THE COMPLETELY TRUE AND ACCURATE TRAVELS OF HOBO JOHNSON IN THE LOSS AND THE DESCRIPTION OF SEVERAL ENCLAVES THEREIN (PART THE THIRD)
June 1 - Came back to town to find Hobo dead drunk in front of his shack.
'Skeevy, you old bastard! Let's talk shop! I got the alk.' Old what? Asshole's got at least 20 years on me. I wonder how he puts his pants on in the morning some days, let alone go out Taking solo. But hey, he's got booze, bounty free? I'll talk all the goddamned shop he wants.
Couple hours later, we're talking security around the Enclave, he gets serious sudden-like. 'Skeevy, I know we got a good location and good people here, but this ain't near 100% safe, even up on this hillside.'
So I ask him how the hell zeds are coming up here? We all know they run downhill. Casualties don't mountain climb.
He replies 'Son, you've been out there. I know you're not as dumb as your crew looks. Lemme tell you a story.'
Oh shit, story time. And me without the bounty for new hip waders. But he wanders on.
'I was in Sicily couple years back. Place called Erice. Nice place, secure as all hell, lot more than this.
Place had two roads in, but they both ran uphill and funneled everything to the big fortified castle with churches in it. Perfect goddamned free-fire zone. A striaght up meat grinder. Once they got it clear of casualties, the leaders set up shop in that castle, used the upper part for housing and a bit lower down, wine making. Wine making's big in that area, so that was a big export. Convoys used to come in through the groves and up to the shops twice a week.
I took off, though, after one of my contacts told me there was trouble brewing. Seems another Enclave further north was looking to expand - and between the fight over wine and the' - and here he coughed - 'local civic groups' - I knew what he meant. Italy, right? - 'SOMEONE was looking to get rid of the competition. And boy, did they.'
Evidently, according to Hobo, it was simple as hell and horrifying as fuck. SOME crazy fuck - he didn't know who, and if he did, he wouldn't say - had taken one of those wine presses that's all the rage in Italy and filled a few tank trucks. But it wasn't wine he filled em with.
You can guess what happens when a few thousand gallons of casualty juice gets blown off with a couple hundred pounds of explosive in the middle of a crowded market. Town fell apart in half a day. Hobo claims no one still goes up there. Can't say I blame them. Fuck, I like people less and less the more I talk with this crazy asshole.
No comments:
Post a Comment