by Lukens, Mark
Jo believed the Dragon knew Max’s attack was coming. She still believed the whole thing was a setup, that Dawson and his supposed defectors had come to peel off another layer of the store’s army, weakening its defenses. Mike, Emma, and Josh were being lured to Avalon by Ray. How did they know that it wasn’t an illusion put there by the Dragon, or a fantasy built on something that may or may not have been real from Ray’s friend?
Max knew Jo wanted them all to stay at the store, to keep defending the castle, but Max didn’t think it was realistic. He’d wanted to go find Petra as soon as the Dark Angels came back with Lance, Crystal, and Dale as hostages. He’d known she was still alive then; he’d felt it in his bones. And now (according to Dawson, at least) she’d gotten away from the Dark Angels at Jeff’s house when he had set them up. But then she’d gotten caught by Jacob, the man he’d seen in the video on the cell phone, a man Luke used to work with.
He felt guilty about Petra getting caught. He wondered if things would’ve been different if he would have gone to look for her right away, found her before Jacob got to her. He wished now that he would have taken a gun and a vehicle and just gone to look for her that next morning.
Then again maybe Jacob would have killed him and taken Petra anyway. Luke was afraid of Jacob—he didn’t even try to hide it. And if Luke was afraid of someone, then that person had to be a truly scary individual.
Max said goodbye to Jo and Gil, giving Jo a big hug, squeezing her hard, thanking her for everything she’d done for him and his friends.
“Just get back to us as quickly as you can,” Jo said.
Max promised that he would, but he saw the fear in Jo’s eyes, the certainty that he wasn’t going to ever come back. He had to look away from her eyes.
He grabbed his backpack and walked out to the loading bay, out to the truck where Luke and the others were waiting for him.
CHAPTER 23
Ray
The spotters on the roof radioed back that it was clear enough to leave the fenced-in area.
As long as we follow the route Jo marked out for us, taking us away from the black pickup truck the rippers had swarmed, we should be okay.
Ray was seated behind the steering wheel of the van. Mike sat in the passenger seat. Josh and Emma were in the back seat. Most of their gear was in the back. He hadn’t started the van yet—they’d all been waiting to get the go-ahead from the spotters.
And now they had it.
They started their vehicles at the same time. Luke, Dawson, and Phil were in the lead Humvee—they pulled away from their line of vehicles first. Max, George, and Bella followed in the second Humvee, and then J.J. and Barry in the pickup truck with the three Dark Angel prisoners inside the cage of bars in back. Ray followed the pickup, the truck’s engine rumbling. Their vehicles seemed so loud in the silent, cold morning air.
Ray had his own handgun on him, and Mike had the one Luke had given him. Josh had his shotgun and the M-16 ready in the back with him; he could shoot from the busted-out back window or even out through the side door if he needed to. And he had the glass bottles waiting to be filled with gasoline, and the two hand grenades Luke had given him if things got really bad.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Dawson had promised that the route they used between Hell Town and Perry was pretty rural and that the rippers along the route seemed to hang back, like they knew trying to attack the speeding convoy that was armed to the teeth was a waste of time and a waste of their lives. So it seemed that as long as they got out of Perry, they should be okay until they got closer to Hell Town.
“You guys ready?” Ray asked.
Mike nodded. He looked twitchy, ready to reach down for the gun on his hip.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Josh joked from the back seat.
Ray had begun to get used to Josh’s twisted sense of humor and his sarcastic remarks—a little bit, anyway. He knew it was Josh’s way of coping with his fear, pretending to be braver than he was. Josh had hinted that he’d spent a lot of time on the streets around some unsavory people who might kill you as soon as look at you—Ray supposed a lot of drug addicts were exposed to people like that. He was sure his brother Freddy had been exposed to people like that. And Freddy had had his own sick sense of humor, his own defenses against fear and the depressing world he had made for himself. Maybe Josh’s jokes and smart ass comments reminded him a little of Freddy, and maybe that (and the fact that Josh had wrecked his life with drugs just like Freddy had done) had made Ray hate Josh somewhat at first. But now he was glad to be reminded of his brother—he didn’t want to forget him.
