The Blackjack Chronicles

By: Hunt1385@aol.com

The Harley Davidson motorcycle roared through the deserted streets bit of old and un readable bits of paper blew around in its wake. The man atop the massive bike was a large man his blonde hair was cut short but the skull helmet hid it from view, his beard had grown out so it seemed his green eyes were like two small gems in a sage bush. He was dressed like a man use to living the rough life he wore a pair of woodland BDU pants and a leather biker jacket underneath which was a white shirt with several stains with origins from food to oil, on his feet are a pair of well worn black steel toe jump boots.

On his right hip in a holster is a Desert Eagle .44 magnum auto pistol with a six-inch barrel and rubber combat grips, the large automatic was loaded with eight rounds in the clip and one in the tube. The blue finish was scratched slightly the grips slightly smoothed but other then that it was in fine condition. The hand blaster was in a caliber that didn’t mess around. On the right side of the gas tank of the big bike in a shotgun holster is a Benelli Nova 12 gauge pump shotgun with a eight shot extended magazine tube. The Shotgun had before sky dark been used as a skeet blaster but with the proper modifications it was a hell of a weapon. On his left hip was his prized knife, the SOG Pentagon with a five inch blade. The blade had one side razor sharp and the other side saw toothed. With a rubber grip and a Spec Op’s sheath.

The man slowed his bike till it came to a near dead stop. Pulling the sun glasses off his face and placing them in a pocket he looked at the sun going down.  He reached forward and turned off the motor. He watched the sun start going down the sky filled with beautiful purples and greens. Well maybe skydark did have some pluses he thought to himself. Kicking down the kick stand he hopped off pulling his shotgun from its dirt and dust covered holster. Looking around the empty city he sighed. God how he wished he could come across some real cities with large auto shops that looters often forgot to take all of the supplies out of. The Harley while a though a solid bike, it often required work

Taking off the helmet he paced it on the seat. He looked around at the old a nearly destroyed store front’s till he spotted a gas station. Leaning down he removed a crowbar and wound up hose from his saddle bag. Running his left arm through hose till it met his shoulder he ran the crow bar between his military pistol belt and pants. With his large and steady hands holding the shotgun he walked to the pumps laying down both the hose and crowbar he walked to the door of the old station. Pushing it open with the barrel of the scatter gun he saw racks where food use to be empty. Walking forward he noticed that behind the counter was a gun rack with a rifle still in it.

Walking to the end of the counter he walked behind it he felt his foot hit something soft. Looking down he saw a human hand. Leaning down under the counter he saw a body male most likely but he couldn’t be sure seeing how the face was gone do to the rifle that was in-side of the departed lips. Grabbing the rifle he removed it in the light he could tell it was a M-14 with a twenty round magazine in its well. Laying his shotgun on the counter he removed the clip and saw it was only missing one round. The deadman below him was a fool he thought ‘As long as you got bullets, you got life’ the man smiled as he thought of his father and of the words he had driven into him from the day he was first brought in to the hellish world.

Bending down he searched the man and found he was wearing a back pack filled with clips for both the M-14 and a pistol searching a little more he found a Sig Sauer 230 .380 auto stuffing it in the back pack along with it’s holster. Standing up he found the rifle on the wall was a Ruger 10/22 semi-auto rifle.  He found a box with 100 .22 LR shells for it but no more magazines. He laid it down on the counter along with the M-14 and Nova. He  considered doing a little dance of joy but pushed it out of his mind with a smile.

Then he heard the sound of feet moving along the ground. Grabbing up his shotgun he walked slowly to the doorway.

Jessica stopped and stared at the Harley hog sitting next to the gas station post number 369. This was a problem the scout thought, bikers were known to never take POW’s un less they were female. She had hoped to come to the post and draw gas but with bikers in the area the plot thickened.

She was a tall woman evening out at six foot she had eyes that seemed crossed between blue and green. Her hair was that of a golden cascade of  blonde. But god help who ever crossed her for underneath that beautiful outside there was a stone cold killer. She was dressed in blue jeans and a red t shirt covered by a old gray pull over sweater that barely hid her womanly figure under it.

Jess reached down and cocked the Beretta 92F 9mm pistol. She had abandoned her own BMW bike half a block away along with it’s armament of  the H&K UMP 45 sub-gun in the saddle holster. She felt all alone but that was the life of a combat scout for the White Fang clan. She had been doing this for a year now scouting out enemy bases, radioing them in then leaving.

Just then her thoughts drifted back to the biker probably a mercie working for the Blood Warriors. She reached down and removed the Ka-Bar SEAL knife from its leather sheath with any luck she could kill the biker quick and quite then report back to base camp 6 before the night was out. Suddenly she saw movement out of the corner of her eye suddenly a giant blonde man was running across the ten yards from store front to bike.

When the man was in range Jess launched a steel toe boot at the mans solarplexis. The man shifted his weight and in the same movement grabbed her ankle and pushed up. The off set Jess hit the dirt hard the Ka-bar went flying from her hand. Quickly before the man could pin her she twisted and rolled the man landed on dirt. Jess before he could get up was up and running.

She was almost 15 feet away when she stopped and turned her pistol now in her right hand, she lifted it and put the sights over the mans head and began to pull the trigger, she stopped for some strange reason it wasn’t like she had never killed a man, but it was like a inside voice begging her to stop.

With a few quick movements she was at the mans side. Suddenly there was a flash of movement then her vision went black.  

Leaning back the biker gulping air into his empty lungs. The tall woman lay next to him was still breathing but out cold. Damn that woman was fast he had hoped to land on her and pin her to the earth so he could try and figure out what she was doing here. But she had moved and he had landed on hard dirt covered street. When his lungs filled he reached in to a pouch on his bet and removed a pair of stainless steel hand cuff’s. With a few quick movements he had her hand cuffed and disarmed removing her belt and picking up the Beretta  and finding the Colt pocket pony 9mm around her ankle.

