Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber

by Alex Westmore

  Roper put one finger on her lips and then pointed outside. Zoe nodded and followed her out of the bus.

  “I’ll go around that way. You go around to the front,” Roper whispered. “Take them out from that position so we don’t accidentally shoot each other. Can you do that?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “Don’t hesitate. We got this. On my three.” Roper scooted to the back wheel well and then turned and held up one, two, three fingers before she hustled around back with her magnum held in both hands. The first man she sighted drew a bullet to the back of his neck that severed his skull from his spine. He collapsed like a bag of rocks. The other two whirled around, shooting blindly in Roper’s direction.

  It took three shots, but Zoe managed to shoot one in the shoulder. He fell into the driver, who struggled to push the body off. Too late, he realized there were two shooters, and, pinned in, raised his hands in surrender.

  As Zoe walked out from her spot, Roper yelled, “No!”

  The driver reached for a gun in his shoulder holster and had it halfway out when Roper dropped him where he sat with one bullet in the forehead.

  When the shooting stopped, Roper waved a stunned Zoe toward the Jeep. “Get their weapons and anything else we can use, and be quick about it. Those other yahoos might come back.”

  Suddenly, the loud THWUPPING sound of arrows hitting their target filled the air, followed by the rapid fire of the turret-mounted machine gun atop the Fuchs.

  Laden with rifles and belts of ammo, Roper and Zoe peeked around the bus and saw one of the Jeeps had returned with a Hummer full of men with rifles.

  “Get back in the Fuchs!” Roper yelled to Fletcher and Hunter, who each fired one more arrow before getting back in and pulling up the ramp.

  Going to one knee again, Roper swung her Bushmaster rifle to her shoulder, aimed, and in five shots, managing to blow out the Hummer’s front tire. “They wanna play? Let’s make sure they stay for the entire game.” Taking careful aim, she blew out the other front tire. “Get in the bus, Zoe.”

  Zoe just managed to get behind the wheel of the bus before they fired a few shots in her direction, shattering two side windows.

  It was getting dark now, and the muzzle flash made it easier for Roper to return fire…which she did with some success.

  Churchill made sure there would be no more shooting from the Hummer as he sprayed the vehicle from bumper-to-bumper with 7.62 mm machine gun bullets. When he finally stopped, the white Hummer looked like Swiss cheese.

  Suddenly, over the mic came Fletcher’s deep voice. “Come out, hands high, or we’ll blow the damn Jeep to Hell.”

  Zoe and Roper exchanged glances.

  “Cover from behind,” Roper said to her. “Approach carefully. Expect return fire.”

  Zoe was gone in a heartbeat, just as the rear passenger door of the Jeep swung open.

  “Please don’t shoot! I’m just a kid!”

  Roper couldn’t see him clearly, but she knew enough to know he was no kid.

  A second shooter came out, his blood-covered hand pressing against a bullet wound. Slinging the rifle back behind her, Roper started forward with her sidearm in hand until she saw them. They had come because of the noise, just as they always did.

  Shuffling up behind Zoe were five zombies, alerted, no doubt, by the sound of gunshots and voices.

  “Zoe, do not move!” Roper called out. “Just stay where you are.”

  Zoe froze, petrified and trembling as the five rotting man eaters limped past her as if she was invisible.

  “Oh shit!” the wounded one man said. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Roy, get in the Hummer! Get in the God damned Hummer!” Diving back in, he closed and locked the door, leaving his friend alone and in the path of the moaning quintet of eaters.

  Realizing he was now alone and at risk, he ran to the Fuchs and pummeled on the side.

  “Please! Let me in! I have money. I can help you.”

  Churchill looked down at him from his place atop the Beast. “Does it look like we need your help, asshole?”

  The five man eaters gathered around the Hummer and beat on the windows

  Churchill’s shots had shattered. The windows caved in easily. As three reached for the wounded man inside, two dragged their meatless legs over to where the pleading man stood. When he saw the ladder Roper had forgotten to raise, he started up it. Churchill swung the gun toward him, but there was no reason to fire. The two zombies reached for his legs before he could get to the top of the Beast. They clawed at him and bit at his flailing legs until finally a pair of teeth clamped down on his calf muscle.