“Okay,” Ray said. “Everyone stay alert and ready. Leaving the store may get a little tricky.” He looked at Mike. “Go ahead and load your gun.”
Mike moved like a spring that had been coiled, like an attack dog trembling and holding still, waiting for the command to jump. He opened the console and pulled out the loaded magazine.
Ray watched Mike push the magazine into the handle of the gun. He nodded at Mike, and his son nodded back. “No bullet in the chamber just yet,” he told him. “Just hold onto it. Keep the safety on. Don’t play with it.”
Mike gave a solemn nod.
Three of the people from the store, two men and a woman (Ray couldn’t remember all of their names, but he thought one of the men might have been named Wade), had the gate open. The man holding the gate wore the long rubber gloves in case signals to the person manning the car batteries got screwed up and the cables were hooked back up too soon, electrifying the fence.
Luke pulled out first in the lead Humvee, picking up speed immediately, the next Humvee right behind him, then the pickup truck, and then Ray in the van. He glanced at the side mirror and saw the man in the baggy rubber gloves pushing the gate shut as soon as the van’s rear bumper had crossed the threshold.
This was it. They were out. They were on their way to Avalon.
They had agreed to cross the same ditch that Ray and Gil had traversed a few days ago. The ditch was shallow enough, the mud stiff from the cold, the ragged pieces of the shrubs the only barrier between the edge of the parking lot in that area and the wide strip of grass that made up part of the restaurant’s landscaping.
The ditch was no problem at all for the Humvees—the vehicles had been designed for terrain like that. And the black pickup was jacked up on tires as big as the ones on Gil’s truck. But the van was lower to the ground. It had made it before, so Ray was sure it would get across fine this time. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous about getting stuck. He imagined the worst-case scenario (he always did), the van bogging down or a tire flattening on some unseen piece of sharp metal buried in the muck, stranding them in the middle of the ditch while the other vehicles drove away, a horde of rippers racing across the parking lot toward them, waving pipes, sticks, and knives.
He floored the gas pedal right before driving over the bits and pieces left of the mowed-down shrubs, the tires crunching over the twigs and dead leaves. He held onto the steering wheel a little tighter. He could tell Mike was holding on, too. Josh was holding onto Emma in the back. Ray wished they had a better vehicle to take to Avalon, something more like one of the Humvees, or even something with larger tires, like the pickup trucks. But the van was all they had, and it was going to have to work.
The van drove down into the ditch and climbed the other side, the quiet motor louder, the rear tires spinning in the mud for just a moment, making Ray feel a little like he’d lost control, like the van was floating just off the ground for a second. And then they were up the other side, catching up to the pickup truck, the Dark Angels in the back holding onto the bars with their bound hands, watching them with lifeless eyes.
Luke was already at the other end of the restaurant’s parking lot, pulling out onto the street, turning left, away from the intersection with the gas station, away from the black pickup truck where the rippers had feasted on the Dark Angels. Ray sped up, getting closer to the pickup’s bumper, closer to
the scared men in the back. They were all looking toward the intersection as they got closer to the street—afraid of something.
Mike saw what had grabbed the Dark Angels’ attention. “The rippers! They’re coming!”
CHAPTER 24
Josh
“They’re coming!” Mike yelled from the passenger seat.
The van was past the restaurant building, and Josh saw what Mike was seeing out through the windows of the side door of the van. There hadn’t been that many rippers before, and the spotters had given them the all-clear, but now there were what looked like hundreds of rippers racing down the street toward them.
