The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

distance, surrounded by grassy hills.

  “There are no exits,” Gabriel said looking around for a sign or an off ramp. “Uhh, there’s your off ramp,” I said pointing at a thick dirt road that lead to the village. Gabriel stopped the GTO at the dirt road.

  “I don’t like this,” he said. Given that he’s always right on his hunches—I probably should listen to him.

  “I don’t want to go searching for a half hour looking for another town. Let’s go,” I pressed. “Alright,” Gabriel said and sped down the dirt road.

  It took us five minutes to reach the outer gate, which had a large ‘Warning Testing Zone’ sign on it. The large chain linked fence retracted into the thick concrete wall that ran along the perimeter—not corresponding with the small village atmosphere.

  We all got out of the car and proceeded to the gate. I started to scale the fence.

  “Did you guys read the sign? Usually ‘warning’ means ‘bad’,” Alyse objected.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” I said as I crossed over. On the concrete was a grey box which I opened, and flipped the lever hidden behind it. The gate started moving—sliding into the walls—and Gabriel and Alyse walked through.

  The village was constructed of small brick huts with no particular layout—everything seemed scattered and misplaced. At the other end, from where we stood, was the largest building. It was a massive brick house that had a Cross on top of the roof. The stained glass windows had pictures of Biblical scenes.

  “Have you prayed lately?” Gabriel asked and started walking toward the church.

  “This isn’t time to play. We need to find…” I started to say. Gabriel cut me off, pointing at the church. Next to it was an old pick-up truck, a Ford F-100. It was rusted and worn down, but it will have to do. A wooden gate extended up and around the bed of the truck—holding a large pile of red roses and amaranth flowers.

  The doors on the truck were locked. Using his elbow, Gabriel busted the driver side window and popped the lock. He started to hotwire the vehicle when the doors to the church flew open.

  A single man, dressed in black and wearing a large necklace, started walking toward us. He had a severe twitch in his step, and large portions of foam dripping from his mouth.

  “Oh my God,” Alyse gasped.

  Gabriel walked up next to us, his eyes dark with anger.

  “Biological weapons. This is a biological weapons testing area,” he hissed.

  “Uh, guys!” Alyse said with her back to us. We turned to see hordes of these victims twitching toward us—some were small children. They groaned and growled as they drew near.

  Alyse screamed as the man from the church grabbed her from behind. With all the force I had, I landed a punch on his cheek bone. His necklace caught my wrist and broke off of his neck. I examined it to see it was a rosary.

  He only stumbled back two steps after the punch and started gurgling with all the foam in his mouth. My fist left an indentation on his face—the skin, from where I punched him, was gone. I looked at my knuckles to see his scaled skin glued to my hand.

  “Gabriel! Hurry!” I yelled as I peeled the skin from my fist.

  Gabriel jumped back into the F-100 in an attempt to turn the engine over. The truck roared to life and I grabbed Alyse by the waist and threw her over the wooden cage, into the bed. I used the rear tire, and jumped onto the pile of flowers—fortunate for us, the thorns from the roses were removed. Gabriel swerved through the crowd, missing as many as possible. Alyse was curled up in a ball, her head resting against her knees. I took her trembling body to mine, and held her close—watching our cushioned bed of amaranth flowers and red roses float up from the truck.

  Gabriel stopped at the gate. Taking Alyse in my arms, I ran to the GTO and gently put her in the passenger seat. Gabriel tossed me the keys and drove off—I followed closely behind him. I put my hand on the back of Alyse’s neck as she sat, holding her legs, in the seat.

  “It’s over,” I kept telling her, but her mind was lost.

  The trip back to the Humvees worried me as Alyse got worse. She started shaking more severely and tears streamed down her face. But we made good time, and arrived within minutes with Gabriel keeping us at a constant 100 mph.

  As we drove up to the parked trucks, Chris and his gang rose from the grassy field next to the road. Gabriel parked next to the Mustang and I rolled up behind him.

  “What the hell took so long?” Chris asked as we got out of the vehicles. Gabriel, nor I, answered him, and I walked to Alyse’s side—picking her up in my arms. Everyone picked up on her unstable state.

  “What happened?” Chris then asked, and Gabriel guided him and the onlookers away from sight.

