Chapter 9

At first the thought of having a gunfight seemed a little far-fetched, but after considering it a few minutes I knew it wasn't. Most of the people in the United States and no doubt in the rest of the world were dead. Out of my small town of five thousand there were less than a dozen people left alive so far. There was no doubt we were back to basics and basics meant no functioning police participation. Even if some of the actual policemen were still alive there was no one to make them act like police any longer since there was no higher authority.

We were down to looking out for ourselves or not getting looked after. The men building a roadblock to cut people off from town were proof enough of that for me. They were up to no good and I wasn't going to put up with it. James and I headed back to the barn.

The girls were tending to the chickens when we got there and of course they were curious about why we were back so soon. When I told them what we'd seen they were pissed about it.

"Those bastards can't take control of the town," Sarah said.

"I know they can't, but someone has to stop them and I'm about to."

"We'll go too. We can back you up," Sarah said.

"That'll be fine, but I don't want to get close enough yet to need backup. It's why I came back. I want to get one of the rifles we took and sight it in," I said.

"Now you're using your big head. You'll need to put one of those scopes we found on it, though. I'll dig them out while you get the rifle you want. We can put up a target outside and you can sight it in before we leave."

I already had in mind the rifle I wanted for this job. I'd found a Browning X-Bolt Stainless Stalker in 7mm Remington Magnum. I looked through the scopes Sarah brought out and found a four to twelve variable. It took a little digging around to find the proper rings and mounts for it, but within an hour I had it mounted and had marked off a three hundred yard firing range for testing.

I started at about fifty yards of course, but once I had it hitting at fifty yards it was mostly just adjusting the elevation until it was right on at three hundred yards. It was a little high at two hundred yards and a little higher at one hundred yards, but it was acceptable.

At first I wanted to go in my pickup, but the girls changed my thinking, especially since the flatbed would do just as well and it had the advantage of a crew cab so we could all ride without being crowded. They even found me a couple of blankets and pillows for use as a firing platform on the flatbed.

We had a pleasant ride following James' directions from Bivins to Smyrna and then on to Highway 77. We turned left and headed west on Highway 77, but within three miles we pulled to a stop about half a mile from where another roadblock was being put into place. They didn't have a handy wreck here to get started so they were just parking cars across the highway.

I pulled to within five hundred yards of the main object of our affection, turned the truck around, and got onto the flatbed, spread out my blankets, and put down two pillows. Sarah took over the driving and Ginny opened up the window in the back glass for communication.

The men working on the roadblock didn't take it lying down, though. One of them jumped on a motorcycle with a shotgun in hand and headed toward us. I let him come ahead, but he slowed down and fired at us one handed about a hundred yards before he reached us. The pieces of shot that reached us weren't even an annoyance, but I knew the next shot would have a better chance. I cut loose and it hit him center of mass. He left the motorcycle and bounced several times before he came to rest. The motorcycle came up within about ten yards before it veered rider less out of the way.

I called for Sarah to start backing toward them then and waited to see what would happen. Sure enough we started receiving fire from a rifle. I returned it and apparently the time spent sighting my rifle in was worth the cost. I got a good hit on my second shot. Someone else picked up the rifle then and I managed to get him before he fired the first time.

The next one to go for the rifle fucked up and exposed his leg while he was doing it. I put a round in him and he lost interest in the gun then. Suddenly a young guy walked out with his hands up, just like in the cowboy movies.