I have got to get caught up on all the edits and typos found in the last few chapters.

Thanks all for reading.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 36 – An Eye Out for Trouble

Jex sprang to life. He fell all over himself on the way to the table in the corner, pushed a few buttons, then picked up the microphone. A PA system outside echoed his booming voice around the camp. He made a general announcement that the President and Senator Reynolds were about to make a speech. Then he put out a call for all tactical team leaders to report to the command tent immediately following the speech.

London nudged me. "Senator Reynolds? The ‘Not in my country’ guy?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Something must be going down if he’s appearing with the President to make a joint statement. Of course, two days ago I was chased by a UFO, so I don’t know why anything should surprise me anymore."

Senator Reynolds was pretty much the patron saint of people like the ones there in camp. You know, guys that are big into the second amendment, small government, personal property rights, going back to precious metal-backed currency, that sort of thing. He and the President flung mud at each other from opposite sides of pretty much every issue.

Jex paced the floor. "Rhett, take these two to the medical tent, then after the broadcast make sure you get back here, I’m going to need your help for the tactical meeting.

Rhett grunted a "Yes, sir." and ushered us out of the tent.

Five makeshift campsites down was one of those sleek and monstrous RVs. It was running a ridiculously quiet generator to power a little satellite dish thing and a big screen flat panel TV that the owner had placed outside under the extra-wide awning.

Who has this kind of stuff in their RV?

A fair sized crowd was gathering around the TV, and everybody else was shuffling about to find their own way to watch or listen to the broadcast.

Nobody said anything, but Rhett, London and I naturally wandered over and joined the crowd at the monster RV and forgot all about the first aid tent.

On the screen a pair of haggard looking political analysts guessed at what was about to be said. Would it be a call to arms? Martial law? Another request to stay calm and head back to work?

Soon enough the President was announced.

The last time I had seen him on TV, he had looked more than just a little worn around the edges. Today he looked like he hadn’t slept or even changed clothes since then.

"My fellow Americans. This is the greatest nation on Earth. That is why the aliens came to us. Since their arrival a few days ago, they have unfortunately been met largely with violence, prejudice, and hatred."

Why does he even bother with lying about when they got here? It’s pretty clear they’ve been here a while.

"I could never be ashamed to be an American. I will always be proud of this great nation." He reached up and loosened his already loose and sweat stained tie. "However, I am greatly ashamed of the actions of the fringe groups that are attempting to stand in the way of what could be the strongest alliance this country has ever had."

A large number of the camp booed at the statement. The noise echoed around the camp.

"I do not believe they will give us many more chances for peace if we continue to be hostile. We must take action swiftly and confidently or way may be pulled into a conflict we do not want. I have just signed executive orders giving power to police and military to detain indefinitely anyone suspected of aggression toward the alien visitors."

"What the hell?" Said a nearby voice. "He can’t ‘executive order’ away our rights."

Somebody else chimed in. "We’re already in a conflict we don’t want, you bastard."

A number of other voices chimed in with angry comments. It was enough so that I could not hear what the President was saying.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more of the same, anyway.

The President went on for another five or ten minutes. He did everything exept fall to his knees and plead with the American people to stop antagonizing the aliens. He said over and over how they simply want to be our friends.

After he was done begging, he closed with, "This is why I’ve invited Senator Reynolds to be here. I believe some of you may be more willing to listen to what he has to say. Thank you for your time, my fellow Americans, and God bless America."

A bitter murmur swept across the camp in the wake of the presidential speech.

A moment later, Senator Reynolds took to the podium. He didn’t look any better than the President. Nasty sweat stains marked his shirt and he didn’t even bother with a tie. His hair was in complete disarray and huge bags hung underneath his eyes.

He stood and stared at the camera for a full thirty seconds before speaking with a quivering voice. "I have often disagreed with the President. But today he is correct." He seemed to choke on the words. "We cannot afford to be hostile to the aliens."

The senator glanced around himself nervously and left an uncomfortable pause before continuing. "I do not believe in suspending constitutional rights, but in this case, sacrifices must be made."

The crowd collectively gasped as their favorite senator stabbed them in the back.

The senator looked down. The words coming out of his mouth clearly cutting him as deeply as anyone. "All aggression toward the aliens must be stopped now if we are to continue as a nation."

I could hear whispers floating about having sold out and being a traitor.

His hand shook as he wiped a batch of sweat from his forehead. A mumble that sounded something like, "I can’t do this." spilled from his lips. He stared at the ground for another fifteen seconds, then his demeanor changed. He stood up straight and glared into the camera. "The aggression must be stopped, or it must be stepped up. Perhaps the aliens aren’t as numerous or as powerful as they’d like us to believe. Perhaps it is time the American people fight back for real against an obviously hostile invader."

His face paled, but his voice stopped wavering.

"I can’t be silent anymore. My fellow Americans, much of your elected government is being held hostage. You must fight back while you still can. It sounds crazy, but I was abducted some time ago. They have threatened me as they have threatened-"

The senator’s left eye exploded from his head with a disgusting wet noise. His dead body slumped onto the podium then crumpled to the floor, his face leaving behind a trail of blood and gore.

A shiver shot down my spine and my knees felt weak.

London grabbed hold of my arm.

Rhett cursed.

A roar of fear and rage exploded from the crowd.

The television screen blanked for a second and then the station’s ‘Experiencing Difficulties’ graphic popped up.

Note: Thanks to all who read, comment, and give helpful ideas. You guys are the best.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 35 – In The Tent

Then tent smelled of dusty old canvas, like it hadn’t been put up in ten years. It was a pretty big, twelve feet by sixteen feet or so and probably eight feet tall at the peak. There was a plastic folding table in one corner with a microphone, a laptop, and several pieces of electronic equipment. Chords spilled over the back and wound out under the wall of the tent.

Placed a few feet away from the far wall was another small folding table. Jex sat behind it on a camp chair. He was drawing with a pencil on what looked like one of the maps I had seen through the window at the hotel’s café.

He made a point of ignoring us while he scribbled some kind of message on the map. He then rolled it up, set it on his lap and looked up at us. His eyes were shrouded in dark circles.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my temper in check. His intentions might have been honorable, but this man was a thief and a liar. He had thrown up a roadblock when all I wanted to hurt the aliens and hurt them bad. I knew deep down that’s what Jex wanted, too. Only he wanted to be in charge of everything and get the glory.

London stepped around me and folded her arms with a harumph. “Where’s the virus you stole?”

Jex looked from London to me and back again. He breathed in and opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He waited an uncomfortable moment then tossed up his hands. “I won’t lie to you. I took it, and for the reason I told you last night. I can’t trust you yet.”

Rhett shifted nervously from foot to foot. I don’t think he was really ready to hear Jex admit the theft like that.

Off in the distance wafted the drone of a helicopter.

I kicked the ground. “So you kick off the trust-building exercise by stealing my property in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t invite you here to argue.”

“So why are we here?”

“Well, I’d like to give you two the chance to help out. And, if it comes to it and we do have to use the virus, I’d like you to be on the team-”

The tent door flew open and a purple haired woman popped in. “Sir, an Army Humvee just pulled up at the gate. The driver says he’s got a Captain Somebody-or-other that wants to speak with you. What should I tell the guards?”

Jex’s eyes widened for a moment. “Really? Escort him back here immediately.”

She’s too old to have purple hair.

The helicopter noise got so closer. It was apparent that there were at least two of them flying overhead. Within a few seconds they were so loud that we had to wait for them to pass by before we could here each other talk.

Jex turned his focus back to London and me. “So would you like to join us or not?”

London rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Now you want us to help?”

I folded my arms. “And we don’t exactly have any gear or food or anything. I mean, somewhere you’ve got her dirtbike, but it’s not terribly comfortable to sleep on.”

“I’ll make sure we can find stuff for you. We need every able bodied man we can get.”

London glared at him.

He nodded back. “And every angry redhead hottie.”

I guess the inflammatory radio host in him just couldn’t help himself.

London shook her head.

Jex ignored her.

“So, are you with us? And where do you think you’d be the most help?”

I wasn’t really interested in joining his little private army an more, but I wasn’t sure what other options we really had available at the time. “Well, I’m an emergency room nurse, and an EMT. She’s already proven herself to be a capable assistant.”

London spun and focused her glare on me.

