Once back at the storage shed, Stan the Man disappeared into the command module. A few moments later, a green power circle appeared, followed by new crates of food, medicine , batteries, smokes, and Frosty Dogs.

Although the supplies had arrived. Stan stayed in the command module for a long time. So long, in fact, that the other bikers had eaten, drank, and were now sleeping. Daniel had told them his story of what had happened at least three times. Now only Daniel remained up, staring at the fire.

“So, how’s about you regale me with your story once more. I’m sure that you had to tell it several times to the others.” The voice of Stan came from behind him.

Daniel grabbed a cold Frosty Dog from the cool crate sitting behind him and handed it to Stan, asking, “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, at the beginning of course. That is how all good stories start.” He wore his signature ear-to-ear grin.

Daniel finished off his beer and said, “After I left the fire, I made my way to the barbed wire. I cut my way through, then surpassed a few mines that I found with my knife. At the rail, I dispatched of a few grenade traps, then went over. At the front door, I accidently set off a hidden sensor light.”

“Yes, Tiny saw that.” Stan the Man chuckled. “We thought that the old man had you for sure.”

“Me too. I waited for a long while, then broke into the house. There were a few tricks inside, but I eventually made it upstairs. That’s where I found him. In the back room.”

“Did you talk to him?” the biker leader questioned, watching him intensely.

“No time,” Daniel lied. “He came at me with the rifle. He got off a shot before I blasted him.”

“Seems too easy,” Stan said.

“I think he was sick. I saw a lot of empty medicine bottles. He seemed slow and not very alert. His illness must have dulled him these past days, or he would have had me after the sensor light went off. As it was, his shot missed and I got him,” Daniel half-lied.

“Shame we weren’t able to hold him for a few days.” Stan smirked.

“Couldn’t be helped. It was him or me,” Daniel lied again.

“Very good, Dat.” Stan the Man was grinning again. “Did he suffer?”

“I don’t think so.” Daniel found the question odd.

“I saw that you brought out his rifle and a box of grenades. A few seemed to be missing.” He got serious again.

“Yes. They are on the fences,” Daniel answered.

“Oh, I am sure some are. But a smart fellow like you could have snuck one into your gear somewhere. A souvenir of sorts.” Stan the Man was once again staring at him with his steely gaze, the grin long gone.

“I---”, Daniel started, but was interrupted.

“Don’t lie to me dumbass. Not now that we are becoming such good friends.” Stan continued to stare at him.

Daniel reached into his small pouch and pulled a fragmentation grenade from it, holding it out to Stan, while saying, “It wasn’t to use on you guys. I just wanted one.”

“If it was for us, I suspect that tiny pieces of me would be sprayed all over that command module right now. Or all of these sleeping knuckleheads would now be pin cushions. No, I get it. Marines like their toys. Still, I am going to keep ahold of these.” Stan the Man laughed, taking the grenade from Daniel’s hand. “Good job today Dat. Keep it up, and I’ll short stick someone else when the time comes.”

“What are you gonna do with the M40 rifle?” Daniel asked.

“It’s junk. Besides, there are only seven cartridges for it. I was going to leave it in the shed, but you can keep it if you like.” Stan was feeling generous.

The bikers stayed in Medford for another three days, resting and relaxing during the daytime, and listening to music and drinking throughout the nights. There was some discussion about going and searching the house, but when Daniel advised about the buried mines, Stan decided that it wasn’t worth the risk.

On the final day, he had Daniel retrieve the grenades strung to the iron fence. He ended up with six more total. It took him all day to cautiously move about the compound, but Stan the Man was quite pleased that he now had a nearly full box.

“You continue to impress me, Dat,” the gang leader said after counting his newly received prizes.

The following morning, they headed back out onto Interstate 5. Daniel loved being back on the road. He enjoyed the feeling of the powerful motorcycle under him and the wind whipping through his hair. In the moment, he could almost imagine that he was back in the days before the overseer invasion had occurred.

They spent a full week checking in and around the towns of Phoenix and Talent, Oregon.  They not only failed to find any people, but there was no evidence that people had been around for some time.

The bikers explained to Daniel that in the beginning, it was normal for the houses to be empty because after the initial mass fleeing, most people that remained in the small towns would group up in locations like churches, malls, city buildings, and such. After time passed and those places became targeted by thieves and bounty hunters, people began hiding back in the houses.

Stan the Man led his crew back south on the highway to Ashland. It took only ten minutes to get to the larger city. While the Dirty Down and Dead had no storage shed in the last two towns, they had one here. It was pretty much the same setup, with the prisoner pad and a nearby command module. Once they arrived, the group followed their routine and filled up their bikes.

