Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders

by Britten Thorne

  Call pushed them just as hard the next morning, driving straight for hours as fast as the bike would take them on the long and winding road ahead. He sped on and on until she was sure they would never stop. The wind stung her hands and face, tore her haphazard braids apart so her hair blew everywhere. The soreness returned to her back and legs. Even her arms screamed for relief as they roared past barren fields and ruined strip malls, burnt-out sheds and rotting wooden fence posts. She lost track of time, lost all sense of direction; she squeezed her eyes shut and hung on tight.

  When he finally slowed she hardly realized what was happening. She let herself down from the bike before he’d pulled to a complete stop and fell, scraping her hands on the road.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he barked. He jumped from the back of the bike and stood over her, frowning.

  She sat back on her legs, not trusting her knees to hold if she stood. “I’m slowing you down,” she said, moving her head back and forth to work the stiffness out of her neck. “Leave me here if you need to. I can’t ride like this any longer.”

  “You’ve got to relax,” he said, sinking into a crouch in front of her. “Don’t sit so tense. You won’t fall.”

  “At that speed?!” She hated that it came out like a shriek, hated that she sounded so frail.

  He sighed and took one of her hands in his. “I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t. Ever. You know it.”

  “I know it,” she whispered. Her hand looked so small in his.

  “C’mon. We’ll walk a bit, stretch our legs.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe we’ll find a few corpses to kill.” She looked around. The landscape was changing. They’d stopped on a road lined with homes. A suburb? How many miles have we covered? She didn’t like it - too many places for the dead to be concealed, to jump out and surprise you.

  On the other hand, shooting something might feel good. “All right.”

  She led the way up the first driveway they reached. They weren’t low on supplies but it was never a bad idea to check. After the last few rest stops they’d visited, Call had a few bags with space for anything they found. Soap. Soap would be fabulous.

  Call remained in the front entrance while she ventured inside. “I’ll feel better if we don’t let anyone sneak on up from outside,” he said. “You go on. Shoot and I’ll come running.”

  She explored the home silence. There was no sign of anything dead or alive, but she kept her guns loose in their holsters just to be safe. The kitchen had been completely picked over. Figures. This street must be a main thoroughfare. I’ll bet we’d find stuff further in the neighborhood. She found photos in the living room. Pictures of a family - two kids, a border collie, the mom and the dad. How long had it been since she’d lost her parents? It felt like a lifetime ago. Like she’d been a different person altogether. Father Speer and the girls were a more immediate loss - thinking of them made her heart ache and her stomach sink. Her parents felt so far away. It’s almost like I was never there. I never lived that life. It wasn’t mine. She left the frames where she found them.

  She did find soap in the bathroom - that went in her pocket, along with a comb and some floss. Then Call shouted her name from the front of the house. She slid on the tiles in her rush to reach him.

  “What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide, gun in hand. She didn’t even know she’d drawn it.

  “Hear that?”

  She strained her ears. Somewhere, far away, she could hear an engine. A motorcycle. “Sounds far,” she said. “We should go.”

  “It could be one of my guys.” He watched out the door as if he could see it up the road. It would be a while before it was that close, though.

  “But could it be one of the other guys?” Her hands shook. She tucked the gun away. “We should just go.”

  He shook his head. “It’s one bike. We’ll face them, whoever they are. What if one of your girls is with whoever that is?”

  She hadn’t thought of that.

  He made her wait on the roof with her guns ready. She stood on the incline with her shotgun resting on her shoulder. Call waited below in the street. She spotted the bike before he did and waved for his attention. “It’s only one guy,” she said. “A few packs. Can’t see much else.”

  “Keep aim on him when he gets close.”

  The bike slowed as the driver noticed the figure standing in the road. Call stood unmovable and confident. He held no weapon and showed no fear. He trusts me to cover him. He trusts me to shoot if this guy makes a move, even if I don’t want to shoot him. She aimed her gun.