“Perfect. Rhett, show them to where we’re setting up the medical tents and introduce them-”

A serious man in a crisp uniform swept into the tent. On his shoulder were two vertical bars. He ignored London, Rhett, and myself and walked right up to Jex.

“I’m Captain Dreyer of the United States Army. Let me just say I appreciate your fervor and zest in protecting our nation. However, I am here under orders to use my company of troops to assist in the disbanding of this militia that you’ve raised. Now I know you feel like you are acting as protectors, but your nation sees you as nothing more than a dangerous armed insurrection. I’ve come to make a personal appeal to you to disband without causing any more problems.”

Color flooded into Jex’s neck. “What makes you think we’ll just pack up and go?”

“Neither of us wants to be responsible for the spilling of American blood. Simple as that. And now the Army is here between you and the aliens.” Dreyer took a breath and his voice took a bitter edge. “And if the white house decides the aliens are a threat, we’ll be here and prepared to deal…”

Jex pounded a fist on the little table. “A threat? How many more terrorist strikes are they going to have to make before you can officially label them as enemy combatants? You’re not stupid, Captain. You know as well as I that they’re not here as friends or allies.”

“Things aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Jex. Don’t sell the U.S. Army short.”

London muttered something under her breath. I couldn’t understand it clearly, but it definitely involved a few words she couldn’t use if she were in her elementary school classroom.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get moving.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ll have someone listening to this frequency if you need any, well, if you need to speak with me.”

Twenty-four hours? Why not right now? What is he getting at?

Captain Dreyer turned back just before leaving the tent. “Oh, and I have to warn you. My entire company will be camped in front of the main entrance. It would be a really bad idea for you to try anything there.”

He put a hard emphasis on the word “there,” and then he was gone.

Everyone left in the tent was dumbfounded.

I scratched my head. “Did that sound to anyone else like he wanted us to attack, just somewhere other than the main entrance, and that he’s giving us twenty-four hours to do it?”

The massive Rhett nodded. “It kind of did.”

A smile crept across Jex’s lips.

The woman who was too old for bright purple hair came back in. “Sir, I just heard on the radio. Apparently the President and Senator Reynolds are holding a press conference. They’re due to go on within a couple of minutes on pretty much every TV and radio channel in existence.”

Note: Finally.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Also, I broke my own first rule of editing here – I didn’t read it aloud to myself before posting. Let’s just hope I’ve kept the typos to a minimum.

Chapter 34 – Bumpy Ride

I really didn’t want to let on that London had saved out a vial of the virus, so I made sure to give Rhett the stink eye when I jerked open the door.

Rhett didn’t seem to notice. He just hurried us down the stairs and out the front.

A large military transport helicopter touched down in the middle of the pavement a couple of blocks down. Soldiers immediately poured out. Parked on the street were a number of other military vehicles, including a couple of bigger transport trucks, and several Humvees.

Did the president reconsider? Are they here to help out? Or are they just here for us? I shook my head. Of course they’re here for us.

Just outside the hotel was parked a blue and primer gray El Camino. Next to the car stood a young man in a black wife beater staring at the chopper. The wind from the rotors tossed around his shoulder length hair a bit, and he looked pretty uncomfortable.

Rhett opened the passenger door. “Let’s go.”

The long-haired kid started at the command, tore open the driver’s door, and flung himself inside.

Rhett held the door and motioned for London to climb in. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”

London hesitated then gave me a questioning look.

I shrugged and motioned to the open door as well.

She climbed in.

I hopped in the back, careful not to let my right thigh bang into anything, which was harder than you might think, because the bed was partially full of random scrap metal and logs.

I pushed some trash away so I could have a place to sit next to the cab. “Why do people even buy these instead of getting a real truck?”

Rhett jumped in on the other side. “I know, they’re ugly as sin.” He hit the top of the cab twice.

The car sputtered to life and the driver punched the gas.

My head jerked with the motion and I steadied myself on a big piece of rusty something-or-other. I hope this crap back here doesn’t shift too much.

As soon as we pulled away from the curb, one of the Humvees started up and pulled onto the road behind us.

Our driver must have seen it too, because he floored it again. The acceleration felt kind of like the stretching of a rubber band, but it was enough to slide several pieces of wood and metal toward the tailgate.

I hope his driving smooths out. I really don’t want to chance anything with the vial. I braced my arms on the sides of the bed and fought the urge to continually stare at my Velcroed pocket. Deep down, I was certain that Rhett would notice.

The Humvee stayed about thirty feet behind us, no flashing lights, no commands to stop, and no gun waving. The driver didn’t seem too concerned with catching us or stopping us. It was more like he was only shooing us out of town.

Two more giant military helicopters flew overhead.

Of course, the twerp at the wheel of the El Camino must have thought this was a life or death chase. That, or he was just a really bad driver. He took turn after turn too fast, and braked seemingly at random. Every time he did something crazy the heavy garbage shifted around.

Still, I was able to hold on for dear life and keep the pocket with the virus from any of the shifting refuse.

Untill we hit the mother pothole just out side of town.

Our driver slammed on the brakes sending a load of metal and logs my way.

I extended a foot to redirect the path of the biggest log.

The car bounced down and up what had to be a six inch deep hole in the road. My butt and legs were airborne and stuff was shifting under me.

I twisted mid-air as best I could and my left cheek came down hard on something solid.

The contact was going to bruise and it might even be bleeding. At least I knew the vial would remain intact.

Yet another victory that feels like an injury.

The Humvee cruised over the pothole without even dipping.

Rhett pounded on the hood again and shouted something about slowing down.

Our driver must have figured it out because he took the edge off the speed for the rest of the short trip.

The Humvee stopped and turned around at the last curve before the camp.

Rhett looked over at me and made an attempt to shrug.

Everywhere I looked were trees, split up by the occasional cleared field. The terrain was all gentle hills that backed up on genuine Appalachian mountains. It would have struck me a quite picturesque if I wasn’t so worried about, you know, pretty much everything.

Last night I had been suprised at the number of people that had gathered to such a remote place on such short notice. And if I had been shocked last night, I was completely blown away in the daylight.

The field was filled with row upon row of campers, tents and RVs. There had to be at least two hundred of them, with probably a hundred and fifty more non-sleeper vehicles. Whoever had organized the camp had really done a good job. Over against one side there were several guys digging pits. At the far end of the field was the hill and behind it, the mountains.

The El Camino slowed and we bounced onto the field.

To my left I noticed a man playing catch with a little boy. The boy looked happy, but the man looked like death warmed over. He was wearing faded jeans and a polo shirt. Every time he tossed the ball, he would look first over his shoulder at a gun that was sitting on a camp chair and then at the sky. His eyes were dark with puffy bags underneath. Still, he kept on his fake smile and played ball with his son.

It occured to me that he could have been anybody. He wasn’t a paramilitary nutjob of a gun worshiping lunatic. A week ago he was probably just an accountant or a real estate agent or a programmer. Now he was just a dad looking for a way to protect his kid.

The more I looked around, the more I noticed that he was the norm here. Not the camo pants and dog tag crowd. Just regular men and women joining in the fight that the government wasn’t willing to risk.

And why not? What are they afraid of?

Rhett pounded on the hood again and the car stopped next to a big canvas tent.

We jumped out of the back.

London kicked open the door before anyone else could get to it. She scrambled out of the car, and glared back. “And if you ever even talk to me again, I’ll break your smug little nose.” She slammed the door.

The long-haired kid drove off.

I pointed to the car. “What was that all about?”

London folded her arms. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a second. “Before we go in, I gotta know. How dangerous is that virus, really?”

I shook my head and tried to stop wondering what the long haired kid had said. After all, I had Rhett’s full attention for a second.

Maybe if I lay it on thick, he’ll be willing to help, whether Jex likes the idea or not. “There’s no cure. It works fast. It tore apart Oasis in the matter of a few days. And the people that have been infected are, well I don’t even know how to describe them. They’re soulless, restless, and violent. They don’t seem to be able to think other than use what is already a part of their muscle memory. And they don’t feel pain. For lack of a better word they are zombies and they are fleshy virus spreading machines.”

London frowned and touched my shoulder.

Rhett raised his bulky arms and cracked his knuckles. “So why are zombies better than aliens? What if it gets out?”