  His piercing scream echoed through the night air as the two man eaters took chunks of his legs out with every bite. As the man started losing his grip, he looked over at Churchill and gurgled, “Shoot me…please.”

  Churchill did not, but Roper did. As his body fell to the ground, all five zombies converged on it, and soon knelt over their bloody feast, tearing intestines out and moaning as they ripped the meat from his bones. His screams stopped as quickly as they started.

  “Shoot them,” Roper ordered Churchill.

  As Roper and Zoe approached the Hummer, the door flew open and the wounded man took off running. Zoe lifted her weapon to fire, but Roper pushed the barrel downward as she had Churchill’s earlier.

  “He’s a dead man anyway.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “He’s running in the direction the man eaters came from.”

  Twenty seconds later, there came a hideous scream.

  “That would be him.” She returned her gaze to the five eaters and watched, one-by-one, as Churchill shot each in the head.

  “Fools,” Roper spat. “We’ll never get our country back as long as we fight each other.”

  After gathering the weapons of the dead men, Roper dumped the assorted rifles and handguns in the bus and met everyone back at the Beast.

  “That was pretty awesome,” Hunter said with admiration. “Cooler heads prevailed.”

  Roper shook her head with disgust. “What that was, was a stupid mistake on my part. I should have had Churchill go with Zoe. I almost screwed this whole thing up.”

  “You couldn’t have known outlaws were going to attack.”

  Roper shook her head. “No, but I should have been prepared for anything. I’m…really sorry.”

  Zoe rubbed Roper’s back. “No harm, no foul. It’s all good.”

  Roper closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. “This time. I’m sorry I put us in that position. In the future, I’ll make sure everyone is covered.”

  “Well, we’re covered now. Let’s get back to the farm before Dallas and Sully send out search squads.”

  With Zoe and Churchill on the bus, Roper followed behind in the Beast. Her vehicle remained silent for most of the ride back. When someone did finally speak, it was Fletcher, who now occupied the co-pilot seat.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over that back there,” he said softly. “The way you remedied the situation was General Patton-worthy.”

  A slight smile played on the corners of Roper’s mouth. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it. Sheer brilliance. That ambush may have surprised you, but you handed them their asses on a silver platter. If your leader is as smart or as daring as you, then my son and I are very fortunate you found us.”

  Roper turned and smiled thankfully to him. “She’s not as daring as I am, but you’ll see–– she’s way, way smarter.”

  The Survivor had only been out of the bayou proper an hour when Butcher saw them. Three speedboats bearing the rising sun flag of Japan came skimming across the water toward them, kicking up three white wakes behind them.

  “Jesus Christ, why can’t they leave us alone?” Butcher groused as she handed the binoculars to Luke. “We’re obviously moving parallel to the damn shore and we’re a group full of women.”

  “Must be just a warning, otherwise they’d have already blown us out of the water.” He counted the
men. “Twelve guys, four to a boat, three armed. One rocket launcher just in case, I suppose. They’re awfully scared of us.”

  “Or of them.”

  “Does it matter which?”

  Butcher called up her best shooters. Ten of the shooters were to stand with their weapons at the ready on the lower deck. Everyone else was to go below, stay out of sight, and prepare for the order.

  Einstein, not one of the best shooters, remained topside with Butcher and Luke.

  “You heard me, kid,” Butcher said. “Get below.”

  “I did hear you, and I’m not going. You need me up here.”

  He had never, not once, contradicted an order by Dallas and it irritated Butcher that he would do so to her. “Oh really? And why is that?”

  “You know anyone else who understands Japanese?”

  Luke’s head swiveled around. “You speak—” Then he shook his head. “Of course you do. I shouldn’t even be surprised.”