  The man dismounted and removed his sunglasses. They stood frozen for a moment - then both visibly relaxed and approached each other, arms outstretched until they crashed in a relieved hug. “Come on down!” Call shouted to her as they broke apart. A friend. Thank God. She crawled back inside through the window.

  The man whistled as she stepped out onto the street. He was taller than Call, but leaner, and his short-cropped black hair was peppered with white. “Girly if you’d shot me that gun’s kick woulda knocked you clear off the roof!”

  Not if I know what I’m doing. But she bit her tongue.

  “This is Ripp,” Call said, “He’s with us.” She’d gathered as much now that she was close enough to see his vest. “Ripp, this is Lia.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lia. Nothin’ hotter than a little lady with a big gun, if you ask me.”

  She turned red. “She didn’t ask you,” Call said with a wry grin. “What brings you this way? Did you break up the herd? Find any survivors?”

  “Half-yes to both of those questions, but man, we’ve got to get moving. I wouldn’t have come this way if I knew you were here. I’ve got Satan’s Dickheads about to drive right on up my asshole.”

  “Shit.”

  “The same gang?” Lia asked Call, looking between the two men.

  “Satan’s Remains, yes. We had a little run-in ourselves.”

  “Let’s ride, man,” Ripp said, “They’re low on gas and they’re far from home. If we make it as far as Chatham, we’ll shake ‘em. I’m sure of it.”

  “You’ll be okay?” Call asked her.

  “Well I’m sure not going to stay here,” she said, striding back towards the place they’d stashed the bike. I’ll ride until my legs fall off if it means I don’t have to kill anyone.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  They rode until nightfall. She had a rough time, though Call reached down and squeezed her hands when he could. She tried to relax as he’d instructed and had little success. They were just going too fast. She felt like she’d slip right off if she let her guard down at all.

  It was well past sundown when they pulled over on the side of the road. The night was cloudy, and the headlights of the bikes cast strange shadows down the road. Nothing was visible outside their small bubble. She didn’t even slide off the bike when Call climbed down to talk to Ripp. She was afraid her legs would give out and she’d be done for the night, and with no signs of shelter, that wasn’t an option. So she waited while they spoke, unable to hear them over their idling engines.

  When Call returned to her he said, “We’re in Chatham. Not too much further, I promise. Hanging in there?” She nodded. She was exhausted - she could practically feel the bags beneath her eyes - but Call didn’t look much better himself. Worry creased his eyes and his forehead. The lines relaxed some as a warm smile spread across his face. “One for the road?”

  “One what?”

  He cupped her chin and kissed her; it was like an electric shock to her system. Her pulse quickened, her blood heated; it was like waking from a daze. She felt like she was sinking as his lips melded with hers. I don’t think I could ever get tired of this. He pulled away all too soon and she couldn’t stop the little whine that rose in her throat.

  He laughed. “That put a little more life in your face. Ready?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  An hour later as they tore past gas stat
ions and strip malls, Ripp finally slowed and waved them off the road and into a parking lot. Please let this awful flight be over.

  They silently stashed the bikes between cars in a parking garage next to a shopping center. “Third floor,” Ripp said, leading them to the stairs. “I’ve stopped here before. Got a spot with lots of big windows.” If the Satan’s Remains men were as tired as the three of them, Lia guessed it was safe to assume they’d halt the hunt to sleep for a few hours as well. And they might be out of gas.

  “I haven’t talked to anyone else since Lia’s farm,” Call said once they settled down with the packs and had something to eat. There was a jagged hole in the roof, so they’d felt safe enough lighting a small campfire. “What the hell happened out there?”

  “Satan’s fucking Remains happened. The whole fuckin’ gang fell in on us while we were out there,” Ripp said, shaking his head. “Or at least it seemed like it. Last I heard, they had pretty low standards for new members.”

  “So some of the girls might have fallen into their hands,” Lia said, her voice wavering. But Ripp shook his head.