Standing up he went quickly to his bike and removed his collapsible gas can. Walking back tot he steep pates near the pumps he used the crowbar to remove on with ease and then used the tube to fill the tube luckily someone had corked the hole in the top so the gas wouldn’t evaporate. Placing the cork back he walked to his Harley and placed the gas filled bag into a saddle bag along with the tube and crowbar.

Looking around he look for a suitable place to spend the night seeing how he would have company. Seeing a old book with the front window missing but the view blacked by old selves holding tattered pieces of paper on them, store he nodded his head and decided it would have to do.

Jess awoke to the smell of something cooking, her stomach rumbled reminding her of the last time she had a meal. Trying to reach her arms around to rub her eyes she found she could move them do to the fact they were handcuffed. Opening her eyes slowly she saw the stranger sitting next to a small stove that was burning a blue flame a tin pan was above it every now and then it would sizzle and pop.

The man appeared to be deeply engaged in cleaning a rifle of some sort. Next to him lay a M-14 and a Benelli Nova, along with both of her pistols and her knife.

“Fuck.” she muttered.

The man looked up and smiled despite the feeling she was trapped for some strange reason she felt slightly warm when his smile flashed across her.

“No, I don’t think so seeing how I just met you and everything.”

It took a second or so for the joke to register to her. And despite the handcuffs and the imposing figure before her she laughed. The man stood up laying the rifle down he walked over to her. For a second fear flashed through Jessica fallowed by the thrill one gets before a fight, if the fucker wanted to try and rape her he would get a very nasty surprise. Even in hand cuffs jess could kill a man.

 To her surprise he squatted down and looked at her. His eyes seem to stare into her sole looking for the slightest lie or misleading. His left hand come up holding a pair of handcuff keys.

“If I un lock those will I get any trouble?” his voice was almost soft but with tone that told he would know if she lied to him. Jessica shook her head, and the man moved behind her with a soft click the cuffs came free and disappeared into a pocket or some other holding device.

Bringing her hands foward she rubbed her wrist and watched the man go back and turn off the stove first passing her a cup. Reaching out she took the cup but sniffed at it as if testing for poison. The man saw her doing this and laughed.

“If I wanted to kill you I would have broken your neck and left you not poison you with a drink. Corses then again I could be a evil white coat wanting to see the effects of the horrible MRE coffee on people. And then again......” his hands moved through the air as if snatching the ideas from the air its self. Jess snickered and drank the coffee.

          As she drank she looked around seeing how the man had positioned old

selves in a sort of semi circle, so that he could glance out and see if someone was coming but they still hid the man and he weapons. She saw the Harley the man had ridden in on, she saw pot marks were low caliber blaster had hit the body and gas tank.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” The man caught her off guard as he fixed two plates of food, damn he was nice for a person that lived in the hellish reality of the Deathlands.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t like to repeat my self.”

“Motor cycle scout Jessica McFetridge for the White Fang clan.”

She then swore under her breath she had let to much slip.

“Ok you fucked up, you know you fucked up. So let not go through that whole deal where you clamp up and don’t say a word cause then I may get pissed. You don’t want me pissed catch my drift?” He said.

“White Fang the most powerful clan in this area. You haven’t heard of us?”

“If I did would I ask you about them?”

“Touche.”

“So?”

“So what?”

The mans face lost the slight smile it had held and began to look seriously concerned. Reaching over he lifted her blonde hair. At first she recoiled but then when he sat back nodding as if he had just found the answer to a hard question.

“What?” she asked puzzled.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You were a natural blonde.”

“Ha very funny.....” then Jess realized she didn’t know the mans name. “What is your name any way?”

She may have gotten her answer right then and there if the sound of a truck and several motor cycles hadn’t drawn the strangers attention. Creeping up to a crack between selves the man looked at the wags and there owners.

“Friends of yours?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Creeping up next to him she was surprised to find hm hold butt forward her Beretta  9mm. Taking it she glanced at the bikes and truck. The truck was a flat bed model with it fenced it in on the sides. Slavers if that wasn’t trouble enough the doors were painted with the skull and cross bones dripping in blood the sign of the Blood Warriors.

“No those are the Blood Warriors,” after seeing his questioning look she continued.” Just big bully’s them and us have been in a feud for years over land.”

Motions her to come away from the crack. He went over to his shotgun lifting it he checked the chamber and made sure the round was a slug he laid it down and picked up the M-14 inspected it and passed it over to Jessica.

“Know how to use that thing.?”

“Yes.” she slung the rifle and glanced at her pistol belt and  Colt Pocket Pony. He nodded and handed her a small bag filled with clips for the 7.62 assault rifle. Walking to his bike he removed a few MV-40 mini geren’s and what looked like a giant thing of chap stick. He handed her two geren’s and tucked the other’s in his pants pockets. The golf ball sized HE bombs were hell on earth despite there size.

Pulling off his jacket he spread a black smear over his arms and face moving silently over to the bike he reached in to the saddle bags and pulled out a small gray duffle. Opening it he pulled off his white t shirt revealing a small but well muscled gut and scars of every type and mark. Also on his right bicep a bright and colorful tattoo of the king of spades and the ace of spades and a banner across it with writing on it, but jess could make hide nor hair of.

Stuffing the shirt into the bag he pulled on a large black shirt then he pulled out a black bandana and tied it do-rag style to cover his blonde hair. He then pulled on a pair of leather half gloves, then slung a belt full of shells for his shotgun across his chest.

