by Lukens, Mark
He still hadn’t moved, still staring through the door’s window to the customer area beyond it. He wanted to make the right decision. He didn’t want to screw this up like he’d screwed up so many other things in his life. This was too important. All of their lives depended on him doing the right thing, the smart thing.
Josh made his decision. He rushed to the metal door and tapped on it lightly: three taps, then two, then three again.
Ray opened the door and Josh rushed inside.
“Everything’s okay?” Ray asked.
“Yeah.”
“You see any rippers out there?” Mike asked, not even trying to hide his fear.
“No,” Josh said, giving Mike a weak smile. “Everything’s clear, buddy.”
Mike stared at him like he could tell he was lying.
Josh looked away from Mike, at Emma. Her expression of concern shocked him. She knew he was scared, she’d heard it in his voice, a slight tremor the others couldn’t tune in like she could.
“We haven’t seen any rippers,” Josh said again. And it wasn’t a lie, was it? They hadn’t seen any rippers. If there was a ripper outside that line of windows in the customer waiting area, then Josh couldn’t be sure about it.
He felt a little sick to his stomach, suddenly sure that he’d made the wrong decision. He should have gone into the waiting area and checked. He should have made sure. He should have taken the extra seconds to do that.
But he hadn’t. It was too late for that now.
“Alright,” Ray said. “Let’s go.”
They all had their packs. Ray carried the ammo box and his gun. Mike carried a pack and Emma carried a pack. She handed the last pack to Josh and he slipped the straps over one shoulder. Then he picked up the car battery, cradling it under one arm, holding his shotgun in his other hand.
They hurried out the door, making sure it was still unlocked in case they needed to get back inside. Josh couldn’t help looking through the door to the waiting area, staring at the windows as he rushed past them.
Nothing out there. Maybe it had been nothing.
They were making too much noise as they hurried down the hall, rustling and jostling, footsteps too loud, Emma’s cane tapping lightly but furiously at the floor in front of her. Josh tried to help guide her, but they had too much to carry. Mike helped Emma with his free hand when they got to the jog in the hall, then around it to the broken door, out to the gas station store.
Ray led the way to the grid of metal framework where the walls of glass and the doors used to be. The wind sliced through the openings at them. Mike and Emma were right behind Ray, and Josh brought up the rear.
Luke popped up to his feet, his binoculars tucked away inside his jacket pocket, his pistol in his hand, the M-16 looped over his shoulder by the strap. He was the first one outside, bolting out into the snow-covered parking area, looking across the street, waiting for where he knew the rippers would be coming from. But he wasn’t looking at the front corners of the gas station store, he wasn’t even thinking about the rippers coming up from the sides of the building to the front.
Josh kept his eye on the corner of the building as he ran to the van. Ray went to the Jeep, hobbling less now on his bad ankle; he got to the vehicle, slipping down inside the driver’s seat. Mike and Emma hung back a few steps. Mike looked where Luke was looking, neither one of them looking at the front corners of the building.
And now it was too late. Josh could already hear the rippers running; he could hear their grunts, the first of their war cries.
“The corners of the building!” Josh yelled. “They’re coming up the sides of the building!”
He reached into the van and stuck the key into the ignition. His hands were trembling. He fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them.
I should’ve told them I thought I’d seen something out the windows. I should’ve taken the time to look.
Josh caught the keys before they slipped out of his fingers, which were already a little numb from the cold air. He slid the key into the ignition and twisted.
Nothing. The van wouldn’t start—it was dead.
CHAPTER 34
Ray
As soon as Ray got to the Jeep he heard Josh call out a warning about rippers coming up the sides of the building to the front of the gas station store. Something clicked in Ray’s mind, some connection about Josh warning them before they’d even heard the rippers, but he let the thought slip away. And now he heard the screeches of the rippers, their feet pounding the snow as they ran, their yells echoing in the freezing air. They weren’t coming from across the street where Luke had been certain they’d been hiding, they were coming from the back of the gas station store, sneaking up on them from the sides. The rippers were going to be on them in seconds. If they didn’t get these trucks started, there was no way they were going to get back inside the building, back down the hall to the mechanics’ bay.
