Daniel had trouble falling asleep, but once he did, he went into a deep dream filled slumber. He was having his same repetitive dream about the first night of the overseers’ invasion. Lights, people screaming, then an explosion. Daniel sat up, the remnants of the sleep world releasing his brain, before he realized that the explosion had been real. It was quickly followed by a second off in the distance.

Daniel grabbed his 12-gauge and his overseers’ baton and stood up with the others. The explosions had come from the opposite ends of the mall. Then he saw her standing there. Saber was outside the grocery store’s glass front doors when she opened up with the AR-15. The bullets tore through the glass, bouncing all around Tiny, Hambone, and Scooter who were closer to the doors.

Daniel fired two shotgun blasts through the door as he dove for cover, followed by Hambone and Scooter. They saw that Tiny was laying on the floor, holding his upper thigh, which was bleeding. Finally, the M40 cracked off a round from the roof, which ricocheted of the concrete between Saber’s feet. The woman took off running.

“Help me!” Daniel yelled and ran to Tiny. Only Hambone followed. Scooter stayed behind cover, refusing to help.

Hambone and Daniel managed to drag the heavy man, with great effort, behind another shelf. Daniel heard the M40 sound off again while he removed his belt and strapped it around Tiny’s upper thigh. It barely fit around the overweight man. Next, he grabbed a foot long metal shelving pole from the ground and slid it into the belt and began twisting. The field tourniquet stopped the bleeding, although Tiny had passed out.

They heard a loud bang towards the back of the grocery store. They looked over to where Scooter had been, but he had disappeared. Hambone nodded at Daniel, and grabbing his nickel plated .38 revolver, went to check it out. Daniel decided to go to the front doors and make sure that his hand grenade was still in place.

Another shot cracked off from the sniper rifle. He had better be hitting somebody if he is gonna waste all of my rounds, Daniel thought. Once he reached the door, he could see that his grenade trap was still in place. Crack, another shot from the M40.

Daniel’s eyes caught sight of Saber rushing back towards the front of the store. She had been standing against the wall off to the side of the doors. The dirty blond woman threw a concrete construction block through the double doors, then dove for cover back against the wall. Daniel saw the fragmentation grenade handle pop into the air directly in front of his eyes, just outside of the smashed doors. He dove away from the impending explosion, launching himself as far as he could away from the doors.

The blast caught Daniel midair, thumbling him like a rag doll. For several seconds he didn’t move, his ears were ringing and his head filled with a hazy fog. Smoke was filling the room. He felt a trickle of blood running down his forehead, and several places on his body stung. The he heard another shot from the sniper rifle.

Daniel sat up and looked towards the front doors, which were now wide open. A boot came out of the smoke and kicked him square in the jaw, knocking him onto his back. Saber launched herself into the air, landing on top of him, with a long ten-inch bladed combat knife in her left hand.  Daniel grabbed her wrist with both hands while she brought the knife down.

“I’m going to scalp you pretty boy!” she gritted through clenched teeth.

The tough woman punched Daniel in the face with her right fist, rocking him. Damn she was strong. The punch hurt, but he didn’t let go of her knife hand. Daniel bucked his hips hard to dislodge her, while he twisted her wrist hard with both hands.

The jagged blade went clattering across the supermarket floor, but the scrappy dirty-blond managed to hang onto him tightly with her knees. She landed another right fist onto his face, re-breaking his nose and sending blood droplets flying. Daniel bucked his hips again, but she still hung on

“Are we fucking, or fighting?” she spat out, swinging at his face again. This time, Daniel caught her right hand with his left. Now he had both of her hands.

Saber fell on top of him and bit him hard in the right shoulder, ripping flesh free and causing great pain. When she pulled her head back, he could see that her teeth were stained with his blood. Dat took the opportunity to head butt her as hard as he could, which sent the woman sprawling, finally dislodging her. Crack, the M40 fired again.

