Cry Havoc Page 16

  Gene smiled. “You like it?”

  “Like it! Look at my paint! You ruined it!”

  Gene rubbed his mustache and nodded. “I guess you’re right. All those rocks, bottles and other shit that’s going to be thrown at this thing wouldn’t leave any marks on it.” He looked at Daniel and smiled. “Sorry.”

  Daniel walked over to the van. The new screens were very well made. The welds were nearly perfect and didn’t look as though they’d been rushed. Gene was obviously skilled when it came to fabrication. All the welds had been ground and brushed clean and covered with a layer of gray primer. The more he looked at it, the more it made sense. Gene was right. They were sure to run into trouble somewhere, and these would prevent them from having things hurled into the van.

  Christy was looking at the short pipes welded to the front bumper. She looked back at Gene and asked. “What are these for?”

  Gene walked up and turned sideways in front of the van. “Crowds sometimes will try to stop vehicles by simply standing in front of them. These will keep folks from doing that. No one’s going to want to take this stabbing into them long.”

  Daniel came around after inspecting the van. Looking at Gene, he smiled. “Damn good idea, Gene. I’m glad we have you with us.” Gene smiled.

  Christy leaned over and shouted at Daniel. “I’m going to take a shower. You coming?”

  Daniel nodded and took her hand. Looking at Gene, he said, “Thanks, Gene.”

  Gene wiped his mustache and glanced at Christy. Feeling she couldn’t hear him, he asked, “Can I come?” Daniel laughed and followed Christy towards the little door leading to the shelter.

  Chapter 7

  The van sat idling, its Powerstroke diesel engine running smoothly, nearly imperceptibly. An air of nervousness settled over the group. While everyone was certainly ready to begin this expedition, trepidation at what awaited them consumed each and every one.

  “Everyone know what they’re supposed to do?” Bob asked, getting a nod from each of them.

  Gene looked at Teague. “You sure you understand what you have to do when you get up there?”

  Teague waved him off. “Gene, this ain’t my first rodeo with this kind of thing. This is kid stuff.”

  Christy wrinkled her nose. “What kind of kid were you?”

  Teague smiled and pointed at Daniel. “Ask him. We did it all together.”

  Christy looked at Daniel. He held his hands up. “Not all of it.”

  Teague laughed. “My ass!”

  “It’s time,” Bob said as he looked at Teague. “Get your ass up the stairs, cousin.”

  Teague pointed at Daniel. “Don’t you fucking leave without me.”

  “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t. You just hurry up and get your ass down the stairs as fast as you can.”

  They climbed into the van and took their seats and Gene took up his position. Bob was riding shotgun up front. He had one of the twelve-gauge Mossbergs in his hand, and two carbines sat on the floor between the seats. Gene had moved the two crates blocking the roll-up door, so Bob and Daniel sat staring at the gray metal as they waited.

  Teague sprinted up the stairs to the top level and ran over to the side where the bottles waited. A couple dozen small plastic water bottles sat lined up against the wall. Each one had a wad of aluminum foil shredded into the bottom. Two gallons of muriatic acid sat with them.

  Teague pulled the nitrile gloves from his pocket and put them on, along with the safety glasses hanging around his neck. Bob insisted on the safety equipment. Teague protested, but was actually very happy to have it on. Opening both of the jugs, he picked up the first one and started pouring acid into the bottles. It was a quick and messy job, spilling quite a bit of acid on the concrete. As soon as all the bottles had acid in them, some considerably more than others, Teague started capping the bottles and tossing them over the side of the building.

  He tried to make sure there were some close to the building and others farther out in the street. They wanted to create a bit of a path out into the road. When there were still three bottles left to throw over, the first one on the ground detonated with a surprisingly loud pop and a shout from the crowd below. He quickly capped the other three and threw them over before turning and running as fast as he could for the stairs.

