of treasure in prescription drugs, OTC medicine, alcohol, gasoline, cigarettes, clothes and canned food. All had been hot commodities in Park City and they were certain to be hot here in Rainbow Lake. The Council had implemented strict rationing of the communities alcohol, tobacco, canned food, candies and several other items due to limited supplies, but Smitty had a feeling that even when the supplies were full, they would still keep strict control of the distribution. And drugs? Unless you had a written prescription from Doc Reilly or Doc Norris, you couldn’t get so much as two aspirin. The situation was ripe for a black market. Smitty had made it clear to all of his crew that drugs, alcohol, over-the-counter medicine and candies were at the top of their salvage list. They would be expected to turn over 100% of such contraband items to the community coffers to be dispensed as the Council saw fit, but there would be skimming. There was always skimming.
The members of the Militia may be loyal to Jenkins, but they were human beings, with human vices; Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, candy, sex, entertainment. Already several of the Militia members were discreetly asking the bikers for drugs; marijuana, pain pills, sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, and alcohol. Smitty had spotted Matt and Susan smoking a joint last night after the Council meeting broke up. The demand was already there (people always wanted to get high and stuff their face with chocolate) it only needed a supply to feed it. So when they were out on the Evanston run today they would make a concerted effort to acquire as many of these items as possible to continue to feed that demand.
“We need to get some cutting and welding equipment on this raid.” Chico said from the passenger seat. Chico was a mid-sized Hispanic, with short black hair, and a cheesy bandito mustache. He was dressed in black leather, neck-to-toe, and wore black mirror sunglasses. As he spoke he pulled marijuana joint from a pack of cigarettes.
“Why’s that?” Smitty asked, genuinely intrigued.
“So we can armor up the truck. You know, like in the Road Warrior ?” Chico put the joint to his lips and sparked a lighter, puffing it to life.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“It was Commander King’s idea." Chico passed the joint to Smitty, who took a long toke. "He says he’s going make some kick-ass APC's out of dump trucks."
"Dump trucks?" Smitty coughed out smoke with a chuckle.
“Do we get some of that?” A call came from the trailer that could be accessed through the cab via a sliding door built into the rear bulkhead between the driver and passenger seats. That door was currently open.
“Come and get it.” Smitty took another puff before holding it out to the open door. A few seconds later Wild Billy poked his upper body through and grabbed the joint.
“Thanks.” Wild Billy exclaimed with an adrenaline charged smile and disappeared back into the trailer. Wild Billy, like all of Smitty’s crew, had been with him since before the world had gone to shit, the last of the Kings. He was tall and gangly, always cracking a joke and laughing, and had a thing for teenaged girls. His eyes were large and round, his mouth was thin and wide, his teeth yellow and stained. He was a bundle of energy, never standing still and always looking for the next rush of excitement. His weapons of choice were a matching pair of nickel-plated 9mm’s and an AK-47. He took three quick hits off the joint and passed it to Augie.
Augie was tall and athletic, with a buzzed head, large brown eyes, and a wide, gap-toothed grin. In his mid-twenties, Augie was the youngest member of Smitty’s crew, spending his teen years as one of the King’s apprentice criminals, learning the ins and outs of the drug trade before earning his drivers license. A habitual thief, he had earned a three-year stint to the state prison for burglary, getting released just one week before the dead began to rise. Augie took two
The members of the Militia may be loyal to Jenkins, but they were human beings, with human vices; Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, candy, sex, entertainment. Already several of the Militia members were discreetly asking the bikers for drugs; marijuana, pain pills, sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, and alcohol. Smitty had spotted Matt and Susan smoking a joint last night after the Council meeting broke up. The demand was already there (people always wanted to get high and stuff their face with chocolate) it only needed a supply to feed it. So when they were out on the Evanston run today they would make a concerted effort to acquire as many of these items as possible to continue to feed that demand.
“We need to get some cutting and welding equipment on this raid.” Chico said from the passenger seat. Chico was a mid-sized Hispanic, with short black hair, and a cheesy bandito mustache. He was dressed in black leather, neck-to-toe, and wore black mirror sunglasses. As he spoke he pulled marijuana joint from a pack of cigarettes.
“Why’s that?” Smitty asked, genuinely intrigued.
“So we can armor up the truck. You know, like in the Road Warrior ?” Chico put the joint to his lips and sparked a lighter, puffing it to life.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“It was Commander King’s idea." Chico passed the joint to Smitty, who took a long toke. "He says he’s going make some kick-ass APC's out of dump trucks."
"Dump trucks?" Smitty coughed out smoke with a chuckle.
“Do we get some of that?” A call came from the trailer that could be accessed through the cab via a sliding door built into the rear bulkhead between the driver and passenger seats. That door was currently open.
“Come and get it.” Smitty took another puff before holding it out to the open door. A few seconds later Wild Billy poked his upper body through and grabbed the joint.
“Thanks.” Wild Billy exclaimed with an adrenaline charged smile and disappeared back into the trailer. Wild Billy, like all of Smitty’s crew, had been with him since before the world had gone to shit, the last of the Kings. He was tall and gangly, always cracking a joke and laughing, and had a thing for teenaged girls. His eyes were large and round, his mouth was thin and wide, his teeth yellow and stained. He was a bundle of energy, never standing still and always looking for the next rush of excitement. His weapons of choice were a matching pair of nickel-plated 9mm’s and an AK-47. He took three quick hits off the joint and passed it to Augie.
Augie was tall and athletic, with a buzzed head, large brown eyes, and a wide, gap-toothed grin. In his mid-twenties, Augie was the youngest member of Smitty’s crew, spending his teen years as one of the King’s apprentice criminals, learning the ins and outs of the drug trade before earning his drivers license. A habitual thief, he had earned a three-year stint to the state prison for burglary, getting released just one week before the dead began to rise. Augie took two
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