  Einstein grinned, showing all teeth. “They don’t call me Einstein for nothin’. Years of private schooling gave me a pretty good grasp of a number of languages. Japanese is one of them.”

  Butcher ruffled his hair and said, “Fine, but stay low. I’d hate to see Einstein guts all over the deck.”

  Luke glanced at Butcher and took a step back. “What do you want to do?”

  Butcher studied the approaching boats. They had cut their engines a good five hundred yards away and were now coasting toward them. Luke was right about them not firing. This was a recon mission only. “I want to do what Dallas would do.”

  Sighing, Luke nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Leaning over the side, Luke called down to those bearing rifles. “Stay out of sight. On my go, fire at will and hit as many as you can.”

  Butcher scowled at him. “You disagree.”

  Shrugging, Luke swung his own rifle so it rested in front of him. “Doesn’t matter what I think. If I know Dallas, she’d rather we fight them than limp back home. Just be prepared to have Survivor blown to bits.”

  Butcher glared at him. “Can they accurately fire this far?”

  Luke laughed. “Absolutely.”

  “Are we sitting ducks then?”

  Luke thought a moment. “Not if we can hightail it back into the safety of the bayou. We’d be harder to hit there. Harder to find.”

  “We need to take out the guy with the rocket launcher, or it won’t matter where we go.”

  Luke nodded. “Agreed.” Leaning over the railing, Luke called for a kid named Dead-Eye. He got his nom de plume because of his unerring accuracy. “Dead-Eye? We need you to take out the rocket launcher as soon as I swing her around. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Dead-Eye carefully took his sniper rifle to the back of the boat.

  “Okay, Sweetcheeks, here we go.”

  “Then turn us about, sailor, and be ready to put the pedal to the metal.”

  Luke cocked his head. “What if they send a plane?”

  Butcher shook her head. “I’m betting they don’t even have any. When’s the last time you’ve seen a bird in the sky?”

  Luke shrugged. “I’m with you, Babe…whatever you decide, but––”

  Suddenly, the skiffs started their engines and came straight for The Survivor, stopping about thirty yards away.

  “Steady everyone,” Luke said. “Hold your fire.”

  “It was a ploy,” Einstein said. “They caught us that time.”

  One of the boats slowly approached. “Put down weapons,” the commander of the orange boat ordered with that I-speak-English-as-a-second-language accent.

  Butcher shook her head. “Leave us the fuck alone. We’re not hurting anyone. We just want to get out of the bayou and up the Mississippi.”

  The Japanese chattered to each other.

  “The little one wants to fire, the commander says something like their job is to….group…no…herd. Something like that,” said Einstein, translating as quickly as he could.

  “Herd us? Herd us? Oh hell no.” Butcher held Luke’s hand as she addressed the captain of the skiff. “All we want to do is head up river. We’ll be back inland in a couple hours. No harm, no foul.”

  The men chattered to each other a little more.

  “They want to blow us up right now,” Einstein whispered, “and I think they’re gonna.”

  Butcher looked at Luke and squeezed his hand. “Now.”

  “Fire!” Luke yelled.

  Immediately, rifle blasts went off, killing all three men in the first boat and one in the boat behind it. Dead-Eye raised his rifle, zeroed in on the guy with the rocket launcher, and put a bullet between his eyes before he could get the launcher to his shoulder.

  They continued shooting until the third boat tried making a getaway. Someone finally shot and killed the pilot of the final skiff, so Luke grabbed the wheel and turned The Survivor abruptly about. The sound of people below decks falling and items clattering to the floor echoed throughout.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Einstein yelled, watching the one boat attempting to escape slowly sputter to a stop in the water. Grabbing the binoculars from Butcher, Einstein looked at the destroyer in the far distance. “I think…I think Butcher was right about the planes. I don’t see anything…any action. Nothing is happening so far. I think they’re shocked that we fought back.”

  Luke pushed The Survivor to her limit as everyone regained their balance, composure, and their aim.

  Butcher stood fast, waiting. Had she just consigned them all to a fiery grave? She hoped not. “Luke?”