  He took the stairs in great leaps, covering four and five in a jump. On one landing he twisted his ankle slightly and had to slow down a bit. But as he came out onto the ground floor, he started shouting. Hearing him coming, Gene hit the button and the security gate started to rise. The side door was open on the van and Teague dashed for it, diving in, out of breath. As soon as there was room, Daniel pulled the van through. The fuel barrels on the roof scraping along the bottom of the door. once the van was through, Gene ran for the side door as well. Once he was in, Christy slid the door shut.

  Bob’s eyes darted left and right. The bottles had the desired effect and cleared people away from the immediate area. They were running in every direction thinking it was some sort of poison gas.

  “Go left!” Bob shouted, and Daniel gunned the van onto Piedmont Rd.

  The road was cluttered with broken pieces of bricks, wood, glass and spent tear-gas canisters. The crowd, temporarily dispersed by Gene’s impromptu chemical bombs, saw the van when it rolled out of the garage and were now focused on it. Rocks, bottles and other debris now started flying towards the van, though not many of them actually hit it.

  Christy shouted “Oh my God!” as a bottle smashed against the screen on the rear window. “They’re so many of them!”

  Gene casually looked out the window. “Let me see if we can thin ‘em out a bit.” He reached down and picked up a hose with a funnel connected to it, then took a gallon jug and started spinning the lid off with two fingers.

  “What’s that?” Christy asked.

  Gene smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Once the lid was off, he started to trickle the oil into the funnel. Almost immediately, a thick cloud of smoke started to billow from the rear of the van. Daniel looked in the rearview mirror and saw the smoke. “Oh shit! The van’s smoking!”

  Bob looked over his shoulder and added. “Oh shit.”

  Gene was laughing. He stopped pouring the oil in and held the jug between his legs as he held the hose up to allow the oil left in it to drain into the exhaust. “Don’t worry! It’s just a little something I added to the van!”

  Daniel looked in the mirror again. “You did this to my van? What the hell did you do?”

  Gene shouted over his shoulder. “It ain’t going to hurt it.” Then he looked out the rear window. All he could see was the cloud of thick white smoke. “They ain’t coming through that!”

  And they weren’t. The street was thick with the smoke. It billowed up between the buildings that prevented it from dissipating too quickly.

  Daniel was racing towards the incomplete barricade at the intersection of Piedmont and Peachtree. “Brace yourself!” He shouted just before they crashed into the pile of tires, pallets and other crap the protestors had piled up. It was no match for the van, which easily crashed through it.

  Christy’s apartment was the closest and was the first destination. It was a straight shot down Piedmont for a mile or so, then a right on Lindbergh Dr. This route would take them past the Havana Club where Daniel and Christy had been dancing when the riot news broke, as well as a number of high-end luxury car dealerships, including Jaguar, Rolls-Royce, Land Rover, Mercedes Benz, and one that carried both Ferrari and Lamborghini.

  The smoke did its job and they got away from the bank with no damage and no real conflict. But things quickly changed as they passed by the luxury car dealerships. Those who viewed themselves as underprivileged had apparently decided to get themselves a fine automobile. They witnessed someone breaking the showroom window
at the Ferrari dealership on their left, and they sped along to avoid the melee there. But then it got even worse. As they came up to the Rolls Royce and Land Rover dealerships on their right, folks had already broken out all the glass and were driving out with the ride of their dreams. Guess it had not occurred to them that these vehicles were maintained with very little gas in them, and the likelihood of getting more gas during this nightmare with virtually all businesses shut down would be next to zero. And with the attention these cars draw on the road, their journey would probably be a very short one, and end quite badly.

  Teague commented on the scene. “Hey, maybe they figured it was worth it to go out in style; but that’s giving them the benefit of the doubt that they were thinking at all.”

  Daniel managed to quickly drive on past the car thieves without too many issues, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  “There’s trouble ahead. I see smoke,” Daniel announced.

  Bob shifted the shotgun, “Just keep driving. Look for a weak spot and push through it. No matter what.” He looked at Daniel. “Do not stop this van.”

