Free Generation Dead by Joseph Talluto

right.  I think Jake and I may be doing the same, maybe on this trip,”  Jake said.
    It was my turn to look confused.  “What?”
    Jake laughed.  “All in good time, Aaron, all in good time.  Let’s get some lunch.”

 
    Chapter 15
     
    The day off flew by, and by the time the second day was here, my head was already on the trip. Jake and I sat at the big table in the lounge area and mapped out the route.  Essentially, we were going to be heading south and then west, with very little activity in between.  That was okay with me.  The last trip had been a little tense, so I could handle easy this time around.
    “The biggest thing we need to worry about is fuel.  We can fill up in Ottawa, then that will get us as far as Peotone, which seems to be about eighty miles, one way, and back.  We’ll be tight, but we can do it.  I just hope the desk doesn’t cause serious problems,”  Jake said.
    “If it does, we ditch it and don’t take payment for it. Simple.”  I looked at the map and pointed.  “Can we take highways?”
    “We can take I-80 for the trip over to the west, but I don’t know the condition of  I-57. If it’s bad, we’ll have to take another route.”  Jake seemed anxious to get going, but I didn’t want to move until tomorrow.
    “All right.  Are we packed yet?” I asked.
    “Not yet.  If we’re done here, let’s get to it.”
    “I’ll get the truck.”
    I went outside to the garage, and pulled out the truck we used for off-river collections.  It was a Ford F-150 king cab, with a lift kit that raised the vehicle an additional ten inches.  Big tires allowed for off-road capability, and this bad boy was fully four-wheel drive.  The only downside was a slew of flower stickers that Julia had stuck on the back window when she was a little girl, and we never got around to taking them off.  It wasn’t easy trying to be tactical when your ride had flowers on it.
    I piled my pack behind the seat and put my rifle in a storage rack as well.  I was partial to the heavy hitting M1A, while Jake preferred the simplicity of the SIG 556.  It’s piston-recoil mechanism was easy to maintain, and my military weapon was easy as well.  We didn’t use our heavy guns all that much, but we never left them behind.
    After packing the truck, Jake and I sparred for a bit, keeping ourselves loose and trained.  Jake was a little more deliberate this time, and though he tagged me couple of times, I rang his bell enough to get his attention.  Julia came in to watch our last session, and she studied our moves, looking for weaknesses for the time when she challenged one of us to fight.
    Jake and I squared off one last time, and this time I waited for him to come to me.  He didn’t disappoint.  Jake darted forward, ducking down and striking out with his left foot, hoping to get me to step back so he could straighten up and swing a kick with his right.  I decided to force the issue sooner so I crouched down, bringing up my right leg and punching for his gut with my left hand.  I connected with his shoulder and forced him back, straightening him up and getting him to stumble a bit. 
    I pressed forward and kicked out with my right foot, landing a solid kick on his thigh, knocking him onto his back.  I stood up and stepped forward, catching Jake as he slammed a shoulder into my gut.  He had rolled backwards, and then launched himself as soon as his feet were under him.  I could feel his arms wrap around me, but if I stayed standing, the advantage would be mine.
    I swung a leg back, stopping my backward movement.  Jake grabbed my knee, but I brought it up faster and connected with his gut.  I slammed down with my elbow, knocking his breath out, then grabbed him around the waist and spun to the right, lifting him off his feet and tossing him into the wall.  He landed hand, and then bounced to his feet, his face a mask of rage and his eyes flinty.
    “All right, then.  Baby brother wants to