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“A drone pilot?”

Cole nodded his head, “got no practical experience with them things other than what they taught us in boot camp.”

“Alright then,” Winston replied.

The four men walked back to the Cadillac. They spoke quietly about the war, the condition of the United States, and, of course, the extreme damage to McDonough. Winston said that he thought he’d see more people, and Cole agreed, adding that they’d come across a few Americans scavenging for food and shelter, but the area was eerily devoid of survivors. They all agreed that the destruction didn’t reflect “normal” conventional warfare, but Winston didn’t discuss what was stored in his barn, especially since all of them had most likely been exposed to nuclear fallout while foraging through McDonough. They stopped at the Cadillac’s rear bumper.

“I seen them wires running through the door handles plain as day,” Winston said.

Mike put his face to the driver’s side door window and peered inside and muttered, “I can’t see ‘em. How’s an old man see ‘em?”

“They’s four of them mini Claymores daisy-chained in that one car. That’s three too many. Jes’ cause you got ‘em, don’ mean you should waste ‘em.”

Cole returned, “I wanted to make sure whatever door was opened they got blown to hell.”

“I get that, but I got in there jes’ fine, didn’t I?” Winston asked, and continued, “now, you two,” he pointed at Mike and Earl, “take watch, one to the north, the other to the south.”

They looked to Cole for approval.

“Go on,” he confirmed, “it’s cool.”

Winston placed his rifle on the Caddy’s roof, removed the MREs from his hoodie, and placed them next to the rifle. He looked into Cole’s eyes for some sort of affirmation that he wouldn’t be deceived.

“You can trust me.”

“I know.”

Cole observed Earl and Mike, who had taken up observation positions twenty feet north and south of the Caddy.

“I’ll keep an eye on them two knuckleheads,” he said.

“Okay. Like I said, you got four mines in here, which is three too many.”

Winston reached for the Caddy’s rear driver’s side door.

“What are you doing? You’ll blow us to hell,” Cole said panicky.

“Trust me,” Winston said, and tugged gently on the car’s door, pulling it all the way open. He motioned his arms up in a “ta da” manner when nothing happened. A Claymore mine positioned on the rear floor fell over, the wire wrapped around its firing pin harmlessly loosening and unraveling.

“What the fuck?” Cole grumbled.

“These weapons are better in a controlled environment. You place it, you see the enemy, and when they get close enough, you detonate it. Bang. Enemy dead. Simple. But in this application, you’re using them in an uncontrolled environment.”

Winston carefully removed all four Claymore mines from the Caddy, moving door to door, and explained what he was doing. Cole nodded understandingly, taking in Winston’s sage advice. He explained to Cole why the mines probably wouldn’t have detonated, and why only one mine was needed to create a deadly trap inside the car. Cole watched Winston as he laid the four mines on the ground, and systematically and quickly unarmed them.

“Ya see, Cole, in an uncontrolled environment ya need enough back pressure ta depress tha clacker. Sure, ya had the firing pins tied directly to tha doors, but these things only weigh two pounds. Maybe they’d detonate when tha door was opened, but maybe not. And these mines aren’t sympathetic to another — they won’t all go off when one goes off…”

“Why didn’t you just take them all when you took the MREs?” Cole asked, “why did you leave them?”

Winston placed the four unarmed mines on the driver’s seat, walked around to the front passenger door, opened it, and disappeared under the dashboard. Cole followed, kneeled beside Winston, and curiously watched him go to work.

“Oh, I had every intention ta come back an’ do exactly what I’m doin’ now,” Winston explained, as he sliced three slits into the underside of the Caddy’s dashboard just beneath the glove compartment with his knife.

“What are you doing?” Cole asked.

Winston threaded about a foot of the detonating cord that Cole had previously used to tie the mine to the Caddy’s door through one of the slits. He opened the glove box, which only contained the car’s operating manuals, found the detonating cord, and pulled it into the glove box. He tied it onto the glove box’s locking mechanism, and closed it.

“I see what you’re doing,” Cole said, smiling and nodding.

“What’s the one place people gon’ look if they riflin’ through a car searchin’ for useful things like guns an’ gum?”

“The glove box.”

“Bingo.”

Winston pulled the detonating cord taut, grabbed a mine off the driver’s seat, opened the legs on it, and pushed them through the two remaining slits. The mine went in with considerable effort, and it was now positioned under the glove compartment, awaiting its unwitting victim.

“You may wan’ ta step away for this part,” Winston warned Cole.

“I’ll stay here, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Winston pulled the detonating cord through the eyelet of the mine’s firing pin — it was the toughest part of the job because of the low light, but the sun was beginning its slow rise, giving just enough of a glint that he could complete his work. He tied off the end and pulled himself into a seated position on the Caddy’s floor, his feet resting on the tarmac.

“I’d like to have one a those Claymores, Cole.”

“It’s gonna cost ya.”

“What you got in mind?”

“An MRE.”

Winston held out his right hand, “deal.”

Cole took it and they shook on it.

“Tell me about your family,” Winston said, and adding, “I’m lucky that I still have my wife with me.”

Cole looked down, still crouched like a child playing a kids’ game.

“Bethany. That was her name. And my son, Tommy, well, he was only ten.”

He nearly broke down, but remained stoic and continued, “we dug in, like a lot of us, you know? Just waiting for them to go on by… we thought we were safe. Our house was at the end of a mile-long dirt road. I mean, you gotta really be lookin’ to find it… anyway, they did. Our contingency plan was to hide in the crawl space under the house if it became necessary. I was at the front window with my AR-15 when the bastards pulled into the driveway. Bethany and Tommy were upstairs napping. They didn’t responded to my calls. I emptied an entire clip on the PLA, but they were on my porch before I could reload. I dropped the rifle and bolted to the basement, praying that my wife and boy were already in the crawl space. But they weren’t. What I heard, Winston… I should a done something… but I… I couldn’t move. I froze up. And when them PLA bastards finally left…”

Cole’s eyes glossed over and his hands trembled, he reliving every moment of the nightmare that had become reality.

“I’m sorry, son. I’ve seen my fair share of tha horrors this war done brought to our shores,” Winston said, trying to conceal his own pain, “an’ I can’t even pretend to apprehend what you’re feeling.”

“Why don’t you give them ol’ knees a rest?”

Winston nodded and patted Cole on the shoulder, knowing that he could say nothing to ease his pain, reached behind him, snagged a mine, and slid it and a length of detonating cord into his front pocket. Unfortunately, as he and Cole stood, they found themselves at the business end of Winston’s .22 rifle, with Earl pointing it toward them.