Last Stand: Patriots (Book 2) by William H. Weber Read Free Book Online

as they rumbled ahead.
    Keeping low and moving from cover to cover meant John’s trek would take longer, but it also reduced the chances that he’d be spotted.
    The road remained on his left and it wasn’t long before he spotted a roadblock. Four men, none of whom were in military gear. Their weapons were mostly A Ks, which John felt was strange. Normally in a societal collapse, folks would grab whatever they had handy. In most cases that meant a shotgun or perhaps an AR like the one he had. At the very least he’d expected to find a mishmash of weapons.
    Dropping low to the ground, John took a moment to observe the men. They looked like some sort of militia, undisciplined and bored to tears. One of them was waving his rifle around in the throes of an animated story while the other three looked on laughing. John only caught snippets, but it sounded as though he was telling them how he’d mowed down a man who’d resisted his orders to hand over his hunting rifle.
    Scanning the forest ahead of him, John didn’t see any other pickets set up. He guessed the first layer of their defense was still geared toward intercepting approaching vehicles. He wondered if this was the same militia he’d encountered yesterday during his mad dash to find his family.
    Moving further into the forest, J ohn cut a wide swath around the men at the checkpoint.
    A mile further on, the forest opened into a series of acre-sized properties. This wasn’t the big city where folks were wedged into tiny parcels of land. Here there was space to spare. But this also meant the bulk of his cover and concealment had just vanished. John would need to move from house to house, covering portions of open terrain.
    He stopped for a moment and made a game plan. Once he reached the first house, he would move around back toward the shed and the derelict vehicles, always ensuring he kept them between himself and the road.
    Already it was clear that the city center and a train yard lay just ahead of him. Not that the latter was working, but when the government finally did find a way to swap out the newer high-tech engines for the older ones waiting to be mothballed, these rail lines would take on a whole new importance. Yet another reason why the weeks and months to come would resemble the 1800s in more ways than one.

Chapter 12
    The house before him was completely boarded up. After that was a home with broken windows and a front door hanging off its frame. It hardly seemed as though anyone were living here and if John hadn’t spotted the sentries on the road back there, he might have wondered if he were entering a ghost town.
    As he set out at a quick pace, his AR gripped tightly in his hands, the weight of his tactical vest sloshing from side to side, he couldn’t help feeling exposed. This was usually where a half-decent shot with a Remington 700 put one right through your heart.
    After scrambling to the corner of the first house, he heard what sounded like a loudspeaker. The monotone voice from it sounded like the teacher from that Ferris Bueller movie John had seen years ago. The distortion was making it hard to understand.
    The amount of equipment the town would need in order to run that kind of system was staggering. Someone in Oneida must have had one heck of a Faraday cage—a metal enclosure designed to protect electronics from getting fried during an EMP blast.
    John move d to the far side of the house and peered around the corner. Once he saw that the coast was clear, he headed for the shed. Once past this ring of outer properties, John was sure he’d get a better view of the town.
    Route 27 ran right through Oneida and John was willing to bet that many of the important buildings would be along that road. Important buildings that might just contain his wife and children. But he wasn’t there yet. He’d have to cross the last few open properties before he reached a safe place from which to observe.
    Breaking cover, John wasn’t more than thirty