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to get back in gets a straight ticket to the man upstairs. ”
    He drove over to the motor pool and found the drums of gasoline he knew would be there. Climbing on a forklift he had three loaded when he realized he’d made a big mistake. Deadhead soldiers , as he called them , came wandering out of the buildings and headed straight for him. Climbing down he figured he had enough gas or at least it will have to last. H e moved towards the truck with his pistol in hand. His first shot hit the deadhead right between the eyes. Th e second was a stroke of luck; i t hit one deadhead on the left side then ricocheted off and hit the deadhead behind him.
    Alden started up the truck and drove a few yards away from the fuel. Reaching down into a bag he pulled a grenade out pulled the pin and tossed it backwards out of the truck. Alden started laughing as a deadhead picked it up and began to put it in his mouth , flooring the gas petal as he watched the rear-view mirror . The explosion and the resulting ones after that let him know two things, one was that deadhead was gone, and two ; so was the gasoline he left behind.
    Alden drove all night stopping to syphon gas from other vehicles that were stranded either on the roadside, or at times just sitting in the middle of the road . He found the best ones were the small hybrids as the battery power for them was long lasting and all he had to do was disconnect the fuel line to the motor ; slip in a hose and turn the key. The electric fuel pump did the rest.
    A lden a rriv ed home as the sun ca me up; he drove through his home made gate and got out to reset the trip wires. Alden had booby trapped his whole place with spikes made from the trees he had cut down. Most of the traps would just pin a deadhead to another tree then he could go out and cut their heads off with either a sword or a machete or his combat survival knife. The survival knife was usually the preferred, b lack with a 14 inch blade and hollow handle wrapped with a nylon boot lace.
    As he went inside his dog Tonto me t him. Tonto was half Doberman and half red chow; h e had the length , h eight . and short hair of his father, a Red Doberman, but the body mass and head of his mother, a Red Chow. Alden reached down and petted him, “Damn boy I bet your bladder is about to bust, here ya go.”
    H e opened the door and Tonto ran outside , Alden stood guard as Tonto did his business then came back in.
    Alden went to the kitchen and made him some coffee with his small Sterno stove, t hen took his cup back to the front room. He sat l ooking out the window; he knew he would have to move on soon . He had weapons now and fuel. The only thing he was lacking was food. Looking down at a map of the central United States he started to talk to Tonto, “Well boy , we know Little Rock, Memphis and St Louis are gone. We knew that from the news reports we heard a couple weeks ago. Those city folks simply turned into deadheads or turned on each other. We could head back south but I figure that’s where everyone else who ain’t been affected will go and I don’t want no part of that. No b ud, I think we’ll move a little north, g et out of these mountains and head into southern Missouri. M aybe setup a hundred miles south of Ft Leonard Wood. We could make some runs up there and scavenge what we need.”
    Tonto looked at Alden then laid his head on his paws. Alden looked down, “Yeah buddy maybe your right. Let’s just get some sleep.” Taking a sip he leaned back and put his feet up on the table. Within minutes he was fast asleep.
    Tonto’s low growl was what caused Alden to wake. He laid still listening to Tonto and whatever else he could pick up on. He heard voices and sprang from his chair grabbing a semi - automatic shot gun from beside it ; he bolted to the door and threw it open. Three men were trying to get the tarp off his supplies as he yelled, “YOU COCKSUCKERS KNOW WHAT’S BEST, YOU ALL BETTER KISS THE FUCKING GROUND.”
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