Even though Leonard was gone life in Haven went on. The cogs refused to slow down even for grief. It didn’t bother July too much, as day after day Thomas noticed the anticipation in his friend’s eyes grow more intense. Thomas was regretful that one of their own had been killed, but in truth he never liked the man anyway. July was lucky– now that his only competition was out of the way he could focus on their next big assault against the Raiders. But Leonard’s death changed other things around Haven. Though they didn’t show it, the people were afraid again, and that fear drove them. Alice reported a significant increase of production in the week that followed Leonard’s death.
Right when things were beginning to quiet down July summoned his council and proposed that they send a party to scout for a new settlement directly north of the Raider Execution Grounds. His reasons were twofold; firstly, the printing press situated somewhere in that area would be an invaluable asset to the cause, and secondly, the outpost would grant them a definitive military presence within the city.
July spread out a map on the table and placed a coin over the targeted area.
“We’ll call it Preston, I think,” he said with optimism.
July insisted on finding Preston himself, with Thomas alongside him, plus a small military escort – four of Charlie’s scouts. Setting out at dawn, it took eighteen hours to drive from Haven to Red-Rock, where they stayed that night. July awoke the next morning before sunrise and ate breakfast in the dark. He and Thomas consulted the map of that region of the city and searched for the best route to Preston. Then they set off again for what would be a nine-hour drive into the city.
Nature had reclaimed much of this part of the map. Shrubs and other plants had forced their way through the cracks in the road and pavements, and in some places devoured entire vehicles. Mounds of glass that had piled up at the base of many buildings were now battered into nothing more than dust, like the sand and debris that spilled through doorways and windows. They went around the park where the grass was so high it could cover a man and perhaps hide other things – they kept their distance. A playground half protruded from the earth like the rusted fossil of an ancient creature.
“No one’s lived here for a long time,” said Thomas, breaking a long silence. “So close to the Raider Execution Grounds and no sign of an encampment.”
One of the scouts reminded them that this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “The air here is fine. Keep an eye out, we’ve seen a lot of wild dogs around here, and who knows what else.”
“We’re close,” said July, checking the nearest street sign. “Keep going.”
They found it; a large flat building surrounded by a fence with barbed-wire. One of the scouts made a note to scavenge the barbed-wire if this area proved to be unsuitable for an outpost. The front gate had been knocked down and lay rusted and half-buried. July kept his eyes opened for tracks but found nothing. This truly was a dead place, a desert hidden in the middle of a city.
“A supply route will be essential,” said Thomas, as he jumped from the truck and walked towards the building’s front doors. “I don’t see any food or water here, do you?”
July simply nodded and drew his pistol. The scouts went first, edging open the wide double-doors and peeking inside, then flicking on their flashlights and scanning every crevice and corner in a routine manner, particles of dust floating in the white beams.
“Think they still work?” Thomas eyed the machines. It was an eerie sensation to see so many moving parts fall so completely still.
“I’m no expert,” July answered. “We’ll need ink and paper but let’s worry about that later. I’m sure one of the mechanics from Haven can get this place running again.”
It wasn’t a hard decision to turn Preston into an outpost – it was uninhabited, it gave them the printing press, it put them in the city and solidified their territory – but all the same the implications were significant. Another step towards rallying the people and taking Mitch Buster down, another stride towards the hailstorm of bullets and bloodshed. But once again July was getting ahead of himself. They were done here for now; he and Thomas would help the scouts sweep the area and then report back to Haven to deliver the good news.
They split into three groups of two and each went through a separate street. Thomas and July were effective looters after years of good practice, although both had hoped they’d left that life behind. They split up again; Thomas sweeping the buildings while July went to a parking lot and checked the few remaining cars – with little luck. But he caught sight of something else – a gas pump – beyond a rusted fence and some overgrown grass. He worked his way towards it and sure enough he struck gold. A fuel station, unmarked on any map he had ever seen. He was delighted, however he refused to get his hopes up just yet. He knelt down, tapped the pump with his knuckles and smiled.
Footsteps, approaching fast behind him. July turned and reflexively threw his arms out as the stranger struck at his face. The fist collided with his hand and face awkwardly. July had no time to think. He tried for his gun but someone else stopped his hand. Then blackness. He could hardly breathe when another attacker threw the dirty black bag over his head. Disarmed and blind, July called out but he immediately felt a fist smash into his stomach and the air was knocked from his lungs.
What the fuck is happening? These people were obviously kidnappers but in his delirium July experienced the kind of fear that envelops the senses moments before death. He couldn’t see and he could hardly breathe, perhaps he was dying already.
He gave up trying to squirm out of their grip and let himself be carried. The sound of a car engine, the door opened, he landed on the soft car seat, the door slammed shut, the car drove away.
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