Flames spewed through one of the central gun slits, startling Paula. Roy fell into his seat with his hands over his face. He grunted and cursed at the top of his lungs as his son Lee rushed to his side. Gilda yelled for Pepe, tossed something to him, and pointed at the fifty-something grouch, whose eyes were scarred shut. Pepe rubbed some kind of cream on the man’s scorched face, which took a lot of effort with Roy flailing and cursing the whole time.
A ricocheted bullet cracked right by Paula’s ear. She hit the ground, shut her eyes, and covered her ears while thundering gunshots and muffled yelling raged on all around her. Then a thud. She opened her eyes and found Megan lying on the floor nearby, her blue eyes empty and still. Paula crawled over to the girl and tried to rouse her. She shouted, shook, and even slapped to wake the girl up. Nothing.
Gilda appeared and looked Megan over, then sighed hard. “Poor Megan,” she muttered as she closed the poor young girl’s eyes and rushed to another part of the bus.
The nightmare grew worse by the second, and now it claimed another child. Megan. Lydia. Adam. The ones responsible were outside laughing at them. It had to stop, and the answer rested above her in a welded sheath.
Paula sprang to her feet, snatched the handgun from its holster, and screamed as she rained hell on the maniacs outside. She was well past caring about the sanctity of human life that wasn’t on the same bus as her. No one closing in on them deserved any mercy. She would die before she let another monster destroy another child’s life.
Another sharp left turn forced her to grab the overhead bar. Through the gun slits, she recognized the old Country Club—dilapidated as it was—and realized they had been routed back into Sibley.
*****
Rock Rapids looked completely clear, as did the road ahead, which made Isaac smile. Free of the mess piped through the little earpiece Cody gave him, he didn’t want to see another thing—living or dead—in his way. The map said that the long stretch of empty town ended just after the top of the horizon. Freedom awaited, and he was taking it.
After passing the second major intersection in town, Rachelle pointed behind them. “You missed it. The gas station back there. That’s where they’re meeting us.”
He gave his rearview a look, watched the broken Popke’s sign shrink, and focused on the road ahead.
She glared at him like she wanted to sock him. “You’re leaving them behind, aren’t you?”
“I had places to go before I fell in with y’all. I didn’t ask for this shit.”
She drew down on him, but it didn’t take much for him to wrest her revolver from her little hands. He barely even had to adjust the wheel to stay on the road afterward. She tried to take it back, but he shoved her against the door hard enough to make her stop fighting him. It didn’t stop her from yelling at him, her eyes all teary. “She took you in, you ungrateful fuck. How could you do this to her?”
“Be grateful you’re away from that shit back there.”
“I’ll take that shit over a coward like you. Now, let me out.”
Isaac stared at the little dumbass. “You going to walk back there or something?”
“I’ll run if I have to. Maybe I’ll steal a car.”
Isaac laughed. “Good luck finding one that works.”
She cussed under her breath and opened her door.
He grabbed her arm and kept her from getting out. “Whoa, what you doing?”
“I’m going back for my friends,” she yelled while trying to yank her arm free, her other hand still on her door.
“Close that door, or you’re going to get yourself hurt.”
“What do you care?” she shouted while struggling. “You obviously don’t give a shit.”
He slammed her door shut and shoved her against it. “Sit your ass down and shut up. It’s going to be a long ride to San Francisco, and I don’t want—”
“You’re kidnapping me?”
“I’m saving your ass from yourself. Why do you want to go back to that face-muncher? You know she can conk out and eat you like she did Clarissa’s man.”
“‘Cuz she’s my friend,” she said with a whole lot of attitude. “She could’ve eaten me in juvie, but she busted me out. Why wouldn’t I do the same for her?”
“Don’t be feeding me the loyalty bullshit. My crew back in Chicago tried that, but they just wanted shit from me and turned on me when they stopped getting it. Ain’t no one out there who won’t do that in the end.”
