Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber

by Alex Westmore

  “Sir,” Dallas said, extending her hand. “Dallas Barkley.”

  President Rainier shook her hand, his gray eyes assessing her. “I’ve heard all about you and the wonderful things you’ve done here in Angola,” he replied, looking around her at the prison. “Can’t hardly tell it’s not a real prison anymore.”

  “It’s not.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I understand.”

  “We’re just trying to survive, sir, like everyone else.”

  He surprised her with a laugh. “Oh come now. You’ve built a veritable fortress here. I’ve read the reports. You’ve made quite an impression on our military.”

  “Like I said––”

  “You’re just trying to survive. Yeah. I got that. Takes a helluva lot of guts to attack American Military personnel, Miss Barkley.”

  “Dallas, and about as much guts as it takes to go after healthy Americans.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” He looked over at the gate.

  Dallas shrugged. “Not really. It’s pretty black and white. We’re on the white side of the chessboard, sir.”

  He sucked his teeth and nodded, eyes still looking at the gate.

  “You seem curious. Would you like to tour the facility?”

  Luke, Butcher, and Roper all whipped around and stared at her.

  “I would love to, but being out in the open like this makes my men very uneasy.”

  She shrugged. “Being out in the open makes everyone uneasy these days. You want to see how we make it work? Come inside…but your men stand down and they stay out here.”

  President Rainier removed his glasses. “Define stand down.”

  “Hands off weapons.” She lowered her voice. “We are enemies, after all, Mr. President, and we have the drop on you. If you think for one second that my people won’t drop you where you stand, you’re wrong.”

  The lead agent replied, “Do you understand what treason is?”

  Dallas raised an eyebrow. “Do you understand who your enemies are?”

  His eyes widened. “Enemies? Surely you can understand—”

  “That you sent men here to take Angola as some prize? That you then sent more men after that, adding insult to injury? Mr. President, I know you want Angola, but it’s not for sale, it can’t be bought, and after your epic failure, it can’t be conquered.”

  “In the name of national security, Miss Ba—”

  Dallas laughed out loud. “Sorry. I wasn’t aware there was a nation, and we all know it’s not secure. We are secure here—as secure as anyone can be with those things our government created walking around. You have my word that no one will hurt or interfere with your men in any way, but we cannot allow them in. We have protocols to follow. Protocols that your people didn’t follow, which is why our country is on the brink of extinction.”

  The blood drained from his face but before he could reply, one of the agents stepped forward. Dallas realized he was not an agent but a member of the President’s cabinet—Sean Olsen.

  “Now see here—”

  “No, you’re the ones who need to see here—” Roper said, stepping up and looking down at him. He had beady eyes and a face like a rat.

  “Sean Olsen, advisor to the President.” He stood taller and threw his shoulders back. making him all of five feet four. He had tiny hands, wore tiny glasses, and sported a tiny mustache.

  Dallas tilted her head. “In all my years, I’ve never heard of that title, Mr. Olsen. Are you

  Secretary of State? Speaker of the House? Defense Secretary? What?”

  “Much has changed. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Actually, I do. Well, Mr. Olsen, national security happens to be a top priority of ours as well.”

  “And attacking a base represents that understanding?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

  Sean shook his head. “Oh, I’m quite sure—”

  The President held his hand up, stopping Sean in his tracks. “Now is not the time, Sean.” To Dallas, he said, “We’d love to see the facility. We’ve—I’ve heard a great deal about it, mostly rumors and conjecture, of course. I hear your numbers are up and that you are self-sufficient.”

  “In many regards. You’ll have to excuse me if I am vague. Again, we are playing on opposite sides of the board, sir.” Dallas nodded to Luke, who opened the main gate.

  “Luke will take you around and—”

  “I was hoping you and I could speak in private.”

  Roper and Butcher shook their heads.

  “Tell you what. Take the tour and Luke will bring you back to the conference room. We can speak there.”

  The President conferred with his men before joining Luke. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let Sean come as well.”

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, the President, Sean, and Luke entered the conference room. At the table sat Dallas, Roper, Butcher, Einstein, Henry, Fletcher, and Wendell, all waiting.

