There was a few more bumps as vehicles in the blockade were moved and readjusted to their new home. Charity backed up the 4Runner like a pro just as the horde was surrounding them.
“You’ve backed up a trailer before, haven’t you?” Bill asked.
“Yea, my grandparents used to own a farm outside of town where they raised livestock. We grandkids were all in 4H and stuff like that. Every summer, spring, and winter break, as well as most weekends, was spent there helping and working the farm. When they passed away a couple of years ago, my dad and his three siblings agreed to sell everything off because they all had their own careers and nobody had the time or desire to work the farm,” she explained as they dodged and bumped meat sacks down the road.
They took a right at the next intersection to get back on track to where they wanted to go.
At the first stop after that, they properly wound the synthetic winch cable back up, and they also stopped to use the restrooms a few times over the next several hours. Each gas station was pretty much the same story: one or two thrillers inside, fill up, grab snacks and drinks, and go. They were starting to amass quite the collection of jerky and energy drinks.
Good, Bill thought. We’re going to need this over the upcoming winter and spring. We’re all going to be living off jerky and melted snow if we don’t plan accordingly.
Eight hours later, the convoy rolled up to the outskirts of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Their hope was to get on Interstate 12, ride that over till it re-intersected with 10, and fly over to Pensacola, about four hours from there. It was a gamble because they had to pass through downtown Baton Rouge, Biloxi, and Mobile. They stopped to refuel and pee on the Port Allen side of the Mississippi River before they got on a short stretch of 10 taking them into downtown, and then the 10/12 split. That was when shit started to go downhill for a lot of people.
As gas pumped into the 4Runner, Bill did a walk around and checked all the tires and looked for anything out of the ordinary. He’d done this before ZomPoc, but he felt it was more imperative to do it now. He had probably run over about a hundred bodies in the last day. All of his wheel wells were caked in congealed blood, shit, and other random pieces of meat he didn’t dare investigate further. He noticed one of the trailer tires looked low, and this was confirmed when he put his pressure gauge to it.
“Shit. Once we get the store cleared, I need to grab some Fix-A-Flat and see if this thing will hold till we get to Pensacola,” he told Charity.
“What? Mr. ‘Always Prepared’ doesn’t have any?” she chided with a playful smile on her lips.
“Ah yup, I must have been sick for that day of prepper school!”
They both laughed. Bill had the kids stand guard while he and Charity went in to clear the building. All went well: one clerk and three customers trapped in the back, all re-dead. It looked like one person had been bitten, and they’d all hidden from the assailant to treat the wound. Well, we all know how that was going to end, Bill thought.
They grabbed some plastic bags from behind the counter and started their usual loading up of dry goods and drinks, even though they had plenty. Bill had just thrown every can of Fix-A-Flat the store had into a bag when they heard gun shots outside.
“Fuck my life, can we catch a break?” he said to Charity.
“Not today,” she replied.
Sprinting out and throwing the bags into the back of the 4Runner, they ran around to the street side and saw a few hundred thrillers coming down the street towards them. They came from Port Allen High School, which had acted as an emergency shelter according to the signs posted everywhere. Everyone scrambled to load up and move out to avoid wasting any more ammo. They went under Interstate 10 and made a left turn for the east bound on-ramp when a couple of guys on Harleys pulled in line behind them.
The bikers had heard the commotion from up the street and been waiting for them behind a motel fifty yards to the south. For a while, they just followed. They weren’t being aggressive assholes, just cruising along. Once the convoy crossed the Mississippi River into downtown Baton Rouge, the guys on bikes pulled up alongside the two trucks and demanded they pull over. Bill rolled both of the front windows down so he could shout to the gang leader.
“You’re out of your damn mind if you think were stopping!”
“If you don’t pull over, we’ll shoot your tires out! You’re on our turf now, and you’re going to pay taxes!”