“Except Didi.”
He shook his head. “There weren’t any Didis around to save my girl, so I don’t need one.”
“Your girl?”
He couldn’t believe he let that slip. He released her shirt and focused on the winding road ahead, which had nothing but wild farmlands on both sides.
“What girl are you talking about?” Rachelle asked.
“Just shut up and watch the road.”
Rachelle leaned closer to him with a shocked look on her face. “Who did you lose?”
He wanted to shove her back, but he kept his temper in check. He wasn’t sure telling her would help, but maybe it would shut her up. “My girlfriend took me in after I got out of prison. Then the face-munchers came. I couldn’t get there in time. My little brother Reggie said there wasn’t anything I could do.”
“You’re keeping me because you’re blaming yourself for losing your girlfriend?”
“Well, she had my baby, didn’t she?” he shouted.
Rachelle’s wide-eyed face stayed as still as a picture.
He faced the road again and realized he was crushing the steering wheel. He loosened his grip. “I barely even got to know her. Shit, I was shopping for her diapers when they came,” he added with a sad laugh. “I made one stop to check in with my parole officer, and that dead-ass fucker tried to eat me. I got back as fast as I could. I had to fight off a whole bunch to see them both, but they—” He had to stop himself from sobbing.
“You’re just like Paula,” Rachelle said.
Suddenly wanting to throw the brat out of the window, he cussed her out and loudly added, “Did I get in your business about going out? No. I never condescended you like she does, but I ain’t going to just let you get yourself killed.”
“Is that why you didn’t take the truck when you had the chance?” she spat, which drew a very surprised look from him. “Yeah, Didi told me about that.”
“So, how come she gave me this one?”
“Because she believed in you. I guess she was wrong after all.” She crossed her arms and pouted at her window.
Glad she was finally silent, he faced the road again. He may not have liked what she said about him, but at least some quiet time would make the sting go away.
Light flashed beside him, drawing his attention to his side-view mirror. Headlights followed him. Three sets, one belonging to Kenny’s R.V. The other two sets turned out to be four motorcycles speeding toward him, its riders drawing pistols. He cursed and floored the gas pedal.
“What now?” Rachelle asked her window, still pouting. Then she noticed the storm coming at them in her side-view mirror. “Holy shit!”
Gunshots sparked all over both doors, forcing Isaac to lean away from his side window and Rachelle to duck.
“They're going to blow us up,” she yelled over the gunfire.
“They better not if they want this gas,” he said before tossing her revolver back to her.
A gunshot clipped one of the two metal bars holding his left side-view mirror in place. What was left reflected one of the bikers reloading his pistol.
“Can you shoot this asshole for me?” he asked, hoping her little arms could reach before the crazy dude finished reloading.
“Only if I’m in your lap, and that’s not happening.”
A metal-on-metal crash rocked the cabin. Isaac fought to keep the truck on the road, then got a look back at the R.V. leveling out.
“Maybe they ain't after the fuel,” he realized. He rammed the R.V. before it could hit hi
m again, crushing one of the bikers in between. The R.V. recovered and moved behind the tanker while the other bikers took to the off-road.
Rachelle fired her revolver out of her window. Three shots later, she cheered herself for taking out one of the bikers, but another stream of gunshots damn near took her out. She ducked onto the floor and shot blindly out the window until she clicked empty. She dug into her jacket pockets and hastily reloaded, looking like she was fighting a panic attack. “I can’t load this with you swerving all over.”
Isaac pointed to the M4 on the floor. “Ain’t that loaded?”
The kid looked at the rifle like she was embarrassed and picked it up, fumbling with it before she stuck it out of her window and pull the trigger, but nothing happened.
“How hard can it be, huh?” Isaac said.
Rachelle flicked the safety lever twice and rained bullets out her window in rapid groups of three.
He shrugged. “I guess not that hard.”
She smirked at him, then ducked down when several gunshots flashed around her window.