Jessica stared at this now ebony hell like demon that had replaced the man that had offered her a cup of coffee. The and reached back into the duffle bag and pulled out a second black t shirt and bandana and shoved them to her. Catching his drift she pulled off her sweat shirt then looked around for a bit of privacy finding none she gave up on her modesty, and pulled off her shirt and pulled on the black one.

In a few minuets they looked like a pair hell spawned demons. Jessica had the M-14 in her hands her returned ka-bar was at her left hip. The Beretta was strapped to her right thigh with two spares next to her knife. The pocket pony was on her right ankle.

The stranger had his shotgun slung with his SOG knife out. On his right hip was his Desert Eagle .44 magnum three magazines on his left hip balanced it. The sig 230 was in the small of his back with one back up mag. The Benelli pump gun was slung on his right shoulder.  

 “Lets move out.” he said his voice flat and ready for the killing fields.

The Blood Warrior yawned it was too damn late for watch. Slinging his AK-74 he pulled out and lit a joint. The Mary Jane filled his system disorienting him. He hoped he could get off watch soon so he could go fuck one of the female slaves they had picked up. When the hand came across his mouth he was so surprised he didn’t feel the hook of the SOG Pentagon knife enter his throat. He did how ever feel the blade rip open the skin and air passage way.

The hand came away and he began to scream but found it was impossible due to the fact he was choking in his own blood. He felt his bowels empty out and his heart start to slow. The combination of pot and lack of oxygen to the brain caused his last thought to be why oh why didn’t I take the blue pill. 

The biker removed his shotgun from his shoulder and began to creep forward. The attack was going to go through now he would open it up full blown. He and the woman Jessica had already removed a few of the guards. Removing a MV-40 he pulled the pin and hefted it at the camp fire.

With a hellish blast the men around the fire died. The biker raised the shotgun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger sighting on a man with a M-16. The one ounce slug ripped apart the mans head. 

The biker heard the steady report of the M-14 delivering its 7.62 message. Running as he jacked the slide, he aimed and fired and removed two Blood Warriors from the game. He quickly and sharply emptied the remaining seven rounds killing 5 more.

He dropped the shotgun and went down on one knee removing the Desert Eagle from it holster. He aimed and fired sending a 240-grain slug out at a nasty 1000 fps it punched a neat hole in a camo clad clans man. He triggered two more booms opening twin holes in a man trying to cock a Colt 1911. Suddenly a bullet clipped the pavement next to him. Turning he saw where the sniper was.

The man held a Soviet SVD-1 sniper rifle and was resting it on one of the motorcycle’s that were every where. Turning he fired the rest of the magazine at the man scoring multiple hits. Ducking behind a ford LTD that had long ago been stripped of just about everything. First he dropped the empty mag from the Desert Eagle then replaced it with a full slipping the empty into his pocket. The took a few more second to load up nine more shells in to the Benelli.

Coming back up form his cover he scanned for targets and saw the Jessica had taken enough time to shoot off the lock of the truck. A blend of men and women were running everywhere but two men, one woman, and oddly enough one gigantic dog caught his eye.

They worked as a team one of the men was of normal height with short choppy blonde brown hair he held a M-16A2 and was chopping out three round burst. The other was a tall man with his hair tied back in a pony tail his hands were filled with twin Colt .38 specials. The women was a red head or normal height and build she held a Colt .45 in one hand and a large bladed knife in the other. The dog never left the long haired mans side the biker could only wonder why the slavers didn’t kill the dog.

Putting his mind back to the combat he looked around and saw a man running away his left shoulder bloody. The biker began to draw a bead on him but he heard the sharp and loud crack of the M-14 and saw the man topple. Turning he saw the tall blonde next to him lowered the rifle and looked at him with a lop sided grin.

“Beat ya.”

“Maybe later.” he responded

when he turned around the battle was over with. The former slaves had taken up their dead masters blaster. A few of the fresher slaves were inspecting their weapons while others held in them in amassment. Walking over he saw the man with the blonde hair was shoving in a fresh clip into his rifle. Walking up the biker held out his hand to him. The former slave took it with a large hardy shake the power of which betrayed a man of his size it should have belonged to a man a few pounds heavier and a lot bigger.

“Brandon ‘Gun smoke’ Hutchsion, like to think you people for helping us me and my crew got hit a while back. Took our bikes and blasters said we were to become there new workers and such.” at this moment the Long Haired man and the woman stepped up next to the man. “The man with the long hair behind me is Jon ‘strings’ Williams his pet.” he said gesturing to the dog. “Is Rocky. The woman is my wife Liz best knife fighter this side of eternity.”

The biker was taken back most men of the biker persona didn’t give out long winded speeches. But he could see these people were not of the reg biker outlaw mold.

“My names Alan ‘Blackjack’ Mason,” it was at this moment Jess realized this was the first time she learned the big bikers name. “The woman here is Jessica McFetridge we crossed paths about two hours ago. I was about to pull out when you people showed up.”

The Alan looked about a lot of the slaves were walking around un sure of what to do. He guessed it be a day or more before these people got a grip. Glancing over he saw the three before him wore the standard style of the death lands a dozen different styles put together, but there feet were missing shoes.

“You people want to ride with me your welcome to it. Just find your self some boots and bikes grab some of the MRE’s and Blaster these bastards had also.”

The group of three decided they would ride with the large biker. With in half a hour they had all grabbed boots, food , fuel , bikes , and blasters. Gun smoke had grabbed a M-16A2 and a Colt Government Model .45. Strings had picked up a Colt Government Model  and a SVD-1 sniper rifle. Liz picked up only a 14 inch Survival knife and a M-16A2.