  “From what I gathered we’d already scooped y’all up before the bastards arrived.” He pointed at her and wagged a finger. “Your little party really fucked up our night. We could have turned and fought the fuckers if we weren’t weighed down by a bunch of frightened chicks.”

  “I guess we should have stayed indoors and hoped we didn’t drown under the swarm?”

  He scoffed. “I’ve seen ‘em topple brick walls. It was just bad luck and bad timing all around.”

  “So what happened?” Call prompted.

  “I took off with Wales and Lark. Bunch of the Satan’s guys chased us. I had a girl with me but the two of them didn’t, so we split up. They led them away and I hid the girl until it was safe and then got her to the compound.”

  “So she’s there?” Lia asked, heart racing, “She’s safe? Did you get her name?”

  “Yeah, the tall Spanish lady, Charla.” Lia sighed with relief. Charla was a good shot and a tough girl. Lia was certain that she’d survived but it was still good to hear it confirmed.

  Ripp went on, “I know Lark drove east trailing four or five of them, but I don’t know how many were after Wales. I know they were practically up his tailpipe when he took off.” He looked between the two of them. “So I’m guessing you haven’t been home yet if you’ve got her warming your back. Where have you been?”

  Call paced as he spoke. He told the older biker about about her rescue that night at the farm, about how far they’d traveled, the stops he’d needed to make taking them miles off the route home, rambling on and dancing around the subject of the white farmhouse and their young friend and the stranger. When he finally brought it up, finally made himself say, “I found Wales. Kid was dead,” Ripp leaned back on his elbows and blew out a breath.

  “Fuck.”

  “Found him in a rest stop with one of the Satan’s guys.” His head dropped. “I let him go.”

  “You let the murdering bastard go?” Ripp’s body language changed. He leaned forward as if he wanted to attack. Lia touched one of her guns. “Calm the fuck down, girly, I can throw a few damn punches if I want. Why the fuck would you do that, Call?”

  “Executive decision, Ripp,” he said, pointing to his “president” patch. “A warning. Assuming he makes it far. I slashed up his tattoo and torched his bike.”

  “May the devil himself piss on it,” Ripp spat. The anger leaked out of him as quickly as it had appeared. “Goddamn Wales. He was a good kid.”

  “I know.”

  Call finally sank to the floor next to Lia. She felt awful about Wales but her lids were so heavy she could barely keep her eyes open. “We’ll have a funeral when we can get most of the guys together,” Ripp said.

  “It better be the only goddamn one,” Call said, eyes flashing, “Everyone else had better be coming home.”

  “They’re trying, Call.” Ripp grunted as he rose. “I’ll take watch out in the hall and leave you two to it.”

  Call leaned back on his elbows. “We should stick together, Ripp. With all the shit that’s after us?”

  “Don’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “Two good-looking motherfuckers like y’all? I’d be heartbroken if you weren’t fuckin’ every chance you got.”

  “We’re not doing that.” Her eyes shot wide open. Lia wasn’t sure what made her speak up or why she cared what the older biker thought. But she did care. She didn’t want him to think she was some sort of harlot, as Father Speer would call it. “I’m not… I don’t…”

  “Don’t explain yourself to this dirtbag,” Call growled. “Ripp, have a little more tact, would you?”

  Ripp looked between the two of them as if they were both aliens. “Well pardon the fuck out of me. I hadn’t realized social niceties were back in fashion. Don’t fuck, then,” he said as he sat back down. “I’ll try not to weep for you.” He squinted and pointed at both of them. “But take my advice and do it really fuckin’ soon before one of you dies. ‘Cause that’s all that happens on this grim fuckin’ earth. Everyone just fuckin’ dies. Oh, made a new friend? Dies. Oh hey, some handsome fella brings you flowers? Dead the next day. Shit. Look at her. She looks like she’s made out of straw and paper. You’d better fuck her soon, Call.”

  Lia watched Call’s face change from one of outrage to one of sadness, and then suddenly he was laughing, throwing back his head and guffawing at the air. “I’m gonna let you watch her shoot some corpses. Then you can tell me who’s gonna outlive who. Goddamn.” He put his head in his hands as his shoulders shook. “Lia. Tell him what I called you.”