The R.V. drove ahead on Isaac’s right with some asshole aiming out of a side window at him. He hit the brakes, but the R.V. stayed with him—even though it was a little funny watching that fool hanging out the window push himself back inside. The dude recovered and shot the tanker’s windshield, narrowly missing Isaac’s head.
Rachelle fired out of her window again, spending one shot at a time. More gunshots from the last two bikers forced her right back in, showering her with glass from the windshield.
“This plan ain’t working,” he said.
Didi’s voice surprised him with, “Don’t give up on me yet.”
Isaac and Rachelle traded glances, then he sped up and yelled into his earpiece, “You were listening the whole time?”
“Like a boss. Get over it.”
Isaac snorted. “I suppose you saw this coming, too. Maybe you see a way out of it?”
“It’s called faith, Isaac,” she replied. “Here’s how it works.”
What the face-muncher said next floored him.
*****
Passing the old middle school, Bob had no idea how to lose the posse. With so many vehicles at their disposal, he was surprised they didn’t try ramming him off the road. He wanted to break out the grenades, but he couldn’t let his panicky, inexperienced passengers get their hands on their limited stash of explosives and blow themselves up.
More vehicles turned onto Fifth Street a few blocks up and headed straight for him. Ron shot at them, but it did little to stop them. Hitting any one of them head-on would be catastrophic for the bus, no matter how much armor. No one could throw a grenade far enough ahead to affect anything. Out of options, he slammed on his brakes.
The hulking bus screeched to a halt, throwing many of its standing passengers to the floor.
All gunfire ceased, but Bob's temples throbbed like everyone was still shooting. Crying slowly died down as the massive convoy encircled the bus. Their enemies aimed their weapons from windows and over hoods. There had to be well over a hundred of them.
The bus became his turtle shell. He didn't know what to do but sit in it and watch the insane masses descend upon him. The area had been cleared of the dead long ago—except the ones thrown at his home several blocks away—so nothing out there would break up this barrier of madmen.
Bob’s tribal stories told him nothing of how his people survived the invaders surrounding their lands with so many guns and wagons. One of Didi’s Biblical stories came to mind; the one of the bus’ namesake fleeing from the wrath of Pharaoh Ramses, saved by a God, who parted an entire sea. He wished he knew how to call upon such a deity that could swallow up such a fierce enemy for him now.
A motorcycle approached the barricade and stopped by one of the old camper trucks. Its massive rider dismounted and strutted into the convoy circle with a sword strapped to his back, grinning as victors often did. When Kenny stopped, he pulled something from his pocket and raised it to his mouth. “Evenin’,” he said smoothly through the radio system.
A chill ran down Bob’s spine until he remembered the communication equipment Pat stole from Xing. He took a breath and pulled his handset, but he didn’t know what to say.
“In case y’all haven’t heard, your Death Doll is dead. Jumped into a crowd of zombies. It was truly sad.”
The nearest passengers gasped. Figuring it better to keep everyone in the loop, Bob patched his radio into the bus’ intercom system. He clicked his handset. “What do you want from us?”
“Well, you're surrounded and quite outnumbered. What say y'all come on out and maybe we can part peacefully before it gets darker?”
“He's got to be kidding,” Ron said from his pedestal, hunched over like Max was.
“Actually, I'm not,” Kenny said, his grin widening like he had just caught them sneaking something. “The way I see it, y'all have what we want, and we need not shed any more blood for it. Our little feud ended with the life of your leader. I have no reason to harm any of you now.”
Bob took up Ron's defiant stance. “I doubt that includes the lives we've taken from each other tonight.”
Kenny shrugged. “Y’all can make this harder on yourselves if you want to. I assure you that shell won’t protect your children, though.”
Clarissa stood and shouted, “How do you think you're going to get through it?”
Kenny’s grin widened as he waved his hand in a circle above his head.