Ray felt his stomach drop, his knees threatening to go weak even though adrenaline was running through his veins like a shot of speed. The world seemed to have slowed down just a little, everything seeming like it wasn’t real. His stomach fluttered with fear, his head grew light, and there was the high-pitched whine somewhere in his mind, a siren warning him that they had made a crucial mistake.
“Luke!” Mike shouted, pointing at the far corner of the gas station store.
Luke turned and shot the first two rippers coming around the corner, then he turned back the other way and picked off two more coming from that side of the building. But Ray knew as good of a shot as Luke was, he wasn’t going to be able to do that forever; there were too many of them coming.
And now more of them were pouring out from the buildings across the street and coming this way.
Ray’s body seemed to be moving on its own while his mind panicked. He looked down through tunnel vision at his hands as he slipped the key into the Jeep’s ignition on the first try. It almost felt like he was hovering just a little off the ground, his body felt so incredibly light. He twisted the key and the Jeep started.
“Come on!” Ray yelled at Mike and Luke.
Josh was already running toward the Jeep. “Emma,” he yelled.
Emma ran toward the sound of Josh’s voice, pushing her feet through the layer of snow, tapping one of the packs the rippers had dragged out of the vehicles, half buried in the snow. She skirted it quickly.
Mike was at the Jeep in a flash.
“In the back,” Ray snapped at Mike. “Throw your bags in the back. Get in. All of you get in the back.”
Mike got in first, then Emma, and then Josh. He still had the car battery cradled in one arm and he tossed it into the back along with the pack he had. He turned back around with the shotgun in his hands, the back door still wide open, ready to shoot. He blasted a ripper that was getting close to the Jeep. The sound was deafening inside the Jeep. He pumped the shotgun and fired again.
Ray slammed his door shut and shifted into drive. He stomped his foot down on the gas pedal. The tires spun, the rear end of the Jeep sliding in the snow.
Too much gas.
Ray backed off the gas and then eased down on the gas pedal again. For a moment Ray was afraid the Jeep was stuck in the snow, afraid maybe some of their supplies the rippers had taken out were wedged under the tires. But then the Jeep began to move.
Take it easy on the gas . . . take it easy on the gas . . .
Something hit the back of the Jeep below the rear window, bouncing off the metal. A rock? The rippers were already at the van now.
So close.
The other rippers were getting closer to Luke, running through the snow, some of them slipping and bumping into each other, pulling each other down as they lost their footing. It would have been a comical scene if it weren’t for the insane rage on their faces and the bloodstains on their skin and clothes, the knives and other weapons in their hands.
Luke ran toward the Jeep, getting around the front of it just before Ray had a chance
to stop, the vehicle sliding helplessly in the snow, missing Luke by inches.
“Get in!” Ray yelled at Luke.
Luke jumped inside the passenger seat while the Jeep was still moving. He slammed the door shut.
Ray hit the door lock button, locking all the doors. He stomped down on the gas pedal a little too hard again, then eased up a little, letting the tires get some kind of traction. The Jeep seemed to be taking forever to gain any kind of speed. Freezing wind rushed in through the broken windows. Another rock struck the back of the truck and ricocheted in through the busted-out window, landing among their packs in the back.
Ray turned the Jeep toward the road, trying to get to it before the horde of rippers from across the street got to them. But it seemed to be taking so long to get there in the snow. At least the snow was slowing down the rippers as much as it was slowing down the Jeep, many of them slipping and falling.