I shrugged. “A zombie can’t fly a spaceship or pull a trigger. It can’t strategize or make deals with coward politicians. And yes, it would be devastating if the virus infected a large city, but I don’t know how else to even the odds.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment, then nodded to the tent. “Well, let’s see if we can’t figure out what he did with your WMD.”

I looked over at London. “You ready?”

She lifted a balled fist. “Oh, I’m ready. Are you?”

“As ready as I’m going to get.”

We followed Rhett into the tent.

Author’s note:

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis. As it ends up, getting to see the boss is pretty easy when you’re willing to assault someone. At least, that’s how it worked out for us.

Thanks be to DarcKnyt for his edits last time, and to Maelstrom, Tyler, Chad, Major, Jordan and Mal for stopping by to say hi. If it weren’t for you folk, I probably would have stopped writing this stuff a long time ago.

Chapter 33 – The Wrong Side of the Bed

Another pounding on the door.

When you’ve had time to wake up and get your head screwed on straight you tend to make better decisions. I didn’t have the luxury of thinking the situation through. All I know is that I wasn’t thinking, I was reacting.

In fact, my whole body shook with rage. I felt the blood boils up my neck and my face tense up. Can’t believe I fell for that. I rushed to the door, tore it open and before I could even process who it was, I swung at the person behind it.

A meaty hand deflected my punch. “What the hell…”

I stumbled off balance into the hallway and growled.

The man stepped back and raised his hands. “Slow down there.” It was Rhett, the tank of a man that worked as producer on Jex’s show.

I balled both my fists and advanced swinging.

The man covered like a boxer and just let my wild blows glance off his arms and iron abs.

I lunged forward and pushed with both hands. “Where is it?”

He hopped back a few feet. “Where is what?”

Like he doesn’t know. It was clear he’d had a lot of hand-to-hand training. I was in over my head and in the back of my mind I knew it, but I was too mad to care. I sucked in a couple breaths then dove at him. “Oh, right!”

He caught me in my dive and slammed me against the wall. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you’ve got to settle down or you’re going to get-”

“What did you do with it?”

“Corbin!” London burst from the doorway.

Rhett turned his head to the noise.

It was all the distraction I needed. I jerked my right arm free and swung my elbow for his face.

It connected with his mouth.

His head snapped back and he let go of me.

I braced my arms on his wide chest and pushed.

Before I could move him back, he grabbed my shirt with both hands.

I twisted and tried to pull away, but the hallway was too cramped and he was too strong.

He hefted me up an inch or two then flung me in London’s direction. “Calm down! What did I do with what?”

I landed on my butt and immediately tried to get my feet back under me.

London fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around my chest. “Corbin, don’t!”

I scrambled, but couldn’t quite get to my feet.

London jerked me down. “Corbin, stop it.”

Rhett touched his mouth and looked at his hand. No blood. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I flared my nostrils and gave him my best death stare. “Where’s the virus?”

“What virus?”

“Don’t be stupid. What virus would I have brought with me?”

London tightened her bear hug. “What?”

I pointed the accusing finger. “In the middle of the night, these lying scum opened the door, cut the chain lock and stole the cooler with the virus.”

I heard London suck in a breath through her nose. “They stole it?”

Rhett raised an eyebrow. “Cut the lock?”

“Who else would it have been?”

London held me a moment then loosened her hold. “It’s okay, we’ll get it back, we’ll figure it out. Calm down.”

I stopped pulling against her. How is she the calm one? Doesn’t she get it?

Rhett lowered his guard and scrunched up his forehead. “You mean you had the virus? The virus? As in the one that…”

“That killed Oasis?”

Rhett frowned and turned half away. “No way, I can’t believe that.”

“And you want me to believe that you didn’t know he stole it?”

“If he did, I sure as hell didn’t know about it. But he tells me everything.” Rhett strode by us and examined the cut chain.

“He was the only one who knew we were here, plus he had access to the keys.”

Rhett stared at the hanging half of a chain on the door. I could practically see the gears grinding to a halt at the sign of the break in.

“…said you might be grumpy…” He shook his head. “He just sent me to get you before…”

London let go. “Corbin, it’ll be okay. We’ll find it. Trust me.”

“Before what?”

Rhett took a couple of slow steps back in the hallway. “Alan wouldn’t do… Are you sure?”

“We pretty much went through hell to get it here, and I’m pretty sure it’s gone now.” I rolled onto my knees and faced London.

Our faces were closer than I expected. In fact, if I had turned any faster we would have had a collision kiss.

London looked me straight in the eye. “Trust me.”

My lips moved involuntarily but I couldn’t speak. Why isn’t she furious?

“Trust me.”

What am I supposed to do? I pushed up to my feet, then helped London stand.

The initial flash of rage had passed. I guess plopping to the ground on your butt helps with that. As I got my breathing under control, it occurred to me that Rhett wasn’t acting – he really didn’t know about the virus. But where did that leave me?

Rhett was staring at the hallway wall and appeared to be just as lost in thought as I was.

London grabbed my hand. “Come in the room a sec.”

Rhett snapped his head to the side. “We’ve got to get moving.”

London raised a finger. “Just hold it a minute, captain butch. We’ll be right out.”

“We don’t have much time.”

London tugged me inside the room and kicked the door shut.

Why should we go with him now, anyway? I must have looked as confused as I felt. “What was that?”

“Look, when it’s not summer and the world isn’t ending, I teach third graders.” She let go of me and walked to the other side of the bed.

“What are you talking about?”

She reached down and lifted the corner the mattress with one hand and pulled out something wrapped in a washcloth. “There’s occasionally a kid that likes his neighbor’s folder or pencil or something. He gets a certain look in his eye, and within a day or two he’ll try to steal it. Jex had the same look last night when he looked at the cooler. I figured he knew we had the cooler, but didn’t know what was in it. I had to do something.”

“You didn’t touch-”

“I was careful.” She dropped the washcloth on the bed. One of the two unbroken vials rolled out.

I stared at it. The sight of the vial was almost a relief. But there was a lot still bothering me. The fact that I still had that vial only dealt with half of the problem. If push came to shove, I could still try find a way to infect the aliens. But what about the virus juice that Jex now had? Should I go with Rhett, play nicely, then try to get it back?

One thing was certain, I’d never again be bothered with the question of whether or not to trust Alan Jex – he’d proved himself a snake. But should I still try to work with him in order to fight to good fight?

And what about Rhett? He seemed like a good enough guy, but could I trust anybody? Did Jex leave him out of the virus theft plot because he knew Rhett would object? Or was it just the less people that knew, the better?

The deafening noise of a low flying helicopter snapped me out of my daze – was London saying something?

Rhett pounded on the door. “We’ve got to go.”

Might as well go with him for now. I carefully bundled the vial back up and put it in the Velcroed packet of my cargo pants. “Thanks, London.”

She nodded for the door. “Let’s go get the rest back.”

Author’s note:

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.As it ends up, getting to see the boss is pretty easy when you’re willing to assault someone. At least, that’s how it worked out for us.

Chapter 32 – The Hostile Hotel

London punched the guy right smack in the middle of the face. He staggered onto his heels and put his hands on his nose.

The other guard brought up his rifle.

I took a step back and raised my hands. “Whoa there, comrade.”

“Hold it right there.”

London threw up her arms. “You’re going to shoot me for punching him?”

“Well-”

She took a step toward the second guard. “Well, what? We both know you’re not. Just get on your radio and tell Jex he has guests.”

The guard stared at us a moment, then took a step back, lowered his gun, and got on his radio.

The punched guard was a bleeder. It took a good ten minutes before he stemmed the flow.

Sure, he’s ready for an alien invasion, but not a nosebleed.

Five minutes after that, a pickup truck pulled up to take us into town where Jex and a few of his lieutenants or commanders or whatever he was calling them were meeting.

The line of vans, campers, and pickup trucks waiting to enter the field was backing up a good quarter mile down the road.

Where are all these people coming from?

We pulled up in front of the only hotel in town. It was a sleepy little place with only a few rooms, a café with big picture windows downstairs, and a wealth of refined old school personality.

The café wasn’t open for business, but Jex and a couple others were in there sitting around a table and pouring over what looked to be maps.

A shot of anger trickled down my spine at the sight of the talk show host. Perhaps I still felt a little offended by the way he had treated me on his show.

We went in the main entrance to the hotel.

