Shadow Sun Survival Read online

  Approving the transaction, he watched as a post grew up from the ground next to the truck. A flat screen with a red handprint on it began flashing at him. He set his hand on it, and there was a brief tingle.

  Biometric pattern uploaded: Allistor, Giant Killer. Please set passphrase.

  He snorted to himself over the system’s use of his title, but said, “Passphrase is Fibble.” He decided to use the name of a beloved character from a series he’d read that was based on MMORPGs. It seemed fitting.

  Passphrase confirmed. Please list individuals authorized for access and access level.

  A list of the Warren’s residents popped up. He authorized Sam, Meg, and Luther as full access, and designated the ability for them to add or remove people from the list. Everyone except him.

  With that done, the gates opened before him, and he drove through. They obligingly shut behind him as he slowly pulled away. Before he could forget, he picked up the radio and called Sam, giving him the details. When Sam asked, “What’s a Fibble?” he just chuckled and said, “I’ll see if I can find you a copy of the books sometime.”

  And just like that, lightning struck! Books! Movies! How much would Earth stories and art sell on the open market? He asked Sam that question, and he could hear the man shaking his head on the other end of the line. “Leave it to you, boy. I’ll have our people start looking for hardcover books and intact DVDs and players while they’re out. Maybe find a library.”

  Pleased with himself, he wound his way through the debris on the outskirts of town that hadn’t been cleared yet. When he hit the open road, Allistor sped up. The plan was to head roughly southeast a ways. Since Luther had already established a Stronghold near Denver, nearly two hundred miles south by southeast, he figured he would try a city between the two Strongholds. The most obvious choice was Cheyenne.

  He might have just traveled down Interstate 25 and reached the city, but he wanted to explore back roads and see what he could see. He knew from experience the only thing he’d run across on the interstate was cattle ranges and the occasional one-light town, truck stop or rest area.

  Using one of the atlas books that they’d found, he plotted himself a route that should take him through Medicine Bow national forest and several small towns. Initially, he’d go more south than east.

  Setting off at a leisurely pace, Allistor enjoyed the sunshine and the cool air. He stopped occasionally when he saw something that caught his attention. The first was a gun shop out in the middle of nowhere, about fifty miles south of the Warren. The windows were intact, and the front door closed. He pulled into the small parking lot with caution, not getting too close to the building, and honked the horn once. Sitting in the truck for a full minute, he waited for either a response from inside or critters to show up to investigate the noise. When neither happened, he got out and walked up to the shop.

  The front door was metal, with a small peephole and a sign that said, “Shoplifters will be shot.” He knocked, then tried the handle, but it was locked. Undeterred, he considered this a good sign. Walking around the building, he peered into the small storefront window, which was protected by iron bars. There was enough light filtering in for him to see an entire wall filled with rifles and shotguns, as well as a long glass display case showing off dozens of handguns, knives, and accessories. The shelves nearest the window held hunting bows and crossbows.

  Allistor continued around the building, finding a shooting range out back. There was an old Chevy pickup sitting under a carport overhang. The driver’s side door was open, and there were blood stains on the seat, door, and concrete. A long gun lay on the ground part way under the truck. Suddenly much more concerned, Allistor drew his own shotgun from his ring and stood perfectly still, listening and watching for any movement. Moving slowly, he stepped up to the driver’s door. The blood stains were clearly old, maybe even dating back to the first day of the apocalypse. He imagined the store owner locking up to go be with their family, and being surprised by… something. There were no tracks in the blood to tell him anything.

  Sticking his head inside the truck, Allistor grinned to himself. The keys were in the ignition. Not only that, but the key ring held several keys. Crossing his fingers, he put away the shotgun and took the keys. Moving to the back door, he tried one after another until one of them worked!

  Allistor opened the door, wincing as it struck a bell hung above. He let the door close and locked it behind him. Re-arming himself with his shotgun, he made his way slowly through each aisle, then checked the back rooms. Pleased to find a clean bathroom, he used the facilities. The tank was only good for one flush, but that was all he needed.

