Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) by A. American (best business books of all time .TXT) 📗

“Mel, don’t worry about Morgan,” Dalton said. “I’ve met a lot of interesting characters in my life. I’ve done a lot of uh, interesting things in that time as well. Morgan is a guy I can’t quite put my finger on. He’s either the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, or he’s just damn good.”

Mel laughed, “He’d disagree with you.”

“Facts are facts,” Dalton said as he shouldered the bag. “Just remember, like Kay said, the right thing is usually the hardest choice. I’m going to run down and feed these guys. I’ll see you for dinner.” Then he looked at the bowl and the items sitting on the counter and asked, “What are you two up to? What are you making there?”

Kay came out from around the island and began pushing Dalton towards the door. “It’s nothing you need to know about. Now, go on.”

Dalton left the house and returned to the old man’s place. Coming into the garage, he saw the two men were lying on the ground right where he had left them. A Guardsmen was standing outside the door; they weren’t going anywhere.

Seeing Dalton, the Colonel sat up. The only real interruption to his routine was when his meals were brought twice a day. Crossing his legs, he waited eagerly for the food. Dalton put the bag on the counter and started taking out the food.

“What has your cook prepared for us today?” Aleksei asked.

“Boiled socks,” Dalton replied as he carried the plastic dishes over and placed them in front of the men.

“Your cook does a wonderful job with them. Pass along my compliments.”

Dalton set the food down and replied, “One of those cooks wants to kill you. And I believe she would do it herself if she had the opportunity.”

Aleskei took the meal with enthusiasm. As he ate, he said, “We all have reasons for blood lust.”

Dalton pulled a bucket out and sat down on it. “Maybe. But I would say we have more of a claim to it at the present moment.”

Aleksei shrugged. “The reason doesn’t matter. Blood lust is blood lust. We will kill one another. That is the way of it.” He looked up at Dalton and motioned with a crust of bread he’d just dredged through the soppings left in the bottom of the bowl. “What about you? I cannot figure you out. Your Russian is good. But your accent is peculiar. You’ve been to Russia, yes?”

“No. Just worked with some.”

Licking his dirty fingers, Aleksei asked, “What sort of Russians have you worked with? What did you do with them?”

“Hunting men.”

Leaning back on his hands, Aleksei replied, “I knew you were different. I could tell,” he paused, “you are a dangerous man, I think.”

“We all are. All of us here.”

Aleksei laughed. “Yes, yes, of course you are. Especially your cowboy, yes?”

Dalton considered the man for a moment. “Why are you here? Why did your government send you here?”

Aleksei wiped at the beard that was now long enough to be in the itching stage. “Because I am a soldier. I should think then, that you understand why we are here.” Aleksei waved a finger at Dalton. “But, you know the proper answer. Your president asked us to come. We are here to help the poor people of this country.”

“Help with a Grad, huh?”

“You Americans have such a sense of superiority.” Aleksei sat up and focused intently on Dalton. “But, that is not the truth, is it? You people are weak. You’re fat and lazy. You feel you are, what is the word,” he struggled for a moment for the right word. When it didn’t come, he said, “that your government owes you. That everyone owes you, that the world owes you.” He leaned back again and smiled. “But look at you now. How you say, your chickens have now come home to roost.”

Dalton rose and walked over to Aleskei. The Russian observed him with mild disinterest. Dalton squatted down in front of the man. “You think we’re weak? Look around you. You’re chained to the floor. These weak and fat people managed to destroy all of your men. And we chained you to the floor.”

“This is true, yes. But you didn’t do it on your own. If not for your bombers, we would have eliminated the rest of you in your little town. Your country is going to change,” he laughed; “it has changed already, only you don’t see it. How you say, dead man walking? You are already dead and don’t even know it.”

Dalton looked over at the other man. He sat listening, but not saying anything. He was young, probably no more than eighteen. His Colonel probably told him to keep his mouth shut. Looking back at Aleskei, Dalton said, “You will find that I am hard to kill.”

Aleskei laughed. “I am Russian. We know how to deal with peasants such as you. All of you. Soon, it will be you in chains. I will see to it.”

“Suka!” Dalton shouted as he viciously slapped Aleskei, toppling the man to the floor. Dalton leapt onto the man, gripped his shirt and lifted him from the floor, delivering a punch to his nose. It busted like an overripe tomato. Standing up, Dalton kicked him in the ribs. He never said a word as he did this, and he decided in that moment he would never say another word to the man. But this would not be the last time Aleskei would feel just how “weak” these Americans were.

“What the hell did you do that for?” The Guardsmen asked.

“It’s the only language he understands,” Dalton replied as he walked out of the garage.

Thad closed the lid of the smoker. Wiping his brow, he said, “That’s the last of it.”

Cecil dropped a handful of beef fat into a bucket. “Now all we have to do is wait. I’ll stay here overnight and watch this if you want. You go on home. It’s been a long day.”

“I can