Bike wise they had two Harley’s both with side cars and one Mazda. Both Brandon and Jon had Harley Jon’s side car held two fuel canisters and his Rocky. Brandon’s on the other hand had a side car with a big evil M-60 that could be fried by pressing the one time electric horn for the Harley.  It also held fuel for the bikes.

Alan had washed off the war paint and pulled on his leather jacket. He had given the food he had prepared to the slaves along with the M-14 and Ruger 10/22. Most of the former slaves were milling around but a few were cooking and cleaning. He labeled those as the fighters the others he only gave a year maybe less if they didn’t get with the program.

He glanced over at Jessica she held the transmitter to the long range radio that was attached to the rear of her bike. He guessed she was reporting the small battle were 25 blood warriors had bought the big one. Suddenly she hopped off her bike and walked over a look of confusion on her face.

“What? Did they tell you that they were un happy with you?” he wasn’t really sure why he cared about this attractive blonde. But he did have this strange feeling that he didn’t want anything to happen to her.

“No just the other way around. They want me to report back to the ville at once.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah its odd, almost like they want me out of the field right away. So where are you headed?”

“Not sure really seems I rode in to the middle of a range war and now I’m in it.”

“Well,” she said suddenly her eyes wondered off as if trying to avoid the cold green eyes. “I could always use some company on the road only about hundred and fifty miles to base camp. Unless of corse you rather not get further into it.”

“Well hell mom always said never turn down an offer from a beautiful a woman.”

Holy hell Alan said to himself was she blushing. By god she was. At this point Jessica spun on one foot and walked off, the part of Alan’s mind that still hadn’t come out of his teen years noticed that the view from the rear wasn’t so bad. And then the part of his mind that forgot to think before it acted let out a wolf’s whistle.

With one swift motion Jess spun her face red but with a smile on it. Raising his hands in surrender as if to say ‘hey I’m a guy and you have a nice ass so sue me.’. Turning Jessica marched to her bike muttering something about men ability only to think below the waist but with a bit of laughter in her voice. 

Turning Blackjack went to explain where they were going to his new crew.

 The small fire lit up the wooded area with a soft glow. The people sitting around it laughed and joked. The trash of a recent meal of wild turkey was set far away from the camp sight.

A bottle of shine was passed around that had been raided from the slavers truck. Each person took a swig and passed it on. All of a sudden Jon stood up and brought his Russian sniper rifle to his shoulder. When he stood his dog a odd mix of pit bull and revertier stood also. The dog had been with Jon for a little over three years, and the bond between them was almost un breakable.

“I’ll take first watch.” having grown up in what was left of the florida ‘glades he had been drinking from the age of nine and was the least effected by the ‘weak ass lighting’ that they had grabbed from the slavers. If he took first watch it mean the others could sleep off the effects of the moon shine and be ready for their watch.

There was a few grunts of reply as the others leaned back and prepared for sleep. Walking quietly fallowed by his dog the young man walked for about fifty yards and stopped reaching down he patted his dog and began to walk the path for his watch.

Liz wasn’t sure what had awoken her but she was sure it was close. Looking down she saw her husband moved in his sleep. She smiled and ran a hand down his side. Standing up she picked up her M-16 the rifle felt strange in her hands despite her passed use of it. Something was not right. Tapping her husband with her boot he awoke with a fury of movement which in he drew and cocked his forty-five.

“What is it?”

“Something’s not right.”

Glancing at his chron. a old Rolex he picked up from one of the dead slavers. It was only eleven an hour before he picked up watch from Jon. But he was not one to question his wife’s ability’s to tell when something was not right. She was part doomie and was able to predict certain events and others passed her by. She had warned them only min’s before the slavers had fallen on their little group, but those few min’s had given them enough time to prepare and give the bastards a proper welcoming.

“Wake them.” he said pointing at Alan and Jess both of which lay on the other side of the dwindling fire. That when the scream and first string of shot rang out and all hell broke out.

 

Jon wasn’t sure when he first noticed that there were men in the bush but he did notice it. He had silently praised the only god Jon worshiped for providing him with the Soviet SVD-1 sniper rifle with its day time/night time scope and semi-automatic action and silencer. But then again what else was Mars good for.

Moving himself into a crouched shooters stance he brought up the rifle and turned on the power to the scope. The world became a green lit kill zone. He took the man on point into his sights. Thankfully the men had not seen the young killer.

 Jon pulled the five pound trigger till it broke and the silent 7.62x39mm went out and knocked the point man to the ground a nice large hole in his chest. moving his rifle he laid the sights on the next man and fired. The first mans death had gone un-noticed by his friends due to the built in sound suppresser. But the second man was gut shot and released and long and pain filled scream. Then on his way down he squeezed the trigger on his assault rifle it stuttered in the mans grasp and. The other took cover. Jon was up and moving to the next spot of cover his dog behind him suddenly their was another string of shots and a yelp from behind Jon.

Turning he saw his dog’s stomach ripper open and it’s life fluids spilling out. He turned and kept running he then dropped silently and crouched behind a tree, his face was stained from tears. Turning he brought his rifle to his shoulder. He blinked and cleared his eyes of tears. Sighting two more invaders he aimed and pulled the trigger broke and sent out another message of death.

At that moment he turned and saw a man standing besides him gun in hand. In the space of few second he had gone from the killer to the victim. The gun it the mans hand roared. Jon could almost see the .45 caliber slug come flying out of the barrel. Suddenly he felt a large amount of pain. Tossing aside his rifle he made a promise to at least punch the man that had shot him.

 Suddenly as if powered by the god of war and death he grabbed the man by his windpipe and squeezed then pulled back. The man with the handgun grabbed his bloody mess of a throat then dropped gargling. Dropping the bloody goblet to the ground he stared and noticed there was no blood flowing from his body. Looking back he picked up his rifle.

