600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure by G.P. Grewal Read Free Book Online

had to keep a sharp eye out for the bandits we'd been told about, there weren't no one else we saw until at last we spotted the walls and the tall watchtower and the men guarding them, and we knew it for the trading post and excited to finally be there we picked up our step.

Chapter 8
     
    It didn't seem so much like a trading post but one of them castles I once read about in a story about knights and wizards that lived in old times, only this one had walls made not of rock but of piled up automobiles and rusted metal and big blocks of broken concrete and all other sorts of scrap that made it look like we was coming upon a giant junkyard. Then there was the watchtower that reached over the walls, and I spotted a man holding a rifle looking our way as we approached, no doubt making sure we wasn't some bad guys coming up.
    There were an opening in the wall, and another armed man was standing there and as we got near I saw him giving us a hard eye. 
    "Howdy," I said.
    "Good day."
    He was sporting a mean-looking military style rifle just like the man standing in the tower and had one of them fancy bandoleers full of bullets strapped across his chest.
    "What's your business here?" he said.
    "Just looking to do some trading."
    "Sorry, but it doesn't look like you've got much to trade. If you're looking for a place to lie around, this ain't it. We don't take in vagrants here, pal."
    "We'll, mister, I don't know nothing about being no vagrant , though if by that you mean I might be looking to cause trouble it ain't so. We ain't got too much, but I have some damn good jerky and some fine rabbit pelts too. I'd even be willing to let you try a sample, if you'd like."
    He scowled, shaking his head. "No, I'll pass on that. OK, you can go in. Do anything stupid though and you're going to have to answer for it. And keep your guns holstered unless you're looking to be target practice for my friend up there in the tower and everything will be all right." 
    I thanked him, understanding his lack of hospitality must have been on account of all the trouble they'd had, and together me and Gitty passed through those walls of scrap metal and stacked up junkers that must have been over twice as high as any man. Inside was lots of people and long tables full of all sorts of wares, though, at first glance at least, most of it looked like junk: old machinery and metal parts that had been scavenged from who knows where, old shoes and worn out clothes, then some other fella who had a bunch of dirty cages full of live chickens, and another man who was selling hogs. The smell was pretty bad in there—the animals mostly, though it also stunk like a lot of sweat, lots of grimy, hard-looking folks pushing by each other and shouting as they traded the junk they'd brought with them for new stuff, squawking and hawking, men and women of all kinds, rangy, hard-eyed people who had walked who knows how many miles to get there across the hot, deadly wastes. 
    Apart from the less exciting stuff already mentioned, there was plenty of guns to be found too, though most were in sorry shape, the few that weren't being nothing that I with my measly supply of jerky and rabbit hides could afford. Besides guns though, there were plenty of ammo too, which we was undoubtedly in dire need of. One merchant in particular, some gruff-looking man with a bald head and lots of tattoos, had enough bullets to supply a whole army, telling me that if I was looking for ammunition I should be talking to him because he were the best bullet maker in all of Arizona. After seeing what I had to trade though, he frowned, finally agreeing to give me a couple of boxes of what he described as "surplus quality" ammunition for nearly all my pelts and a silver cigarette lighter I'd been saving since finding it a few years back, the thing that made it so special being that on it were a picture of a naked lady, and a real pretty one at that.
    It were hard parting with that lighter, though I ain't have