Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s Story #200 Leaving The Campsite Near Warm Beach, WA #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

Shack’s M4 and my AR-15 are loaded with 20-round aluminum magazines of SPIW (Special Purpose Individual Weapon) ammo made by the AAI Corporation. The flechette SPIW ammo is so damned loud even louder than a traditional rifle shot.

My AR-15 usually wears a suppressor, but I am not sure if the SPIW ammo is safe to fire through it so I took it off. If damaged, there is almost no way for me to replace my suppressor I would rather not risk it.

Fired in our guns I am not sure how accurate the SPIW ammo will be. Shack has his M4 on full auto and my illegally converted AR-15 is set on three round burst. The 5.56x45mm AAI ACR flechette with petal-type puller sabot may not be accurate in our rifles.

I hope that a few rounds of flechette ammo may be enough to scare away any attackers with minimal injuries. Flechette’s reputation for lethality is largely blown out of proportion compared to reality. I am not sure why the Colonels gave us the SPIW ammo to use.

I think that the Colonels are concerned over our ammo supplies. Issuing failed experimental ammo such as the SPIW flechette ammo to use, saving the better ammo for when the shit really hits the fan.

Flechette use is nothing new to the convoy. Our 105mm gun-toting Stryker shoots old M546 APERS-T “Beehive” rounds each containing 8,000 eight grain steel flechettes. Poor guys in the MGS have to single load the old M546 shells.

The MGS auto loader will not feed the old M546 shells as they are too long for the cassette. We are also rumored to have some of the prototypes of heavier and improved Beehive rounds, which I bet will not fit in the auto loader either.

Speak of the devil the Stupid MGS computer systems lock up giving the poor bastard three man crew the dreaded “blue screen of death.” While the Stryker guys reset the MGS systems the convoy continues preparations for moving.

Taking advantage of the unexpected delay, we arrange our new supplies. Setting some snacks and two of my old green army surplus canteens in the bottom of the passenger door, I ensure that water and snacks are within my reach.

The Dodge cab doors are stuffed with old US Army flak jackets and civilian grade three body armor along with steel plates bolted from the inside and then welded. The extra weight in the doors required strengthening of the door hinges.

Suddenly Dolcent shows up carrying her gear. Shack leans out of the truck yelling at Dolcent.

“Yo’ betta get your narrow ass in this truck or you’re hoofing it.”

Dolcent wastes no time putting her gear in the bed of our truck. Walking up to the passenger side Dolcent stands there looking expectant at the truck cab. Monster looking up from his spot on the floor near the gear stick smiles at Dolcent.

With Dolcent standing beside the truck Shack cranks the Dodge’s Cummins engine over. The cold beast of an engine fails to start so I hop out of the truck leaving the passenger door open. Grabbing the can of WD40 from underneath the passenger seat, I walk around the truck.

I hear the clunk of Shack popping the hood of the Dodge from inside the cab. For someone as short as I, I have to climb on the Dodge’s front bumper so that I may lift the hood far enough to insert the hood prop.

I broke Shack of being a gentleman and lifting the hood for me as he needs to focus on security while I assist getting this beast started. Honey watches my back while I am occupied underneath the Dodge’s hood.

Removing the air inlet from the turbo, I signal to Shack to crank the engine. When the engine starts turning over, I spray WD40 into the turbo’s intake. After a few seconds of a continuous stream of WD40 the old Cummins starts with a rattle and a huge cloud of black smoke.

Shack gently increases the idle of the old diesel. Dropping the hood, I walk back to the open passenger door where Dolcent is standing.

Shack leans towards the passenger side asking, “How’d you know we’d say yes?”

“I was hopeful. I know that Ruth is a fair woman who wouldn’t say no just to spite me.”

I wonder why I would want to spite Dolcent. As far as I know the child has never done anything to me. I wonder if I missed something.

“Does the fuel team know that you are riding and bunking with us now?”

“Uh, actually Ruth, I sorta slipped away. I hid my gear in the bushes before the convoy loaded up, so all I had to do was grab it and run.”

“What would you have done if we had said no?”

Dolcent turns bright red, blushing furiously.

“I had sorta hoped that my offer to you and Shack would sweeten the deal. I’ve been with Shack before, so it’s no big deal. Ruth I hear you like boys and girls. I’ve never slept with a woman, Ruth but if you allow me to stay and if you teach me, I’ll try my best to be pleasing in bed. Otherwise I don’t know what I will do.”

Dolcent licks her lips suggestively. Crossing my arms, I glare at Shack. The kurevnik never told me that he and Dolcent fucked. I wonder just when the two of them last screwed each other. Now I know why Dolcent was afraid I would not allow her in the truck.

I wonder if Shack and Dolcent are fucking behind my back. The thought of Shack with someone else makes me so mad that I am almost sick to my stomach. Amy never liked how jealous I am it was one of the reasons for our many fights.

“We hate in others what we hate in ourselves” – paraphrasing Marian Keyes. Amy claimed not to be jealous, although we had some grand fights about other women and men.

“Oh really. Shack abi gezunt dos leben ken men zikh ale mol nemen. Later you and I need a fucking talk.”

For his part Shack looks guilty and will not meet my eyes. I know that Shack does not speak Yiddish or any other language other than English, so swearing at him is pointless. Fuck that ben-zona!