The Survivalist - 02 by Arthur Bradley Read Free Book Online Page A

to us?” Cletus asked his partner.
    “Not a damn thing.”
    Cletus turned back to face Mason.
    “You gonna arrest us, Marshal?”
    “I hadn’t planned on it.”
    “Come on,” Blacksmith said, grabbing their crowbar. “He ain’t gonna do jack.”
    They walked a wide circle around Mason, closed the trunk on the green Camaro, and climbed in. With Cletus behind the steering wheel, Blacksmith made it a point to flip Mason off as they drove away.
    Mason shook his head. The quality of the planet’s survivors left something to be desired. Evolution had its work cut out for it.
    As he turned to leave, he spotted the blue case that Blacksmith had pulled from the truck. Curious, he went over, unzipped the top, and opened it up. Inside was a large plastic box with a red lid, the words United States Mint clearly visible on top. White straps held the lid to the box.
    Using his hunting knife, he cut the straps and carefully pried off the lid. Inside was a collection of small white tubes, each about three inches long and topped with plastic red lids. He lifted one out. It was heavier than it looked. When he popped off the lid and saw what was inside, a grin spread from ear to ear.
    Inside were twenty American Eagle gold coins, each containing exactly one ounce of pure gold. He tipped the tube and dropped one of the coins onto his palm. It felt warm, the way that only gold feels when it touches human skin. He rubbed it between his fingers, like a prospector examining a riverbed find. He had never actually held a gold coin before, and it was a little intoxicating.
    He dropped the coin into his front pocket and put the tube back in the plastic box. A quick count revealed that there were twenty-five identical white tubes. Assuming that each tube contained twenty American Eagles, it put the total at five hundred gold coins. While he was confident that five hundred ounces of gold would have constituted a king’s ransom before the pandemic, he wasn’t sure what, if any, value the coins held now. People couldn’t eat gold, and it wouldn’t keep them warm at night. On the other hand, gold had been valuable since mankind’s earliest civilizations. Even when food, water, and medicine were at the top of everyone’s lists of needs, he suspected that someone would be willing to trade for the shiny coins.
    He reassembled the plastic box, zipped up the blue case, and hauled it up the hill to his truck. As he set the case on the front seat, the green Camaro came squealing down the highway. When it got to within about twenty yards, Cletus locked up the brakes and sent the car sliding to a stop.
    Mason calmly closed the door and walked to the rear of his truck. Bowie moved to the back of the truck bed, propping its front feet on the edge of the tail gate. The dog’s tail was tucked, and his ears were folded back. He looked to Mason for some indication of whether or not the men posed a threat.
    Cletus and Blacksmith both jumped out of the car. Blacksmith was carrying the large crowbar in both hands, and Cletus had nothing but an uncertain look on his face. They approached quickly, one breaking off to the right, the other to the left.
    “You tricked us, you son of a bitch!” shouted Blacksmith, cocking the crowbar back like a baseball bat.
    Two things happened at once. Bowie leaped off the bed of the truck, landing on Cletus and sending them both tumbling to the ground. At that same instant, Mason drew his Supergrade and shot Blacksmith in the thigh. The impact punched his leg backward, and he fell like he had slipped on a patch of ice.
    “Shit! Shit! SHIT! ” he shrieked, dropping the crowbar to clutch his leg.
    Mason swung around to check on Bowie. The dog had pinned Cletus against one of the Camaro’s tires, its teeth sinking into the man’s forearm.
    “Get him off me!”
    Mason whistled, and the dog reluctantly withdrew. A large urine stain seeped across the man’s dirty trousers, and blood ran down his arm.
    Using his pistol, Mason