A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

go ahead. Jessie brought one side of the searing hot machete on his arm. It hissed loudly. Steam rose. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Lincoln screamed from behind the leather and instantly passed out. Jessie did it again, though now there was no reaction from Lincoln. He lay there, unconscious, unaware as Jessie quickly stemmed the flow of blood and prevented further blood loss. It wasn’t ideal but between that and him bleeding out, it was the best he could think of at the moment.

As soon as it was done, Jessie collapsed, leaning back against the aisle shelving, staring at his brother, breathing hard. His eyes ticked to Dylan and Zeke who were doing the same. The attacker had caught them all off guard. They hadn’t seen anyone in town. They figured the place had been evacuated or people were holed up in their homes. “What now?” Zeke asked, looking at him.

“Now we find a doctor, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“No, I meant about the dialysis supplies.”

“Screw what she wanted. We handle this first. Besides, all she’s trying to do is play more of her mind games.”

“She wants to help,” Dylan said. He ran a hand over his beard.

“Man, you can’t be that naïve, can you?”

“Watch it.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it what it is. You saw her face when the militia arrived. She wanted to burn all the supplies and make life hell for the people. But now she’s had a change of heart? Become Mother Teresa? C’mon! See it for what it is. Another move on the chessboard.”

“Well, either way. It would help those people.”

“Those people will die regardless. Many have. A few supplies aren’t going to last long. The fact is there aren’t enough generators, there’s hardly any gas left and it requires clean water to prepare the concentrates and dialysate. We need to bring in water tankers, more working generators, and supplies.” He looked at Lincoln. “The sick will die, many of the elderly already have.”

“Now you sound like her,” Dylan said.

He was right. One moment she wanted to help, the next to burn everything to the ground. He couldn’t figure out what her end game was. He’d told her the best course of action was to retreat into the cabin and leave Eureka and the rest of the town to deal with these matters, but she wouldn’t listen.

“Help me get him up,” Jessie said, rising and lifting Lincoln’s one good arm. Zeke slipped an arm around him and they dragged him out of the store. Stepping outside, Jessie gawked at the parking lot. “Where are the ATVs? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

They lowered Lincoln. Jessie hurried out to the main road and looked both ways. The street was empty. “Damn it!” he bellowed, lifting both hands to his head and holding them there as he stared off.

“It was a distraction,” Dylan bellowed.

“Oh, you think, Dylan?” Jessie said, raising a hand. “Thanks for stating the obvious.”

“Just saying. I never heard them fire them up.”

“That’s because they rolled them out of here,” Jessie replied. “They would have started them farther down the street. The question is, which way did they go?”

“I hardly think that matters now.” Zeke pointed to Lincoln. Jessie hurried back and hoisted him up and they began the trek toward the clinic that was only minutes down the road. He had no idea if someone would be there or not. Trinity County was as rural as could be. Among the many communities scattered throughout the hills and back roads, the largest town only had around four thousand people, the others were far less than that. Weaver, Hayfork, and Lewiston were where people came when they wanted something more than a post office, gas station, restaurant, or school.

The clinic looked more like a farm, a simple one-story building, a signpost outside, and miles of fields surrounding it.

They made their way up to the door, and Dylan rattled the handle. It was locked. He peered in through the window and shook his head. “Sonofabitch!” He skirted around the back only to return a moment later, shrugging. “No one’s there.”

“As expected,” Jessie said. “Give me a hand.”

Dylan hurried over and took Lincoln while Jessie went up to the front door and used the butt of his rifle to smash the glass. He placed an arm inside and unlocked the door. They dragged Lincoln in and carried him into the back where they lifted him onto a soft bench. Jessie immediately began looking for morphine, or any form of painkiller in the cupboards. They were empty. All of them. Dylan returned from checking out another room but discovered the same. It was empty. The owners had been smart and had taken all the product out. Jessie wanted to yell, punch a wall, go nuclear on someone. The day had gone from bad to worse. First Lincoln, then the ATVs, now this.

He was beginning to think there was a chance Lincoln could die.

“Stay here,” Jessie said as he headed out of the room.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if there is anyone left in this damn town.”

“Jess.”

“I’ll be back.”

He ran out, sweeping his rifle behind his back, and taking out his handgun as he crossed the road and approached the nearest house. It was a country-style one-story structure with a wraparound porch. Blue siding. Black shingles. Two dormer windows.

From what he could tell, it looked unlived in. The side door was closed. Through the window he noticed white sheets draped over furniture. There were several clunky old cars parked outside along with a couple of ATVs. He hopped up the three steps onto the porch and banged on the door. “Anyone home? Hello!” He went over to another window and peered in, cupping a hand over his eyes. No movement. He hopped over the porch railing and went around the back but then he heard the sound of a bolt-action rifle shifting into place.

“Stay right there.”

The voice was female.

“I don’t mean any harm.”

“Lay your weapons down.”

“I’m