A large round had hit the frame of the sniper rifle shattering it. Dropping the ruined weapon he drew his Colt and pulled back the hammer. Two choices now one stay and fight and die or run back with the other’s conserve fire power and drive back the enemy. He took number two deciding that today was not the day for his death

Blackjack lifted his pistol and fired the 240-grain hallow point smashed into the enemy’s head and shattered it. The spay of crimson washed over the an behind him just as the forty-four caliber round crashed into his head also. Jess stood next to him firing her H&K UMP 45 sub-machine gun in tight three round burst’s.

Brandon was crouched behind his bike firing  three round burst’s also his M-16A2 was sending out  5.56mm stomach aches in triplicate. Liz stood next to him firing in single shot mode round after round making wet slapping sound after they hit the invaders.

Alan suddenly saw one form come running out of the bushes brandishing a .45 firing behind him his long hair flowing behind him. Jon his brains creamed at him suddenly he noticed Jess had sighted him also, but she hadn’t made the connection she was tracking him with her gun barrel.

  Lifting his hand he pushed down the barrel when it went off. The heat burned his hand but it saved Jon. by mere inches. Only one forty-five hit Jon. in the left thigh. Jon hit the dirt in the middle of a fire fight fifty feet from his friends.

          Alan didn’t have time to second guess himself or the distance he just ran firing .44 magnum rounds into the bush all around. When he reached Jon he ejected his magazine and hit the slide release. Shoving the blaster   in  the holster he picked up Jon’s hand blaster. Reaching down he through the lighter younger man into the fireman’ carry.

           Running while firing and being fired upon is hard enough with out and extra 155 pounds on your back. Firing two round he managed to nail one man but that was when the slide clicked back. Throwing the pistol was his last resort and he didn’t want to do that.

When Alan reached his others friends he was already shouting to pull out. Brandon had grabbed one of the can of gas and thrown it into the woods and now placed a single round into the middle of it erupting it into a giant fire ball. Placing Jon as easily as he could into Gun smoke side car he ran back to his own bike hopping into the saddle he quickly popped in a fresh eight round magazine into the Desert Eagle then jacked the slide.

Both Liz and Brandon were running there bikes through he trail every now and then Brandon’s side car mounted M-60 spoke clearing his way. Jess pulled her humming bike up next to his a look of worry on her face then she spoke. “You coming?”

“Get your ass out of here im right behind you.” Alan replied while reaching down and removing the shotgun from the saddle holster.

“Better be.’

Alan wasn’t sure why he did what he did next but he leaned over and placed a kiss upon Jess’s lips then in a hurried voice said, “Go!”

          She pulled back and nodded gunning her motor she sped off. Removing his shotgun Alan decided to give the invaders something to worry about. Firing round after round with little to no help. With his last round in the tube he gunned the bike and went speeding off. Turning around he fried one handed the shotgun and watched as the double ought buck shot hit the Left behind Harley’s gas tank and caused a improvised desecration.

Dropping his shotgun he leaned forward trying to coax as much horse power as he could out of the big bike.

As dawn broke the horizon four rumbling bike came over a low uprising in the scared and cracked roadway. Alan brought his hand in the air and brought it down swiftly, then gestured to the side of the road where a one time warehouse now deserted building stood.

As the bikes came to a stop Alan kicked down the stand and hopped off drawing his Blaster at the same time. He was down two only three loaded clips and five empty’s, but he was hoping to find more 240-gain match grade hallow points soon. Sweeping the area with his hand cannon he decided it was clear enough.

Waving his hand over his shoulder then lowering his blaster from eye level he herd groins of relief from his companion. They had rode all night only stopping once to clean and dress Jon’s wound. Alan walked back to his bike and reached for where his shotgun should have been but he found only air, then remembering he had dropped it after destroying Jon’s old bike.

“Brandon, how’s fuel?” he said missing his old weapon already.

“Hmm,” he Siad letting the situation go over and over in his head. “Well how can I put it lightly, unless we find fuel we be fucked big time.”

“Shit! That hurt’s.” a new voice broke leaning his back on the front tire of Brandon’s bike Jon was having his leg tended too by Jessica.

“Hush or I’ll shoot you again.”

“ha very funny, bitch.”

With that she tied the bandage. But pulled it hard one time and sent Jon into another wave of swears. With the term ‘no fucking humor’ repeated no more the eight times.

Brandon stood up and glanced at a old sign and went running off un slinging his auto-blaster. Fearing another attack Blackjack drew his blaster and flicked off the safety. Suddenly Brandon reappeared a wide grin on his face.

“What the fuck is it?” Alan stated annoyed for being worried over what apparently nothing.

“A base this place is a fucking military base, there maybe blaster’s and fuel still here.” Brandon’s grin was mostly in part of laughing at Alan’s now blank face rather the find of the base.

“Ok people, load up we got to do a recon of the area.’ pausing he looked at Jon wondering if the man could make a recon run of a possible huge base. “ Jon thank you can make it?”

As a way of answering the young warrior stood up and removed his blaster. Nodding Alan took on point fallowed by Jessica then Jon, behind him was Liz with Brandon walking slack. Rounding the bend he saw what had tipped off Brandon, the sign was old and rusty but it showed a large red lettering reading Red Devils  under which there was a  sentence reading, “Army Navy Marine Corps, Air Force combined Special Forces base.”

He wondered what the Red Devils where but he pushed it out of his mind for later research. Alan was on full alert he mind was using four out of his five sense’s at there all out max. He heard the soft crunch of boots of his campions, he felt the wind blow steadily , his eyes scanned the area looking for anything out of the ordinary, his brain was all most overloaded with the sense of smell he smelt old gas and blood plus the always present smell gun powder.

