Free The Reckoning - 02 by D. A. Roberts

pull the truck inside and secure the doors,” I said. “We used it before. Once we’re safe in there, I can scrounge for fuel.”
                  “Sounds fine to me,” said Gunny. “We’d better do it quick before we run out of gas and die in the middle of the road.”
                  I turned on the headlights and turned into the parking lot of the Tool and Die. Then I went around to the back of the building and drove inside. The bodies of several zombies were still on the ground from where Spec-4 had run over them on the way out. I illuminated the shop with the headlights and didn’t see any movement. Once inside, Gunny hopped out and pulled the door shut with the chain pulley.
                  I shut the engine down, but left the lights on. Then I jumped out and pulled my pistol. We swept the interior of the shop, making certain we were alone inside before we let our guard down. We were safe, for the moment.
                  “Look around for any fuel cans or anything we can use,” I said.
              “On it,” said Gunny.
                  I turned off the headlights and plunged the shop into semi-darkness. The only light was filtering in through a few greasy windows on the back of the building. It was enough light to see by, but not well. Gunny returned from the offices with a case of soda and a box of snack crackers.
                  “I found these,” he said, smiling, “but no fuel.”
                  I took a soda and some crackers and sat down on a bench.
                  “I haven’t found anything, either,” I replied. “But I do have an idea.”
                  “What have you got in mind?”
                  “There’s a gas station a few miles up the road,” I said. “I can travel much faster without all the gear. You stay here with the dog and I’ll make a fuel run.”
                  “You want to go out there alone?” asked Gunny, surprised.
                  “I don’t think want is the right word,” I replied. “If we want to drive, we’ve got to get more fuel. I can go faster alone.”
                  “How are you going to carry fuel that far?”
                  “I don’t have to carry a lot of it, just enough to get the truck to the station.”
                  “I don’t know, Wylie,” he said. “I don’t feel comfortable with you going out there alone.”
                  “Hey, it ain’t exactly my idea of a good time, either,” I replied. “But someone has to stay here to secure the door and guard the gear.”
                  “From what?” he asked. “I haven’t seen a zombie yet that’s even remotely interested in finding new gear.”
                  “It ain’t the zombies that worry me. I’ve ran into more than one group of survivors that weren’t interested in helping out. We’ve been ambushed twice and shot at several times.”
                  “You should at least take the dog,” he said, shaking his head.
                  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think it would be best to go alone.”
                  “It’s your call.”
                  I started unloading my gear from the truck. I wasn’t going to carry any more than necessary, to save on weight. It would be better to travel light and fast. I selected the AR-15 and maxed out the ammo. I loaded up ten full magazines of 30 rounds each. I also took the two M-9 Beretta 9mm pistols. I loaded out all eight magazines for those at 15 rounds each.
                  Then I emptied out my rucksack. I wasn’t planning on taking any food, at all. I was going to a store. I could eat there. I stuck four water bottles in my pack and secured it. I left the Keltec strapped to the side of the pack. It loaded out