Lockey vs. the Apocalypse by Meadows, Carl (7 ebook reader TXT) 📗

shrug off shit like that is to jump right back in. Today we decided to go out on a run to survey new petrol stations. Nate and Mark had done a run to fill up the baby tanker when I’d been sequestering myself in my room after your funeral. I hadn’t even known that until a couple of days back; Nate told me that little factoid on our two-person jaunt to the smackhead-conquered convenience store.

It was the nearest station to our little country abode, so we decided to scout out our next potential source of fuel, as we’re likely to be chugging through it come the winter. We can’t rely on just the solar power to run that place for all of us and keep it warm, so until we can figure out some wood burners, Mark can wire in the generators taken from Castle Bancroftstein so we can all still have hot showers and Charlie can play Mario Kart through the dark and miserable winter months. Power is vital, and we need to make sure we have it, so our best bet is fuel generators. I don’t know about the ins and outs of the power they generate, but those four taken from Bancroft’s house have got the horsepower to keep us warm through the winter on top of the solar power storage according to Mark. Ultimately though, those generators need to be juiced.

So, Nate and I decided to take Alicia along with us for some scouting experience, as Mark is currently in the process of doing some MacGyver shit to the lodge and building a soundproofed little outhouse for those generators.

I’m amazed how much shit that guy knows and can do. He’s been digging out the foundations for it and filling them with concrete today, and he’ll be doing some anti-vibration stuff on the floor when it’s all set. All the base materials were at Bancroft’s place for all the early part, but he still needs bricks to build this outhouse, so that’ll be next on the agenda. We’ll have to hit a builder’s yard and get a proper vehicle to do that, and Mark knows of such a place that’s on the outskirts of town, where we can pick up those supplies that’s unlikely to be surrounded by hordes of the undead. Got to love this small-town living thing; there are back roads to just about anywhere if you know the area.

That aside, we have to make sure we’ve got a steady income of fuel for the winter, so we can keep the lights on and top up the solar energy the lodge would soak up, so off the three of us went in our trusty pickup. Alicia was being trusted for the first time and was now carrying a pistol at her hip, and a shotgun acquired from Bancroft’s illegal armoury that has a pump action and can fit six shells in the breach (UK legal shotguns can only have a capacity for three). She wasn’t ready for the assault rifle, but she’d practiced with a shotgun and Nate says she’s become quite proficient with it, even attached to it. He says it’s like a magic item that she draws strength from when it’s in her hand.

A magic item? I’m fucking telling you, there’s a fantasy nerd buried deep in this old soldier…. sorry Nate, Marine. First his Gollum references, now he’s talking about magic items? Did this gruff old monster while away his boring hours in the service with a secret cabal of D&D squaddies? Though, if he ever says, “I put on my robe and wizard hat,” I’m ending him. I’m all about the geek culture, but the moment he goes all Bloodninja… kaboom. No more Nate. That’s just too much weird, even for me.

It seems my ability to digress is slowly returning. Back to it, Lockey.

When Nate and I planned the hits on Bancroft’s fuel runs, I spoke about the next station they would have to raid if their chosen one ran dry. It meant running through the middle of town, and down the main dual-carriageway that runs through its centre. Up the far end of town, there are a couple of larger stations, attached to two of the town’s largest supermarkets. They were popular and likely have deep reserves, so that was the theory we were working to. We had to scout them to make sure they were even accessible, as remember me mentioning how I thought the supermarkets would be scenes from the ninth level of Hell?

Well, we didn’t even get to find out.

You know what’s really fucking weird, other than what I’m about to tell you? As we were leaving, Particles was all up in my shit, nearly tripping me over, bouncing round on his tiny legs all freaked out. He’s never like that when I leave, as he gets so much love from everyone when I’m out, especially Charlie. Those two are homeboys for life now and cute as all hell together.

I kneeled down to calm him, scratching him behind his ears and under the chin, but he looked at me with those massive puggy eyes and I swear to God, it was like he was pulling his best pleading expression with me. Like he really didn’t want me to go.

I put it down to him getting used to me being around after the funeral, when the two of us locked ourselves away for a time and he was my emotional support pug. Plus, when I’d returned from our store run the other day, he could clearly sense I was on edge, and spent that evening snuggled on my lap.

We left, and I put it out of my mind as I put my game face on. Now I’m back, and after what we witnessed, I can’t help but think that Particles fucking knew something was coming. It was weird. I joked about him being our lucky pug when we found him, because he did stop us getting sideswiped by