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much to chance when he goes somewhere.” “A shortwave radio transceiver might make your life a little easier.”
    “How many of those things do you have?”
    “Five, I bought three and convinced the store owner to throw in two for free. Didn’t think I was actually going to need all of them but it’s nice to be prepared.” “You sound like Mike, or does he sound like you?” BT asked with a grin.
    Ron laughed. “Let’s get you some supplies.”
    BT followed slowly behind Ron as they descended into the basement. Ron entered into a room that housed the water heater and furnace. Behind those fixtures was another door. Ron opened that and flipped on a light switch.
    BT could not believe what he was seeing. It was a huge room that dwarfed the size of the house it sat under. Metal shelves were lined with canned goods, bags of rice, coffee, flour, sugar, fuel, candles and every other imaginable necessity that people waiting out Armageddon might or might not need.
    “Ron, this is like having your own Wal-Mart.”
    Ron beamed. “Took me twenty years to gather all this stuff, so who do you think sounds like who now?” “I’d bow to the King of the Crazies if it didn’t hurt so much.”
    “That’s alright, I appreciate the sentiment. And I’ve got something that will fix you right up.” for that.” “You truly are a scholar and a gentleman.”
     

    CHAPTER FOUR – Talbot Journal Entry 4
    We stopped that first night off of the Mass Pike at a rest stop. The combo Dunkin’ Donuts, Mobil Gas Station and Papa Gino’s had long ago been ransacked but the building itself was in remarkably good shape and easily defendable, two sought after qualities in this brave new world. I had everyone exit the truck and pulled it up so close to the front door only an anorexic zombie would be able to fit through, and I had yet to find one that fit that bill. Gary grabbed the radio out of the back and set it up on one of the red and white checkered pizza joint tables.
    “Is it time yet?” Gary asked.
    “He said he would keep it on all the time, so I would imagine any time would be fine,” Tracy answered.
    “Breaker one nine, breaker one nine,” Gary started. “This is Hammer of the Gods, breaker one nine, Hammer of the Gods over.” “Hammer of the Gods?” my wife mouthed the question to me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders.
    “Can you hear me Mount Olympus ? This is Hammer, over?” Gary asked.
    An out of breath response came through almost as clear as if we were next door and not two states away. “I thought you were kidding about those call signs,” Ron said.
    Gary seemed instantly relieved when Ron spoke. It was a connection to normalcy, or at least the Talbot version of it. “ Mount Olympus , this is Hammer, the Chariot of Fire has suffered some damage.” “Chariot of Fire? Gary , speak English. Wait, the truck! What happened to the truck? Get Mike on the horn!” Ron yelled.
    I was backing up, my arms outstretched, hands waving back and forth in the negative. “Tell him I’m not here,” I told Gary .
    “I can hear you, you little pecker , get on the mic!” Ron said from three hundred miles away.
    “ Balls !” I said resignedly. “You and me are going to talk, Gary ,” I said softly but with force.
    Gary looked taken aback but there was also something else there, something underlying and subtle; it was humor. The ass was loving it. ‘That’s fine,’ I thought to myself, ‘revenge is a two lane highway, and we still had plenty of roadway left before this dance is over.’
    “Yeah Ron, this is Mike,” I said with forced cheerfulness.
    I had to step back from the speaker as Ron’s yells bellowed forth. “That truck is brand effen new, you’ve been gone for one day. What the hell could you possibly have hit? There’s not even anybody out there.” “Well, there was this moose…” I started.
    “You hit a f reaking moose? What were you doing, did you take the damn thing off-road?” “See,