The main lobby smelled like cherry and cedar. The furniture looked like it was at least sixty years old, but still in excellent condition. The whole place was a warm step back in time.

To bad I didn’t find this place under different circumstances.

Our guard told us to stay put then threw open the glass paneled door to the café and entered.

The door slammed back shut behind him. The pane rattled like it was going to flop out and break on the floor.

Through the door we could see yelling. All of it directed at our guard. It was too muffled to hear well, but the idea was clear. The guard was a total moron to bring someone out here. Jex stood and leaned forward to get a look at us through the door. He stopped his tirade mid sentence when he recognized me and pushed back his chair.

He was wearing black fatigues with a red, white, and blue armband. He seemed somewhat taller than he had in the studio and he walked toward us with a definite swagger. Maybe he was feeling the rush of power that comes from leading an army of survivalists and lunatics. Or maybe it was just the firearm he had in a holster on his hip.

London leaned over and whispered, “Wow, from his voice on the radio I expected someone-”

I half turned to her. “Fatter?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

Jex opened the door, shook our hands, and motioned to a sitting area in the back of the lobby. “Can we talk a minute?”

I nearly rolled my eyes. No, we drove the whole way out here just to stare at you. “That’s why we’re here.”

London and I sat on a plush velvet couch.

Jex pulled up a carved wooden chair. “I was afraid you didn’t make it. Word got around about the attack outside of Houston. To be honest, I was shocked that you called. And by the way, that was a really bad idea.”

I crossed my legs and leaned back. “I gathered as much.”

He pointed a finger at me. “Really, you should have known they’d be listening in to my calls.”

“Who, the aliens? How was I supposed-”

“No, the feds.”Jex reached into a pocket, pulled out a pen, and started twiddling with it. “They’ve been keeping the whole alien thing under wraps for years and years, and then I broke the story with just enough detail that they thought I had to have hard evidence. They had no choice but to go public. The thing is, those feds don’t really forgive easily. And of course once the president went on TV, well, why would the aliens operate in secret anymore? So that’s cat’s out of the bag, and they all see it as my fault.”

Man alive, this guy likes to hear himself talk.

London glared at him. “So what is everybody doing in Tennessee?”

“They’ve got a base here with the main entrance one hill over from the camp. As soon as I read where to go in that packet you delivered, I booked the whole hotel and made arrangements for the field we’re using as a camp.” Jex raised his eyebrows pointed to the cooler sitting by my foot. “I take it you’ve got in there what I think you’ve got in there?”

I glanced down. “Yes it is, but go back. You mean a base for the extraterrestrials? Why did we set them up with a base? And why does the government take their side in all these attacks? Why aren’t the Marines here to carry out an attack rather than a bunch of, you know, you guys?”

He stayed focused on the cooler. “You’d better leave that with me until we decide whether or not to use it.”

Unbelievable. “Wait, wait, wait. Not use it? If the aliens are so scared of it that they’ll bomb a neighborhood minutes after establishing a peace agreement, don’t you think we should make their fears-”

“To be fair, I don’t think they know exactly what it is.”

“Well, I didn’t come all this way to hand over the most dangerous biological weapon that has ever existed without knowing exactly how and when it’s going to be used.”

Jex balled up a fist and banged it on the arm rest. “And I’m not going to let someone I don’t trust completely bring something that dangerous into my camp.”

London scooted forward so fast she almost came off the couch. “And didn’t you say that we are already at war? That we needed to fight with everything-”

Jex raised his hands. “Look. I didn’t know if you’d show up. So I started evaluating other strategies. I’m not saying I won’t use it. I’m just saying I want to know where it is in case it comes to that. And we’ll know soon enough if it is going to come to that.”

My nostrils flared. “And how are you going to protect it if they hit the camp?”

“We have more than enough firepower there to take down one of the smaller UFOs.”

“How do you even know that?”

Alan Jex folded his muscular arms and gave me his best ‘I’m in charge here’ look. “It was in that packet you delivered. There was one in China brought down with small arms fire. You just can’t use steel or steel jacketed ammo very well. It gets caught up in the enemy’s magnetic shield.”

“I’m still the only one here that has a full appreciation of what this virus can do. I should be the one to handle it.”

He stood. “Why, because you’ve had tactical training?”

I jumped to my feet. “Oh, and you’ve had medical hazmat training?”

I glared at Jex.

He glared right back.

London grabbed my arm. “Let’s go Corbin. Apparently they don’t want your help.”

I crouched, grabbed the cooler, and took a backward step toward the door.

Jex clenched his jaw and popped his knuckles.

I took another step back. “I could help, you know. You don’t have to control every last thing.”

London gave me another tug and nodded at Jex. “Wish I could say it was nice to meet you.”

We turned and walked toward the door.

“Wait.”

I glanced back.

Jex grabbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “All right. Hold on, you two. I’m sorry, things are stressful and I’m not quite myself. You got a place to sleep tonight?”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay. If you want you can stay here in the hotel. There’s an open room upstairs. We can talk again tomorrow after-” Jex stopped himself and cocked his head to the side. “After we both get some sleep.”

I got the distinct feeling that I shouldn’t trust him blindly. However, it was late and sleeping outside on the ground didn’t really appeal to me. Neither did knocking door to door in this dinky town asking for a couch to sleep on. I nodded.

“Hold on a second.” Jex went behind the counter and produced a key. “Room four. I think it’s on the left upstairs.”

London let go of my arm to take the key. “So why isn’t the president on our side?”

“Good question.” Jex shrugged, took one more glance at the cooler, then turned. “Get some sleep.”

The upstairs fit exactly with the lobby. It was adorned with intricate crown molding and antique fixtures.

Our room was larger than I would have expected, but it still only had the one bed.

I sighed as I closed the door and locked the chain lock. “I guess I’ll take the couch. At least this one has a couch. Better than that chair in the last motel room we shared. You know, or the floor of your Dad’s RV.”

London made a point of looking around the room, then turned to me and pursed her lips. “No, we can share the bed.”

I raised an eyebrow.

London gave me a less than half-hearted slap with a very tired smile. “But don’t be getting any ideas. We’ll divide the sheets and sleep burrito style, with your opening facing one side and my opening facing the other.”

I set the cooler on the nightstand, drank as much water as I could and made up the bed according to London’s directions. “You know, this is really more of a taco than a burrito.”

“Shut up. It’s a burrito.”

I finished getting myself ready then crawled into my side. A tiny temptation in the back of my tired head told me that I should be attempting some kind of hanky panky.

London was still fussing about getting herself ready.

Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for ten minutes first, then see how it goes.

I was still in my burrito and laying on my side when I awoke.

Through the squinting I could tell the sun was already up. An extra weight pressed on my hip.

I turned my head and peeled my eyes half open.

The extra weight was London’s leg. Apparently she had abandoned her burrito, stretched out, and claimed most of the bed for herself.

I slid out from under London’s smooth leg, put my feet on the floor, and stretched.

Something wasn’t right.

I scanned around the room.

Why can’t I put my finger on it? What is wrong here?

And then I saw it. Or rather, I didn’t see it.

The cooler is gone. The virus-

An impatient knock sounded at the door.

I jerked my head around to get a look at the door.

The chain lock had been cut and now dangled in two pieces.

My stomach dropped and I started to sweat. It’s gone.

Another knock hammered on the door.

Author’s Note:

Hey, look at this, a chapter posted on Friday. See, it CAN happen.

As always, thanks for all comments and typo alerts.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 31 – The Long Hard Road

The first hour or so wasn’t so bad. The day hadn’t really heated up yet, I still had some water, and my legs had no wobble. Every few minutes, a semi truck followed by an armored Humvee or two would cruise by. Other than that, traffic was light. Traffic going into the city, that is.

Traffic going away from the city was a different story. It was looking more and more like a morning commute over there.

But where are all of those people going? What possible good is running going to do?

A Volkswagen bus came up behind me. It had rusty rims and had been spray painted in some kind of camouflage pattern. The furry bearded driver honked at me as he raced by. The tailgate was decorated with multiple Confederate flags.

I stopped sticking out my thumb after that. If that guy won’t pick me up, nobody will.

The sun heated up the blacktop first, and then the air. It was gearing up to be another toasty summer day.

