Chapter 3
The radiation dust storm descended like a gray wall, swallowing the small Texas town whole.
I stood in the control room, staring at the weather radar. The entire state of Texas was deep red — radiation concentration three hundred times above normal, visibility under five meters. In weather like this, any normal person stepping outside was basically committing suicide.
But on the radio channel, Raymond was still playing the victim.
"...my nephew Jack Thomas! He has three full containers of strategic military supplies issued to the whole town! Three entire containers! And he's locked them all up, refusing to share a single bite with any of us!"
I nearly laughed out loud. Military? Three containers? That lie was impressive.
The channel went quiet for a few seconds, then voices began to chime in.
"I saw it! Military trucks drove onto his property last month!"
"The government must have given him something! Why should we starve?"
"Let's go to his place! Force him to hand it over!"
On the first day of the apocalypse, human reason had been gnawed down to its bare bones by fear. As long as someone pointed a way forward — even if it led off a cliff — they would charge straight ahead.
Then another voice cut in.
"Raymond, you're full of shit!"
The old doctor's voice — the town's only general practitioner, seventy-two years old. Three months before the apocalypse, when my father had a heart attack, it was him who drove twenty kilometers in the middle of the night to deliver nitroglycerin.
"Jack's family never received any military supplies! If you want to rob him, just say so, don't make up this bull—"
Thud.
A heavy impact. The doctor's voice cut off.
"Are you crazy?! He was just telling the truth—" Cody's roar. The mechanic who had fixed our nearly-broken Ford for free before the apocalypse.
Another thud.
"Tie them up!"
"Let them see what happens to people who speak up for a tyrant!"
"Tie them up in the square! Let's see if that Jack kid dares to come out and save them!"
I put down my beer can and walked over to the weapons interface.
[Armed Drones × 2: Available]
In my last life, after I opened the door, the old doctor and Cody both died under the mob's clubs.
Not this time.
I pressed the launch button.
Two armed drones launched from the barn roof, rotors slicing through the gray dust storm and disappearing into the thick haze.
I switched to the drone's camera feed. In the infrared view, at least forty heat signatures were gathered in the town square. In the center, two people were tied to lampposts. Around them, thugs armed with baseball bats and wrenches swung at them every few seconds.
I pushed the joystick down.
Rat-tat-tat-tat—!
The first burst of rounds hit the concrete in the square, sending sparks flying. The thugs screamed and scattered in all directions. I wasn't aiming at people — just drawing a line between them and the lampposts with the barrage.
"Next round, heads." I switched to the external speaker. "Get out of my sight in three seconds."
The thugs ran faster than rabbits.
The second drone descended, its mechanical arm cutting the ropes and releasing two portable respirators.
"Put these on. Follow the drone."
Fifteen minutes later, the two drones escorted the old doctor and Cody down inside the farm dome. The dome opened a gap briefly, then sealed shut instantly.
I caught the staggering Cody at the barn entrance. The old doctor's face was covered in blood, his left eye swollen shut, but he was still breathing.
"Jack..." Cody grabbed my arm. "You shouldn't have come... they'll kill you..."
"They won't." I helped him toward the bunker. "They'll only die outside my gate."
Half an hour later.
The old doctor lay in the medical bay while my mother cleaned his wounds. Cody sat at the dining table, staring at the plate of tomahawk steak in front of him like it was a hallucination.
"This... this is real?"
"Eat." I pushed a beer toward him. "Medium-rare, came out three minutes ago."
Cody cut the first piece, put it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard several times.
"I thought I was going to die on that fucking lamppost." He opened his eyes, a little red around the rims. "Thanks, brother."
"You helped my family." I said. "Before the apocalypse, the old doctor brought the meds when my dad had a heart attack. You fixed that Ford for free. Now it's my turn to pay back."
Cody paused, then nodded hard and went back to eating.
I returned to the control room and opened the radio.
101.7MHz was still chaotic. Raymond was roaring, the thugs were shouting, the whole channel sounded like a market.
I pressed the red button.
[Signal Hijacking: Initiate | Target: Full Band Coverage | Power: Maximum]
Every radio, car stereo, and emergency receiver in town simultaneously emitted a piercing screech of static — then fell silent.
I picked up the microphone and held it next to the cast iron skillet.
"Good evening, neighbors."
Sizzle—
The tomahawk steak was searing in butter, its surface caramelizing and releasing an enticing aroma. I turned the volume to maximum.
Then I cracked open an ice-cold Corona.
Psshhh—
The crisp sound of the cap popping off, the fizz of beer foam rising.
I raised the bottle to the microphone and took a long gulp.
Glug, glug.
Ahhh—
I set the bottle down and picked up the mic.
"Raymond was right about one thing — I do have a lot of food. Tomahawk steaks. Ice-cold beer. Roasted potatoes. Cream of mushroom soup." I paused. "But these things only go to people who deserve them."
"The old doctor and Cody are eating dinner at my place right now. Because they're human."
"And all of you," I looked out at the gray dust storm beyond the window, "are just a pack of stray dogs being led around by a liar."
I ended the transmission.
Five minutes later, a system alert.
[Large-scale movement detected | Vehicles: 17 modified | Estimated arrival: 8 minutes]
I pulled up the surveillance feed.
In the gray dust storm, a dozen pickup truck headlights lit up like the eyes of beasts. Their bodies were reinforced with steel plates and iron grilles, spotlights and loudspeakers mounted on the roofs.
At the front of the convoy, a Ford F-350. Raymond stood on the roof, raising his blood-veined blade.
"Jack Thomas!!!" His voice came through the loudspeaker. "Tonight, I'm going to crack open your turtle shell and drink your blood!!!"
I turned off the monitor and walked over to the weapons interface.
[Tower Defense Plant Matrix: Activate]
[Depleted Uranium Potato Mines: 100]
[Armor-Piercing Corn Gatling Guns: 8]
I pressed the activation button.
The ground around the farm began to tremble.