  Back out in the main room, he just stood there and drooled for a while. He could arm three times the number of people living at the Warren with just what he could see here. And he’d found a storage room in the back with a locked gate. Peering through the bars he saw dozens of crates and boxes that he assumed held more weapons.

  But what he was most excited about were the bows and crossbows. These were effective ranged weapons that packed a punch but made very little noise. In this new world, it seemed like making noise was like ringing the dinner bell.

  Moving to the front shelves, his eyes locked on an old Fred Bear compound bow. The lines just spoke to him. Taking it in hand, he tested the weight and the pull. It felt good in his grip. The bow went into his ring along with a hip quiver and twenty arrows. After a moment, he added a second full quiver. There were more Bear Archery bows and one crossbow. He snagged that as well, along with a whole box of bolts.

  When that was done, he opened the display case and grabbed a Desert Eagle .50 just because the gun was legendary. He found a couple boxes of the large rounds and put them in storage as well. He helped himself to a pair of nasty looking combat knives with sheaths and put one on his hip. The other he stuck down in his boot.

  Looking around the store, there were so many things he wanted. But he tried to stick to useful items. He found a couple camp stoves with small propane tanks. An assortment of fishing poles with various kinds of tackle. He chose three poles and filled a large tackle box with lures, monofilament line, leaders, pliers, sinkers, a couple scaling knives, and anything else that looked useful. Those all went into his ring as well.

  Over to one side, he found several traps hung on a wall. Thinking they might be useful if he had to camp outside, he grabbed several, including two huge spring-loaded bear traps. Those he placed in a large duffle that he grabbed off a shelf. They could ride in the back of the truck.

  He grabbed another tent, a couple of tarps, half a dozen canteens with belts, a pair of waders, and a floppy camouflage hat that he thought made him look like a sniper. Just for fun, he also took some black and green face paint, a camouflage poncho, and some netting with fake leaves and twigs on it. Those all went into his ring as he imagined himself stalking through the forest after some exotic prey.

  He loaded a few rifles into a duffel, then stopped. On a shelf below the gun racks sat a black metal gun case. Unlocking it and flipping it open, he nearly giggled when he saw the Barret .50 rifle inside. He’d never fired one before, or even seen one in person. But the Barret M107 was a legend unto itself. Allistor took the floppy hat out of his ring and put it on before lifting the rifle from its case. The weapon was heavy, maybe thirty pounds. He unfolded the bipod legs under the barrel and set them on top of the display case. Pointing the weapon out the window, he put his shoulder to it and uncapped the scope. It seemed like he could make out the needles on a pine tree about a hundred miles away.

  Stepping away from the weapon, he did a little touchdown dance where he stood. “Da daaa… nana na! Ohhhh yeahh!” he sang to himself as he danced. “Who can shoot a beastie from a mile away? I can!”

  Finished with his celebration, he recapped the scope, lifted the weapon and put it away. As he was fastening the clips on the case, he noticed a matching case, much smaller, sitting next to it on the shelf. Opening that one, he found a factor
y-made suppressor. It was almost enough to make him cry. He could sit on a roof or atop his walls and shoot at monsters a thousand yards away and barely make any sound. He knew the suppressor wasn’t an actual ‘silencer’ as many people referred to it. It cut the sound of the gun’s report considerably, but it didn’t make it silent.

  Still, he was thrilled with this find. This was easily a ten or fifteen thousand dollar rifle, and its value to him was incalculable. If they had this rifle atop their walls, no dragon would be safe within five hundred yards of them. This was a weapon meant to punch through vehicle armor or bullet-proof glass. The damage it would do to a flesh and blood monster would almost certainly be fatal.