I wondered if any semblance of normality would ever return for me. Most of my personal information was lost back in Oasis. I was probably officially presumed dead by the government. All of my accounts, medical credentials, everything would take forever to get a hold of again. That is if things ever settled to the point where I could track them down. I pushed it from my mind and kept walking.

When I heard the whine of a dirt bike behind me, I didn’t even bother to look back. Until it started slowing down. Then I turned to see why.

Riding the little dirt bike was a vision in short red hair and goggles.

I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped to about my knees. No way.

London pulled up beside me atop the dirt bike I had last seen strapped to the back of her father’s RV. Her big smile made the goggles look all the more ridiculous.

“Need a lift, big boy?”

“What about your stepmom?”

“I think she’s got her ride taken care of, you know, in the RV. Besides that, I’m not sure three would fit on this little bike.”

“Works for me. Even that thing has got to beat walking.”

London reached for her shirt, pulled out a pair of sunglasses, and handed them to me. “You’ll want these.”

“No goggles for me?”

“Sorry, only the coolest person on the bike gets to wear them.”

The bike did have a little set of saddlebags. London took my empty water bottle and jammed it in one side.

I hopped on back, put one arm around London and held the cooler with my other. It wasn’t exactly comfortable riding back there, but I tried to focus on the half of me that was holding on to a good looking girl and not the half that was gripping the bulky plastic box and going numb.

It’s about two hundred miles from Birmingham to Lindon. The little dirt bike we were on had a 2.2 gallon tank, and under normal conditions got a hint over one hundred miles to the gallon. That could have meant that we got to Linden on one tank with a minimum of hassle.

You never know, we might just have done it, too. If the gas tank had been full when we started. Which it wasn’t.

We got off an exit in the middle of Birmingham proper to find fuel.

Four filling stations, and not a one still had gas.

There were more people walking around on the streets than we had seen back in Texas. They walked in groups of at least three or four, and all of them looked nervous. Everywhere we drove there seemed to be a feeling of tension in the air, like a storm about to break.

A crowd around the front of a corner convenience store caught our attention and we stopped across the street to see what was happening.

The crowd was maybe thirty or so strong, and they were shouting and banging on the door and windows.

“Come on, my kid’s gotta eat.”

“It ain’t right for you to keep all that food locked up.”

“We gotta right to buy that stuff.”

Above the store was a second level that appeared to serve as an apartment.

A gray haired woman stuck her head out one of the upper windows. “Y’all get out of here. We’ll open when we open. We ain’t going to let you steal what little we got left.”

The exchange just became more heated.

Some punk kid appeared from around the corner with a big rock in hand.

My heart sank.

Th kid threw the rock through one of the front display windows. Four or five burly rednecks from the mob kicked away the shards of standing glass and climbed into the store.

I feared the violence was going to get worse, and there was nothing that could be done about it. “London, let’s get out of here.”

London eyes teared up and she stared on.

I gave her a little squeeze. “There’s nothing we can do. If we stay we’ll just get caught up in it. We need to go.”

London swallowed hard and cranked the throttle.

The jerk forward nearly left me behind.

I turned back over my shoulder.

The door to the shop was open and an older man was being pulled away by the crowd. They weren’t being gentle.

It made me sick and angry all over.

We’re already to this? Two days and it’s crisis enough to violate an elderly couple’s livelihood, maybe even their lives? Where the hell is the leadership in this town, or anywhere? Where rallying cry to stick together, to fight the bastards that attacked us? Why do we have to tear ourselves apart? All we hear from Washington is ‘be calm’ and all we see on TV is destruction. Is this all we are, a nation built up of cowards? Scenes like that are probably going on in every big city right now. The whole mess could boil over any-

It struck me then and there, speeding down the road on that little motorcycle. Alan Jex and his ilk were right. We had to fight. And if we didn’t fight the aliens, we’d end up fighting ourselves. Even if the virus I was carrying didn’t deal a knockout blow to the aliens, it might give hope to those willing to fight on.

But was there a chance that the aliens were really just like the president had said? Peaceful? No, not a chance. They were just playing a game. Why else had they blown up the neighborhood after I had called Jex? Why else had they chased and tried to kill me? There was no other possible answer.

The extraterrestrials are the enemy.

London got us back on the freeway. We drove another ten minutes before she stopped at the site of one of the many car crashes that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

I paced back and forth, still fuming about the state of things.

London pulled a siphon hose from the non-water saddlebag and went to work.

I probably would have felt guilty about stealing the gas if I didn’t have so many other feelings spinning me around.

The rest of the ride was long, exhausting, and uneventful. We stopped a couple of times to get water and stretch our legs, and twice again to siphon gas from wrecks. I wanted to hop off and push as the little bike grunted its way up many of the canyons and hills. My arm muscles got painfully tired before noon, and by afternoon my butt was sore from all the bouncing on the not-exactly-luxury motorcycle seat.

It took all day and the night was getting downright chilly before we saw the sign that read “Linden 5 miles.” It had to be about eleven o’clock when we pulled up to the camp just outside town.

We weren’t the only ones who had heeded Jex’s call.

A small line of cars was entering a makeshift gate into a large field. Each one stopped and showed something to the guards before going in. The field was filling with RVs, pickup trucks, SUVs, diesel generators, lights, tents, and all sorts of people from emo-looking kids to shotgun-toting business men in suits with loosened collars. At one end of the field was a hill, and on top of the hill was an honest-to-goodness giant machine gun. I couldn’t see much other than the outline in the moonlight, but it had to be fifty caliber.

Two guards carrying AK47s and wearing black fatigues stopped us at the gate.

One of them raised a hand. “Hold up. Have you two been vetted and received your assignment?”

London shook her head.

I creaked off the back of the bike. “Not yet.”

“Then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get in here.”

“Do one of you have a way to get a hold of Mr. Jex?”

“In the morning I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you.”

London kicked down the stand and swung her leg over the top. “No, you need help us contact him now.”

“No we don’t.”

I saw London’s hand ball up into a fist. “Oh yes you do. I did not drive this piece of crap all day long to get turned away for the night. Where can we find him?”

The guard stepped closer and leaned in toward her face. “I’m not sure you understood me, miss. You’re not getting in here tonight, and I’m not sure I like your attitude.”

If the guard had ever seen London’s temper like I had, he might have not used that snotty tone of voice. He also might have known to dodge the oncoming fist.

Author’s note:

I have a million valid excuses for this being so late, but you don’t want to hear them. I’ll just say I’m terribly sorry.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 30 – Not Much of a Plan

The gear had all been tossed into a bin underneath the back bench. We fished out the radio and flipped it on.

I didn’t think it was time for Alan’s show yet, and I had no idea what station he’d be on out here anyway so I just crawled the AM, FM, and shortwave bands on the little emergency radio my dad had given me.

After two trips through the dials I found something promising. And by promising I mean “likely to point me in the right direction,” not promising as in “destined to become one of my favorite shows.”

Anyway, the host said something about the only way to stop the aliens is to follow Alan Jex’s lead right now. He then shamed the president for being such a weakling, made some rude remarks about the president’s mother, berated the police and military for following orders and imposing martial law in the bigger cities, then went to a commercial break.

London winked at me. “Well, that guy’s a lot of fun. Tell me what you find out, I’m going to shower.”

After a spot for a gold buying company and one for a dehydrated food packet seller, the host tiraded back onto the air. It took a full twenty minutes before he got to the part I wanted to hear.

“Now is your chance to stand up with Alan Jex, that great American, against these sons of bitches aliens. He has issued a call to arms, and the first rally point is a tiny town called Linden, Tennessee. If you don’t do your best to get there, and soon, then you might as well just go to Virginia and piss on the graves of the founding fathers, because…”

Linden, Tennessee? I clicked off the radio. I’ve never even heard of Linden, Tennessee.

I sat back and stared out the window.

Trees and signs and the occasional cars whizzed by. The RV bounced, shook, and rattled its way down the road.

Was finding Jex and his sure-to-be-motley army the right thing to do? I couldn’t be sure. I did know that going into hiding was the wrong thing. The government had apparently made it clear they weren’t going to do anything to stop the aliens.

Jex’s group was sure to be outclassed in every way by the green men, but they were sure to be survivalists and militiamen who would fight down to the last man.

And I had possession of the thing that could equalize the playing field. It sat in a very messy cooler taken from a burning car.