  “Working on it, love. We need cover fire and eyes in the sky!”

  “Got it,” Einstein said, keeping his eyes glued to the ship. “They’re a bit stunned, I think. They’re not even manning the anti-aircraft.”

  Butcher yelled for the shooters to keep firing at anything that moved, which they did until Luke swung her about.

  The Survivor clipped along at a steady pace, sliding between trees and inlets until it was deep under the cover of the bayou. To everyone’s surprise, no retaliation came.

  “Einstein?”

  “Nothing. No movement on deck whatsoever. If that ship had a full crew, wouldn’t we see something? Anything?”

  “No return fire?”

  Einstein shook his head. “None. Not only no return fire, but I don’t see anyone on deck.”

  Luke slowed the engines. “That’s not at all how I expected them to react. I think they are too blown away by the fact that someone actually shot at them to react right away. After all, they’ve been sitting idle for a year. That’s a long time even for trained soldiers.”

  Einstein put the binoculars into sharper focus. “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it?” Butcher asked, standing next to him.

  He handed the binoculars to Butcher, who peered through trees at the deck of the ship.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “For starters, try people.”

  “People?” Butcher lowered the binoculars and turned to Einstein. “You haven’t seen any people?”

  He shook his head. “Go on. See how many you find.”

  Butcher looked through the glasses once more. It took her several minutes to find a single human. “How many people does it take to run one of those things?”

  “As a fighting vessel? Skeletal crew, three, maybe three fifty,” Luke replied.

  “They’re running a skeleton crew?”

  Einstein nodded. “Why not? Makes perfect sense. It’s not like we’ve fought back in almost a year, you know? They haven’t experienced a push back in all that time. Our military has done nothing that we know of. My guess is the expense of maintaining a full crew became unnecessary since we’ve never shown any hostilities toward them. They think they have us.”

  Luke cut the engines and joined them. “Not a bad assumption, Einstein, because trust me—they should have blown us to bits. There’s a reason those yahoos came out in small boats instead of firing on us like they did when the ou
tbreak first happened.”

  “You mean, we’re safe?” Butcher’s heart was still banging away in her chest.

  Luke shook his head. “Not really. They could just be regrouping. We can’t ever forget that while we’re mired in the muck, the rest of the world has gone on. Who knows what the hell has happened globally? As soon as night falls, we’re getting out of here.”

  “You’re going to take us out of here in the dark?”

  Luke grinned. “You know I do my best work in the dark.”

  Einstein groaned. “Spare me.”

  Luke and Butcher laughed. “Come on, kid, lighten up. If they’d have wanted us dead, we’d be dead. I’m going to move her a little deeper into the swamp and then let’s grab something to eat and let everyone know the plan.”

  “Dallas will send a search party if we’re any later than a day, so we need to make up for lost time and get the hell out of here as soon as we can.”

  “Really?” Einstein asked, “Are we in that big of a hurry?” He cut his eyes over at Luke, who couldn’t hide his grin.

  Butcher knew him well enough to know by the sound of his voice he had an idea brewing. “Why? What’s going on in that demented teenage brain of yours?”

  Einstein peered through the binoculars once more. “Oh nothing. I just thought…maybe…maybe there’s an opportunity we don’t want to pass up.”

  Dallas hugged Roper for a long time after the Fuchs finally arrived back at the ‘gator farm. It was dark out and the half moon had now risen above the tree line. The others had tiki torches lighting the entrance in creepy, flickering, yellow lighting.

  Stepping out of the embrace, Dallas looked over at the bus. “A bus? Brilliant idea, baby.”

  Roper put her arm around Hunter’s shoulders. “This is Hunter, and his dad, Fletcher. They’re bowmen.”

  “Bowmen…as in––”

  Fletcher held up the crossbow that never seemed to leave his hands. It was an intricate piece of weaponry complete with a scope, quick load, and titanium tipped bolts. “Bows and arrows, ma’am. We own an archery supply store in town––er––we did. Now it’s a zombie cemetery.”