by Lukens, Mark
Luke didn’t say anything.
“We take one vehicle,” Petra said, “Just the four of us go. We get some kind of white flag, let them know not to shoot at us. We drive the truck into the parking lot, get close to the front of the store, tell Jo to throw down one of her walkies. So we can talk to them, make a plan with them.”
Dawson nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll drive.”
*
Thirty minutes later they were back at the base camp they had made, Dawson pulling the pickup truck up to where the other three trucks were parked. On the way back, they had decided to use the pickup as the vehicle they would drive to the parking lot of the store. It had the largest tires, it was the fastest and maybe the most powerful of the vehicles, and Luke and Martin could be in the back, shooting at any rippers that got near them.
They parked, shutting off the engine, saving the gas. Some of the other people were outside of the vehicles, a few of the men with dark clothes and brands cut into their foreheads stood at the perimeter of their circle of vehicles with weapons, keeping watch.
“We need to make some kind of white flag,” Petra said. “Something they will see from a distance, something that will keep them from shooting at us. They’ll be watching through binoculars, and they might recognize Luke, but we need to be absolutely sure.”
“I think there might be a sheet or a blanket in the back of the van,” Dawson said, walking toward the van.
Two men guarded the back door of the van. Luke followed Dawson and Petra. He was tense, ready to draw his gun at a moment’s notice. He still didn’t trust Dawson completely, and he definitely didn’t trust some of the other Dark Angels and townspeople at this camp. The townspeople looked lost, like refugees from a war-torn country, but the few Dark Angels among them still looked steely and hard, ready to fight.
Dawson opened the back doors of the van as the two guards backed away, their weapons in their hands.
Petra froze as the doors were opened. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”
CHAPTER 57
Petra
Petra froze for just a second and then she aimed the AK-47 she’d gotten off the Dragon into the back of the van. But she knew Luke was right behind her, and she sensed more than heard him draw his gun in a flash. She didn’t know Luke at all, but at the same time it felt like she did, and she was glad he was on her side.
“Hold on,” Dawson said, his hands out in a placating gesture, trying to calm things down.
“Why’s he in there?” Petra growled. “Why’s he in the back of your van?”
Luke was beside Petra, his gun gripped in his gloved hand, standing rock-still, a lethal force ready to be unleashed. He reminded her slightly of Jacob, and she could tell that Jacob had trained him to become the warrior he was.
“Everybody just relax a little,” Dawson said. He was speaking to Petra and Luke, but he was also speaking just as much to the two Dark Angels who had been guarding the back of the van, speaking to everyone in their small camp. “No one shoot. We can’t have any gunshots. The rippers are only a few miles away. They’ll hear any shooting.”
“Why’s he in your van?” Petra asked through clenched teeth, staring right at Dawson.
“I can explain. He’s tied up. He can’t hurt you or anyone else.”
Petra looked past Dawson at the man in the back of the van. The man was dressed in the usual dark clothing of the Dragon’s guard. His hands were behind him, bound as Dawson had said, his ankles tied together with rope. He stared back at Petra with steely blue eyes, no emotion in those eyes, no feeling, nothing. She recognized him. He was one of the guards who had been in the dining room when she had eaten dinner with the Dragon twice. He’d had the same stare when he’d been standing guard, the same one he had now.
“Why do you have him?”
“He tried to attack us when we were leaving the town,” Dawson said, talking quickly. “Martin hit him in the back of the head. We were going to leave him there to burn, to get eaten by rippers, but I told them to take him with us. We might need the information he had. I had no idea at the time that the Dragon and Jacob were dead.”
Petra watched for a reaction from the guard when he’d heard the news about his masters, but he remained still and stolid.
“We’re just keeping him as a prisoner for now,” Dawson said. “We might need him.”
Petra couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of information the guard might have, or anything useful he could contribute, but she let it go.
Dawson relaxed, his shoulders slumping just a little. He let out a long exhale in the cold air. He nodded like they had all come to an agreement. “Okay. I’ll just get the sheet out of the back.”
Petra watched as Dawson climbed into the back, searching through a few boxes of supplies. He found a folded bedsheet. It had some kind of flower print on it, but it was light enough to look like a white surrender flag from far enough away.
It took a few minutes to cut the bedsheet into a smaller flag and secure it to a pole attached to the back of the truck. Dawson made sure that Luke had an assault rifle along with Martin. He also made sure they had several magazines of ammo. The other Dark Angels complained that Dawson was leaving them without enough ammunition or weapons, but he didn’t seem to care. He explained that they would have more people and more weapons when they got the people down from the roof.
Petra knew the Dark Angels in the group were just as suspicious of her and Luke as they were of them, suspicious that once Jo and the others joined that they might exact revenge on them for the atrocities they had committed. Petra couldn’t be sure of what was going to happen, and she wasn’t going to comfort them in any way. She didn’t care. She only cared about getting Jo, Kate, Brooke, and the others down from the roof. She’d already lost everyone she’d ever known in her life. She’d already lost Max. She wasn’t going to lose Kate and Brooke, too.
