Free Renewal 4 - Down on the River by Jf Perkins Page A

throat.
    “Oh, man. Long story... What’s up with you?”
    “Well, I’m truly stuck in this sleeping bag, and it’s hot as... heck in here,” Arturo replied.
    “Bill, how you coming on that zipper?” Dad asked.
    “Working on it... Almost there, Dad.”
    The zipper popped loose from the tightly pinched fabric. I backed it up and pushed the material out of the way as I finally got the bag open. Arturo immediately tried to sit up and winced with sharp pain.
    “Easy there, friend,” Dad said. “Let me help you.” He pulled Arturo up and sent me to get water.
    I waited on the bottom platform of the treehouse while Juannie shot by on her way up the ladder. She was on a ballistic trajectory for her dumb Mexican. Moments later, Dad came down the second story ladder, gave me a look I didn’t understand, and said, “The water can wait a bit.”
    ***
    An armored truck pulled up in the parking lot of Hermitage landing. It looked twice as deadly as the one they had driven to Murfreesboro, but then, there was no question of its purpose. If they wanted to go stealthy, they were out of luck. This thing was designed to intimidate.
    “Must be designed by cops,” Bill remarked to Terry.
    “Impressive,” Terry said in return.
    They got to their feet in time for the second truck to arrive. This one looked like any typical old pickup, with battered white paint and a hand stenciled state logo on the door. Three men got out of this truck and walked by with respectful nods as they shook Shaun’s hand and boarded the boat. A grizzled old man got out of the armored truck and walked over to Bill.
    “You Carter?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir. Bill Carter,” Bill responded in the same clipped tone, but extended his hand in greeting.
    “Ned Pierce. I’m leading you in. Don’t expect me to get too close, though.” Ned reached out and gripped the proffered hand, giving it one quick pump.
    “You could just give us directions, Ned.” This appeared to be the key to Ned’s heart.
    The old man cracked a stained tooth grin and spit tobacco juice over his shoulder. “Nah, I wish, but you need someone who knows the ground. Stuff changes too much down on the river.”
    “Ok, then. It’s good to meet you, Ned. What’s the plan?”
    “You boys will load up in the Big Bertha here, and I’ll take Whitey. You’ll follow me into town. We can take the interstate fairly close to the State Salvage Yard, but the big interchange bridges have been down since the nuke. We’ll have to run the surface streets on the opposite side of the river. There’s only one bridge still standing on that stretch. We’ll cross that bridge about a half mile from the target. That’s where I’ll bid you fine folks good day and run like hell.” Ned looked like he was uncomfortable with all the talk, and spit another puddle of juice next to the first one.
    “Anything I need to know about, uh, Bertha?”
    “Nothing special. She’s armored with gun ports all over, built on a reinforced 4500 chassis. You can load her up with almost anything, drive her over a bomb, bash through barriers, you know... anything you’re crazy enough to try. Just don’t drive her into the river,” Ned said with an evil smile. “That wouldn’t work out too well.”
    “Sounds good. How much fuel does she carry?” Bill asked.
    “A metric ton. If fuel is a problem, you got no problems. You could probably drive to Chicago on that tank.”
    “Aye, aye, Ned. You ready?”
    “Soon’s you boys load up.”
    Bill nodded at John, who took charge of the loading and positioning of the men. Bill turned to see Shaun and his new crew preparing to shove off. “Hey Shaun.” Bill called. “Your boat have a name?”
    “Yeah, Bill. I call her Wild Lucille,” Shaun answered as he chunked the boat into reverse.
    “Good name... And, good luck. Thanks for the ride.”
    “All in a day’s work, Bill. Good luck to you. You’ll need it.” Shaun threw Bill a casual salute as he spun the boat and