  Daniel nodded and gripped the wheel a little tighter. People filled the street ahead of them. Debris from the businesses along Piedmont littered the road and several small fires burned in the road as well. A couple of the businesses were even on fire. As they approached, Daniel stared in amazement as two men carried a commercial espresso machine across the road in front of them. What the hell do they think they’re going to do with that? He thought.

  But the looting wasn’t limited to coffee makers. He saw many items being carried away. Flat screen TVs seemed high on the list. As well as clothes. One man ran across the road with a stack of shoe boxes, presumably with heisted pairs of sneakers in them. Daniel started to accelerate. He wanted anyone considering coming at the van to think twice about it.

  The van swerved between piles of burning tires, flaming dumpsters and other obstacles. Bob put his window down and poked the muzzle of the Mossberg out. Gene had the foresight to add shooting ports through the screens. They were holes cut through the expanded metal, reinforced with pipe around their edges. This would allow them to deploy weapons from inside the van, a critical addition to the van’s defenses.

  “Call out any threats you see!” Teague shouted. He was in the back of the van. Gene had taken the glass out of the rear doors to allow for the same thing. This was Teague’s position. He had one of the Patriot Warhogs poked out the rear. He was very familiar with the AR platform and was happy to have it in his hands. If anyone approached the back of the van, he was going to shoot them in the face.

  People of every class and station swarmed the area like ants picking at a carcass. Only, these were people picking at the corpse of civilization and the body wasn’t even cold yet. If the rest of the country was in the same shape as here, the nation was in a world of shit.

  The van started drawing more and more attention. Not that cars were uncommon, but driving one right into a crowd of looters was. People began pointing at the van and running towards it. Others shoved shopping carts out into the road. Daniel slammed into these, sending them flying through the air. Others rolled small dumpsters out or tossed trash cans in his path. All of these he plowed through.

  “Hurry up!” Teague shouted.

  “I’m trying!” Daniel shouted back.

  “Everyone, settle down. Just keep your eyes open,” Bob said in a calm voice.

  But the people on the street were moving. The sight of the van on the move was like a flame to a moth. Whether it was because their cars were out of fuel or they were simply caught up in the looting, people were rushing towards it. Lindberg was just ahead and people were filling the intersection.

  “Find a hole and steer for it,” Bob said. “They’ll move.”

  “Do you see a hole, Bob? I damn sure don’t!” Daniel shouted back.

  “Oh my God! Look at all of them!” Christy shouted.

  Teague came forward and stuck his head between the front seats. “Get off me, asshole!” Christy shouted. He ignored her and checked out the crowd.

  “Where do I go, Bob? Where do I go?” Daniel shouted.

  Bob pointed to the right side of the road. “Get up on the sidewalk.”

  “Fuck this,” Teague said as he disappeared back to his seat.

  Daniel was steering the truck for the sidewalk, but it was crowded with people. A sudden burst of gunfire caused him to duck, and the van jerked as he did.

  “What the hell was that? Who’s shooting at us?” Daniel shouted.

  Bob was looking for the shooter. Teague shouted over everyone in the van. “Just drive! It’s me. I’m clearing the street!”

  And it was working. When the shots rang out, people scattered in all directions. Mainly out from in front of the van, which opened a lane for Daniel.

  Bob pointed to the opening. “Punch it! Go!”

  Daniel floored the van, and the Powerstroke belched a cloud of smoke as they bounced over the beginnings of yet another barricade. They made it through the intersection as a hail of shit landed on the van. Teague, sitting in the back of the van, was laughing hysterically. Daniel made a mental note to thank him properly.

  They finally made it to Christy’s apartment complex, Post Peachtree Hills Apartments. A trendy complex that tried to offer the feel of a mountain retreat. Lots of stone columns and varied exterior color schemes. It sported everything a young woman would want in upscale multi-family living. It had two pools, a fitness center and a clubhouse that hosted events encouraging the residents to feel they are part of a community.