With his senses on full alert he heard the sound of the motor turning the base of the hidden auto blaster is what was a hidden tree. He also heard the metallic ringing as shells were loaded into the multiple barrels. With speed faster then a pre dark computer his mind told him three things. One some one must have a lot of jack for a trap like this. Two he was dealing most likely with a M-134 Mini-gun using either a laser or motion sensor for tracking, the blaster fired a 7.62x51mm NATO round at 3,000 to 6,000 rounds per minuet which ment in just a few second it could drop out a full 300 round drum. And the third and last but yet most important thing his mind told him was that if he didn’t do something smart and fast he and his odd band of warrior’s were in deep poop.

As he jumped through the air he yelled at the top of his lungs. “TRAP!!!!” The first thing he did after hitting the ground was  crawl four feet and flip on to his back. Suddenly the air was filled with a roar of the auto blaster. The muzzle flash alone was five feet long and three feet wide and seemed as if god had once again come to the earth in fires form to purge it of evil. Except this time the evil wasn’t was not pharos’s army’s but a band of lost survialist.

It was at this time Blackjack realized he had made a mistake this was not a M-134 mini-gun but its big brother the 20mm Vulcan. Then just as soon as the trap was sprung it stopped. The barrels of the pre dark cannon still spinning. Once again Alan’s mind went a full speed.

His first thought was the cannon was looking for a new target, but that was pushed out his mind the cannon would have just kept firing till it was on its new target. The next thought was that it had jammed, but that too must be wrong for the fact that the gun was powered by a electric source so any dud’s or mis fires were kicked out with the empty’s. Then it dawned on him, it was empty. After a hundred plus years no matter how deep the magazine well had been it was now empty. Standing up he looked for his companions, he saw them stand almost in unison.

“What the hell was that?” Jon asked while pinching his nose closed and blowing trying to clear out his ears.

“20mm XM-35 Vulcan cannon, mounted in what looks like a fake tree.” the voice was that of Brandon’s who was running his hands over the weapon.

“You got a thing with auto blaster’s?” Jess said checking the working of her sub machine gun.

“I’d say more then a thing, more like a affair. I swear I think he will leave me for a good machine gun.”  Liz said with look of amusement on her face as she looked at her husband face, which at the moment was a cross between anger and general amusement.

Leaning over and in fake whisper he said to Alan. “She still doesn’t know about the M-249 I been seeing on the side. Things got a great pair of ammo drums on it.”

“I knew it, I knew it when I found those empty ammo belts that I knew weren’t mine” at this point Liz put her head on Jessica’s shoulder and began to fake cry. Jess in turn put a arm around her shoulder and said. “There, there that bastard was no good for you. You need to go out and get your self a nice muzzle loader just to spite him.”

“She ani’t going to get no muzzle loader.” Brandon said as if the argument mattered.

“You just go back to the hussy  you been seeing. She don’t need you no more.” Jess said this while patting Liz’s shoulder and flipping Brandon off.

Brandon looked at the one finger salute he was receiving.

“Well see I can’t take you up on that but Alan on the other hand might be more interested.”

“That is enough. Lets move.” Alan put a end to the argument and took up point again.

“Well hell if we knew the code then we wouldn’t have a problem.” Brandon said as he crouched in front of the large black door. His hands rested on the digital key pad the blinked the message ‘code please’ over and over again.

“Well shouldn’t they have the code laying someplace close.” Jon was tired his leg still hurt like hell. God did he feel weak but he would live.

Brandon began punching in codes beginning with 001. When the thing beeped a wrong anser he put in the next code 002.

The fire light showed the small group around the iron clad door still. Brandon  leaned back. He had been at this for a while now.

“Alan its your turn I give up.”

Alan came out from underneath his Harley over the past hour they had moved their bikes to the door.

“What you leave off at?”

“Three-five-one.”

“Ok.”

Alan walked to the machine and pushed in 352. Suddenly the doors opened and the group stood. Brandon as he stood muttered lucky son-of-a-bitch. They walked in looking at the predark military complex. Lights flicked on and showed a guard post long ago abandoned.

Alan turned and looked at the bikes. If they were left out there they could be gone in the morning.

“Brandon, Liz bring in the bikes.”  

The order was fallowed without hesitation. With the bikes where in Alan walked to Brandon’s side car an removed the M-60 and what was left of the ammo belt, he guessed he had around 100 to 110 shots. With Alan in the front the group made a whole sweep of the top five levels.

Alan sat at the table in the mess hall. The meal before them was that consisted of meat loaf, buttered rolls, mashed potatoes, and hot apple pie.

Alan speared a piece of meat loaf with and fork and bit it, the steak sauce added a sweet flavor to the cooked meat. The others sat around eating also except for Brandon who kept peering at the clock.

“We will get there all in good time” Alan said spearing another piece and swirling it in mashed potato.

“Dammit man we could be sitting on the gold mine of blasters and you want to eat?”

“This reminds me of something my grandpa once said.” Alan said as he spread some garlic butter on his roll and took a bite. “He said to me ‘Alan life like a game of cards, it s a smart mans game you can some times lose a hand so you can win another.’ now true grandpa’s mind wasn’t always in the right spot but he knew about hard living.” Alan paused to take another bite of roll. “ he said a lot of times you got to leave something alone for a bit. And he said my dad never understood that and his prayers proved it.”

“How’s that? Jessica asked as the set her fork down she didn’t know why she wanted to know more about the big blonde warrior but she did.

“His prayer was I remember cause he said every time he handheld with a jolt-head, ‘god grant me patience-ASAP dammit’”

the table shook with laughter all except Brandon who just grumbled.

‘What did your dad do?” Jess asked most people didn’t deal with jolt-heads they just left them where they were.

“Sec chief in New Delta.” Alan speared another piece of meat loaf and bit it.