A man made virus. One that spreads itself by killing the host’s brain and seizing control of its body. The virus controlled body would then go to any length to bite other living beings. The virus controlled body didn’t feel pain and didn’t rest. It was a relentless virus propagation machine. And Major Glover had assured me it works just as well on the aliens as on humans.

The problem is: once you have a weapon of such magnitude, do you use it?

What if the virus got out in the open? It could destroy human life on this continent, just like it wiped out pretty much everybody back in Oasis. Would I be willing to risk that?

A nagging voice in my head said that doing nothing would be the greater risk.

And there was the cure. Or maybe you could call it a sort of vaccination. A bacteria anyway, engineered to envelop and digest the virus. I had been injected by the bacteria back in Oasis before being infected and it had saved my life.

The problem with this bacterial cure is that I had no idea where any of it was, or what had happened to it. All of it had been left with the military.

I wondered how long the bacteria would survive inside my body.

My mind jumped around between these and about a dozen other points.

I must have drifted off again, because the next thing I knew the sun was much higher, I was drooling with my head on the backrest of the bench, and London was mussing up my hair.

“Wake up sleepyhead.”

“Where are we?” At least, that’s I thought I said. It may have come out more in mumbles.

London plopped down next to me. “What?”

I sat up straight, rubbed my eyes, and tried again. “Where are we?”

“Almost to lunch. There’s a campground just off the freeway up ahead. Dad thinks we can fill up the RV’s water tanks and stuff.”

London was wearing a torn up loose fitting pair of jeans and a black Styx t-shirt that looked like it might have been purchased on their very first tour.

“What are you staring at?”

I shook my head and looked around. “Nothing. Don’t you get the stares after waking up?”

“Whatever, so what did the crazy guy on the radio say?”

“Oh, apparently Alan Jex is rounding up anybody he can get in some dinky town I’ve never heard of. Does your dad have a road atlas?”

“So you are going to try to meet up?” London bit her lip and I could tell she was making an effort to keep her voice down. “Is everybody there going to be nuts like the guy you were listening to? And wasn’t Alan Jex the jerk that drove you off his radio show?”

“Yeah, he is-”

“So what are you going to do when you get there? Explain to me why it’s a good idea for you to go.”

“Well, I told you about the cooler.”

She folded her arms. “And are they going to know how to use it safely?”

“Probably no- I mean, I’m not really sure.”

“So if you’re not even sure it’s going to help, why are you going?”

“I’m not really sure where else to go.”

She filled her lungs, widened her eyes and shrugged. “Stay with us.”

I looked up at the cabin, but I couldn’t see her dad. Just her stepmother in the passenger’s seat nursing a bottle of beer.

She looked back at me, belched, and waved.

I faced London again.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m going to fit in with your Dad and your stepmom.”

“And you are going to fit in with a pack of loner survivalist weirdos. Corbin, they’re a bunch of lunatics.”

“Okay, so that’s true, but still-”

“But still, what? You’d rather just be one of the first to go if the aliens attack again? I don’t see a reason why they wouldn’t.”

“I know things have gone off the deep end, but if they do keep going like this, it’s not going to be safe anywhere for long. And if I can do something to help, then-”

“Help? What are you going to help to do? Call down fire from a UFO like the last time you spoke with Alan?”

Ouch. That was below the belt. I gave myself a minute to respond.

“London, I don’t have a home to go home to anymore. I don’t have a job anymore. Pretty much everything I own has been stolen or destroyed. The only thing I really have right now is a way to hurt the aliens, and hurt them bad. That’s it. I don’t have anything else. What else-”

“You could have me.” A tear welled up and trickled down London’s face.

I didn’t have a response. Oh, great. What is she getting at? I was pretty sure she was just trying to play my emotions for the win. Knowing didn’t matter. It still took the fight out of most of my arguments. Even the good ones. “Really?”

London scrunched up her lips, turned her head, and shrugged.

I reached over and put my hand on hers. I had to play it carefully. If I was right and she was faking, I didn’t want to give her any more ammo to use against me by being too mushy. If I was wrong, though, and she really was opening herself up like that, well, if I wasn’t gentle she’d probably just throw me from the moving RV.

“London, of course I’d rather be with you. That isn’t even a question. It isn’t a matter of what I’d prefer to do. It’s a matter of doing what I believe is my duty.”

She pulled out her hand from under mine, spun, and slugged me in the arm. “Jackass. You really are that stubborn, aren’t you.”

“Pretty much.”

London looked up front and lowered her voice again. “Well, I can’t come with you. It’s too dangerous. Besides, Turleen’s already getting sloshed up there. Who knows where she even got the booze? Somebody has to trade off driving with my dad eventually.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to come and-”

“And why not? You don’t think I can be useful? I’ve already saved your butt-”

“No, that has nothing to do with- It’ because you’re with your- oh, forget it. Let’s just skip to the end and say you deserve to win the discussion, but I’m just too thick headed to see reason.”

She folded her arms again and bunched up her mouth. “Fine.”

We just stared at each other for a bit, unsure of what to do next.

She broke first. “I’ll see if dad’s got a road atlas.”

When we stopped to have our lunch of water and junk food snacks, I went over the map with Dan. He seemed relieved that he’d be dropping me off, rather than taking me for a longer time.

He’d drop me somewhere outside of Birmingham, which was as far out of his way as he was willing to go. I’d have to make my way North from there. If we pushed it, we’d be there by nightfall, and he’d stop to let everyone sleep before we parted ways.

And that’s exactly what we did. We found a rural gas station on the way that wouldn’t sell us any food, but they would sell us gas at reasonable ripoff prices. The further along we got, the more cars we started seeing. Sure enough, by the time the sun set, a sign read “Birmingham 20 Miles.”

We pulled over at the next rest stop to make camp. Across the freeway, we could see a full parking lot of people who were headed away from the city.

Once again, I got the floor as my bed. At least London gave me some rinsed out and dried clothes to use as a pillow this time.

Morning came too quickly, and like the day before, the old cowboy was up long before everybody else getting things ready.

I woke up, shaved with a borrowed razor, and brushed my teeth with my finger. Then I gathered up everything I was going to take with me, which included most of the money I had left, the cooler and a little bottle of water that London’s father gave me. I was going to be hitchhiking, and so I needed to be traveling light. I didn’t want to look like a scary vagrant. In that same vein, I couldn’t very well take the rifle with me. Who in their right mind would pick up a man that had a gun strapped to his back?

As soon as I had my things together, it was time to go. London was the only one to step outside and say goodbye.

We’d been through a lot in just a couple of days, and it felt like I was saying goodbye to a lifelong friend. I didn’t know what to say, so I just apologized for the hard things I dragged her into and said thanks for saving my life.

She looked for a moment like she would say something, but stopped. Instead, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the mouth.

Without another word and before I knew it, she was back inside and the rusty old RV was rattling down the road.

You get used to having people around. After a couple days of constant companionship, I was back to being alone. I didn’t like the thought.

It didn’t really matter that I didn’t like it. I had been through it in my head a hundred times by now. I had a job to do.

And so I walked alone by the freeway with a heavy heart and meager supplies. I wondered how long it was going to take me to get there.

Author’s note:

Hey, new theme today. I built it from scratch following (mostly) this tutorial and using the blueprint css framework. What do you think?

Thanks as always to those who leave comments. You guys are the best.

Work is moving right along on Micro Flash Fiction. I’ve designed the cover and started laying out the interior. It’s a ton more work than I thought, but just wait till you see the finished product. I think I’ve probably got enough 140 character submissions (unless you want to submit a couple of your classics, Al Bruno III), but there may be room to squeeze in a couple more of the other types.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 29 – Meet the Parents

I woke up on the hard, crusty, narrow floor of the RV. Wow, I must have been hammered last night. I don’t even remember getting in the RV.

I opened my eyes and sat up.

It wasn’t really messy, but there was greasy dirt in most of the corners and everything hinted of mildew. London was asleep on a bench to my left, and Michael was laying with a woman I figured was his mom on the pop out bed to my right.

Leaning up against the wall to the bathroom was the grizzled old cowboy I had seen last night. He was still wearing the red and black checkered shirt. The lines in his face looked even deeper than they had before. His hair was gray with little flecks of red that appeared to be hanging on for dear life. He tightened his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and looked me over.

I yawned and tried to make it as friendly and quiet of a yawn as possible. After all, you never get a second chance at a first impression.

