He held the extra 9mm magazines in his left hand while he sprayed into the crowd with his right. “Mow these cocksuckers down!”
Scrub and Salty both began firing into the crowd and Savage turned his back to reload. He saw three of the creatures crawling across the top of the truck that had the road blocked. He actually smiled as he leveled the MP5 on the ragers and began cutting them down. “You ain’t sneaking up on shit!”
Savage began turning a slow circle, aiming his weapon, and taking isolated single fire shots to conserve ammunition. He had no idea how large the clan of ragers were, but he wanted to do his best to send them all straight to hell.
Scrub stared at his weapon, still smoking from the last magazine he had emptied. “I’m out!”
“Then swing the goddam thing like a club!” Savage screamed as he leveled his weapon on those still advancing.
Scrub stared at the weapon, then at the crowd. In a panic, he threw the weapon down and mounted his bike. The big Harley V-Twin roared to life and he gunned out of the kill zone and into the oncoming crowd.
“You cowardly son of a bitch!” Savage turned and fired toward Scrub’s taillights. He watched two more of the infected creatures collapse and the engine of Scrub’s bike revved high before it died.
“T-they got him! They got Scrub!” Salty stammered.
“Fuck him!” Savage reloaded the MP5 and kept firing. “They can have that yella bastard!”
Salty suddenly stiffened. “I’m out, too!” He hefted the M4 at those still advancing. He stepped back and turned to cover Savage’s back, a survival knife in his hand.
“Move it!” Savage pushed the man toward the edge of the cars that made the outer perimeter of the kill zone. “We can’t let them pin us down.”
He handed the MP5 to Salty. “Make each shot count.” He began reloading the shotgun while the other man picked at the advancing forms.
Just as the crowd began to pick up momentum, Savage grabbed Salty by the back of the jacket and pulled him away. “In the truck!” He shoved the man against the side of a garbage truck and Salty scrambled up the side and into the cab.
Savage slammed the door and locked it shut just as bodies began to hit the machine; a few actually caused a slight rocking motion as they struck.
Savage leaned his head back while his fingers worked deftly in his pockets. “How much ammo is left?”
Salty pulled the magazine and counted. “Eight.”
He held his hand open. “I got four rounds left for the 12 gauge.” He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how things could get any worse when the screaming outside built to a crescendo.
Amidst the screaming, he heard gunfire. As the gunfire increased, the screaming stopped, and bodies stopped slamming into the dump truck.
Savage tried to peer through the side mirrors to see what could possibly be happening. Salty grabbed his arm and pointed to his own side mirror. “There’s somebody out there!”
Savage actually felt relief flood through his body as the creatures tore away from them and began running toward whomever was shooting at them. “Whoever that fucker is, we owe him.”
He glanced around the cab looking for keys. Although he doubted the machine would start and run, if there was any chance they could use it to mow down some of the ragers, he was going to give it his best.
He finally reached under the dash and felt around the ignition. He jerked the wires from the connection and held them. “I need light.”
Salty pulled his Zippo and brought a flame to life. “Do you know how to hotwire one of these things?”
Savage shook his head. “No fuckin’ clue. But I’m gonna try.”
He stripped the wire back and tried touching them to each other, praying that one would eventually turn the engine over. He found one that brought the interior lights to life, but that was the most he could get from it.
“Maybe it’s got an interlock? Hold the clutch in.” Salty suggested.
Savage tried pressing the clutch to the floor and touching the wires again. “Nothing, man.” He threw both hands to the top of the steering wheel and rested his head on the edge.
“What are we gonna do?”
Savage looked through the side mirrors again. “I can’t see them.” He turned to Salty and shook his head. “We either wait ’til morning and hope the herd hasn’t come back, or we hop out now, fight off any stragglers and take our bikes.”
“I say we go now.” Salty stared out into the deepening darkness. “We may not be able to see too good, but I don’t want to give them a chance to muster up more of their kind.”
Savage nodded. “Agreed.” He reached for the door handle. “On three. One….two…”
The CDO knocked and entered Colonel Vickers’ office. “We just got word from the chopper, sir. They’ve refueled and are en route.”
Vickers nodded. “Very well. ETA?”
“Should only be a few hours out now, sir. It will still be dark when they arrive, but they’re hoping Captain Hollis is monitoring the radio.”
“Very well.” Vickers leaned back in his chair and rocked gently. “If they can’t make contact with Hollis, see how close they can get LaRue to the source. Maybe she can get her samples before they head back to Ft. Collins.”
“Copy that, sir. I’ll relay your instructions to the chopper.” The man paused. “Do you think Hollis and his team survived?”
Vickers smiled. “If Hatcher’s still with them, then I imagine they are. The man is like a cockroach. He just doesn’t die.” Vickers reached for his coffee and took a long pull from the cold cup. “Unless the chopper went down with all hands, then my money is on them still breathing.”
“And you think they’re still in the area? Would they have tried to hump it out of the hot zone?”
“No idea, lieutenant. We’ll just have to hope that Captain Hollis has the foresight to monitor his radio.”