“Suck my balls!” Bill shouted as he lifted his .45 and fired off some quick rounds into biker’s center of mass. At the same time, the heat had built up in the low tire on his trailer and shredded the tread off. It flew through the air and took out the rider behind the leader. Charity had also taken advantage of the element of surprise and shot the rider on her right side. Bill heard rounds fired through his headset and knew that the truck behind him was also fighting for their lives.
“Q, D, you guys all right back there?”
“Yea, we saw the gang leader start to fall and immediately opened fire on these guys back here. There may be one or two still back there, but they won’t dare come up here now.”
“Dude, brake check them and see if they are riding in your blind spot back there.”
Q did just that, and he felt the bump of one hit the back of their camper. The other one laid his bike down and went sliding off the side of the road.
“Well, gang, I have to change that tire now,” Bill said. “We need to make it quick and get the fuck out of here. Were in the middle of town, surrounded by housing developments, and we don’t know if the bikers have any more friends.”
“No worries, man. We got your back,” Q replied.
At the next off-ramp, they all exited Interstate 12, and the nearest parking lot was a Costco. Bill parked in the middle of the parking lot so the back of his trailer was pointed at the front doors of the store and he was facing the gas pumps. Everyone jumped out and took up their normal positions around the convoy. Q pulled up along the passenger side of Bill’s trailer so their coverage would be more affective. Bill had the axle jacked and was removing the bad tire while Terry pulled the spare off the back. Bill checked the pressure in the spare, and it was flat too.
“Guys, I see movement inside the store. There appears to be someone watching us from the doors, and they are not very good at concealing themselves,” D reported from what had become her usual spot on top of the camper.
“Copy. Keep us posted if anything changes.”
Bill told Terry to grab a can of Fix-A-Flat and put it in the spare tire while he tightened the lug nuts.
“I hear the sound of Harleys,” Charity said from her location at the front of the truck.
“Me too,” confirmed Kathrin from next to her.
A half a mile south, on Airline Highway, was a little bar the bikers had claimed as home since ZomPoc had kicked off yesterday. It had plenty of booze, no windows, and security cameras that showed a 360-degree view of the outside. Across the street was a tattoo parlor, and their club tattoo artist was over there working furiously using the supplies that were now free. Everyone wanted a free tattoo. Meat (who was the club president) and a few of the boys were expected back from a run to Port Allen any time now. Meat had told Flippy (the VP) that if they weren’t back by four in the afternoon to come looking for them. Flippy grabbed Snake, Boots, and Handy to ride with him.
“What’s up, VP?” Boots asked.
“We got to find Prez. He ain’t back yet, and its four thirty. I gave him some extra time because you know how gets when he finds new pussy.”
The other three just nodded in agreement. They knew when Prez was getting him some, he didn’t stop for anything until he was ready to stop. The four of them rolled out towards Interstate 12 and barely took notice of the campers parked at Costco. They went up the off-ramp, down what used to be the wrong direction on the interstate. Flippy knew that if they passed Meat and the rest of the crew, there would be no way of crossing the concrete barrier to head back to the bar. It would re
quire exiting and going back around, and nowadays, nobody had time for all that. His turn for tattooing was coming up, and he needed to drink more before they started.
A mile up the road, they saw the road captain lying face up with road rash all over his arms. It was obvious he had laid down his bike and slid for a ways. He didn’t move or blink when they pulled up. Flippy pointed at Snake to check for a pulse while the other three rode on. They found a few more of their brothers lying here and there, but Flippy didn’t stop. Something bad had happened, and if anyone had survived, it would be Prez. He was one tough son of a bitch. Sure enough, a few hundred yards before the bridge was Meat’s bike, but he wasn’t there. The three pulled over and began to look around, and they found him seventy-five yards back the way they had come, slouched down against the shaded side of a car. The thrillers inside were going bananas trying to get him.
“Prez, you alive down there?” Flippy asked.
“Yea, VP. Did you see them?”