Josh had his shotgun and the M-16 Luke had given to him. He was more comfortable with the shotgun, but with the army of rippers coming he grabbed the M-16. He was surprised at how close the mob of rippers were, many of them flooding out of the gas station building and from beyond it—almost like they’d been hiding. He thought of the gas station he and the others had holed up in nearly a week ago and how the rippers had hid in the building across the street. They’d done the same thing weeks ago, hiding beyond the intersection in front of Isaac’s home while he and Isaac had watched from the attic window.
Other rippers were already flooding the Super Bea’s parking lot behind them, and some were coming out of the looted restaurant they’d just driven by, a few of them screeching, a few wailing, one of them already throwing rocks or small chunks of concrete at the van. Josh heard the sounds of gunshots coming from the roof of the store behind them. Maybe the shooters up there were hoping to distract the rippers or stun the mob for just a moment to give them a chance to drive far enough away.
Ray turned left, following the Humvees and the pickup truck. The Dark Angels in the back of the pickup held onto the bars around the bed of the truck, slumped down, nearly huddled against each other. Ray picked up speed, getting closer and closer to the black pickup’s bumper.
Josh glanced at Emma to make sure she was okay. She was tense, sitting bolt-upright, strapped in with the seatbelt, her mouth a grim line. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her they were going to be okay, but he didn’t have the time. He hurried to the sliding door window, looking out through it, ready to slide the door open if he needed to.
“Look,” Josh said, still looking out the side window. “They’re cutting across that field.”
“I see it,” Ray roared back.
Many of the rippers had already given up the chase toward the van—they were running through a field of brown, overgrown weeds, past other buildings. It was like they knew the convoy was going to go up to the light and take a right, driving down around the edge of town on that road; it was like they were thinking ahead, guessing at their most probable route so they could head them off.
Ray drove faster, staying right with the truck in front of him. Their convoy was getting closer to the dark street light at the next intersection. Luke slowed his Humvee down to take the right hand turn.
Josh watched the closest rippers running down the street after them, their eyes bulging, filthy hair flying, arms pumping, dirty hands clutching knives, metal pipes, and other weapons—men, women, and children, some screaming in rage, others in frustration.
Ray had to slow the van down more than the vehicles in front of him to make the sharp right hand turn, like he was afraid the van might tip over. Josh had to hold on, and he was glad he hadn’t opened the sliding door yet to shoot. He slipped down to the floor as the van seemed to teeter on two tires, those tires screeching.
Don’t tip over . . . please, God, don’t let us tip over.
They made it around the turn. Ray sped the van up, catching back up to the convoy. A crackle of gunfire sounded from the lead Humvee. Someone was shooting; maybe it was Phil from the back seat. The bullets mowed down the few rippers that had caught up to them.
Josh was back at the side door again, sliding it open, the cold air rushing into the van. He aimed his M-16 out through the opening, trying his best not to lose his balance, and then he pulled the trigger, holding onto the weapon tightly as bursts of gunfire erupted from the muzzle.
The gunfire was enough to back the rippers off just a little, the first row of them, the fastest and strongest among them, struck down by bullets, tumbling along the frozen ground, tripping up the others running behind them. Some of the rippers stopped running and launched rocks, but they were too far away to really do any damage.
Luke was already turning right at the next dead stop light, taking them farther out of the way of Perry where they could catch a side road back to the county road that would take them down into South Carolina and to Hell Town.
They were going to make it. At least for now.
Josh slid the side door of the van shut, still trying to keep his balance. He laid the M-16 down on the floor and sat down on the bench seat right next to Emma. She reached for him, taking his hand.
“I’m okay,” he told her in a low voice, trying to keep the waver out of it. But why bother? She would hear it. She could feel the uncontrollable tremor in his fingers, his hands, his whole body. “We’re okay,” he whispered, saying it again and again like a mantra.
Ray seemed to exhale for the first time, still gripping the steering wheel tight. Mike hadn’t moved or made a sound, still holding on for dear life.
“A lot of those rippers were running towards the store,” Josh said.
“I saw,” Ray answered and left it at that, like he was saying: What am I supposed to do about it?