Saber rose unsteadily to her feet, while Daniel fought off the dizziness coming from his several wounds. The woman recovered her wicked looking knife from the floor and took a step towards him smiling, while licking his blood from her lips.

“Let’s have a go at that scalping one more time, handsome.” The fierce woman rushed towards him while letting out an animalistic growl.

Daniel caught sight of Tiny crawling towards him with an overseers’ baton in his hand. He must have come to. The big black man slid it across the tile floor the last ten yards. Daniel reached out and grabbed it, and turning to face Saber, he pushed the button.

The green power circle hit the ferocious woman just as she had leapt into the air with the handle of the combat knife clutched in both hands. The knife sank deep into Daniel’s right shoulder, but the woman was gone. She had disappeared with a sizzle. Daniel laid his head back on the floor and finally did pass out.

“Lucky you were asleep while we got that blade out of your shoulder bato, not to mention all of the grenade shrapnel that we had to dig out,” Scooter said when Daniel’s eyes finally fluttered open.

“What happened?” he replied. “Did we win, ‘cause it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you broke your nose again, took a knife in one shoulder and have a nasty bite wound in your other shoulder. Plus, you had about ten pieces of shrapnel in your head and ass,” Stan said, from over by the fire, where he was sitting with his shirt off. Hambone was wrapping their leader’s chest and stomach with a gauze roll. A lot of blood was soaking through, yet he had his signature grin on his face. “If you call that winning, then I guess we won.”

“I had to take care of you and Tiny first,” Hambone explained. “You two were the worst. I had to sew up the artery in Tiny’s leg. Not sure if he is going to make it because he lost a lot of blood. When I went back to the rear of the store to check out that noise, Cappy busted me over the head with his M-16. Luckily he had no rounds in it, but he knocked me out cold. Scooter came up behind him and slit his throat.”

“What happened to those Mexican brothers?” Daniel asked.

“They tried to come in through both ends of the mall. Your grenades took them out. Nothing left but bloody pieces.” Stan the Man laughed.

“And Stan got into a knife fight out in the parking lot with Deacon. It was incredible! They were slashing and stabbing back and forth, for several minutes. Finally, Stan the Man gutted him good, and it was over,” Horndog said excitedly.

“I don’t know what your dumbass is so excited about, you didn’t help me at all. You must have used up all of the rounds and never hit Deacon once,” their leader scowled out as Hambone finished wrapping him up. You are worthless with that sniper rifle.”

“Shit boss, I didn’t want to hit you. Besides, there is still one cartridge left,” Horndog whined out his excuse. “Besides, Dat got his ass kicked real good by a woman. She probably had her way with him and diddled him while we were all fighting.”

“What did happen to the woman Dat? I found her AR outside against the wall. She had used up all of the rounds,” Stan the Man asked.

“Yeah, we all know where she left her knife.” Horndog laughed at his own comment, but immediately stopped when Stan gave him a stern look.

“Hambone and Tiny were out cold, so nobody knows what happened in here. Did she escape Daniel? What a f’ing waste of bounties.” Stan shook his head.

“Fucker let her get away!” Horndog pointed at Daniel accusatorily.

Daniel picked up her shirt and pants that were still on the floor beside him and tossed them at Horndog, saying, “I blasted her. We are back on a thirty-day free ride.”

Horndog stared at the clothes, then looked at Daniel saying, “Good thing for you short stick.”

“Listen here you piece of shit idiot.” Daniel was angry now, rising to his feet, ignoring the many aches in his body. “You wasted nearly all of the sniper rifle rounds and hit nobody! And how in the fuck did that broad get up to the front door and unload on us with her AR-15? You fell asleep didn’t you, you little turd? You are the reason Tiny is laying there fighting for his life. He was bleeding out, yet he still managed to save my ass. Yet you sit there running your fat mouth without a wound on your body, while the rest of us are bleeding and busted up. You open that trap again and I swear to fuck that I’m going to shut it with my boot.”