Everyone of them had heard of the ville of New delta and of its horrid war..

“Well lets go get our selves some blasters.” Alan said as he pushed the dish away.

The armory was on the forth floor. The weapons lined the room in fifteen rows. The group split off each going there own way. Alan had been smart enough to grab the supply list. Marching down the long arm section he glanced over the shotgun section and saw nothing that he thought could replace his lost Nova, despite its short comings such as the slide covering the feed spot when he cocked it the Nova was a super weapon.

Picking at H&K G36's and 93's and G3's he gave up on picking up another H&k even thought he loved the shape of their solid stocks the weapons were light and sometimes a bitch to  find magazines for the harsh lands of the death lands.

He had just about to give up and pick up either a M-16A1 or CAR-15 he spotted a odd looking weapon. Lifting the weapon he looked at the tag attached it read : “Modified Stoner M96 Expeditionary rifle. Caliber .223 or .5.56mm takes all M-16 or AR-15 magazines including forty, fifty , and Beta-C 100 round magazines. Added extras :three round burst and full auto modes, painted adjustable sights, four power electric zooming mil-dot scope.”

Slinging his new addition he marched to the hand gun section. Removing the Sig 230 he replaced it with the more of a power house H&K USP .40S&W compact. He replaced the Desert Eagle with another Desert Eagle. This model was nickel plated with molded grips and he was surprised to find it was modified with a double action trigger, but was still in .44 magnum. He walked then to the knife selection and dropped his SOG Pentagon for a Ka-Bar 8 inch bladed fighting knife, then grabbed a  military machete with a hard rubber grip that had a knuckle protector. Both blades were longer then his previous and the machete could be used as a improvised sword in a tight spot.

Having been newly armed he marched off to the gear room.

Brandon first stop had been light machine guns. He had looked over all of them. He had decided to go with a M-249 SAW in 5.56 mm because it could take both 250 round drums and thirty round M-16 clips. He made sure to grab the attachment that allowed him to convert from drum mode to clip mode.

 He decided to go with a Ruger P-90 .45 automatic with a laser sight powered by a nuke battery, back up wise he picked up a Glock 36 .45 automatic with a special three pound target trigger.

 He also grabbed a .22 caliber watch. The weapon was a Rolex with a single shot .22 shot barrel witch was fired by pulling on the little knob. It probably had a range of about four to six feet but it was still a gun. Knife wise he picked up a SEAL 2000 and a Smith and Wesson SWAT folding knife.

Jessica had decided to drop the H&K UMP and pick up a Remington 870 12 gauge riot gun with a eight shot extended magazine tube and  ring sights . With a side saddle shell holder that held a full reload so she wouldn’t have to start reaching into her pockets. The weapon also came with a bayonet lug attached to the tube. The barrel was a little longer then the tube because of the choke that she could change just by clicking it over.

She picked up a Glock 34 9mm automatic. The Austrian blaster had match grade barrel with venting on the slide. It also had a tactical flashlight under the barrel. The grips were modeled and fit her hand like a dream. She decided to keep the Colt Pocket Pony and the SEAL knife. But picked up a E-5 bayonet.

Liz decided on dropping the M-16 and picking up a Uzi 9mm full sized with folding stock. The weapon was nothing more the a standard of the shelf sub-machine gun. Pistol wise she picked up a Ruger Mark II .22LR with a built in silencer and three round burst add on.

Knife wise Liz was in heaven having been raised by mountain people who could not often lay there hands on blaster she had learned how to handle a knife and a staff. She picked up a pair of full size Arkansas Toothpicks, she then picked up a four inch commando dagger, and the last addition was a throwing hatchet with a wickedly covered blade.

Jon picked up first a Black Panther sniper AR-15 with a shorten spring slide the raised the rate of fire and allowed for more weight to be added in to the stock. It had a Bi-pod the was released with a quick release handle. The fore grip had a textured grip. It had three kinds of sights. One was the standard three to nine powered scope, one no zoom electric mil-dot scope set off to the side of the three to nine scope, and the standard open sights. Set next to the magazine well was a second magazine holder.

Handgun wise he picked up a Walther P88 9mm auto that was straight off the self. Knife wise he picked up one Hobbit Warrior knife with a five and five-sixteenth blade and heat and chemical resistant handle. The blade was a evil looking weapon able to slice throats with the blade and crush skulls with the handle.

Alan switched his woodland BDU’s for a pair of Tiger stripe BDU’s he also picked up a black t shirt. He picked up a Tiger stripe BDU jacket and a OD green boonie cap. He picked up a new pair of jump boot’s with steel toe and steel shank, he picked up a two pairs of gloves one pair of leather shooting gloves that had been goosed down, and one pair of spec op’s half gloves that came on the way back to the end of his wrist and had padded knuckles. He quickly picked up a military pants belt and a military pistol belt, he also picked up a pair of combat suspenders. With a space for a knife sheath on the left side and two d rings and a space for a military L flash light on the right side. 

Dropping his old hip holster he picked up a new thigh tactical holster for the Desert Eagle. He then picked up a three mag holder for the Desert eagle and filled it with three eight round magazines each loaded with federal 240-grain match ammo and picked up two boxes of the same ammo and two spare magazines also full.

For the USP he picked up a shoulder holster that went under his jacket. He loaded it with Remington 185-grain ammo, with two spares in the side of the shoulder holster and one box of ammo and one back up mag’s.

The Ka-bar went on his military suspenders in a Blackhawk sheath along with a welt stone. The machete went in a behind the back military sheath the handle came up just behind his right ear.

He clipped a military magazine bag to the left hip of his pistol belt. He filled it with fifteen thirty round magazines for the Stoner. He then slapped a forty round magazine in the well and cocked it. 