  I carried Alyse back to the pick-up and climbed into the bed. I set her down softly on her back, on what was left of the flowers, and sat down next to her. Her sobs got heavier, so I lay down next to her—putting my arm under her head. She rolled over and buried her face into my chest.

  “Why?” she cried.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  “When will it end?” she cried harder.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered again.

  23. Home Sweet Home

  I had to keep a close eye on Chris and the old pick-up behind me. I didn’t know how long the rusted thing would last. We finally made it back on the road, about an hour later. Alyse was feeling better, but remained speechless. She held my hand in her lap—fiddling with my fingers.

  “Nice fingers, huh?” I said sheepishly—trying to get her to speak or smile, or anything. But nothing.

  “I have more. Maybe you’ll like them better?” I said and the corners of her mouth started turning up into a smile.

  “There it is!” I yelled—excited to see her dimples. Alyse gave me a huge smile, showing her teeth, and brought my hand to her face. Then she rubbed her cheeks against the back of my hand, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “It’s what I’m here for,” I responded.

  She then jerked upright in her seat. “Look!” she shrieked, pointing out the windshield. Approaching on our left was a group of motorcyclists. There were ten of them. They rode in pairs and in two straight lines of five. They were an older group—consisting of forty to fifty year old males. The group wore the same clothes: blue jeans, black boots, and leather jackets that had ‘Freedom Fighters’ emblazoned in sunfire yellow on their backs.

  The first few bikers looked back as we approached next to them. I saw Gabriel’s arm stick out of his window—waving at the bikers as he passed. My jaw hung open as I saw the Harley-Davidson emblem on the tanks of the motorcycles. The rear pair of Freedom Fighters noticed me ogling at their bikes and laughed—each giving me a thumb’s up. I returned their gesture with a smile and a thumb’s up of my own. The front men on the right—I’m guessing to be one of the leaders—sat up and stared at Gabriel as he passed. He was heavy-set with major muscle mass bulging from under his jacket. He had an impressive mustache stretching down under his chin.

  He accelerated to get a closer look at Gabriel then he slowly fell back in file with his group. He yelled something at the biker to his left, and they both stared at me as I passed. Probably just looking at the cars.

  I turned to Alyse, but her chest was in my face as she sat on her knees, leaning forward, peering over my head—trying to get a view of the strangers known as ‘Freedom Fighters.’

  “Boobs,” I said staring at her chest through her tight white shirt. She smacked the back of my head, “Damn!”

  “Is that how you’re going to act when we’re around people?” she said.

  “I’m sorry, but your breasts were in my face,” I said flatly and she laughed.

  Interstate 35 got heavily populated with traffic as we hit the ten mile mark from Austin. Vehicles, ranging from school buses to mopeds, transporting our competition, and our allies, crowded the roads—we had to drive at a slower 50 mph due to the traffic. We all honked and waved to each other—glad to see all the factions
who fight for the same cause.

  “This is stupid…on their part,” Gabriel said through the radio.

  “What’re you talking about?” Chris asked.

  “Look around. Thousands of people who have the same opponent. Does The Army of Apocalypse not expect them to come together and fight? They’re not invincible,” Gabriel said.

  “Or they plan to kill all of us,” Toni said.

  “…I won’t let them,” Gabriel hissed.

  Alyse took the radio from my hand and said, “We won’t let them.”

  Someone from the group of trucks behind me opened their radio line, and all that came through were shouts of approval and cheers. I shot a grin toward Alyse and she kissed me on the cheek.

  “Can I get some of that honey?!” a voice called out from my left. I look out the window to see a 1993 white Honda Accord driving next to us in the left lane. The fart sound the street racer emitted from the muffler was giving me a headache. I looked back to see five more cars like it—body kits, mufflers the size of my head, and spoilers that would make you think the car could fly. The man in the passenger seat of the Honda had his upper body hanging out of the window—I’m assuming he was the one who spoke. He wore a backwards cap that barely sat on his head. Does he not know how to wear a hat? Alyse ignored him and sat back down.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you!” he said again. I tried to pull a ‘Gabriel glare,’ but I’m guessing it didn’t work for they all laughed.

  “Hey dude, how much for the babe?” he said and