Isolation by Jones, Nathan (the first e reader .TXT) 📗

order to get out of town safely, even under the cover of darkness, he drove down a driveway at the end of a dead-end street at the edge of town, then onto a big field that connected to a few other fields and grassy open spaces before connecting to a gravel road farther out. That road led away from Stanberry for miles before it ended at a paved road that was hopefully well beyond the area Jay's goons were prowling around.

It had to, right? Jay only had so many people, and even with vehicles and plenty of fuel they could only keep an eye on so much area without running themselves ragged. Most likely they just had a thin cordon around the town, along with that convoy of thugs roaring around responding to potential targets.

Chet had carefully scouted out this route on his patrol earlier before volunteering to help Aimee with the sick, covering every square foot of terrain he could because he knew he'd be driving it in the dark with his headlights off. He'd known it was going to be difficult, but he hadn't realized just how bumpy and uneven the fields were until he was driving across them.

“Dip,” Ben hissed, clutching his rifle tighter as he leaned out the window, squinting to try to see ahead.

Chet was too slow to swerve, and the bump would've slammed his head against the roof if he hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. He cursed, jerking the wheel to keep from losing control.

“Watch it! I told you there was a dip there!” his brother groused.

“You said a dip, not a ditch!” Chet snapped back. He'd almost gotten stuck in that trench; even the truck's off-road capabilities weren't quite enough to handle blindly barging into obstacles.

Well, they'd be to the gravel road soon. It wouldn't be the best surface to drive on in the dark, but definitely better than this. And its pale color would make it much easier to follow.

After a few more serious bumps, nothing the truck couldn't handle, Chet finally pulled onto the road with a sigh of relief. Although when he noticed Ben relaxing he reached over and punched his brother's arm. “Don't relax now . . . we've got to get past any Wensbrook patrols.”

Ben nodded and stuck his head back out the window, looking around warily for signs of headlights or campfires or anything else suspicious. Chet stayed tense as well, keeping his eyes on the road but trying to catch sight of potential threats out of the corner of his eye.

He was so antsy that it almost came as a surprise when they reached the paved road, several minutes out from Stanberry, without any sign of trouble. “Maybe they think we're one of theirs?” Ben suggested when Chet shot him a confused look.

Chet shrugged, just glad they'd made it past, and turned them in the direction of Wensbrook.

After that the drive got quiet, aside from his brother shifting uncomfortably every minute or so. Ben hadn't been fully on board with this and had already expressed his reservations several times. Chet was actually expecting him to start up again now that they'd escaped from Jay's cordon around Stanberry, and was pleasantly surprised when he said nothing.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of Wensbrook, a familiar sight even in the dark after weeks of scavenging. At that point Chet turned off the headlights again, then pulled onto a road he'd only used once and only vaguely remembered.

This was where things got difficult.

He'd been able to scout out the route closer to Stanberry, but here he was approaching unfamiliar territory blind. The half moon didn't provide that much light, and even though he didn't expect Jay to be expecting trouble to come to Wensbrook, he still didn't dare use the familiar highway the scavengers had usually used to get to town.

And they couldn't spend hours creeping towards the place with the engine rumbling, alerting everyone within hundreds of yards of their presence until Jay's goon's came and captured them.

That left only the option of parking well away from Wensbrook and hiking in, lugging all their stuff. He just hoped they had enough time to get in, do what they needed to do, and get out again in the five or so hours left before dawn.

A minute or so later he reached a lightly forested hill leading down to the thickest cluster of houses in Wensbrook, near the tourist businesses along its Main Street. He pulled off onto the shoulder and cut the engine, clapped his brother on the back, then climbed out of the truck, grabbing his rifle from behind his seat as he went.

Then he made his way to the back of the truck, where four five-gallon gas tanks were strapped to the bed, along with two stacks of old newspapers bound with string.

After Jay had forced them to stop scavenging, their fuel usage had gone down to practically nothing, so it had been easy to siphon twenty gallons of gas from unused vehicles. Nobody had even looked twice at him as he'd done it.

Chet slung the newspapers on his back and picked up two of the gas tanks as his brother joined him at the side of the truck. “You sure about this, bro?” Ben murmured.

Chet turned his eyes towards the buildings below as he answered. “I'm sure that Stanberry's tried to make amends with Wensbrook. Tried to appease them, hunkered down and dug in and hoped they'd go away.”

He paused, then raised his voice slightly. But not too much, in case anyone was nearby to hear. “They won't, though. They won't stop, they'll just keep on doing worse and worse to us until we either give in or we fight back.”

“Maybe, but there's already enough bad blood from what we've already done in Wensbrook,” his brother argued. “Is this really going to help stop the fighting, or do you just want to get back at them?”

Chet ground his teeth. Sure, he may be pissed at Wensbrook, but