Simon checked the ammunition in the pistol and tucked it into his waistband. He scooped up the shotgun and fed more shells into it. He racked a round on the 12-gage and marched out of the garage.
It was a short two blocks to the new house he’d picked out. He huffed as he climbed the hill leading to the house and stood outside a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck me, I’m outta shape.” He walked slowly to the front door and pushed it open. “Anybody ready to die?” he called out.
He shoved the door wide dramatically and stepped inside. The faint smell of death assaulted his nostrils and he turned his head slightly. “Great…I gotta shack up in a morgue.”
He walked lazily through the house, keeping the shotgun at the ready. He cleared the kitchen and thought he remembered the house from the trash scattered in the floor. “Remind me to fire the maid. The lazy bitch is slacking in her duties.”
He pushed open the door to the garage and poked his head inside. The smell of death was stronger in here and he nearly gagged. “Good grief.” He covered his nose with his nasty t-shirt, made his way to the garage door and quickly opened it, giving the garage a chance to air out.
Sunlight flooded the gloomy interior and he saw a cat in an advance state of decay near the back door. “Poor scruffy.” He grabbed a scoop shovel from the wall and scraped the remains up. He opened the rear door of the garage and tossed the cat over the fence.
Simon dropped the shovel near where the cat had been turning to soup and pushed his way back into the kitchen. He found an overturned box of baking soda, marched back out, and sprinkled the white powder over the liquid that had soaked into the concrete and the blade of the shovel. “Please work,” he pleaded as he emptied the box. “I’ve heard of nasty pussy but this one takes the cake.”
He chuckled at his own joke as he snatched the shotgun and walked back through the house. “Olly olly oxen free!” he called out as he went room by room. “Come on you red-eyed bastards! Time to meet your maker.”
He cleared the house room by room then walked back to the old house. Thankfully, it was nearly all downhill.
He drove the pickup to the new house and backed into the garage then carried the booze into the kitchen, stacking the boxes neatly along the counters and the kitchen table. He sighed as he placed the last of the booze then drove back for his personal items.
He snatched the boxes from along the wall of the garage and tucked them into the bed of the small truck. He made one final walk through of the house, making sure he had grabbed everything he might possibly need.
Ensuring that his collection of naked selfies was loaded up neatly, he took the last of his things to the end of the street. He made sure to leave the garage open to the old house, just as it had been when he arrived. If the Cagers drove by looking for him, it should appear exactly as they left it.
He backed into the garage, opting to leave the door open until the baked cat smell was less offensive. He crawled from the cab and walked out to the front of the house. He had a direct view to the main gates of the addition and he could see the back yard of the old house. “Yeah, this will work just fine.”
He snatched the rifle from the back of the truck and peered through the scope. If the Cagers came around to open the back door to his old house, he’d have them dead to rights. He quickly shouldered the rifle and marched through the front door. “Be it ever so crumble, there’s no place like home.”
Chapter 22
Hatcher yawned and tried to sit up in his chair. His ribs protested as he leaned forward and peered through the glass windows of his office. He could see the yellow-orange glow of the sunrise reflecting off of the foyer walls and knew it was time to start another day.
He gripped the armrests and pushed upward, lifting himself heavily to his feet. He shuffled toward the coffee pot and flipped it on. There was still half a pot he could possibly salvage. “Waste not, want not.”
“Hatch, come and take a look.” Roger seemed excited as he waved him out the door.
“You been up all night?”
“Most of it. But you need to see this.” He seemed excited as he ushered him down the hall. “We decided to use an extra supply closet.”
“For what?”
“Just look.” Roger pulled the door open and Candy wiped at her eyes. “All we need now are the antennas.”
Hatcher stared at the stack of equipment. “Is that the radio you were talking about?”
Candy nodded. “I know little to nothing about this stuff, so I grabbed everything I could find.” She shrugged. “Maybe one of the marauder refugees knows more?”
“It’s stuffy in here.” Hatcher stepped back toward the hallway.
“Yeah, we’re going to put a fan here by the radios to help keep them cool and circulate some air.” Candy pushed back from the stack and gave him a lopsided smile. “There’s a lot of cable that goes to the antennae so I thought maybe we could go through the wall instead of the ceiling. I wouldn’t want to cause it to leak.”
Hatcher nodded as he stifled a yawn. “I admit, that looks pretty cool.” He leaned forward and stared at the set up. “Are you sure it all works?”
Candy shook her head. “I have no idea. That’s why I grabbed everything we could find, parts, dials, these thingys…”
“And you two stayed up all night to set this up?”
Roger shrugged. “It wasn’t intentional. We wore Mike out on the trip
