I watched the road for a long time, expecting them to come after me. But no one ever did. I had no desire to start a conflict with them. My thoughts were turning slowly, and suddenly a crazy idea appeared in my head. What if I tried to secure support? FEDRA always needs resources, especially if you make a deal with someone from their ranks. Although they already have more than enough problems without that.
The entire area of Pittsburgh is swarming with jackals. If a group is even remotely large, it will be noticed immediately when leaving the city. The only way out is on foot, and only then can you find transportation.
If I provoke a conflict with the cultists, the established pattern of fragile peace will be destroyed. Right now the preacher is simply waiting for Richard to crawl to his feet from hunger. The old man is so stubborn that until he understands there is no way out, he will go with a weapon in his hands and fight to the death. The only thing stopping him for now is his grandson and daughter-in-law.
And I need weapons. Everything that was freely available has already been taken by anyone who could get to it. In the first months I focused on only one thing: gathering equipment and setting up a base where filters could be made. All the other weapons that I managed to obtain through sheer luck in combat I hid, because carrying everything on myself was impossible.
But my supplies were meager, and there were no bullets there at all.
I left the car in an inconspicuous place and, armed with a hunting rifle, went out to scout. When I approached the supposed place where fuel might be stored, I stopped by the tall grass. I almost immediately noticed a trap. Maybe for animals, or maybe for someone else. I moved carefully across the area, pushing forward.
"Hey…" a pitiful whimper was heard.
I turned around and noticed Buddy in an unfortunate position. His hind leg had gotten caught in the loop, and he was jerking, trying to get free.
"Easy. Easy, now," I said, crouching beside him.
I took out a knife and cut the rope. The trap was primitive, suitable only for small game. A large animal would have easily torn it loose. Even Buddy could have, if he had struggled a little longer. Which means the traps were most likely set in the forest specifically for hunting.
Which means someone checks them. Possibly patrols.
Choosing a vantage point, I settled in more comfortably. Several tanker trailers were standing on a platform under a canopy. A truck was nearby. Apparently, that was what they used to haul the tanks. Fuel is now one of the most expensive resources. Soon a car will be a luxury, even if it still runs.
"Thirty people, right?" I said out loud. That was the number the old man mentioned. There were at least twenty here.
This was clearly not just a fuel storage site; there were other resources as well. Their main camp was somewhere else, but exactly where — unknown. And how many people could come to help was hard to say.
A diesel engine can run on many types of fuel. The best option is diesel, but in extreme cases other mixtures will do. Used oil can pass as a substitute, but it kills the engine. It won't last long on that, though that's not really necessary. Finding waste oil is much easier than coming across clean diesel. The problem remains one thing: diesel is still needed. Pouring used oil in its pure form is useless; it has to be diluted with fuel.
Sneak in at night with a canister and simply siphon off the fuel? Watching the man who was butchering a rabbit and skinning it, I began to form a plan of how to lure people away from there and take the fuel. Yes, they would become alert, but the chance was there. And not a small one.
"Stop," I muttered when I noticed the movement of vehicles.
Several cars stopped in front of the camp and about ten people got out.
"Fuck."
Apparently they were not just passing through and would be staying here for a long time. They set up posts and began monitoring the surroundings.
And still… how would he know that I would try to take the fuel? Or is he simply being cautious? The plan started to fall apart. I need the tension to die down and for them to calm down. I'll put everything on hold for now. In the nearby towns I can definitely find some waste oil.
First — to get the oil. I will find it and return here if I cannot obtain clean fuel anywhere. I will quietly eliminate the guard, then set several tripwires. After losing people, they will go searching, and that is when they will run into my traps. At that time I will try to slip inside and steal some fuel.
Leaving on foot with one twenty-liter canister is realistic. Maybe forty, if I am extremely lucky. My pickup also runs on diesel, but I only have enough fuel for the return trip, there are simply no reserves, in the worst case I will use it only when there is no other way.
****************************
By evening I found a car repair shop a few kilometers from Richard's town. A small cluster of a couple of buildings hidden off the road. Nearby I could see a scattering of houses, dark and lifeless.
Inside the garage there was total chaos. Empty shelves, not a single tool. The cultists had taken everything that had even the slightest value. After wandering around the place, I found two two-hundred-liter barrels. Unscrewing the lid of one of them, I saw black used oil. Apparently, it had no value to them. Though it is not suitable for everything.
"How the hell am I supposed to lift this thing?" I muttered, scratching the back of my head, and went to get fifty-liter canisters.
After struggling with the pouring and testing my back for strength, hoping I hadn't earned myself a couple of hernias from hauling the weight, I loaded everything into the truck bed. The chance of finding clean fuel in the houses was small, but not zero.
Judging by the large plots of farmland, many people could have had tractors. Often people had diesel pickups or trucks, and in small towns fuel was often stored for several months ahead so they wouldn't have to drive to the station every time.
Entering the yard of the first house and stepping into a small shed, I saw almost the same picture as in the garage. Everything had been taken down to the smallest detail. Walking up to the tractor, I tapped the tank with my finger. A dull emptiness. Understanding that the search was useless, I still went on. And that was a mistake. I should have left immediately.
Three bodies nailed to crosses and suspended in the air were found in one of the barns. On their exposed chests a single word had been carved. "Heretic."
I have seen many things. Things that are hard to believe, let alone accept. But it is impossible to get used to this. Lowering my gaze, I closed the gates and stepped outside.