Read Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down for Free Online Page B

Andrew.
“On the house”, he said, to the clearly confused recipient.
“What?”, Andrew asked, stunned, but still managing to grab the bullets up almost as quickly as they landed on the table. “You’re just…giving me these?”, he asked, unconvinced.
“Consider it payment for the next run I need you for”, John replied.
Andrew could only nod, clearly both elated and shocked by the incredibly valuable gift, but also concerned over just what exactly ‘the next run’ might be.
“Andrew”, John continued, ignoring the puzzled expression on his face, “Why don’t you ever bring your kids down here?”, he asked.
    It was a question that had puzzled John ever since he had first seen Andrew and his wife, sat there at that central table, alone. And it was one that only then did he feel he had any kind of right to ask.
“I don’t want her to see what the world is like now”, Andrew replied, unintentionally divulging the fact that he had just one child, a daughter, “Would you?”, he asked
John thought for a moment, before restraining the overwhelming urge to point out just exactly what he would do if only he knew where his own family was, instead opting for a different approach.
“Your kid is gonna’ need to pick up the work at some point, the sooner you get her adjusted to what the world is like now, the better. Don’t expect some knight in shining armour to come ridin’ through and turn the world back into the ‘ civilised’ one it used to be. This is it now, this is what we’ve got, get her used to it”, John said as he began to walk away, still mumbling as he did, “Or they’ll be screwed the day you two aren’t around anymore”, he added.
    Heading over to the main doors, John examined the guards stood on either side. Both were of large build, the one on the left armed with some form of full stock shotgun, and an M1911 similar to Andrew’s, the other holding an M16 assault rifle – seemingly military grade – and a Glock 17 pistol to boot.
“Is my bag ready”, John asked the right hand man.
“Yeah, it’s behind the bar with the leprechaun”, he replied, pointing at O’Leary and smirking.
“Great, thanks”, John turned and began to walk away, before stopping and turning again to face the man. “While we were out yesterday”, he started, “We saw a pickup, three guys in it, heading round the outskirts of Ashton on the 494, any idea where they were headed?”, John asked.
The guard hesitated for a moment, deciding most likely whether or not it was in his interest to help, the same selfish thought that went through most people’s heads now.
“Can’t say for definite”, he eventually replied, “But we’ve heard of a settlement over at the Apple River campground, ‘bout a 40 minute drive from here”, he said.
“Yeah, I know it”, John said, thinking back to the camping trips he had taken his wife and daughter on to the once family orientated campground. “Thanks”, he added, holding yet another clenched fist out, underneath which the guard propped out his own hand. “Should fit that G17 of yours”, John said, dropping four 9mm rounds into the man’s palm as he did.
    The guard appeared utterly confused at first, but quickly realised that his own generosity had bought him generosity in kind. Rather than acknowledge that however, he simply stared back at John, unable to break the hard-man, stoic character that he had been instructed to give off. Eventually, he managed at least to exert a simple nod, a nod of gratitude and respect, but only a nod nonetheless.
    John walked back over to the bar, placing the now empty ammo box onto the counter as he arrived, and gesturing for his bag from the Irishman. O’leary had most likely been working on his next attempt to convince John to buy liquor, but instead decided simply to fetch the bag, and handed it over the counter, unable to think of a spiel in time. Nodding at the small man, John took the bag, swung it over his shoulder, and