Josh thought of the store. It was a strong building, built out of concrete block and steel. The fence was still electrified, the glass doors (now shattered) protected by the steel mesh and then the rows of shopping carts, boxes, and crates jammed up against them.
They’ll be safe. The rippers have attacked the store before and they couldn’t get in. Even the Dark Angels had attacked a few times and couldn’t get it.
Emma squeezed his hand harder, like she was reading his thoughts, or at least sensing his anxieties.
CHAPTER 25
Ray
Once they’d gotten outside of Perry and south of it, the threat of rippers had dropped dramatically. Mike and Josh kept looking for any rippers, but they had all relaxed quite a bit since leaving the town of Perry. Ray kept right behind the black pickup truck, their speed hovering around forty-five miles per hour. He hated following the truck, looking at the three Dark Angels inside the cage. Two of the men stared back at him every so often, but they also looked around. The other man seemed to stare the whole time at Ray with lifeless eyes, like he knew he was being led to a slaughter; he’d been the one who swore the man who had died had seen the Dragon in his dreams.
Ray thought about the rippers that had been running across the parking lot toward Jo’s store. He’d had the same thoughts Josh had had, even though Josh hadn’t expressed them. He worried that the rippers would eventually get inside. If enough of them stormed the store, they would get in.
But what could he do about it now? It sounded cruel, but he was helpless now. He’d asked Jo and the others to come with them, but she had refused, craving the supposed safety of the store.
And maybe Jo was the one who was right; maybe the store was worth protecting, worth risking your life for, maybe even worth dying for. There wasn’t much else around. Maybe there would be salvation at Avalon, but deep down inside Ray knew this was a huge gamble. He had no statistics to evaluate, no odds to gauge, no weighing of known pros and cons. All he could do was take the chance and hope they got lucky.
They drove past large areas of woods, many of the trees skeletal now that winter was fully upon them, the forest floor a carpet of rotting leaves. There were a lot of evergreen trees with plenty of brush that could still conceal rippers lying in wait. The farther south they drove, the more pines there were, and shrubs and brush that kept their leaves.
It actually felt a little warmer south of Perry even though they were still in the mountains, driving up and down rolling hills. Maybe there was
a warm front coming through. The clouds had cleared, the sky a deep blue, the sunlight strong, making everything crystal clear, sharp lines of shadows and bright swaths of sunlight painted on the road.
After another hour of driving through the roads that twisted through the wooded hills, little eddies of dry leaves swirling in the wake of their convoy, Luke pulled over. They had come to the rural crossroads—no stoplights, no buildings, just a couple of street signs and large areas of grass and weeds on the sides of the road before the woods took over again only a few hundred yards away, the brush closing in toward the road again. They pulled off the road, parking in a line.
Ray rolled down the van’s window, listening for a moment, and then he shut off the engine. He looked at Mike. “Let’s get out and stretch our legs for a minute.”
J.J. bolted from the pickup truck parked in front of them, running to the edge of the woods to take a leak.
“We should try to go to the bathroom while we’re here,” Ray said.
They got out. Josh helped Emma out of the side door of the van. They went to the rear of the van.
Ray and Mike walked past the pickup. Ray felt the eyes of the three Dark Angels on him. He looked at Mike who watched the men as he walked past, like he was afraid they were going to get through the bars to him. The one man—the one who believed the Dragon had killed the Dark Angel in his dreams inside the Super Bea’s restroom, the one who had been staring at Ray the whole time they’d been following the truck—kept on staring at Mike, and then Ray, as they passed. Mike said nothing when they were out of the view of the men, and Ray said nothing either.
Luke and Dawson were out of the lead Humvee. Dawson didn’t have a weapon; Ray was sure Luke didn’t trust them with weapons just yet, not while they were driving. Ray knew Luke had his gun shoved into his shoulder holster inside his hoodie and he could draw it as quick as lightning.