A few rippers got to their Jeep. One was at the driver’s window: a middle-aged man screaming, his eyes wild, a few of his front teeth broken off, his hands coated with so much blood and grime they looked like they’d been dipped in old motor oil. He held a long wooden stick and jabbed it in through the window, missing Ray’s head by inches. Ray shoved his head back against the seat, locking his arms, hands still clutching the steering wheel, his eyes on the stick that had just poked through his window.
Luke leaned over and shot the ripper, the gun right in front of Ray’s face. Ray swore he felt the heat coming off the weapon as it fired at the ripper. The bullet knocked the ripper back, the stick dropping from his hands. Ray swatted the stick back out through the window.
Josh had his shotgun leveled on the top of the door, aimed out the shattered window. He fired, blasting another ripper that had gotten too close to the Jeep. Mike screamed at the sound of the gunshot and Emma held on to him.
The Jeep was finally picking up enough speed to knock a few of the approaching rippers out of the way.
Finally, they were getting closer and closer to the road, but it was hard to make out where the road ended and the grass began under all the snow. Ray kept his foot pressed down on the gas pedal, muscling the steering wheel, turning left where he guessed the road was. He braced himself, waiting to slam into a concrete curb or something else buried in the foot of snow, but they didn’t hit anything.
The Jeep’s back end slid to the side as Ray made the turn. He let off the gas and for a few seconds he was sure they were going to spin around in a complete circle and end up facing the direction they had just come from.
“Come on, Ray,” Luke yelled. “They’re coming!”
Don’t you think I’m trying? he almost snapped. But he didn’t have the time. He could hear the yells of the rippers, like some invading army on an ancient field, a clan at war with another clan long ago, savage cries and cheers ringing through the air as they charged each other in almost certain death.
The Jeep stopped sliding, and it hadn’t slid as far as Ray thought it was going to. Miraculously they were still pointed in the direction Ray wanted to go.
“Go, Dad,” Mike yelled from the back seat. “Go, go, go!” He stared out through the hole where his window used to be, staring at the crowd of rippers that were only twenty feet away, running as fast as they could through the snow.
Ray stomped down on the gas pedal. The Jeep lurched forward, the tires grabbing traction somewhere under the snow, the engine revving. They gained speed, but not as quickly as Ray wanted. He didn’t dare look back at Mike or the rippers that were approaching from that side of the Jeep, rushing out from the plaza.
Don’t let them get him, Ray prayed. Don’t let them get my son. He saw images of the horde of rippers overrunning the Jeep, some of them sacrificing themselves in front of the Jeep, clogging up the path with their bodies, others pulling Mike out through the back window, his body scraping over the bits of broken glass as he screamed for help.
No, he wasn’t going to let that happen.
He pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal, pushing the Jeep faster through the snow.
A rock pinged off the side of the Jeep, hitting somewhere on the rear quarter panel.
“Get down,” Ray yelled at Mike.
Luke shot at the coming rippers.
Spit. Spit. Spit.
He killed three of them in seconds, their bodies collapsing instantaneously, falling and tripping up several more rippers.
Josh watched from the other side of the Jeep, his shotgun still aimed out the window. The rippers weren’t as close on that side, but they were still coming; they weren’t giving up yet.
Ray concentrated on what he could see of the road, trying to stay in the middle of it, praying that he wasn’t going to run over a car part covered in the snow, something metal and jagged that would slash their tires.
The Jeep was building up speed. Thirty miles an hour. Then thirty-five. Then forty. They were getting away. Ray finally allowed himself to glance around, to check the rearview mirror. He saw Mike’s wide eyes, the relief on Josh’s face as he pulled his shotgun back inside, the fear on Emma’s face. He looked past them at the busted rear window—there were no rippers right behind them; they were falling back farther and farther.
Luke let out a long slow breath that misted up in front of his face. “That was close. Real close.” He looked at Ray. “Good driving.”
“Good shooting,” Ray answered back.
Ray slowed the Jeep down a little, turning onto the county road they had traveled yesterday. They had made good time yesterday, until the storm came. Driving was going to be much more difficult today with all the snow.