Engines revved on Sixth Avenue, where a few of the surrounding vehicles moved away. Further down, a bulldozer headed straight for the bus.
Bob's heart jumped into his throat, while the others started to panic. He knew that thing could punch through the bus’ armor like a nail through wood, and his engine wouldn't handle the strain of trying to push through the barricade of cars.
The monstrous machine's plow rose at the command of a scruffy-looking man under a John Deere cap, its lower teeth aiming to scoop the seats right out of the reinforced shell.
“Just sit tight, folks,” Kenny said nonchalantly. “We'll have y'all out in a jiffy.”
A few passengers ran for the door, but Ron hopped down and stopped them with Oscar’s help. They argued for their safety and their children’s, but Ron warned them they could get shot down the instant they stepped off the bus. Even Clarissa got in Ron and Oscar's faces about taking her chances with her baby.
The grinding bulldozer closed in. Bob struggled with his faith in the plan, wondering if he was crazy to follow it this far. He wanted to believe he was still a step ahead of Kenny like Didi had insisted, but the massive convoy changed the game too much to hold onto faith.
A single gunshot took out the bulldozer’s driver. His body slumped forward onto his console, stopping the monstrosity in the street. The convoy faced their fallen comrade.
Flames burst behind the bulldozer, where a line of trees in the park had somehow caught fire. Just ahead of them stood a single figure, who stared at Kenny with that telltale grin.
“I hope I'm interrupting,” Didi’s voice echoed through the streets.
Bob found faith again.
CHAPTER 32
LEVERAGE
Kenny watched the pale, leather-clad wench stroll up Sixth Avenue like a virus coursing through his system. His rage burned hotter than the flames behind her. He reached for his pistol, but a gunshot skipped across the street in front of him. He searched every window and rooftop for the shooter, as did his people behind him. No one saw a thing.
“You should put that down,” she said smugly. “Someone could get hurt.”
Hotheaded Jimmy Pruitt cursed the woman and aimed his rifle at her. Blood and brain matter burst from his ear before he could pull his trigger. The poor bastard collapsed, dead as a doornail, while the Death Doll stopped before Kenny, still grinning like a boss.
Everyone else kept searching. Still nothing.
She frowned lightly at him. “So much death. It could be such a nice
night if we all just got along.”
“How’d you survive them things?” Kenny insisted on knowing.
She shrugged playfully. “I’m special that way. Now, how about you and your friends clear the road for us? We've got places to go.”
Kenny stopped himself from charging her, knowing her hidden gunner was too well trained to test. His people felt the same when he saw their panicky eyes on him, rather than fanning their hardened asses out to find the son of a bitch. All he could do was stand his ground.
Her brows flew up expectantly. “Not going to move?”
He shook his head. “You know I won't.”
She nodded, then shouted, “Convince him.”
He backed up a step, expecting to be shot down. Instead, he heard grunting behind him. Through those long slits on the bus, he made out a few bodies moving toward the front. The driver's eyelid window plates slid open, making several of his people twitch. Then they stared agape as someone shoved Cynthia's head onto the sill with a pistol aimed deep into her fiery red hair. Her eyes were full of fear, more than he’d ever seen in her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Kill her, Kenny,” Cynthia screamed. “She's a fucking z—”
A hand from inside covered Cynthia's mouth and yanked her head back inside. The window quickly closed behind her.
The Death Doll had him. He couldn't risk losing the respect of his people by letting Cynthia get killed, but he couldn't let this little whore get the best of him or the Pride of Life. No, he couldn't let all he had built die like this.
So, he used what always worked for him. “People keep saying the nastiest things about you, darling.”
“They just need to get to know me,” she said with a sweet grin. He was surprised she didn’t bat her eyelashes at him. In fact, she didn’t blink at all. She wasn’t just strong; she was crazy.
Still, he had to keep pressing her. “Kind of hard to when we have each other over a barrel.”
“You'd think that would be fun,” she said in a flirty tone. Oh, if only.
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