“How do you even know where we are?”
“I used to hunt here as a kid. That’s why I know we’ll find them. I don’t even need to look at the maps.”
“Well, let’s hope nothing happens to you then, buddy, because I don’t know how the hell to get out of here.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me. They don’t stand a chance against us.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I thought you’d be tougher.” Anton paused, realized he might just have put his foot in his mouth.
Marshal gave him a look. It wasn’t much, but it scared Anton, making his heart start to beat faster. He was, after all, terrified of Marshal and what he was capable of.
It was funny the way it went sometimes, thought Anton. If someone had been listening to their conversation, it would have sounded like Anton was the tough one, not to mention sure of himself. But in reality, Marshal had already seen more action in his life than Anton could even dream of.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Anton. “I just meant… I thought you wouldn’t be worried about their chances. You’ve done a lot of fighting. And before you went to prison, you were in plenty of gun fights, right?”
“That’s right,” said Marshal. “But if there’s one thing my life has taught me, it’s never underestimate your enemy.”
“Words of wisdom, definitely,” said Anton, glancing back at his men, who were following dutifully behind them.
“Can I ask you something?” said Marshal.
“Sure.”
“Where are you from, anyway?”
“I’m from around here. What do you mean?”
“Your accent. You sound kind of foreign or something.”
“Oh,” said Anton. “I came here with my parents when I was ten. I grew up here, though.”
“Where are you parents from?”
“Germany. They were doctors.”
Anton was surprised at the question, but he shouldn’t have been. After all, for one reason or another, he had never lost his German accent. It was still just as strong as his father’s.
“You ever get to visit Germany? I hear it’s beautiful. One of my cellies was from there. He said there’s nothing like it. Rolling green hills and all that.”
“Uh, once or twice. When my grandparents died. Why are we talking about this anyway?”
It seemed strange to Anton that Marshal would be interested in his accent or his history. After all, none of that mattered now. For all Anton knew, there were no more nations. Germany could have easily gone the way the US had, crumbling into anarchy.
What he was concerned about was taking a piece of the chaos and molding it with his own sheer force of will. He wanted to exert his power over others. He wanted to bring back some law and order, no matter what the cost.
In Anton’s mind, that was how the great nations had been created in the first place. Violence and power had been necessary. Required, even. Those times had fallen to the wayside, and a new era had taken over. But now the time for violence was back. This was the time for strong men, for men who weren’t afraid to do what needed to be done. Order needed to be restored.
But if Anton was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that it was more than just order he wanted. He was more concerned with making his own mark, with carving his own little place in history. By whatever means necessary, of course. But wasn’t that how the great nations had been founded in the first place? There’d been men who’d been willing to do whatever it took. And more often than not they’d had their own personal interests in mind rather than the interests of the greater good.
“Hey, Anton!”
Someone behind him was tapping him on the shoulder. It broke him out of his little philosophical daydream.
It was Nick, and he was pointing over to the right.
“What is it?”
“Check it out. Looks like something man made. Thought you should know.”
“Let’s take a look.”
It was hard to tell what it was with all the snow. But it was something, a vague white blur off in the distance, barely visible through the snowfall.
“Marshal, come on.”
Marshal nodded.
“OK, Nick, you come with me and Marshal. The rest of you, post up around the area. Groups of two. And don’t get too far you can’t see each other. I want the area covered, but I don’t want any of you getting lost in the blizzard.”
The three of them moved on out towards the objects. Anton lead the way. He didn’t want to be like other leaders who stayed behind and let their troops do the dirty work. No, he wanted to be out there, exposing himself to danger. He wanted to get his hands dirty, to fire the first shots. His goal, after all, was to gain respect.
And the only way to do that?
Be more vicious and ruthless than anyone else.
As soon as he got his hands on Max, he’d tear into him with his own hands if he had too.
“What the hell is that?” said Marshal, from behind him.
Now that they were getting closer, the object was coming into view better. It wasn’t actually an object.
“Looks like a field of some sort,” said Anton. “You think that’s corn someone’s growing?”
“Dunno, but I’m going to find out,” said Marshal, who picked up his pace, passing Anton.
Anton huffed with annoyance. After all, he wanted to be the first there. That was how it was supposed to work. He was the leader, not Marshal. Marshal was just along for the ride, a member of a different organization altogether.
Anton’s legs were aching from the hours of walking. But they were warm, and he pushed his muscles, picking up the pace. His heavy boots slogged through the snow as he struggled to keep up with Marshal, who was already more than ten feet ahead of him, rapidly approaching the snow-covered crop field.
6
James moved slowly through the pot farmers campsite. There wasn’t really much there. They’d already taken almost everything back to their own camp.
But James was convinced there had to be something of value there. Some forgotten tool. Or maybe another gun.
A box of spare ammunition would be great. It wasn’t like they had an endless supply. And James was already worried about the bullets lasting through the winter. In a post-EMP world, there was no mass manufacturing. No more bullets were being produced. And the ones that were left, well, they were being used up. Probably at a rapid rate.
Bullets were commodities now. But it wasn’t like they could go easy on their supply. If a threat presented itself, a bullet was usually the answer. The option to not shoot, not “waste” a bullet, simply didn’t exist.
Not in the world they lived in now.
James wasn’t the only one worried. Max and Georgia had had a serious discussion about setting up traps for deer. If they could spare the bullets used for hunting, it would get them a lot farther. The problem was that getting a deer snare to actually work was a lot harder than it sounded.
James suddenly realized that he should have gone to check the deer snares he and Max had set up yesterday.
For some reason, it hadn’t been on his mind.
Maybe he’d just been too intent to sneak off on his own. And to make some unique discovery that would impress the others.
After all, how cool would it have been if he’d found something at the camp they’d overlooked? Something incredibly useful.
But he felt stupid now. He felt like he’d been thinking of just himself, and not of the others.
After all, getting a deer snare to work would be of greater use to them all. Killing a deer without a bullet? That was just what they needed.
Feeling foolish, James decided then and there to turn back.