  Both cases went into his ring. Looking around the shop, he was seriously considering loading up the truck and returning to the Warren. It would take most of the day, but the value of all of this…

  A light bulb went off in his head. He was on this trip to try and establish locations for more Strongholds. Why couldn’t this be one of them? It was a good fifty miles from the Warren, near the top of a mountain with a commanding view of the valley below. It would give him control of the road outside if he needed it.

  Opening up his Stronghold interface, he began looking for a tab that would allow him to claim a second Stronghold. He knew it was there somewhere, as part of the quest to survive the year was to claim territory. One could not manage a large territory from a single point. It was why the military’s ground forces always established forward operating bases.

  When he found it, he thumped the glass countertop and clicked the button to establish a second Stronghold. A message flashed up on the screen.

  This structure does not meet the physical requirements of a Stronghold. Would you like to establish an Outpost?

  “Well, I do believe I would,” he mumbled to himself as he flipped over to read the information on Outposts. They were basically smaller than the Strongholds, with a lot fewer options. By claiming it, he would be awarded ten thousand Outpost points, which traded at a 1:1 ration with klax, just like Stronghold points.

  He looked at the available options. There was a wall, ten feet high. The same water and power options as the Warren, along with a communications option that would allow outpost residents to communicate via a holo-terminal with the Stronghold or network of Strongholds and Outposts it was tied to.

  He was almost giddy with excitement at this point. First, he clicked Yes to establish the Outpost. Then he added the wall, expanding it so that it encompassed the parking lot and stopped about ten feet off the road in the front, and ran about fifty yards back behind the building. He chose the electricity option, and all the lights came on. A pump outside began refilling the toilet tank from a well in the back, saving him from having to buy the water option. He added the remote gate activation, and the sensor network, which he was pleased to find extended across the road outside. So he’d know any time someone passed by this place. Or stopped there.

  Lastly, he added the communication option. With that, he pushed the button to accept the transaction, spending the whole ten thousand points that came with the Outpost as well as twenty thousand of the Warren’s points. The expenditure didn’t even faze him. They had another RV to sell, and he had a feeling the books and artwork were going to be huge sellers.

  As the golden glow surrounded him, he thought about how he would explain it to Luther and the others. He especially didn’t want Luther to feel like he was being usurped from his former leadership position.

  When the glow faded, the place looked different. Instead of the wooden and block structure that had stood here before, the thing was solid stone. The big storefront window was now three much smaller windows, and three more appeared on the other side of the door. The front door was still metal, though now it looked much more substantial. And the glass back door was metal now as well. The place was clearly built for defense.

  The inside remained mostly the same, though there was now a stairway leading to a basement level. Allistor didn’t think that had been there before. Stepping down the stairs, he found a large room with a kitchen area and a long table. To the left was a hallway with six doors on each side. Further exploration showed him that each door was a ten-foot square sleeping quarters with a stone bed and half bath, much like the ones they’d built in the Warren.

  Back upstairs, he took the time to explore the storage space in the back. The gate now opened at his touch, after he identified himself to the biometric scanner. He held off on authorizing others for access to this room. The weapons in the main room were more than sufficient for now. He might want to sell the excess supplies back here.

  The storage room occupied one whole half of the building. Wooden crates full of weapons were stacked all the way to the ceiling. To one side was a room that must have previously been the office. Now it was set up as a sort of commander’s quarters. It featured a large bed, dresser, desk, footlocker, a small dining table with two chairs, a sofa, and a full bathroom. Allistor was already picturing a romantic getaway with Amanda, a candlelit dinner amongst the mountain of weapons. Grinning to himself, he exited the back area and closed the door behind him.

  The other new feature was a pedestal set at one end of the display counter. At the top sat a holoscreen like the ones the kiosk used. He touched the screen, and it began to glow blue.

  Would you like to communicate with the Stronghold known as The Warren?

  He decided to try a verbal command. “Yes, please call the Warren.”

  A moment later, Chloe’s face appeared on the screen. “Oh! Allistor! Hi!” She beamed at him. “How are you on the TV?”

