had changed, fallen into barbarity, it was as if some natural survival instinct had kicked in, overriding her logical compulsion to find him unattractive. She was embarrassed by the raw, instinctual nature of her attraction to him, but it wasn’t without reason as well. He was a strong, healthy, intelligent, alpha male. He had the resources of the entire communities Militia at his disposal. He was without a doubt the most powerful man in the Rainbow Lake community. Who better to provide her safety and security if not him?
In addition, he was a member of the Council, the only member who could not be removed from power by a vote of no confidence. When the Council had first been formed, Patty knew from the onset that the General would not see eye to eye with her on a great many things. He was a military man. Pre-plague, Patty believed that the United States Government and by extension its armed forces were responsible for much of the hatred and bloodshed that had existed around the world. If they became intimate with one another, would that interfere with her ability to do what was right for the community as a whole? Or perhaps she could guide, even manipulate him into doing things her way?
But those were thoughts for a later day. Right now she had to get busy. While the General was planning the military logistics of the Evanston run, Patty had her own work to do. She had been working with David, Matt and Susan, going over the community resources in the computer database vs. the actual physical inventory and projected drains from current use. Those numbers would then be used to compile and prioritize the “shopping list” for the Evanston Run. Matt and Susan had stayed at the Main House to continue working while she had come to the Hospital to check on the wounded soldier. Now it was time to get back. She was a Councilwoman of the community. The people here had put their trust and faith in her to lead them, to provide for their safety. She did not have time to stand around and ponder her own loneliness…
CHAPTER 10
Sunday, July 15, 2001
I-80, near the Utah-Wyoming border
8:36 AM
The convoy moved at a steady 35 MPH with the big rig at the core, like the alpha member of a pack of predators, surrounded by the smaller vehicles. On point was the fully armed US army Humvee manned by Captain Turner and Alpha One, to the right flank was a black civilian Humvee, modified with a gun port in the roof, manned by Lt. Larsen and Alpha Two, while on the left flank a mid-sized moving truck was occupied by Smitty Tucker’s crew. Bringing up the rear was another large moving truck, With Sgt. Henry and Bravo Three. Above it all, several hundred feet in the air, the helicopter buzzed about, probing ahead, scouting any potential threats.
Smitty Tucker loved the open road. Ever since he was a child, it had called to him, and by his sixteenth birthday he had dropped out of school and started moving drugs for the Kings, a biker gang with its roots spread across Utah, Colorado, Nevada and Wyoming. By eighteen, he had cobbled together his first chopper, an old Harley Davidson, and was officially inducted into the Kings. From then on, his life had been a steady stream of women, drugs, alcohol, crime and the open road.
Smitty’s wild lifestyle had chiseled him into a hard, lean man, whipcord strong and dangerous as a cornered alley cat. He wore his dishwater blond hair long and pulled back into a ponytail, and his rugged, weathered face was covered by a long beard and mustache. He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt, black leather pants and black riding boots. His bloodshot eyes were flecked with chips of ice blue and gleamed sharp as hawks, surveying the road ahead for any sign of trouble as he steered the truck up the canyon.
Smitty had been itching to go raiding since he had first arrived at Rainbow Lake. There were several small towns in the near vicinity, each one guaranteed to yield a bounty
In addition, he was a member of the Council, the only member who could not be removed from power by a vote of no confidence. When the Council had first been formed, Patty knew from the onset that the General would not see eye to eye with her on a great many things. He was a military man. Pre-plague, Patty believed that the United States Government and by extension its armed forces were responsible for much of the hatred and bloodshed that had existed around the world. If they became intimate with one another, would that interfere with her ability to do what was right for the community as a whole? Or perhaps she could guide, even manipulate him into doing things her way?
But those were thoughts for a later day. Right now she had to get busy. While the General was planning the military logistics of the Evanston run, Patty had her own work to do. She had been working with David, Matt and Susan, going over the community resources in the computer database vs. the actual physical inventory and projected drains from current use. Those numbers would then be used to compile and prioritize the “shopping list” for the Evanston Run. Matt and Susan had stayed at the Main House to continue working while she had come to the Hospital to check on the wounded soldier. Now it was time to get back. She was a Councilwoman of the community. The people here had put their trust and faith in her to lead them, to provide for their safety. She did not have time to stand around and ponder her own loneliness…
CHAPTER 10
Sunday, July 15, 2001
I-80, near the Utah-Wyoming border
8:36 AM
The convoy moved at a steady 35 MPH with the big rig at the core, like the alpha member of a pack of predators, surrounded by the smaller vehicles. On point was the fully armed US army Humvee manned by Captain Turner and Alpha One, to the right flank was a black civilian Humvee, modified with a gun port in the roof, manned by Lt. Larsen and Alpha Two, while on the left flank a mid-sized moving truck was occupied by Smitty Tucker’s crew. Bringing up the rear was another large moving truck, With Sgt. Henry and Bravo Three. Above it all, several hundred feet in the air, the helicopter buzzed about, probing ahead, scouting any potential threats.
Smitty Tucker loved the open road. Ever since he was a child, it had called to him, and by his sixteenth birthday he had dropped out of school and started moving drugs for the Kings, a biker gang with its roots spread across Utah, Colorado, Nevada and Wyoming. By eighteen, he had cobbled together his first chopper, an old Harley Davidson, and was officially inducted into the Kings. From then on, his life had been a steady stream of women, drugs, alcohol, crime and the open road.
Smitty’s wild lifestyle had chiseled him into a hard, lean man, whipcord strong and dangerous as a cornered alley cat. He wore his dishwater blond hair long and pulled back into a ponytail, and his rugged, weathered face was covered by a long beard and mustache. He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt, black leather pants and black riding boots. His bloodshot eyes were flecked with chips of ice blue and gleamed sharp as hawks, surveying the road ahead for any sign of trouble as he steered the truck up the canyon.
Smitty had been itching to go raiding since he had first arrived at Rainbow Lake. There were several small towns in the near vicinity, each one guaranteed to yield a bounty
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