He nodded and pointed a thumb at the door. “Outside.”

I creaked to my feet and followed him out the skinny door and down the rusty step ladder.

We had definitely driven for a while, as the terrain was much different from what I remembered about the night before. Of course, all I could see around me was freeway and trees, so I couldn’t be too sure.

As to the RV, it looked far worse in the daytime than it had when it pulled up at night. It was rusty, dusty, and worn. Nothing looked like it was put together tightly. Patches of sheet metal had been stuck on the rougher spots. A car top carrier was lashed to the roof and a dirt bike was tied to the back.

I didn’t have much time to admire the beast, though.

London’s cowboy dad grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, and clutched my shirt with both hands. His breath smelled like old cigarettes.

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me what the hell you’ve been doing with my kids. Michael’s been crying on his mom half the night, London mumbled something about shooting someone before she passed out, you were carrying a rifle and who knows what other weird crap. You somehow lost your Jeep after I talked to London- I just want to know what to think.”

He gave me a shove and I stumbled back a few steps.

I held my hands up, frowned, and took a deep breath. “That’s fine. You deserve some answers and-”

“Damn straight I do.”

“All right, here’s how it happened. One of those UFOs buzzed the freeway back outside of San Antonio and London got in a wreck. It ruined her car for driving and one of the other guys involved freaked out and was getting violent, so I gave her and Michael a ride. That’s how we ended up together.”

“Boy, that don’t even begin to explain everything.”

I stretched and scratched my head. The rest was pretty unbelievable, I knew. How could I possibly tell what happened in a way that wouldn’t make me sound insane? He was looking pretty upset, so I decided to give just the barest bones version I could.

“Basically, what happened is this.” I took another deep breath and pursed my lips. “My Jeep got hit by one of the UFOs.”

The cowboy raised one bushy eyebrow. “I still ain’t heard the part where London shot somebody.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. No need to tell him that this is going to sound crazy. “Well, we knew the UFO was going to hit us, so London and Michael jumped out where it was safe, and I led it away a bit. I barely managed to get away from the blast in time. The UFO landed and an, well, an alien got out. He saw me and was going to shoot me, but London shot him instead.”

The cowboy rolled his eyes and turned back toward the RV. “Good luck on the road, boy.”

I just stared after him. Don’t know how I expected him to react.

He put one foot on the little step ladder and looked over his shoulder. “What are your intentions with my little girl now, anyway?”

I hadn’t really thought about it. Things had been too crazy. But now that he mentions it, she is really cute, great body, red hair which is always a bonus…

The door to the RV flew open and smacked the cowboy in the arm.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“London, this isn’t your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You get in here a minute.”

He dropped his shoulders just a little and climbed the steps.

A heartbeat later, London’s head popped out of the door. “Wait right there, this won’t take but a second.”

The door clanged shut.

I paced back and forth in the roadside dirt.

Within a minute or two, there was a whole lot of yelling inside. I couldn’t tell exactly what was being said, but without a doubt London was going to bat for me.

The screaming continued for a good long while, and I wasn’t too sure that things were going my way.

A second female voice joined in, but only for a moment.

I was just about to give up, find my cooler, and start hitchhiking when the rusty door creaked open.

The cowboy came out first. His fists were clenched and he gave me a look like weathered steel. Close behind him was London with her arms folded. Muddy tear trails marked her face.

He walked up to me and looked me in the eye.

I met his gaze and didn’t back away.

He glanced back at London and nodded.

I swear I could hear his leathery right hand unclench before he extended it to me. “I’m Dan.”

I took his hand. “Corbin.”

“Come on, then. Let’s get back on the road.”

I got the feeling that this was probably the closest he had ever come to apologizing to someone who wasn’t his daughter or his wife.

He entered the RV first and I took the opportunity to ask London the question of the hour.

“How did you convince him?”

“It wasn’t going so well.” She shrugged. “I may have lied to move things along.”

“So what did you tell him.”

She blushed and looked over my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, really.”

She smiled and pointed at the door. “Just get in there.”

I got inside, and pulled up the little step ladder.

Dan got the pop out section pulled back in and made everything else ready to go.

With five minutes we were back on the road.

I sat on the bench next to London. “What happened to your, uh-”

“You mean Turleen?” She nodded. “Bathroom, doing her morning ritual.”

London rested a hand on mine.

I stared out the window.

Twenty minutes later, London’s step mom came out of the bathroom, apparently finally ready for the day. Her hair was big. I know of no other way to describe it. She had lathered bright blue makeup above her eyes. She wore a grayish tank top that might as well had the caption “born and raised in a trailer park.” The tank top barely contained the bulging work of an over-excited yet not-so-highly-skilled plastic surgeon.

As to her age, she appeared to be somewhere close to halfway between London and her father. In other words, not old enough to be her mom, but too old to be her sister.

“Hi, I’m Corbin.” I extended my hand.

She looked me up and down. “Well if London didn’t bring herself home a regular catch.”

She scowled, smirked, then went up and plopped herself in the passenger’s seat next to Dan, who reached over and fiddled with her knee.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to think about all that.

London leaned over. “Don’t worry, she’s not always that well behaved.”

It occurred to me that I still didn’t know where I was supposed to be headed.

“Hey, London, what happened to that radio?”

Author’s note:

At long last, Corbin is back. Again, I’m sorry this took so long. I’m chock full of excuses. See the latest post on my wife’s blog for one of them.

Also, a while back I made a politically charged video for youtube. I’ve recently been going the rounds with a commenter about it. I’d appreciate it, if you have the time and inclination, to check it out and let me know what you think, one way or the other. Am I up in the night, or am I right? Here’s the video: Theft & Taxes

Thanks to everyone who comments and corrects my typos and cheers me on. You are all wonderful.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 27 – Go For A Swim

The sound was warbled, but it was definitely the sizzle of the ship’s terrible weapon preparing to fire.

I pulled and kicked against the water as hard as I could. Every inch I could get further down might make a difference.

The cool water wrapped around me and swept away at least one layer of the oily sweat and grime that builds up when you drive a convertible in scorching hot weather. It would have been quite relaxing and refreshing if I wasn’t so scared for my life.

And then it hit.

Through my closed eyelids, I could tell that the world around me was suddenly brighter, like I was in a tanning booth without eye protection.

The shock wave pounded the water which in turn pushed against me from all sides. It felt like a full body punch.

I held on as best I could, but it still knocked out some of my precious air.

Along with light and pressure, the water flashed hot. Hot enough that if it were a hot tub, I would never put my head under, and I might not even get in. I didn’t want to think about how hot it was at the surface.

I kicked all the harder and prayed I could stay down far and long enough to avoid getting cooked alive. Without drowning, of course.

My body was already calling for air. I fought the urge to suck in and kept swimming down.

The further down I went, the faster the water was moving. It pushed and pulled and swept me away, and I couldn’t tell in which direction. To be honest, for the moment I didn’t really care where it went, as long as it dragged me away from the blast site.

Within of seconds, my lungs and brain switched from calling for air to screaming.

The water around me still felt warm, but was mixing with and getting swept away by the current.

Is it still too hot up there? Have I drifted far enough?

It didn’t matter. I had to surface or drown.

I got my legs under me and pushed down, only the silty floor I had expected wasn’t there. I started to panic.

My wet clothes restricted my movement and weighed me down. My lungs burned for that breath of fresh air.

I thrashed toward the surface with the same fury I had dived down.

The water got hotter and my head finally broke the surface.

I coughed and sucked in a couple breaths before my wet clothes and the current pulled me back under. I didn’t even have time to get my bearings.

The next time I came up I caught sight of the beach. It took a couple of minutes to fight my way free of the undercurrent, but I finally got to where I could touch bottom.

As soon as my feet were under me again and stable, I looked around.

I had washed quite a ways from the spot where I had ditched the Jeep. The fast undercurrent that had nearly killed me had also probably saved me from a third degree scalding or worse from the alien blast.

The UFO was about a football field and a half away, hovering low over the charred Jeep. It made a great throbbing and whooshing sound.

For the moment I stayed close to where the shelf dropped down under water in case the UFO decided to chase me again. The thought of jumping back under was not terribly appealing, but now that I had a chance to catch my breath, maybe I’d be okay.

The silvery craft floated just a bit away from me and away from the water, lowered itself, then landed on the rocky beach.