“Dang, bato. I always knew that marines could cuss,” Scooter grinned, proudly displaying his yellow teeth.

“Did you fall asleep up there?” Stan asked, ignoring Scooter, his mild manner slipping away like a morning mist in the rising sun.

“Well, I…um…he...you know?”

“No, I don’t know. You lie to me right now Horndog and I swear that I am going to let Dat gut you here and now,” Stan the Man said, rising to his feet. He was no longer his grinning self. The darker, more dangerous persona had arrived.

“Stan, you know how it is. It was hot, and late, plus I had already sat the first watch and Dat didn’t even sit one,” he whined out more excuses.

“Dat set the grenade traps. You think that might be a bit more stressful than sitting on a rooftop, snoozing? He took out three of them. You are the reason Tiny, Dat, and even I, are so messed up. You can now consider yourself the short stick Horndog. And right now, I am hoping that we don’t find anybody in the next thirty days.” Stan the Man stared at him with his steely dark gaze, almost begging for him to protest.

Horndog wisely refrained from meeting the gang leader’s hard stare, and got to his feet and headed for the doors, mumbling, “So freaking unfair…”

“That idiot is going to get us all killed,” Daniel scowled, sitting back down by the fire with much pain. He was quite glad that he didn’t have to gut Horndog at the moment, because he was pretty sure that he couldn’t even gut a fish in his current condition. He was very pleased when sleep came, taking away his many aches, washing over him like a sweet wave of wonderful unfeeling darkness.

Stan the Man’s crew stayed in the mall grocery store for nearly two weeks, recovering from their wounds. Hambone went on supply runs, bringing back meds and bandages, but still they were getting low on food. Tiny had come around after sleeping for two days. He was walking on a crutch, but it looked like he was going to survive the battle after all.

Hambone revealed to Daniel that he had been an army combat medic in the Gulf War. He had wisely kept it from the others because he had assumed that Stan the Man would have sent him into old man Hudson’s house alone if he knew. Daniel gave the man credit for playing it smarter than he had. He also swore to keep Hambone’s military background a secret, although it was obvious to the others that he had some kind of medical experience.

Horndog kept to himself, and even came back with some canned goods a few times to try and patch up his relationship with Stan.  He seemed anxious to get going, now that he was the short stick. Daniel suspected that Horndog was spending his time hunting for bounties, and just brought the canned goods back as a bonus. Besides, Daniel wasn’t about to eat anything that old. He would stick with the fresh cans that the overseers provided from their bounties.

“When are we gonna roll out?” the southerner finally asked Stan.

“As soon as Tiny and Dat say that they can ride. The rest of us seem good,” Stan the Man answered.

Horndog looked at Daniel with a worried expression, causing the marine to say, “I can ride. It’s up to Tiny now.” He didn’t say this to help out Horndog.

No, he couldn’t stand the man, he just wanted to get farther south into California. He kept telling himself that it was his unrealistic hope that there was still some type of a resistance, operating out of Alcatraz, but he knew that it was something more. He knew why he really wanted to get south, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Not yet.

Tiny looked at Stan and shrugged, “If you guys can help me get on my hog, I can give it a try.”

“Well, then. It looks like we are going to head south tomorrow morning. Hambone managed to find us enough fuel to fill up our bikes. Let’s all pack up our things and get a good sleep tonight.”

Daniel was happy to be leaving Yreka Junction, the place where the Dirty Down and Dead had finished off the Jackals. This time, the enemy biker gang’s demise was not exaggerated. They were gone for good.

Once again, Daniel felt the soothing healing that the open road had to offer. He was glad that Stan the Man was pushing it while they roared at over eighty miles-an-hour down Interstate 5. He looked over at Tiny, who had a big smile on his chubby face, seeming to be enjoying the ride as much as he was. Good. It had taken three of them to help get the huge man on his bike.

