Our End Of The Lake: Surviving After The 2012 Solar Storm (Prepper Trilogy) by Ron Foster

said while beating on the lock unmercifully.
    “Ka Ching!’ the lock busted.
    “In like Flynn.” I boasted raising the door to the bin holding my goodnight medicine.
    “Well, I’ll be damned!” Dump said, reaching for a hot one.
    I grabbed one and we both popped the tops and made various exclamations about not liking hot beer, but it sure tasted good at the moment, while we were leaning against the side of the truck.
    “Hey, we found Stewart a new business.” I said laughing.
    “Yeah, Man! He can open a new bar out here; call it the Red Neck Riviera!” Dump exclaimed.
    “Ha, and you could bounce and I could collect the money.” I chuckled.
    “Seriously, though Bro, we got to watch the beer tonight, because we’re going to be sweating bullets and dehydrating come tomorrows walk.” I said.
    “No problem, I am aware of that.” Dump said while trying to get a glimpse over the divider to the next bin.
    “Hey, there are bottles over there. You reckon Stewart has a bottle opener?” he guffawed.
    “If not I might sell him one.” I chuckled.
    “Minus the service fees for opening the door for him, of course.” Dump said grinning.
    “Hey, there should be a hand truck shoved under the back of this thing lets go get it.” I replied.
    “Damn, Davie boy you don’t miss a trick do you.” Dump responded while walking towards the back of the vehicle with myself tagging along.
    “Try not to, but I can’t think of any ‘hand truck’ jokes at the moment.” I said trying to get a rise out of him about his nickname.
    “You’re a smart ass Dave, a funny smart ass, but a smart ass all the same.” he told me while dragging the hand truck out from under the bumper at the back of the truck.
    “How much beer you want to grab?” he said while pulling a case off the stack.
    “Grab one more and that ought to do us, but I am going to reach over in that other bin just to get a bottle and share some jokes with Stewart.” I quipped while crawling into the cavernous, but oven like interior of the truck.
    We loaded up our mattresses, beer and whatever else goods would fit on the hand truck and proceeded back towards Stewart’s Camp with me carrying my pillow case and Dumpie playing my pack mule.
    “Yo, Stewart, the guests have arrived.” I hollered up to the sight of Stewart adding some more debris to his fire. What’s up with him keeping that damn thing going as hot as it is I wondered?
    “”You look like you did well!” he hollered back at the sight of me toting a bag and Dump following my charge with an over loaded hand cart.
    “That we did!” I responded. “Might even have a surprise for you, too!” I suggested teasingly.
    “Well, I got one for you, too!” He hollered back.
    We rolled into camp and noticed Stewart had carefully lined up a few bottles of coke and some boxes of peanut butter crackers and other savory bits from a vendors truck in front of our fold up chairs.
    “Well, are you not the best host in the world!” I exclaimed at his efforts.
    “That’s nice.” Dump said as he parked the haul to the side.
    “Is that beer I spy?” Stewart said, as he shuffled towards Dump trucks unloading efforts.
    “Sounds good don’t it,” as Dump proceeded to hand him a case.
    As Stewart was setting the case of beer cans down and smiles were flashing all the way around, I produced a bottle of beer out of my back pocket and held it up for his inspection.
    “I got one.” He said producing a church key and having a belly laugh.
    “Spoil sport.” I opined, “I have been regaling Dump with all the good jokes we could have at your expense if you didn’t.“ I said lustily smirking and cracking open my own brew with my own bottle opener.
    “Now, if you have a can opener about your person, then we could talk.” Stewart countered.
    “Oh, I got one all right.” I said producing my infamous key ring, as well as digging in my pocket for my knife. “But these are not for sale.” I told him