Just then, Snake rolled up and joined the others. “The rest of the guys are all dead,” he informed them. “Either shot or dead of internal injuries when their bikes went down. I shot them all in the head to make sure they stayed dead.”
He didn’t want to tell them Cruz had been alive when he’d shot him in the head. Killing a club member was strictly forbidden—except for the last couple of days. The exception was if they were going to eat you; then, yes, shoot them. Cruz had been unconscious when Snake had found him, but from the way his leg and arm were bent, Snake had known that Cruz would never ride again. They’d been close friends even before they’d joined the club a few years back. To save his friend’s reputation as one badass not to be fucked with, he’d put Cruz out of his misery then and there.
“Damn, that sucks, but no, I meant them army-looking fucks with the campers. We heard them up on the 76 in Port Allen, shooting at the shit sacks and causing a ruckus. When they crossed into our territory, we tried to make them pay their respects. They really got all of them?” Meat asked.
“Yea, I checked them all, boss. How did you survive?” Snake asked.
“Bulletproof vest I got out of that cop car yesterday. I told them assclowns they needed to do the same.”
“Campers, did you say?” Handy asked.
“Yea, a red SUV, and a blue pickup pulling camp trailers. They were wearing helmets like you see army guys wear.”
“I saw them. They was parked at the Costco right there by the new clubhouse. Looked like one of the trailers had a tire that was off. But I didn’t see no people though,” Handy said.
“That’s them. The damn tire blew out and hit Cruz. I don’t think they were crazy enough to rig that shit on purpose, but the timing was amazing. They must have hidden when they heard your bikes taking off to come find me. By the way, fuckers, you’re late. I told you four,” Meat said as he mean-mugged Flippy.
“Yea, I know, but you’re never late unless you got you some good pussy.” The other men laughed.
“True, but right now, I need you to get these fuckers out of this car so I can follow you assholes to Costco and find them fucking cocksuckers. Nobody messes with Meat’s gang without paying the consequences.”
“Fuck, both spares must have been nicked by gunfire” Bill said, looking at Q’s spare.
“Well, this fucking blows. Looks like we’re going to have to go inside and find tires,” Q said. “I propose we all go in and see what’s up. D already said she saw movement by the front door, and if we can’t find trailer tires already mounted on rims, then we’re going to have to do that shit too. It’s going to be all hands on deck to do what we need to do in there.”
“I agree. Let’s lock everything up just in case our biker buddies come back. I know locks are only to keep the honest people honest, but it will slow them down enough for us to get a couple of shots off at them and draw them to us,” Bill said.
“Towards us! Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kathrin said exasperatedly.
“Uh, yeeeaaaa,” Bill said in a mocking tone like a high school girl. “It gives us the element of surprise, control of the situation, and keeps them from stealing our homes.”
“Yea, ok, fine. You’ve kept us alive this long,” she replied.
Everyone leapfrogged from one car to the next until they had a clear view of the front doors to the giant store. They didn’t want to draw any more attention to themselves if the bikers were close enough to see them. Terry and Jake carried all three bad tires since they were the least experienced with shooting but wouldn’t struggle with the weight. When they got close enough, they saw that the people staring at them were thrillers. And more were lining up by the second.
“Swell,” Bill said. “We have a group of shit sacks keeping us out in the open. Any ideas?”
“We are going to have to get the doors open enough to let them out basically one at a time and try to control the situation,” Q said.
“Yea, right, we can try, but with the power still being on in this area, what is keeping the doors closed? And why isn’t the glass breaking with all of them pushing on it?” D asked.
“Fuck, man, I don’t like this at all. Can we find another way in?” Bill said
“You know what? I didn’t see anything along the freeway side, and the tire center to the other side wasn’t open that I could tell. The loading docks must be down on the left somewhere. Let’s head down there, and maybe we’ll get lucky,” Q said.
