Free Preppers of the Apocalypse - Part 1: Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival by Godsby Jim

 
    Chapter 1
     
    A
few people watched Ash Hobbes as he drove his Mercedes into the parking lot of
the mayor’s office. It wasn’t much of a lot and it wasn’t much of an office,
but what else did he expect from a town like this? The bystanders, a guy in a
checked shirt with a pack of smokes in his pocket, and a woman with a skirt so
short that it barely covered her thighs, were joined by another couple of men.
They all stared at Ash with their noses screwed up in anger.
     
    They
want to kill me, he thought. And I don’t blame them.
     
    It
was a sunny day, but the mood of Pasture Down couldn’t have been gloomier. The
life savings of half its residents had been wiped out almost overnight after a
promising looking investment had gone bust. Or Ash had told them it was
promising, at least. The fact was that he’d swindled them out of as much money
as he could.
     
    Ash
got out of his car and clicked the lock button. The bleep seemed to distract
the bystanders for a few seconds, but before long their burning stares were
back on him. His expensive car was the biggest one in the lot, and the gleam when
the sunlight hit it was blinding. It was funny how tastes changed. He
remembered when he and dad once spent a year fixing up an old Dodge. He
wondered if the old man still did that kind of stuff. Ash used to be good with
hands, but he’d let them go soft. If they had even spoken in the last fifteen
years, his dad would have given him hell for that.
     
    “You
better get out our money back, asshole,” shouted the man with the cigarettes in
his pocket.
     
    The
crowd of four had turned into seven now. Was that enough for them to be called
a mob? Ash had never had a mob after him before. He’d been chased out of one
town, three years ago, but that had been by a drunken guy in a pickup truck.
Ash had made him eat dust.
     
    Inside
the building, the mayor showed him through to his office and took a seat. He
didn’t invite Ash to sit, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected. The mayor had been
voted into his position through a slew of promises to the town, number one
being the boosting of their economy. He’d invested heavily in Ash’s scheme
using chamber funds, and when it all went south he found himself running the
town at a deficit. Judging by how luxurious his chair was, it didn’t seem like
his office decorating budget had taken a hit.
     
    The
mayor pulled open his drawer and poured out a brandy. Ash would have loved one,
but if a drink wasn’t on offer then he wasn’t going to ask.
     
    “I
can tell you’re busy,” he said, diplomatically. “So I won’t stay.”
     
    “Gimme
the short of it.”
     
    The
mayor had a bald head but it seemed like his eyebrows had tried to compensate
for it, because they had grown to nearly twice the size of a normal person’s. Every
time he finished speaking he did a little scrunching movement with his nose and
then took a sip of brandy. He wore a suit but the tie was loosened as though
he’d already done a hard day’s work, despite it only being lunchtime.
     
    “Well
I guess if I’m getting straight to the point, said Ash, “I better say that it’s
gone. Everyone who put in a dime, you included Mr. Mayor, is coming up short. The
investment tanked. These things happen, you know? Rise and fall, boom and bust.
The market is wild and sometimes you get burned.”
     
    The
mayor’s face started to get red, and his sips of the brandy became more frequent
until finally he screwed his nose up and then tipped the glass toward his mouth
and drained it.
     
    “You’re
a few words away from a hiding,” he said.
     
    Ash
folded his arms. He’d been here before. The threats were usually empty.
     
    “With
the way things are going across the shore,” he said, “we Americans gotta stick
together. So I’m not going to leave you high and dry. If I see anything else
that could turn some green for you, I’ll sail it your way.”
     
    “You
mean to say the money’s all gone?”