She sat in the passenger seat as Dawson drove. She could have insisted on driving—Dawson probably would have relented—but she didn’t; she would have her gun handy, ready to watch, ready to shoot.
They drove away from the camp, down a dirt trail and then onto the road, building up speed. Dawson kept glancing at the instrument panel like a pilot checking the readings as he flew. He seemed nervous, but also confident in a way, like he had no other alternatives. None of them did, really.
“Thank you,” Petra said as they drove. The windows were rolled up, the heater on, the air just beginning to get a little warmer inside the truck. She felt bad that Luke and Martin had to sit in the back in the freezing wind, but hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to get to the store.
Dawson glanced at her like he couldn’t understand what she’d just said, not hiding the confusion on his face.
“For coming back for me. You told me in the back of the truck that you would come back for me. That you would go to the store and get them to come back for me. You did. You kept your promise.”
He nodded, concentrating on the road again. He looked like he was trying to keep from breaking down and crying. “Thank you for killing the Dragon. You might have saved us all.”
Petra didn’t say anything. She was happy the Dragon and Jacob were dead, but she wanted Jo, Kate, Brooke and the others saved more than anything right now. She wanted to be together with the people she knew, even if she’d only known them for a short time. She trusted Dawson now. She wasn’t so sure if Luke trusted him, but she did. The other Dark Angels, she wasn’t so sure about. And definitely not the guard they had tied up in the back of the van.
There weren’t too many rippers until they got to the edge of Perry, and then there were a lot of them. Some were sluggish, just watching, huddling in small groups. Petra thought they might have actually been too full to chase their truck, too sated from gorging on the food they’d gotten from inside the store. Why chase after prey when they could just walk to the store and eat as much as they wanted?
But some of the rippers gave chase. Some threw rocks
and pieces of concrete and brick. Luke waited a while to begin shooting, waiting until they had driven past the intersection, heading for a restaurant that led to the ditch where they could get into the parking lot, a spot he had told Dawson about.
The gunfire started, both Luke and Martin squeezing off shots, but not too many, not wasting too much ammo just yet.
Dawson had been speeding, flying through the intersection, past a black pickup with bloodstains all over the pavement underneath it. He slowed down as carefully as he could with the two men in the back and turned into the restaurant parking lot.
A dozen rippers poured out of the broken doors of the restaurant, a few climbing out of the shattered windows. Luke picked enough of them off easily, backing the other rippers up.
Dawson had built up speed again through the parking lot of the restaurant, but he had to slow down as they approached the ditch. Petra heard Luke yell at Martin to hold on as Dawson drove down into the wide ditch and then up the other side, driving over the flattened shrubs.
Rippers were climbing over the cars that barricaded the parking lot to the left. Others were inside the fence, a few scaling it while others pulled at the gates, trying to open them even though they were locked.
Petra shot at a few rippers coming from the right as Dawson sped across the parking lot, driving right toward the front of the store. Luke shot at any rippers on his side, mowing them down.
“Here we go,” Dawson said, hitting the brakes as he got close to the store, turning so that he was driving in front of the building at a much slower speed, almost slowing down to a stop.
Petra climbed out of her open passenger window, sitting on the top of the door, holding on.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dawson yelled.
Petra didn’t answer. She stared up at the top of the building. She could tell Luke and Martin’s eyes were on her, but she didn’t look away from the building. She saw the spotters at the edge with their rifles. And then she saw Jo, staring down at her with wide eyes.
“Throw down a walkie-talkie!” Petra yelled as loud as she could, her voice echoing across the parking lot.
Dawson was almost stopped. Petra could tell he was antsy, that he wanted to get going again.
“Don’t you dare go!” Petra yelled at Dawson. She looked at Luke and Martin. Both men were aiming at the rippers that were coming from the other side of the parking lot and the corner of the building.
Luke shot one of the closest rippers, the woman falling down and tumbling, her long dirty hair flying, her legs and arms whipping wildly before she finally came to a stop. Others behind her slowed down, realizing they were going to get shot next. Luke held his fire, trying to save the ammo.
Jo went away from the edge of the roof, but two of the spotters were still there. One was a woman who was always on the roof, the other was a man. Petra couldn’t remember their names, but she recognized them, and she could tell that they recognized her.
“Come on, Jo,” Petra whispered to herself.
The rippers were yelling, almost like they were calling out to their masses. More were coming from around the building, alerted by the shooting. They were growing bolder as they formed into a larger group, a few of them beginning to run.
Luke shot another one, then another one. But the mob was beginning to run toward them now.
“We gotta go!” Dawson yelled from the driver’s seat.
“You just hold on one fucking second,” Petra screamed at him.
Jo was back at the edge of the roof with a walkie in her hand. She tossed it out into the air.
Oh God, Luke, please catch it.
The walkie-talkie seemed to float in the air for such a long moment, a black rectangle against the cold blue sky. It seemed to defy gravity, falling so slowly for just a second. And then it dropped like a rock.
Jo hadn’t thrown it far enough. It was going to miss the back of the pickup truck by a few feet, hit the sidewalk in front of the store and smash to pieces.
Luke threw his M-16 down and leaned out of the back of the truck, stretching his arm out as far as it would go, holding on with his other hand, Martin holding onto the back of Luke’s hoodie so he wouldn’t fall out.