  She smiled. “A goddamn whirlwind of destruction.” She clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she said it. She didn’t curse, it just wasn’t something she did. But it had felt good. She giggled through her fingers.

  Ripp just looked between them like they’d lost their minds. He nodded. “All right. Y’all have gone batty. Okay.”

  “Take the first watch, Ripp. Right here.” Call laid back and tugged Lia closer. She curled up at his side and watched the light from the campfire dance across his features as he dozed off.

  But she couldn’t fall asleep right away. She listened to Ripp mutter curses as he settled down to sit with his back against the wall, where he could watch both the doorway and the windows - she couldn’t shake what he’d said. Not the part about everyone dying. She was aware of how unlikely their survival had been and continued to be. She worried about what he’d said about them sleeping together. Fucking, she told herself, letting the curse word linger in her mind. Is that something Call wants? It’s what people do, right? Is he upset with me? Or worse… will he forget about me as soon as he finds a more willing girl? She shivered, suddenly a lot more apprehensive about arriving at the compound. Sleep was a long time coming.

  The three traveled with each other the remained of the way to the compound. Two full days of hard riding - Lia finally became more accustomed to it and was less sore when they stopped for food and gas. She clung to the memory of Call’s kisses to get her through the endless hours. It was dangerous thinking, she knew - as Father Speer would lecture them, kisses led to other things - she had firsthand experience of that, too. It was a dangerous path she was treading, with each mile marker more sinful than the last.

  But part of her had stopped caring what Father Speer said. Part of her just wanted to kiss Call again. And more. The weak part of me thinks that, she told herself. She’d needed to confess, she realized - if she was ever going to get everything straight in her head, to make things right, she’d have to tell Father Speer everything, assuming he’d made it to the compound. But do I really?

  Her conflicted thoughts didn’t stop her from letting Call steal kisses from her when they had a spare moment, when he wasn’t caught up in worry and serious business. “Another for the road,” he’d tell her, touching her arms and her face. Maybe Father Speer is wrong about this, maybe he just doesn’t kno
w it. I could make him see.

  After the second day they drove straight through the night. “We’re close enough now that it’s safe to travel,” Call said, “These roads are patrolled for the dead.”

  “And what about Satan’s Remains?”

  “Too dangerous for them. They don’t venture this close to our walls.”

  So they sped through the night like bats. Sitting behind Call, she couldn’t see the headlights in front of them. She couldn’t see anything at all. They could have been driving up and away into the night sky for all she knew - speeding between stars - as exhaustion crept in, it felt like it. It felt like they were nowhere at all.

  “We’re here.” Call had stopped the bike while she was daydreaming. She climbed off the bike and held his arm until her feet felt steady. The wall and the gate stood ahead of them, lit by torches and lined by a few scattered lookouts. It barely resembled a fence anymore - heavy debris was stacked high all along the perimeter. The gate itself was covered in what looked like corrugated metal doors, like those she’d seen on close storefronts. It looked heavy but it swung open with ease. She held Call’s elbow as he walked his bike through.

  The biker that greeted them wore a patch that said “Vice President.” “Thank God you’re alive, man,” he said, slapping Call on the shoulder. He snapped at someone off in the distance, and two younger guys came running. “Put their bikes away,” he told them, “Make sure they get cleaned in the morning.”

  “Yessir,” they said, taking Call’s and Ripp’s motorcycles and wheeling them towards what looked like another parking garage. The space itself was just as Call had described - an office complex with five buildings that she could see, surrounding a small square park with trees and benches. She could imagine people walking around, attending to business, going to dentist appointments, taking lunch breaks in the square.

  “Ripp, good to see you, too. This another girl from the farm?”

  “I’m Lia,” she said, extending her hand before Call could answer for her. Despite her exhaustion, she knew this was no place to seem weak. She trusted Call but this was still unknown territory.