The rippers still hadn’t given up. A large group of them were running across the frozen fields, trying to get to the county road before Ray could, waving sticks, knives, and other weapons, screaming and yelling. They weren’t giving up—they were never going to give up.
Ray relaxed a little as he drove, but just a little. He was sure there would be a lot more rippers along their journey south.
CHAPTER 35
Jo
Jo saw it coming while she was on the roof. It was late afternoon, the sun setting in a haze of muted, washed-out colors. Even though the sky was darkening overhead, the first few stars beginning to twinkle, she saw it. She couldn’t miss it—it was lit up in the sky.
She’d been down in the store earlier. She had gotten some sleep throughout the day, her mind and body bone-weary from staying up most of last night, but even more from the nonstop stress. She wished she could have a little break from the constant worrying and planning and fear, just a few hours of sleep that wasn’t riddled with nightmares that woke her up every hour or so.
She’d just been thinking about when Kate had knocked on her office door yesterday. Kate had shown her Brooke’s drawing tablet, the drawings Brooke had done. Jo remembered the drawing of Petra with the Dragon right behind her, his hands on her shoulders, the look on Petra’s face.
Of course Jo wanted to believe Petra was alive, and she wanted to believe Zak, Tamara, and Tyrone were still alive too. She wanted to believe the four of them were safe, maybe even together. She understood Max’s need to go after Petra, his loyalty to her. But Jo had the rest of the people here at the store to think about. Max could leave on his own—he was free to do that—but she didn’t want him taking anyone else with him. She couldn’t lose anyone else. Their best shooters and fighters were gone now. How long could they last when another attack came from the rippers? Or the Dark Angels.
She tried to catch a little more sleep two hours ago, but she gave up. Maybe she had slept and hadn’t realized it, drifting in and out. She couldn’t be sure. Maybe she didn’t have the prophetic dreams that Kate, Brooke, Max, and Petra seemed to share—she didn’t see those people in her dreams like they did—but she still had the feeling that something bad was coming. And after Kate showed her Brooke’s drawing of Petra handcuffed with the Dragon hovering right behind her like a shadow, she was sure something bad was coming.
She wanted to be up on the roof tonight. She wasn’t any better of a shooter or a spotter than anyone else up here, but she was the unelected leader, the manager of this store, and she should be up here doing her part.
And now, as night came, she saw the bad thing she’d been worried about approaching the store from the sky.
Fernando was up on the roof with Jo. So was Tina. She trusted both of them the most, and they were invaluable to her right now, both seemingly tireless and fearless. She couldn’t ask for more.
“You see that?” Jo asked Fernando.
He was already looking at the sky through his binoculars. He’d heard it before seeing it; they’d all heard it before seeing it, a whining buzz in the air, an alien sound now that nothing except birds flew in the air anymore.
Jo could see the small aircraft approaching with her naked eye. It was lit up with small bright lights.
“It’s a drone,” Fernando said. “I bought one for my son.” He sounded like he was choking up at the sudden memory of his son.
Tina watched the sky through her own pair of binoculars, standing a few feet away. “It’s coming right for us.”
“Dark Angels?” Jo asked.
“Maybe,” Fernando answered.
“Could the drone have a weapon on it?” she asked Fernando. “A bomb?”
“They can be rigged like that,” he answered.
Fernando handed Jo his binoculars and picked up the .30-06 rifle, tracking the drone through the scope as it hovered closer to their store. “Just say the word,” he said as he aimed the rifle.
“Not yet.”
Jo used Fernando’s binoculars to scan the parking lot, then the street beyond the parking lot, the partially constructed building on the large lot beyond that street.
She wondered if the drone might be a distraction while the Dark Angels attacked from a different direction. But she didn’t see any Dark Angels. No military trucks or vans with the DA symbol painted on them. She saw a few rippers, a few of them racing toward the store, attracted by the lights and buzzing of the drone.