas City, and his daughter,” Johnny said slowly. “Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Stewart, would it?”
“My last name wouldn’t happen to be anybody’s business but my own,” I said.
“Dave,” Amy said. “Chill. It’s not like he’d tell anyone.”
“No, I understand,” Johnny said as he raised his hands. “If he was the man I thought he was, it would make a target of anyone who knew him. And if he’s the man I hope he is, I don’t think he’d let that happen.”
“Yep, you’re Johnny Apocalypse all right,” Amy said. “I thought you were just larger than life on the radio.”
“No, little sister, I’m as large as life all the time,” he replied. “Any more, there’s no better way to be. But you, Dave, have the look of a man who’s keen on doing something rash.”
“Dangerous, maybe but not rash,” I said after a moment’s thought. “I always have a plan.”
“At least one,” Amy said. “You’re about to go all rule twenty-three here, aren’t you?”
“Can’t say that it’s entirely altruistic,” I said. “We need to get to a radio. Otherwise, we’re just wandering around out here without a plan and no one the wiser to where we are.”
“So everyone wins,” Johnny said with a sly grin.
“Pretty much. I’m going to need some things. First, I want to raid your janitor’s closet. Is there a hardware store nearby?”
“Yeah, there’s a Hammer’N Post just about three blocks south of here on West Second Street,” George said. “We cleared it out a few days ago. I can send a team for whatever you need.”
“You’ll also need to hit a gardening store. I’ll make you a list.”
Four hours later, I was ready to start cooking. On the table in front of me were the bottle of bleach Damon had tried to make me drink, a five gallon water bottle, a bottle of Werx drain cleaner and a few other household items. The cathedral’s modest kitchen had provided me most of the chemicals I needed, and on the table behind me was a respirator mask and a pair of swimming goggles. A camp stove and a pan were my first stops, though.
“So, what’s this?” Amy asked as I stirred my concoction.
“Potassium nitrate and sugar. Two prime ingredients in a smoke bomb.”
“Where did you learn how to make that?”
“High school chemistry class. Do me a favor and pull off some foil for me.” She handed me a sheet of aluminum foil, and I started to fold it into a container.
“What’s all the other stuff for?” she asked. “I mean, sulfur? Charcoal? Blanks for a nail gun?”
“All parts of things that go boom. Basic gunpowder is amazingly simple to make, once you know the right ratios and the right materials. And where to get all of it. Dangerous as hell, but still pretty simple. I don’t need much, just enough to make a couple of small bombs. The chemical stuff…well, that’s part of an object lesson for Damon and his boys.” I handed her a pair of work gloves and pointed to a bag of charcoal. “Do me a favor, and start crushing about a pound of that down to as fine a powder as you can.”
“Black powder, eh?” George asked from the kitchen door. “You’ve got to teach some of us that recipe.” I turned to look his way. Johnny stood beside him, looking at the array of stuff before him.
“And smoke bombs, and a toxic gas…not shit you want to mix lightly. Assuming I survive this little raid, I’ll tell you what I know. But right now, tell me what you know about the armory.”
For the next few hours, my blood pressure was probably high enough to qualify for serious medication
“Who are you again?” I asked the new guy.
“Johnny Apocalypse,” the dreadlocked man said with a smile. He put his hand out and we shook. “The voice of Radio Z.”
“I heard your broadcasts when I was in Kansas City. I’m Dave.” Amy introduced herself, and Johnny’s gaze went back and forth between the two of us.
“Dave from Kansas City, and his daughter,” Johnny said slowly. “Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Stewart, would it?”
“My last name wouldn’t happen to be anybody’s business but my own,” I said.
“Dave,” Amy said. “Chill. It’s not like he’d tell anyone.”
“No, I understand,” Johnny said as he raised his hands. “If he was the man I thought he was, it would make a target of anyone who knew him. And if he’s the man I hope he is, I don’t think he’d let that happen.”
“Yep, you’re Johnny Apocalypse all right,” Amy said. “I thought you were just larger than life on the radio.”
“No, little sister, I’m as large as life all the time,” he replied. “Any more, there’s no better way to be. But you, Dave, have the look of a man who’s keen on doing something rash.”
“Dangerous, maybe but not rash,” I said after a moment’s thought. “I always have a plan.”
“At least one,” Amy said. “You’re about to go all rule twenty-three here, aren’t you?”
“Can’t say that it’s entirely altruistic,” I said. “We need to get to a radio. Otherwise, we’re just wandering around out here without a plan and no one the wiser to where we are.”
“So everyone wins,” Johnny said with a sly grin.
“Pretty much. I’m going to need some things. First, I want to raid your janitor’s closet. Is there a hardware store nearby?”
“Yeah, there’s a Hammer’N Post just about three blocks south of here on West Second Street,” George said. “We cleared it out a few days ago. I can send a team for whatever you need.”
“You’ll also need to hit a gardening store. I’ll make you a list.”
Four hours later, I was ready to start cooking. On the table in front of me were the bottle of bleach Damon had tried to make me drink, a five gallon water bottle, a bottle of Werx drain cleaner and a few other household items. The cathedral’s modest kitchen had provided me most of the chemicals I needed, and on the table behind me was a respirator mask and a pair of swimming goggles. A camp stove and a pan were my first stops, though.
“So, what’s this?” Amy asked as I stirred my concoction.
“Potassium nitrate and sugar. Two prime ingredients in a smoke bomb.”
“Where did you learn how to make that?”
“High school chemistry class. Do me a favor and pull off some foil for me.” She handed me a sheet of aluminum foil, and I started to fold it into a container.
“What’s all the other stuff for?” she asked. “I mean, sulfur? Charcoal? Blanks for a nail gun?”
“All parts of things that go boom. Basic gunpowder is amazingly simple to make, once you know the right ratios and the right materials. And where to get all of it. Dangerous as hell, but still pretty simple. I don’t need much, just enough to make a couple of small bombs. The chemical stuff…well, that’s part of an object lesson for Damon and his boys.” I handed her a pair of work gloves and pointed to a bag of charcoal. “Do me a favor, and start crushing about a pound of that down to as fine a powder as you can.”
“Black powder, eh?” George asked from the kitchen door. “You’ve got to teach some of us that recipe.” I turned to look his way. Johnny stood beside him, looking at the array of stuff before him.
“And smoke bombs, and a toxic gas…not shit you want to mix lightly. Assuming I survive this little raid, I’ll tell you what I know. But right now, tell me what you know about the armory.”
For the next few hours, my blood pressure was probably high enough to qualify for serious medication
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