“Understood, sir.” The CDO snapped a salute, then turned and left the office.
Vickers sighed and stood from his chair. He checked his watch, then poured a glass of whiskey. “They’d better still be breathing.”
Roger leaned to the left of the ATV’s handlebars, firing into the back of the crowd. Hank was standing on the rear rack and firing to the right.
Roger flipped on the headlight and felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as the crowd closing on the bikers suddenly turned and focused their attention on the interlopers. “Keep shooting! I’m gonna turn us around!”
Roger pulled the ATV to the far side of the street and pointed the machine in the opposite direction. Hank was now seated on the rear rack and firing behind them. “Go! Go! Go!” Hank yelled as he continued shooting into the crowd.
Those who had fallen at the feet of the others were soon trampled as the wave reversed direction and began pursuing the pair.
Roger gunned the engine and made a straight shot away from the trap that had cost his cohorts their lives earlier. He had no way of knowing if Savage and the other two had survived long enough to take advantage of their actions, but he prayed that at least one could get word to Simon. For their plan to work, he had to know there was not only a handful of survivors in town, but a potential ally.
Roger knew that Simon couldn’t be swayed from within his own ranks. But perhaps if he could discover there were other survivors and they were willing to cooperate…to share with others, then perhaps humanity still had a chance at surviving this plague.
Roger slowed the ATV when Hank slapped at his shoulder. “Let them catch up!”
Roger glanced over his shoulder and could just make out the crowd in the twilight, racing down the streets and across sidewalks, hoping to catch the ATV. He pulled over and waited a moment, praying he could see some kind of sign the bikers had survived.
“Okay, man, go.” Hank fired a few wild rounds into the front of the crowd as Roger accelerated again. They made it to the main intersection and Roger slowed, turning the ATV only slightly so that the advancing throng could s
ee them. When he was certain the lead runners were close enough, he kicked the ATV into gear again and opened the throttle. It was a straight shot to the grocery store and he didn’t want the Zulus to catch them before they reached the building.
He slowed the ATV as the parking lot came into view and swung in a wide arc. Hank lit the rag on the Molotov cocktail and launched it at the closest abandoned car. The bottle shattered on impact with the front wheel and the flames wrapped up and around the hood of the car.
Roger grinned, knowing full well that once that front tire caught fire, the rest of the car was certainly a goner. He revved the engine and shot the ATV down the block, away from the approaching throng.
Once they turned at the next block, he slowed the vehicle, praying that the exhaust was quiet enough they could sneak past any stragglers or scouts for other Zulu clans. Beyond the infected, he prayed that Savage and his crew wouldn’t spot them.
He pulled the ATV into the staging area and the doors opened for him. Pulling into the warehouse, he quickly shut down the ATV and searched for Candy.
She approached the pair, her face unreadable. “Good news, bad news.”
“Hit me.”
“Roof sentry spotted two single headlights leaving the area.”
Hank nodded. “So, we know at least two of them survived.”
She sighed. “They didn’t follow your trail. When they hit the intersection, they turned back east.” She shook her head at Roger. “Unless your friend Simon decides to send out a larger pack, they won’t see the bonfire you left.”
Roger blew his breath out hard and sat on the ATV. “Well, that could still be good.” He turned solemn eyes to her. “They must suspect there are survivors. We just won’t have the opportunity to broker a peace with them.”
She raised a brow. “I’m still not convinced his kind can be bargained with.”
Hank stepped closer and patted her shoulder. “You gotta have faith, Candy. Otherwise, is what’s left of humanity even worth fighting for?”
She looked to him and shook her head. “Not if what’s left is only people like Simon.”
Chapter 10
The rear window shattered as a body flew through the glass. Hollis brought his rifle to bear on the target and began firing before the creature had stopped rolling. Hatcher turned back to the front of the house and spotted something moving quickly across the yard. He brought his own rifle up, but the target was gone before he could get a bead on it.
“They’re swarming!” Hatcher followed another target and loosed three rounds. He continued to track it until it was beyond his view. Sounds of rifle fire from the roof became almost a background noise as the sentries opened on targets that made themselves visible.
Hollis threw himself against the wall of the house and checked both angles of attack outside the broken window. “I’ve got nothing!”
Weapons fire from the roof above his head had Hollis double-checking. He could see shadows in the woods, but nothing had broken into the clear again.
“Hey, check this.” Buck stood over the body in the living room.” He pointed to a wooden stake shoved into the creature’s chest. “They threw a dead body through the window.”
Hollis stepped away from the window long enough to glance at what Buck was showing. “What’s the point, kid?” He stepped over the body and went to the front window with Hatcher.
“Don’t you think it odd they’d kick up their activity outside and distract us just to throw a body in here?” He reached for the wooden stake and paused, his hand hovering just above the grip. “I need light.”
Hollis verified the front clear and worked back across the room. He flipped on his LED torch and flashed it onto the body. Immediately he saw what Buck had spotted.
It wasn’t an infected. It was one of his own men, his uniform ripped away and chunks of flesh missing from his shoulders and thighs. “Son of a…”
Buck stood and turned worried eyes to the captain. “I think this is their version of staking a dead body for the other clans.”
