Deadlocked 7 by A.R. Wise Page B

wasn’t my fault,” said Billy. “My back just acted up. Made me jerk the wheel to the right.”
    “I liked that van,” said Reagan. “Now we’re stuck tooling around in a damn station wagon trying to cover up our haul with blankets in the back.”
    “No worries,” said Hero. “It’s not there are any patrols sneaking around checking out cars anymore.”
    “It’s weird, right?” Billy was standing behind the counter, his pockets replete with stolen snacks. “I thought we’d have to tuck tail and run after our first few attacks, but they’re not putting up any sort of fight. It doesn’t make any damn sense.”
    Reagan continued to look out the window, the crepuscular rays shining in on him. “Worse than that, I think they’re retreating. Not just hiding, but actually planning on leaving the area.”
    Hero chuckled, though neither of his friends joined him. “How is that a bad thing? Isn’t that what we wanted?”
    “Why are they scared of us?” asked Reagan. “These are supposedly the people that killed most of the world’s population, but they get scared by three assholes with pipe bombs? Billy’s right, that doesn’t make any damn sense.”
    “Someone write this down,” said Billy as he feigned awe. “The old man just said I was right about something.” He put his hand over his chest, crunching a bag of chips that was tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Be still my beating heart.” He acted like a southern belle moments from feinting.
    “Settle down, Ms. O’Hara, being right once a year isn’t worth getting excited about. And you’re still not making up for wrecking the van.” Reagan walked away from the window, his rifle still in his hands as if on patrol. The old man rarely let up his guard, even when they were certain they were safe.
    After the first week of sabotaging the military’s buildings in the mountains of Colorado, they had expected to be forced to flee. To their surprise, the military presence here had no interest in retaliation. Instead, they abandoned their posts and retreated to within their walls, leaving their supplies to be plundered. Reagan had insisted it was a trap, and chose to wait and watch rather than move in to take anything. That was almost a month ago, and still the base on the outskirts of Estes Park was quiet.
    “What makes you think they’re planning on leaving?” asked Hero.
    “They disabled the transformers in the area. I noticed it when we got back from meeting up with the girls.” The three of them had returned to Lyons to meet up with Laura and her daughters after first attacking the military base. They had expected to be forced to leave, pursued by the military, but that never happened. After a week, they returned to Estes Park to discover the base all but abandoned.
    “I thought you said survivors did that for water,” said Hero.
    Reagan had told them that the bullet holes in the bottom of the transformers on the telephone poles in the area had been put there by crafty survivors in search of fresh water. The garbage-can style transformers all had a reservoir in the bottom that could be shot into, providing anyone below with a good amount of sterile water.
    “I thought that at first, but it doesn’t make much sense,” said Reagan. “It’d take you all of fifteen minutes to find a fresh source of water out here, no need to go shooting up all the transformers. No, they disabled them because they’re going to run.”
    “And leave all that stuff for us?” asked Hero. “There’s a whole arsenal out there.”
    “I doubt it’s safe to take,” said Reagan. “Might be trapped, not worth the risk.”
    They heard a metallic rattle from the other side of the station before Clyde came out of the bathroom. He had a satisfied smile as he pat his stomach. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to shit on a toilet instead of behind a bush. And they’ve still got toilet paper in there. Plumbing’s turned off now though, so if you go