Well, not exactly landed. It just kind of hovered there a few inches above the sand and rocks.

It occurred to me that standing in waist deep water and staring with my mouth open was not great cover if whatever was inside looked around at all.

The nearest trees or even tall grass were halfway between me and the ship and a good deal inland. However, there was a four-ish foot tall boulder on the beach about thirty feet away.

That’s as good a hiding spot as I’m going to find.

I splashed out of the shallows and onto the beach, then lumbered as fast as I could over to my chosen cover.

I collapsed with my back to the boulder and listened.

With the stress, physical exertion, and deprivation of oxygen I had just been through, the rock and sand felt surprisingly comfortable. Added to that was the hypnotic rhythmic sound of the UFO.

All of it together almost made me want to take a nap.

There’ll be plenty of rest later.

The UFO made a new whirring noise for a few seconds, then returned to it’s old sound.

What is it doing over there?

I waited as long as my patience would hold out, then I rolled to my right and chanced a peek over my shoulder.

A door was open in the side of the UFO, and an alien was out of the craft, circling the Jeep. The alien looked just like the one I had seen leaving the White House on television. Heck, for all I could tell, it might have just rushed from D.C. to chase after me. It’s skin was bright green, and it was wearing a black jumpsuit with a purpley-gray belt that had two mitten-looking things hanging from it. I wasn’t close enough to see any better detail.

The sight of it threw a whole pile of thoughts and feelings back into play.

I rolled back and plopped down. It made me sick to think of what kind of a sham deal the president had worked out with these murderers. It made me sad to think about the attack on Phoenix that I saw on TV. It made me furious to think about what the green bastards had done to Kayla, Jenna, and the new baby.

Now is my chance to strike back.

I didn’t have much of a plan. I’m going to run it down, tackle it, punch it, then beat its head against a rock until it stops moving.

I didn’t bother to check which way it was looking, or if more had appeared. I simply sucked in a deep breath, jumped up, and sprinted for the alien.

I had either underestimated the distance or overestimated my ability. It was a good deal farther away than I could sprint. It didn’t matter. When I couldn’t sprint, I jogged until I could pick up the pace again.

I was lucky, I suppose. The alien was leaning over the front passenger seat examining something.

The closer I got to the burned out Jeep and the alien, the harder the sand got. By the time I was less than twenty yards away, the ground was downright hot and solid. And suddenly a lot more slippery than I could have imagined.

So slippery that my left foot hit the ground and skidded out and away from me. My momentum carried me forward and I slapped down face first onto the sand.

If the alien hadn’t heard my approach, it definitely heard my fall.

Ouch.

I got a good, if brief, look and feel of the ground. It was hard and smooth, like a sheet of glass, but with rocks sticking out here and there.

The alien bolted for the other side of the Jeep, reached for its belt and slipped on one of the mitten-looking objects.

I scrambled to get my feet under me.

The alien raised its hand palm up and sneered at me with its thin lips and big freaky eyes. A little gate popped open on the underside of the mitten.

I instinctively threw myself down and rolled to the right.

The alien’s techno-mitten-gun-thing made a chirping noise and somewhere behind me I heard a patch of sand glass and rock shatter.

My mind raced. I had dodged the first shot, but now I was on the ground, and I doubted if the alien would miss again at this range.

The alien made a noise that sounded something like a laugh and took aim.

Now I’m going to die? Because I slipped and fell?

The thought of it really pissed me off.

Author’s note:

Merry Christmas, all! There won’t be a chapter this Friday, but Corbin will be back to kickoff the new year.

Dear DarcKnyt, Ballsack McNasty, Glenn, Jordan Johnson, girl, Tyler, Toothy, Noah L, Susan Houston, Jeremy, Rachel, & Josh. Thanks for commenting last chapter. I love hearing from you all.

Remember to tell all your friends about me.

Also, to all those other people you tried to leave comments. I don’t care if you use keywords instead of your name. If you leave a comment that has nothing to do with the post, however, I will not approve your comment. Ever.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 26 – A Day at the Beach

I glanced over toward the water. Between me and the rocky beach was a large grassy area and some scattered clumps of trees.

The water might be my only hope. It might be able to cool the heat blast if I can get a few feet down. Maybe they won’t even notice if I survive.

I turned right and went the wrong way up the freeway on ramp. About five feet to the water side of the road was a beat up old barbed wire fence. The water was only a couple of hundred yards beyond that. I knew the barbed wire could very well mess up the Jeep if I tried to go straight through, but I didn’t exactly see an opening anywhere close. And it was old, so maybe it would snap fairly easily.

Then again, if I ram it straight on it might just catch me like a fly in a spider web. But if it were lying down…

I was in a hurry. I didn’t have time to dig up one of the big wooden fence posts or fiddle with whatever was securing the wire to the post.

So, I did the next best thing. I picked a fence post that looked like it was about to fall down anyway, and aimed straight for it.

I know it sounds crazy, but here’s the deal. I was being chased by a UFO. I was lucky to come up with any plan at all.

I closed my eyes, turned my head, and gripped the wheel. The Jeep met the post with a solid crack.

The post broke and the Jeep careened onto the downed fence.

Somehow, the windshield survived. The rest of the truck wasn’t so lucky. In the chaos, a fence wire bound up around my right rear tire. The remaining back wheel spun in the dirt. The Jeep squealed and the front end jerked around to the right.

Stuck.

I can’t stop here. Still too close to the road. I put the pedal to the floor.

The UFO overhead flashed those damn red and orange lights again.

The left rear wheel spun, slinging dirt and rocks and grass.

Something on the Jeep made a loud popping sound.

Can’t stay stuck here. Got to keep moving.

I let off the gas and pulled the lever to lock it into four wheel drive.

The drive train clunked into place and the Jeep made a horrible screeching noise. I pushed on the accelerator anyway.

Overhead, the lights danced faster.

The tires of the Jeep tore at the ground. The fence wire snapped with a twang and the Jeep lurched forward.

I let out a yelp of excitement and cranked the wheel back toward the water.

The Jeep’s screaching died down to a high pitched whine with a rythmic scraping. One of the tires sounded like it was spinning free. It also felt like the Jeep was limping every few feet.

In the back of my head, I knew that meant at least a flat tire, possibly a messed up transmission and who knows what else.

I kept on the gas, but the poor truck just didn’t want to sprint anymore. It barely wanted to stagger.

At least I’m moving.

The Jeep pulled hard to the right and I fought to keep it aimed at the beach.

The UFO overhead followed me along and didn’t bother to to turn off the lights this time.

Its going to shoot me.

The Jeep lunged here and there across the brush, like it was slipping in and out of gear. Nothing about the car felt right any more.

I leaned my head out looked at the front tire.

Sure enough, it was going flat. Probably not the only one, either.

Little by little I crossed the distance.

I was sure the Jeep was going to give up at any moment.

The beach was close now. It was rocky with big patches of mud and sand.

How long until they just shoot me and get it over with?

The Jeep slowed again as I hit more sandy terrain.

Just before the water was a good wide band that didn’t seem to have and rocks at all.

As I crossed into that band, the wheels bit into the watery sand and dug themselves in. The Jeep stopped moving forward and started slowing rotating as the sandy mud was flung from whichever tires were still functioning.

Stuck again. And there’d be no jerking the Jeep free this time.

Getting it unstuck might have been possible, but it would have taken longer than I had. I was only twenty feet from the water. There was no other option. I had to run.

I spared a glance up. The UFO was directly above me. Its color looked different now, less gray metallic, and more like I was looking through a red filter. The disk. It’s making the disk thing.

My heart raced even faster. It felt like it was going to pound through my ribcage. I jumped out of the Jeep.

The sand was wetter than I expected. I landed hard and slipped down to my knees. I sunk down a couple of inches in the sandy mud.

I scrambled up and ran flailing into the shallows.

The day was already a hot one and it seemed every moment to get even hotter. I knew it wasn’t just the sun. The aliens had already killed hundreds of others, and now they were going to kill me.

I picked up my feet and did my best to sprint through the waves that lapped the shore. Still not deep enough.

The air pushed down, like it was pregnant with a burning sandbag.

I could see the bottom drop away under the water a few feet ahead of me. This is it. I sucked in as deep a breath as I could manage and dived for it.

Even through the water I could hear the explosive sizzling sound.