They spent the rest of the day checking nearby buildings. Dat was searching with Stan the man when they arrived at a pharmacy. They skipped the front door, as there was a green power ring around the frame, and made their way to an alleyway side door that was ajar. Dan the man broke into a big grin.

When Daniel went to speak, Dan the Man put his fingers to his lips and leaned in close, whispering, “We close every door.”

Stan the Man pulled a Baretta 9MM from his waistband and Daniel followed suit by taking his shotgun from his pack. They quietly and slowly entered the pharmacy, with Stan heading to the right and Daniel taking the left. They met up on the far side, near the medicine counter. There were no people here, but there certainly had been. There were two unrolled sleeping bags, some eaten apple cores, and other trash lying about. It looked like someone had taken off in a hurry.

“Probably heard our bikes,” Stan the Man said.

The gang leader pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket and called the others over. Within minutes they had grouped up outside the pharmacy. They knew that something was up and looked eager for action.

“No fire tonight ladies,” Stan the Man started.

“We got something, boss?” Horndog asked.

“Seems we got some runners hiding out. Hambone, get up on top of the Springs Hotel and get eyes on the city,” Stan said, tossing him his binoculars. “Scooter and Dat set up on the south end of town and watch the roads out. Horndog and Tiny will cover the north end. I will be on the cameras in the command module. Stay quiet and no lights or fires. Let’s see if we can smoke these bounties out. Remember that we are only ten days in, so we want to capture them, even if we have to shoot them in the legs.”

The bikers nodded that they understood and headed off to their assignments. Daniel and Scooter set up in a small cabin on the outskirts of Ashland that overlooked Interstate 5 and a good portion of the south end of town from the hill that it sat on. It was an older log-style cabin, but had a large plate-glass window in the front room that gave them a great view.

Scooter pulled two cans of applesauce from his pack and tossed one to Daniel. After opening it with his knife, Daniel sucked down the succulent sauce, not able to remember the last time that he had such a treat.

“Slow down bato, or you are gonna get some gas,” Scooter said, then raised his leg and ripped a loud one. “Like me.”

After Scooter stopped laughing, Daniel asked him, “So what’s up with Stan the Man? He hasn’t been the same since we left Medford. Seems quieter and moody.”

“Don’t you know who you took out up in that house on the hill, bato?” Scooter stopped grinning.

“Yeah, I saw his name on a picture. Henry Hudson,” Daniel answered.

“Yeah, well our boss’ full name is Stanley Erik Hudson. Hank was Stan’s old man. You blasted his father, bato. Ol’ Stan never forgave his old man for turning us in for killing some street walking puta. His old man chose some dead bitch over his own sons. Stan and Butchie never forgave him. Not cool.”

“Sounds like the whole thing was a bad deal,” Daniel answered.

“Well, it’s all good cause we are the only family that he has now.” Scooter stared him in the eyes. “We are all family now, aren’t we Dat?”

“Of course,” Dat answered, staring back at him. “This is the only game in town.”

“Good answer Dat. I don’t want to have to put a bullet in your head, bato,” he said and raised his leg, ripping another loud fart.

Daniel shook his head and smiled. He spent three days with the hairy Mexican biker, who had no qualms about belching and farting at a steady rate. Communications on the walkie-talkies revealed that no one had seen a thing. When the sun set on the third day, they were preparing to meet up at the storage shed when Hambone reported that he saw a light. It was coming from the west side of town, but only lasted for ten seconds or so. He said that it had looked like a flashlight.

This caused Stan to rethink his pull out, and the group spent another three days watching. Nothing further was seen, causing the bikers to finally regroup at the shed on the fourth morning. Stan had hoped that whoever they were would have made an attempt to leave, but it seemed like they hadn’t. Stan felt that the gang was wasting too much time here and decided that it was time to roll out.

After searching several places on the west side of town, they mounted their bikes and prepared to head south. They rode south towards the interstate ramps at a fast pace, with Horndog and Daniel in the rear. Daniel noticed Horndog’s head jerk to the left. When he followed his gaze, he saw a young pretty woman standing in a large storefront window, frozen in fear!

Horndog immediately slowed his bike and turned back, with Daniel following. The other bikes were moving so fast that they didn’t see the two of them pull off. Both men jumped off their bikes and jogged back to the storefront window where they had just seen the girl. Now she was gone.

Horndog signaled for Dat to make his way around back, while he stayed up front. Right as Daniel turned the corner to go around back, someone kicked the front door open and he heard a single gunshot. When he came back around the corner, he saw a man with a small two shot derringer aiming at Horndog who was holding his stomach and fumbling with his baton.

The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with disheveled brown hair and stubble on his face. He was wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt. The young man was fumbling with the derringer, trying to get it to fire the second shot. Then a green power circle struck him, and with a fizzle he was gone. Just his clothes and the derringer remained. Daniel started to make his way over to Horndog.