Without another word, he took off at a crouched run across the driveway and down the sidewalk. He didn’t stop till he got to the corner of the building. There was the dropdown loading zone for eighteen wheelers with two parked in bays that were open. The gaps between the trailer and door frame weren’t big enough to squeeze a person into, but it gave them hope.
As the continued further around to the side, Bill just about squealed like a schoolgirl. Someone had put a door stopper in between a regular door and its associated frame. This was too easy; he couldn’t believe how good their luck was once again. He also noticed that one of the forklifts had the keys in it. Not really thinking, just acting, he jumped in the seat and it started right up.
“The fuck are you doing now? This is no time for a joyride,” Q said.
“Yea, I get that, but we need eyes in the sky. Like now. D, Charity, and Andre, go up and keep an eye out for our biker buddies. If they come to investigate the oddly familiar trailers, you have the element of surprise and are up where they can’t get you,” Bill said.
“You’re a goddamned genius, Bill. I could kiss you right now,” Q said
“Please? I’ve been kinda lonely since yesterday,” Bill replied with a wink.
D was already standing on an empty pallet that had been left on the forklift tines when she said, “If you two guys are done flirting, get us up there so we can get this elevator ride over with. Please. Q, you know I’m not a fan of heights.”
With a smile, Bill lifted the trio and tilted the forks forward so the pallet rested on top of the building. Then he shut the forklift off like that. If any of the bikers found them up there, it would take longer to get to them.
The other five proceeded into the building, making sure to close the door behind them. They didn’t want anyone or anything to sneak up on them. Inside, all the lights were still on in the storage area. Knowing the tire center was on the other side of the store and the front was packed with thrillers, they turned left and followed that wall until they got to the far back wall. Then they turned right and followed that wall up to the tire center. The whole time, they could hear the hungry moans of the undead at the entrance. Their presence outside earlier had definitely drawn all of the thrillers in that direction.
The small group was still very careful, with Bill in the lead, Q bringing up the rear, and Kathrin in the middle. The tire center had walls that separated it from the rest of the building for health reasons. Inside, after a thorough sweep that ensured they would not be bothered, they located the tires they could use. Even tho
ugh they weren’t “trailer” tires, they would certainly suffice until better tires could be found.
“Have you ever run a tire machine before?” Q asked.
“No, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night!” Bill replied.
“Ha. Ha. Seriously.”
“Seriously, no, but I’ve seen it done a few times. Mounting won’t be the issue. It’s balancing afterwards that might get tricky.”
Bill set the first wheel on the tire machine and began figuring out how to break it down and replace the tire.
D and Charity set up on the roof near the main entrance. They positioned themselves so the setting sun wouldn’t backlight them while still having a good view of the off-ramp the bikers had disappeared up earlier. By the radio chatter, D could tell the guys were getting the tires swapped out and they would be on their way soon enough. She was glad for that. The last hour had been super stressful on top of the road weariness they all already shared. She needed a hot shower, a good meal, and an overnight coma. She was daydreaming about the fresh salad she and Q would prepare for dinner while they still had fresh veggies when a deep throaty rumble broke into her thoughts.
“It’s showtime, y’all. Our friends are exiting the freeway. I’ll keep you posted on what they do,” D said into her com mic.
Four bikes and a small car came into view and drove right up to the trailers like that was the plan. D guessed the one in the car had wrecked his bike earlier, and that theory was confirmed as soon as he got out. He had serious road rash on both arms and was still bleeding from his left. He looked weak and tired, like he’d just had his ass kicked. Looking through her scope, she recognized him and the lead biker from earlier. The four other bikers made a pass around the trailers and back to their leader. She could tell by their body language and hand gestures that leader guy was pissed that no one was there.
“All right, fellas, they realized we aren’t there, and they’re looking at the building now. It’s pretty obvious where we went and why. I’m opening fire.”
Beginning of the New Beginning, Vol 1 Page 6