  He chuckled at the little girl. “This is a phone call, Chloe, hun. Is your mom around?” He was trying to figure out where the corresponding holoscreen would have popped up at the other end that Chloe was the first to answer.

  “Mom’s out in the greenhouse with Ramon,” she said. Looking over both shoulders first, she continued in a whisper, “I saw her kissing him this morning. It was oogy!” She scrunched up her face, her nose wrinkling cutely.

  “Well, good for her!” Allistor gave her his best smile. “Mommies sometimes need someone to hug and kiss other than their little girls, you know.”

  Chloe nodded her head. “I guess so. Anyhow, where are you?”

  “I’m at a new outpost that I found. It’s… like a really cool clubhouse. Are there any grownups around that I could talk with?”

  She gave him a brief pouty-face before looking around. “Fine.” She waved a hand. “Hey, Auntie Meg? Allistor wants to talk to you. Some kind of grownup special club thing he won’t share with me!” She focused on the screen and gave him a dirty look before wandering away.

  A moment later, Meg’s confused face came into view. “Allistor? What’s this thing?” He saw her hand grow larger as she reached out to touch the screen.

  “Meg!” His outburst caused her to yank her hand back in surprise. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m at a gun shop about fifty miles south of you. I just figured out how to create an Outpost. And this place is stacked floor to ceiling with weapons and other stuff!”

  His enthusiasm had her grinning at the screen. “Hold on, let me get Sam.” She looked up and shouted, “Sam! Get out here! Allistor’s on the phone!”

  A few seconds later, not only Sam but half the survivors were gathered around the pedestal staring at him, all speaking at once. He held up his hands until they got silent, then explained to them all what he’d found, and what he had done. When he was finished, Sam said, “I can see the wall of guns behind ya. Nice find. Might be a good place to hole up while we’re out hunting. That’s right near the national forest, right?”

  Allistor grinned. “Yup! And you have no idea how nice this find is. Hold on a second.” He left the pedestal and retrieved the .50 cal case from his ring, setting on the counter. Taking it out of its case, he hurried back to the screen. Standing back as far as he could, he said, “Check THIS out!”

  When he held the weapo
n up, more than one of the survivors whistled. Sam said, “Damn, son. I could kill a titan from a mile away with that thing. Farther if it was standin’ still!” he paused, then added, “I’ll wrassle ya for it!”

  “Ha! No chance. This baby is all mine. I might even name her.” He smiled as the others laughed. “Anyway, there are twelve bedrooms here plus a kitchen and an eating area, all underground. The place has a wall with metal gates, and metal doors front and back. Based on the thickness of the walls, I think it might survive a friggin’ Howitzer attack or two.”

  He went on to give them more details and told them he was authorizing all the adults for access. “I might establish a few more of these as I move around. I’m headed for Cheyenne, eventually. The plan is to put a full-sized Stronghold there.”

  The conversation lasted another five minutes or so, then he logged off. On an impulse, he tried to access the market interface using the pedestal. He found he could browse listings, but couldn’t buy or sell items there directly. That was okay; he’d given Luther instructions on how to list the second Luxury RV. They’d have plenty of funds soon enough. And he still had more than twenty thousand klax in their account.

  Feeling proud of himself at what he’d accomplished, he decided to stay the night at the outpost. The idea of doing a little fishing sounded good to him. A quick trip to the truck to find his atlas, and he was back inside. He estimated his location based on his speed and the time he’d traveled since he crossed the interstate. If he was correct, then the valley below held a freshwater lake. And per the scale on the atlas, it was only a little over a mile away.

  After a last minute check of his inventory, he exited the building, then the gates, closing them behind him. The road wound slowly down the mountain he was on, but following it would add miles to his trip. Instead, he crossed the road and stepped into the forest. The downhill slope wasn’t steep, and there were plenty of tree branches to use as handholds.