They drove through several small towns, once again stopping to search known survivor locations, spending roughly a day in each place. Towns like Montague, Weed, Mount Shasta, Mt. Cloud, Shasta Springs, Dunsmuir, Castle Crag, Castella, Sweetbriar, Pollard Flat, Vollmers, and Delta. They spent two days in the Shasta area, searching campgrounds and cabins, while spending only a half day in some of the smaller towns. Although they were seeing more signs of people, they encountered no one.

The group collected their Saber bounty reward at the first command module that they came to. They packed up most of the supplies, leaving just one crate of food in a Dirty Down and Dead shed in Pollard Flat. Now they were on day twenty-seven and Horndog was showing signs of stress.

The man was acting odd. He was agitated and nervous, wanting to search buildings every waking moment. The morning of day twenty-eight, they gave Delta a quick check and then moved on to Lakehead. They spent the rest of the day searching some structures, boats, and marinas. Still no luck.

That night they set up camp near a lone dock. Twice they thought that they heard boats oaring, causing Horndog to want to go after them, but both times Stan said no. After it was quiet for an hour, they lit a fire.

“Come on man. Dat should be short stick Stan,” Horndog started pleading. “I have been here longer than three of these guys. Make Dat the short stick boss. Everybody knows that is right.”

“You certain about that? Everybody knows?” Stan feigned shock.

“Yes. What is right is right,” Horndog said.

“Well then, gather around ladies. Horny here has made a request. This is serious club business,” Stan hollered.

Once the others gathered around the fire, he continued, “Horndog here has a request. Please repeat your request Horndog.”

“Look, all’s I am saying is that I have been in the gang longer than three of you guys. There is no way that I should be short stick. In the fight against the Jackals, all’s Tiny and Hambone did was get wounded. So, I say that there is no freaking way that I should be short stick. You all know that it should be Dat. He is the newest guy. Fair is fair,” the southerner said in his slow drawl, arguing his point emphatically.

“Well, that is quite the motivated appeal coming from a man who is two days from getting blasted. Do you have any counter point that you would like to make Dat?” Stan was once agin grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the conversation.

“I don’t think so. The crew knows where I stand and what I have done. Why don’t we put it up to a vote. I will trust whatever you fellas decide. I do think that somebody should tell Horndog that ‘all’s’ isn’t a real word.” Daniel smirked. 

“F’ you Princess,” the big southerner shot back.

“Okay then. Any of you other fellas have anything that you feel the need to add?” Stan questioned.

“Yeah, I agree with Daniel,” Hambone spoke up for once. “I don’t think that ‘all’s’ is a real word.”

“People think that ‘ain’t’ isn’t a real word, but I saw it in a dictionary on my phone once, so it actually is a real word.” Tiny smiled, happy to add his two cents.

“You bato’s are dumbasses. ‘All’s’ is a real word as in ‘all’s I am saying’ while ‘ain’t’ ain’t no real word. And you idiots say English is your first language.” Scooter joined in the grammar lesson.

“Well knuckleheads, we can stand around here all night smacking ourselves in the face with our peckers, or we can focus on the issue at hand. As the boss, I agree to put this up to a vote, since this is a very serious request. Whatever the vote is, the loser will abide by it for the next two days. Agreed?” Stan the Man said.

“Agreed.” Horndog smirked, sure that he had this in the bag.

“Sure,” Daniel agreed.

“Well, I just love it when we are sympatico. So, let’s get this thing started, ‘cause my last Frosty Dog is getting warm. The choice for short stick is between Horndog and Dat. I will abstain from voting to make sure that we don’t end up with a tie. So, put your hand up if you think Horndog should be the short stick,” Stan the Man said.

Hambone’s hand immediately shot into the air. Tiny looked at both men, then raised his flabby arm, followed by Scooter. It was unanimous. Horndog would remain the short stick. The big man looked absolutely shocked with his mouth hanging wide open.

“Fuck all you all’s!” he spat out, and stomped away from the fire.

“Just wasn’t cool what he did back at Yreka Junction,” Tiny said what the others were thinking.