Luke caught the walkie-talkie before it hit the ground. He collapsed back into the bed of the truck.
Petra beat on the roof of the truck. “Go!” she shouted at Dawson as she wriggled back down into the passenger seat through the window.
Dawson stomped down on the gas pedal, the truck’s motor roaring, the tires spinning for just a second, sending out a bark that sounded somewhat like the rippers’ screeches. He turned toward the middle of the parking lot, picking up speed. Luke had his weapon, shooting again, backing the rippers up. Dawson hit one ripper, a young man, knocking him out of the way. Petra shot at any of the rippers close enough to try to make a run for their truck.
Moments later, they were down through the ditch and then into the restaurant parking lot. But now rippers were waiting for them. Dawson turned left, driving across another row of shrubs into the next parking lot, driving through the back, then out to the road, turning left. They couldn’t go back to the right, the way they had come; they would have to take a long way around to get back to the others at their camp.
CHAPTER 58
Jo
Jo had heard the pickup truck coming before she’d seen it. One of the spotters at the edge of the roof had called out: “Incoming!”
Dark Angels? Possible. But she almost immediately ruled it out. Why would they come to attack the store with all of the rippers running in and out of it? They would know that the rippers had gotten most or all of the food inside. They would wait until the rippers had eaten their fill and left behind what they couldn’t open or eat. They would have waited until Jo and the rest of them on the roof were weak and hungry, cold and tired. And they definitely would have brought more than one pickup truck.
Jo hurried to the side of the building, near the spotters. Lisa handed her the binoculars and Jo looked through them. One black pickup truck. Two people inside, two men in the back, both with M-16s. A makeshift white flag flew from a metal pole attached to the back of the truck’s cab.
A surrender flag.
Lisa and Wade hunkered down at the knee wall with their rifles, getting ready to shoot.
“Wait,” Jo said, still looking through the binoculars, studying the truck as it sped through the intersection where the gas station was. She watched the truck slow down and turn into the restaurant parking lot, slowing down even more as it crossed the ditch into the parking lot of the Super Bea’s. As the truck got closer she studied the man in the back. She’d only known him a short time, but she knew it was Luke. She didn’t recognize the man with him—it wasn’t Max. She panned just a little to the windshield, trying to focus as the truck raced forward. It was hard to tell, but she was pretty damn sure Petra sat in the passenger seat.
When the truck was close to the building, driving up alongside it, she was sure it was Luke in the back and Petra in the passenger seat. Then Petra pulled herself up and out of the truck, sitting on the top of the door in the open window, holding on, shouting.
“God, it’s Petra. It’s really her.”
Petra told her to get a walkie-talkie, to throw it down to the truck. Jo didn’t hesitate. She got one: they only had four left. She threw it down at the truck, instantly regretting her throw. It had been too short. She should’ve let Wade or Lisa throw the walkie, or even Gil. But she hadn’t had time to explain it to anyone else. The rippers were coming, Luke and the other man were shooting, the driver was getting anxious, ready to bolt.
Somehow Luke had caught the walkie like an outfielder stretching for a fly ball, and then the driver had bolted away as Petra climbed back inside the cab of the truck. They had turned left on the street instead of right, but Jo was certain they would be okay.
Now Jo waited with the walkie-talkie in her hand. It was turned on the same channel they always used. She was waiting to h
ear Petra’s voice. Gil was with her. So were Kate and Brooke. They waited near the HVAC unit where she and Gil had slept last night, huddled up close to each other under a blanket. The spotters still waited at the edge of the roof, and other spotters waited at the skylight, shooting down into the store every so often when the rippers tried to build their tower to get to the skylight.
“Petra’s alive,” Kate said with wonder, hugging Brooke who smiled just a little. “Luke’s alive.”
“Max wasn’t with them,” Jo said. “Neither was Phil.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. They could still be with them.”
Jo was sure Kate was just trying to make her feel better, but she could tell Kate didn’t even believe her own words.
The walkie crackled to life. It had been almost an hour since the pickup truck had driven through the parking lot, since Petra had yelled at her to throw down a walkie-talkie.
“Jo. Come in. It’s Petra.”
“Petra,” Jo said after pressing the button. “Thank God you’re alive.” She laughed as tears filled her eyes. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“What happened there?” Petra asked, wasting no time with pleasantries.
“The rippers figured out how to knock down part of the back fence. They used big tree branches and part of a fallen tree as a battering ram so they wouldn’t get shocked.” She paused for just a moment, but Petra seemed to be waiting for the rest of the story. “We had time to get some supplies and food up to the roof. We got everyone up here before the rippers got through the back doors. We didn’t lose anyone. Not even the cat.”
Kate smiled, hugging Brooke a little. Tiger was right beside them, rubbing up against Brooke, meowing almost like he knew they were talking about him.
“You said the rippers are inside the building. Can they get up to the roof?”
“Not yet, but they keep trying. They keep trying to build a scaffolding of sorts out of the shelves that used to hold the groceries. We’ve been shooting down at them, but there are so many. We’ll run out of ammo soon.”