The Stoner M96 was originally a civilian arm before sky dark but its over all design very close to the Stoner 63 was over ally enjoyed by vets that ahd used the old ‘63.

Alan was very careful to pick up a pair of binoc’s and a medium back pack to wich he added his boxes of ammo and filled with a gun cleaning kit under wear and socks. He also made sure to add a shaving kit plus he picked up a military L shaped flash light and clipped it to his suspenders.

Brandon selected a pair of black jeans and a red t shirt. Which he covered with a black leather over coat. He then selected a pair of magnum Hi-Tec combat boots. He picked a black leather Russian officer cap with fur lining. He selected a pair of fleece gloves. He picked up a thick leather belt he added a small first aid kit to it. 

He grabbed a large back pack wich he filled with four 250-round drums and talked both Jon and Alan in to taking one drum each seeing how both of their weapons fed 5.56mm they could feed it into there own weapons in a pinch. He grabbed a shoulder holster for the Ruger and grabbed five magazines for it and picked up a small of the back holster for the Glock. He picked up 230 grain ammo for both .45's 

He slipped the SEAL knife into a right hip sheath he just folded the S&W SWAT knife and slipped it into his pocket. He then added a shaving kit, underwear ,socks ,and gun cleaning kit to his back pack then grabbed a mag light flash light.

Jessica picked up a full set of black BDU’s pants jacket and a OD green shirt. She picked up a pair of black jungle boots. She topped this off with a black beret oddly adorned with a red bulldog with horns on a yellow feild. The whole out fit was very form fitting, which was noticed by Alan as he clipped his own gear on.

She picked up 100 shotgun shells seventy-five buck shot and twenty-five slug rounds. She picked up a SWAT quick draw Holster for her Glock 34. She picked up four loaded magazines with 115-grain Federal ammo for the Glock and two clips of Glaser 9mm rounds for her colt pocket pony. The little pistol was designed with women in mind for defense. With her knife on her right hip and knife on her left she put the Glock’s magazines in the small of her back. She slipped the Colt down the front of her pants and kept it in place with a holster the went around the inside of her pants and kept the pistol at crotch level. Before sky dark it was called the woman sexist holster or the rape preventer.  She made sure she had attached the E-5 bayonet to the lug on the shotgun and covered it with its plastic sheath.

Jess grabed a standard OD green back pack and added underwear, socks, first aid kit, shaving kit, gun cleaning kit, and tampons to the pack she then threw in a large boxy flashlight.

Liz selected a khaki jump shoot and a leather bomber jacket. She also picked up a pair of calf high hiking boots. She picked up a large utility belt made of a mix of leather and though fibers. The left boot had a sheath built right into it. She slipped the commando knife into the boots to wear only the slim handle showed. A Arkansas Toothpicks went one to each hip. The throwing hatchet dangled from the back of her belt.

She collected eight magazines of .22 Long Rifle hallow points and punt them on one side of the special shoulder holster she found fore the small automatic. She placed the Ruger Mark II under her left arm pit. The Uzi she slung and put three magazines in a large cargo pocket of the jump suit.

She filled a small backpack with the smae thing as all of the others.

Jon picked up a full set of tiger stripe BDU’s and pistol belt just like Alan. But he selected a pair of tanker boots with buckles instead of laces instead of laces which he figure would be faster then laces. He picked up a full grail suit complete with hood.  

Jon picked up normal police holster for the Walther he picked up three mags of Federal Hydra-shock 115-grain ammo, the ammo was the kind that the FBI used and when it hit the target it bloomed like a Black Tylon round. And ripped to peices the in side of the target. He picked up ten thirty round magazines for the AR-15 loaded with 75-grain home loads. The Hobbit Warrior went on his left hip.

He filled his bag with the same mix of equipment as the others but added a 40 power spotter scope with its own tri pod.

The entire group newly armed they decided to each put their gear in a room and go eat dinner in the rec room. Sitting around the TV as it played the movie Escape From LA. The group laughed as they saw idiots shot at each other just blowing ammo and on how ‘Snake’ seem to think all you had to do was just jester your pistols at the enemy and pull the trigger and they’ll die.

“Well I think I head to bed.” Alan said as he pushed his plate away.

The group nodded and said good night. Alan picked up a boom box and a few CD’s. He walked down the hallway and opened the door to his room. The writing on the door said it belonged to General Pepper. In side there was a large queen sized bed a desk which he had cleared of the computer on it and a shower.

Stepping out of his clothes he closed the shower door and turned on first the cd player. It was quite for a second then a voice sang out “ when i get you all alone im going to take off all your clothes....” he turned on the Hot water and felt his whole body catch on a pleasant fire. He didn’t know it but the CD he was listing to was one mixed by a Private that had died a hundred years before by his friends that he had forgotten in the rec room, the day before D.C. became a atomic fire zone.

Due to the fact that he was sing along with Eagles about some witchy woman he didn’t hear the rooms door open or the sound of clothing being removed or the sound of the covers being pulled back.

When he walked out of the bathroom he was only wearing a smile and a towel around his neck. His surprise was evident on his face which only made Jessica smile more the covers were pulled up to under her armpits. Her shotgun and pistol lay with his on the desk. Her clothes also laid with his on the floor.

“Well hello there.” he said.

“Hey” she said propping her self up with her elbow so she could look at him.

“Think could lead to trouble.”

“What kind? Are you married?” he thought he heard her voice go up when she asked that as if afraid of the answer. He relived her with the shake of the head. “Well nither am I. so i see nothing bad happening from this.”

Alan saw no fault with that argument and crawled into bed with her. It was at this point when the CD player blared out a song by a long dead artist as hge proclaimed he did it all for the nookie. In the mist  passion the irony was lost.