Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That? Achord, David (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📖

should have called him out, right then and there, show everyone what a little shit he really is,” Johnny G said.

“No, if you had done that, there’s no telling how he might have reacted,” Roscoe countered. “He probably would’ve had us arrested for treason or something.”

Johnny G scoffed. “He needs to be taken care of.”

“I’m not sure that’d work,” Roscoe said, understanding the inference his friend was making. “If that little squirt is killed, both he and his wife would become martyrs to the idiots who voted for them in the first place. No, he must be allowed to live so he can ruin himself, and we’re going to help it along,” Roscoe said.

Johnny G stared at his best friend. “Operation Betrayal?”

“Yes indeed,” Roscoe replied.

Johnny G gave a small smile. “See, I told you all those nights of playing what-if wasn’t a waste of time after all.”

Roscoe chuckled. When the two men met years ago, they had instantly become the closest of friends. They worked hard from before sunup to well after sundown every day. At night, they sat around strategizing. Much like the original Mount Weather think tank, they dreamed up multiple post-apocalyptic scenarios and then created contingencies for each one.

They were leery of Mount Weather and its politicians from the beginning, but the demands of running a refinery left little time for the population of Marcus Hook to cultivate a sustainable farming operation. Johnny G personally led a recon mission on Mount Weather one week and was impressed by their farming operation. So, they made the decision to visit Mount Weather and create a partnership.

It turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement and strong friendships were forged. One night after the recent election, Roscoe opened a bottle of Four Roses bourbon and the two men discussed the possible ramifications of Rochelle VanAllen and her husband taking office. They assumed, since the couple had lived at Marcus Hook, that the friendly relations would continue. Even though they were drinking the bourbon to celebrate the election, bourbon has a way of sometimes altering a person’s mindset to a more paranoid way of thinking. This night was no exception.

And it was on this night, with this bourbon induced mindset, that Operation Betrayal was created. The plan was rather straightforward. If their relationship with Mount Weather soured, they’d cut off all contact with them. This included turning off the phone system and creating roadblocks to the main routes between the two communities. And most importantly, they would cease supplying diesel to them.

They chuckled at the silliness of it the next morning over breakfast, but Johnny G did not discard the notes. Instead, he fine-tuned them and added them to his notebook which contained all the other contingency plans.

“Alright, we’ll send out some invites to people we want to join us and then we’ll put the roadblocks in place,” Roscoe said.

“Good. I’ll get my team together and brief them tonight. We can start in the morning,” Johnny G said.

“And I’ll disable the phones. The only way they’ll be able to communicate with us is by radio and we’ll simply ignore them. Before I disable them, I’ll give Captain Smithson a call and explain everything.” He listed a few other people he wanted to talk to. Johnny G agreed to each name Roscoe mentioned.

“Discretion is the key,” Johnny G remarked. “If VanAllen gets word of this, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to send an armed force to intervene.”

Roscoe glanced at him. “No diplomatic envoy?”

“If it were Stark, or even Rhinehart, certainly. With him? I highly doubt it. When you talk to the Captain, let him know how we feel about something like that.”

“Noted,” Roscoe replied. “You know, we forgot one person we should extend a personal invite to.”

“Who’s that?”

“Fred McCoy,” Roscoe said.

“Good one. He and Rachel would be good to have around. I’ve got some pictures of a big, nice farm a couple miles west of Hook. That might lure him.”

“If he’s with us, we’ll always have Zach on our side.”

“Yes, we will,” Johnny G agreed. “His place is only a little out of the way. Let’s stop by there on our way back home.”

They waved at the guards as they exited the main gate and turned onto Blueridge Mountain Road.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Roscoe said. “Especially all the different varieties of spiced tea they have.”

“Maybe one day, the people of Mount Weather will come to their senses and make some changes,” Johnny G said. “Maybe by spring. In the meantime, we’ll be on our own.”

“We can handle it,” Roscoe said.

They stopped at Fred’s house and learned from Rachel he was away on a mission. The two men extended the invite and showed Rachel the pictures of the abandoned farm while promising to provide all the help they needed to make it livable again. Rachel promised she’d discuss it with Fred when he returned.

Once back on the road, they spent the next hour discussing the finer details of Operation Betrayal. After a lull in conversation, Roscoe changed the subject.

“Who do you think told him about Ringo and the trading post?”

“Irena, no doubt,” Johnny G answered.

Roscoe bit his lower lip while he pondered it. Suddenly, his eyebrows jumped up. “He said agora.”

“He did,” Johnny G said. “Nobody uses that word anymore, except you and anyone else who knows Greek history. And the only time that word has been mentioned lately was the other night at our little secret meeting. That is no coincidence.”

“So, it has to be one of the Fitzgeralds, Irena, or Hermione.”

“Definitely Irena. Hermione isn’t all that smart and she wouldn’t care anyway. And it wouldn’t have been any of the Fitzgeralds.”

“I don’t know,” Roscoe said. “Trader Joe may be playing some kind of angle.”

“I’ll bet you it’s Irena.”

Roscoe glanced over at his friend. “What kind of bet?”

“I’ll bet you a dollar it’s her,” he said.

“Do you have a dollar?”

“Actually, I have a mint condition hundred-dollar bill sitting in my desk. I kept it as a memento. I’ll