Hollis shook with rage. He keyed his coms. “Put down the bait. Two to the chest, one to the head.”
Hatcher bit his tongue to prevent an I-toldja-so from escaping. “What good will that do now?”
Hollis spun on him, his face painted with anger. “I’ll feel better.” He growled as he stomped out the door.
Hatcher sighed and settled into a wooden chair. “We’re losing ground here, aren’t we?”
Buck sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s no way to know for sure what they’re going to do next.” He pointed to the body. “That could be their way of saying Get off my property or it could be some kind of warning of what’s to come.”
Hatcher turned tired eyes to the young man. “You think they’d be happy with us just leaving?”
“Who knows? I’ve seen them wage full-out war on each other and I’ve seen them face off only for the whole thing to die out once one side walked away.” He took a drink from the canteen that Hollis had given him and stared out through the front window. “Watching them, I was reminded of some documentaries I saw about great apes.”
“Animalistic then?”
Buck shrugged. “Who could possibly know what goes on inside their heads?” He craned his neck to peer outside, then stood from the table. “What the hell is he doing?”
Hatcher stood and the pair went to the window. Hollis was dragging the dead Zed to the front of the house. One of his men had strung a rope from the tree in the yard and Hollis tied it around the body just under the arms. He motioned to the soldier and the body was hoisted up into the air.
“He’s hanging the dead. Just like he said he would do.” Hatcher sighed and leaned against the counter. “I’m afraid, though, it’s too little too late.”
Buck turned and stared at the soldier’s body in the floor. “I think they beat him to it.”
“I couldn’t tell who it was, but whoever it was saved our bacon.” Savage took a long pull from the white lightning Simon had put aside. “I’ve never seen so many ragers in one place at one time before. Not since this whole thing started.”
Simon paced, tugging at his beard. “Even then, they didn’t work together. There was just a shit ton of them.” He turned and cast an inquiring look to the large man. “And you’re sure they were working together? The ragers?”
Savage nodded. “No doubt, boss. You can ask Salty if you don’t believe me.” He took another long pull then handed the quart Mason jar back to Simon. “It’s like somebody had taught them to work together.”
Simon shook his head. “Even wild dogs will run in packs. Eventually, they learn to hunt together.” He took a pull from the corn whiskey and screwed the lid on tight. “I want to know who it was that saved your ass.”
“Me, too. I want to shake his fuckin’ hand.”
Simon turned a surprised stare at him. “I want what’s his.” He stepped closer to Savage and cocked his head to the side, staring at the man. “Don’t forget, it’s a whole new world. It’s eat or be eaten. And I plan to not be eaten.”
“I’d still shake his hand.” He stood taller and looked down at Simon. “After that, you can do whatever the hell you want.”
Simon raised a brow at him. “Don’t forget the mission.”
Savage stared at him open-mouthed. “What mission? The only mission I’ve known about is take what we want, screw the rest.” He stepped toward Simon. “If there’s a mission, I want to know what the hell it is.”
Simon nodded. “That IS the mission.” He pointed out the flap of his tent. “The world is ours now, my friend. We take what we want and leave the rest to their own devices. If we want their food, we take it. If we want their women, we take them. If we want their weapons, we take them.”
Savage watched him as he began to work himself up into another tirade. Rather than listen to it, he turned and stepped out of the tent.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon bar
ked.
Savage stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m fuckin’ tired. I’m going to try to get a few hours sleep before we start hunting down the survivors in this town and take what you want.” He walked away and disappeared into the night before Simon could bark at him anymore.
The more Simon was left to his own devices, the more Savage was reminded of a little purse dog. So little they could be squished by a well-placed fart, but they thought they were Great Danes. They’d bark at the larger dogs that they knew could chew them up and spit them out, but after the first big dog ignores them, they become emboldened and think that all of the big dogs will respect them.
Eventually, those little dogs get their asses chewed up or they end up dead. Savage still wasn’t sure if he’d kill Simon or just beat him to a bloody pulp, but he was really starting to tire of his rants and tirades. The man acted like a spoiled child.
Spoiled children suffer from not being punished enough. Savage was good at punishing.
He pulled open the door of the worn-out RV he called home. He heard soft snoring from the back and knew that Stella was already asleep. She had been given to Savage shortly after everything went to hell in a handbasket.
She wasn’t much to look at, but she had a kind heart. She was soft spoken and mousy, but she did what was asked of her. She did her best to keep his trailer picked up. She prepared meals when there was food available, and she actually knew how to make homemade wine from just about any fruit they could find.
Savage was a beast to any man that dared stand against him, but when it came to Stella, he never forced his hand. They had been together these past months and he still had yet to know her as a husband would know a wife.
As far as the club was concerned, the two were married. The gift from Simon was designed to provide the woman protection and the man certain satisfactions that would keep him happy and devoted to him. Simon knew that a man who felt he was beholden to him would be less likely to cause trouble. Perhaps that was why Savage was the first to be gifted a woman.
Caldera Book 4: Countdown To Oblivion Page 9