  But there wasn’t much of a sense of community there today. It was clear there’d been trouble. Broken windows and debris littered the usually attractive landscape. Christy stuck her head between Bob and Daniel.

  “Oh my God! What’s going on here?” She asked.

  “Where’s your apartment?” Bob asked.

  “I know.” Daniel replied as he wheeled past the clubhouse.

  He threaded his way back to the rear of the complex. Christy had a second floor apartment. As an attractive single woman, she didn’t want a ground floor apartment that would be easier for someone to break into.

  “Daniel, you and cousin go with Christy. Gene and I will stay with the van. But you need to be Ricky Tick. We’ve got no time to waste here,” Bob said. “Gene, get that other shotgun and cover the rear of the van.” Bob shouted over his shoulder.

  Gene nodded and pulled the Mossberg over, racking a shell into the chamber. When Daniel stopped, Bob said, “Leave it running and hurry the hell up!”

  Teague was already out the back doors and shouted, “On you!”

  Gene opened the side door and stepped out, and Christy followed. Daniel quickly got out, looking at the people who were watching them from balconies and those milling about the complex. Bob shouted at him as he looked back in the truck.

  “You forget something?” Bob asked. Then he tossed the Warhog to him. It surprised Daniel. Guns were outlawed and he wasn’t comfortable having one in public. But it had the desired effect. People disappeared from the balconies, and those in the parking lot decided they weren’t all that interested in the van now.

  Daniel led the way up the stairs towards Christy’s apartment, with her following and Teague bringing up the rear. The news wasn’t good when they got to the second floor. Christy’s door was open, the frame of the door smashed in. Christy let out an audible gasp as she went to step through the door.

  Teague grabbed her and pulled her aside. “You don’t know if there’s anyone in there! We need to check first.” He looked at Daniel. “You follow me and watch my back. I’ll clear the place. Just stay with me.”

  Daniel nodded as Teague shouldered his weapon and stepped through the door. The living room and kitchen were a mess. Everything was to
ssed. The smell of rotting food mixed with the general odor of a space that’s been closed up with no air circulating. Seeing no one thus far, Teague moved towards the hallway with Daniel in tow. The first door was the bathroom. It was empty. The second door was her small office. As Teague was about to kick the door open, it suddenly swung inwards. A young guy stood there with a bandana over his face and pack slung from one shoulder. Teague immediately stepped forward and delivered a devastating butt stroke to the kid’s chin, crumpling him to the floor. Teague stepped over him and cleared the room.

  Looking over his shoulder at Daniel, he said, “Check the bedroom!”

  Daniel nodded and went to the bedroom, the door already open. It was empty and, just like the rest of the house, had been tossed. Christy was standing in the living room looking at her life scattered and smashed on the floor. Daniel called out to her and she made her way down the hall. When she saw the man on the floor with Teague standing over him, she stopped.

  “Why’d you do this? Why’d you wreck my house!” She shouted. The kid was on the floor, rocking back and forth as he held his jaw. Seriously pissed off, she delivered a savage kick to his stomach.

  Teague grabbed her by the arm. “Go get your shit. We don’t have time for this. What’s done is done.”

  Teague was pushing her away as she took another shot at him, a glancing blow that added insult to the injury. She went to the bedroom where Daniel had already pulled out a duffle bag and laid it out on the bed. Her clothes were scattered all over the room. All the drawers of the dresser were pulled out and dumped. The little musical jewelry box her dad had bought her on a family trip to France when she was twelve lay smashed on the floor. She started to cry.

  Daniel came to her. “Come on, babe. I know this sucks. But we have to hurry. Let’s find your clothes and get out of here.”

  She wiped her eyes and nodded. After all, these were just things. They could always be replaced. Well, most of them could. They could hear Teague in the hallway screaming at the kid, but they had to focus on what they were doing. It didn’t take them long to get what she would need from what was left.