The southern biker held his hand up for Daniel to wait, saying, “Now come on out here honey. Your boyfriend was shooting at me, and I had to defend myself. I promise you that I won’t blast you if you come out, but if I have to come in there and get you, well I can promise that you ain’t gonna like it.”

Daniel heard the porch creak and then saw her. She was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, had curly red hair, and was wearing tight jeans and a black blouse. She was whimpering with a panicked look on her face, and was trembling. She hadn’t noticed Daniel off to her left.

“Good girl. Now get on down here. You gonna party with some real men tonight,” Horndog said, licking his lips all over, in a very excited way.

Daniel could see that the young woman she was holding a sharp butcher knife behind her back.  He didn’t think that she could do much with that against Horndog, but knew that he had to do something or this was going to turn into a real bad scene. He set his Thunder Ranch against the shop wall and slowly removed the baton from his belt. Horndog didn’t notice, he was completely focused on his prize.

When the girl got to within five feet of Horndog, she whispered, “You killed Carl.”

“Oh baby, you don’t need Carl, now that you got ol’ Horny to take care of you,” he said in his slow southern drawl, swiping his big tongue across his moustache.

Daniel could hear the other bikers approaching in the distance. They must have realized that they were two bikers short. It was now or never he thought, shouting, “Knife!” Daniel pushed the button on his overseers’ baton and with a fizzle, the green power circle took the young woman away.

“No! No ! No!!! You freaking idiot!” Horndog screamed and charged at Daniel, punching him square in the jaw. The hit knocked Daniel back, but was surprisingly weak for such a big man.

He came with a left this time, but Daniel wrapped it up in the crux of his right underarm and blasted Horndog in the side of his head with a left elbow. When the other bikers rode up, they found the two men wrestling around in the dust with Daniel holding Horndog in a headlock.

“Break it the fuck up, or I swear that I am gonna blast both of you idiots!” Stan the Man yelled after jumping off his motorcycle.

Scooter and Tiny ran over and pulled the two men apart.

“Now calmly tell me what happened. You first Horndog,” Stan ordered.

“This jackass…blasted her. She was mine! She had…red hair…tight pants…so cute…dang! I, um . . . found her . . . and he blasted her . . . and now she is gone . . . ,” Horndog stammered out in a jumble of agitated words.

“Dat, you think that you could explain things a bit clearer? Maybe start at the beginning.” Stan shook his head at the rambling Horndog.

“We were following you boys out of town when we saw this woman standing in the shop window here. We both turned around and jumped off our bikes. I was going around the back when this young fellow charged out the front door and shot Horndog in the stomach,” Dat explained. “I came back around the corner and saw that the woman was approaching Horndog with a big knife behind her back. I thought that she was going to kill him because he was already wounded. So, to protect him, I blasted her. That’s what happened.”

“Horndog are you wounded?” Stan asked.

“No, look,” he hissed, holding open his leather vest, showing where the bullet had passed through it, an inch from his side. “Besides, he is lying. I didn’t see no knife. That son of a bitch was jealous and didn’t want me to get laid.”

“Calm down Horndog, I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” their leader said. “So Dat, why didn’t you follow orders and shoot her in the leg? Then we could have all had a nice party tonight.”

“When I went around the corner, I had sat my shot gun against the wall, planning to grab the woman with both hands when she came out the back door. Once I came back around to the front, I did what I had to do to save Horndog and I blasted her. Look, I am the short stick. I screwed myself, losing another thirty-day reprieve to save his stupid ass and he thanked me by punching me in the face,” Daniel exclaimed, feigning anger.

Stan the Man walked over to the woman’s clothes and kicked them around. Then he picked up the sharp butcher’s knife and whistled. “Well now Horndog, I think that you owe Dat here a genuine apology. That broad was going to stick you like a roasted pig.”

“Apologize? To him?” Horndog looked like he was going to cry. “I don’t owe that assh---"

“I said apologize to him now!” Stan’s interrupting voice rose, the man becoming angry for the first time since Daniel had met him.

The big southern biker looked about at the others, and finding no support, said, “I’m sorry for punching you in the face Dat.”

“Now thank him for saving your life.” Stan the Man exerted total dominance over Horndog.

He simply looked down at his boots and quietly said, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“It’s okay. You hit like a girl anyways,” Daniel answered, causing the others to laugh. He shouldn’t have goaded the shamed man, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You can keep that cool little derringer. Consider it a consolation prize,” Stan said to Horndog, who continued to stare at his boots.

“Just over two weeks in and we blasted two more bounties. We had better tighten this shit up ladies, or we are going to be blasting each other, sooner than later.” Stan the Man grinned from ear to ear.