  The President stopped short. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought our meeting could be—”

  “Private? Hardly. That’s not how we roll, Mr. President. Whatever you say can be heard by my advisors.” Dallas gestured toward the chairs. “Have a seat, gentlemen.” She waited for everyone to sit down. She remained standing. “You’ve seen our facility and there is no doubt you’ve established how self-sustaining we are here. We have everything from food to entertainment, even a school for the children. Let me be very clear here about my understanding of this situation. If you think for one second, Mr. President, that we won’t fire on anyone you send after us, you would be very sadly mistaken. Our government—no—your government is directly responsible for what has happened to this country and our population. In an effort to regain some control, you’ve sent out platoons to take over successful settlements in the name of the U.S. military. Angola must be at the top of that list.”

  “Now see here—” Sean Olsen started, but the President held up his hand, silencing him once more.

  “Dallas, let’s be frank, shall we? Yes, Angola is a gem. You and your people have done amazing things with this place. There is a semblance of normalcy here that I’ve not witnessed in other colonies.” He cleared his throat. “And yes, my only general sent good men to their deaths trying to capture it, and for that, I apologize—but we’re not merely wanting Angola as a base of operations in the south—We––” He paused to send a look of warning to Sean Olsen. “We’ve heard you have an army that can actually kill these things without risk of being bitten or eaten. Of all the rumors I’ve heard in the last year, this one intrigues me the most.”

  Dallas cut her eyes to Roper, who barely shook her head.

  When no one said a word, the President continued. “You have a wonderful and thriving community here—your people are the healthiest I’ve seen, and you have no fear of these undead. I am here to ask you how you can have an army that does not fear becoming one of them.”

  Butcher leaned forward. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  The President took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ma’am, if I knew what it took to kill these things, I’d give my own life to make that so. My scientists have yet to find the one thing that can destroy them.”

  Dallas inhaled slowly. “Any projectile to the head will destroy them, sir.”

  He forced a smile. “You know what I am asking. Is it just a rumor that you have people these zombies ignore?”

  The air in the room became deathly still as everyone waited for Dallas to answer.

  “No, sir. It is not a rumor. We do have people the zombies are uninterested in eating or biting or attacking.”

  Sean Olsen came to his feet. “That—that’s impossible.”

  “Sit down, Sean, goddamn it.” The President growled. “I want to hear from these people.” He turned back to Dallas. “How? What can I do to create an army that can defeat them?”

  Dallas looked into the eyes of all her team before answering. “T
here’s nothing you can do, Mr. President. You can’t create an army of us, sir. We can withstand their lust for flesh because we, well, most of us here, were born this way.”

  “Born? I don’t understand.”

  Dallas heaved a sigh. Both Butcher and Roper were shaking their heads, but Dallas pressed on. “Our soldiers—the ones whom the zombies ignore? Are gay. They’re all gay.”

  The word hung in the thick air like thick LA fog.

  The President blinked once. “Gay…as in homosexual?”

  Dallas nodded. “Gay. Queer. Homo, and any other term you’ve heard and probably used. The only people who can clean up your mess, Mr. President, are our gays.”

  The whole room was still. No one moved.

  “I…I don’t understand.” He turned to Sean Olsen. “Why wasn’t I told this?”

  “Because the notion was--”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, Sean. It’s obviously more than a god damned notion.”

  Leaning forward toward Sean, Dallas tried spelling it out. “It’s quite simple, really. When your scientists were creating this epidemic, their intent was on killing a certain DNA strand that would leave the rest of the agricultural animals safe from the virus. We discovered that the DNA was the key. Your people assumed a certain genetic code would assure only human deaths. It became apparent to us that gays and lesbians have a slightly different code. The zombies make no attempt to come after us because they aren’t programmed to do so. We are, in effect, immune. They ignore us.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Sean spat, rising so fast his chair fell over backwards. “You’re telling us there’s a gay gene?”

  Dallas’s people all chuckled.

  “Yep. You see, we are well aware what this revelation means to the remaining Christians, Mormons, Hebrew, and Muslim survivors—that their God did, in fact, create us as well. And if that mistake in their literature is wrong, then what else is incorrect? This singular fact will change religion as we know it. It will change everything as we know it. You and the rest of the world can no longer deny us rights, no longer tell us it’s a sickness, a decision, or even a fucking choice. We are born this way, Mr. President, and to be totally honest with you, we are now this country’s only hope.”

  “Our only hope?”

  She nodded. “To exterminate the man eaters. Without us, your government, your military, and your country, are screwed.”

  The look on the President’s face was priceless. It had never occurred to him that genetics played a role, even though it was his scientists who got that ball rolling, and his scientists who had worked unsuccessfully for a year to find a cure.

  “So what you are saying––”

  Dallas gave the floor to Butcher, who explained the concept of the zombies as white blood cells.

  When she finished, the President’s face was almost as white as his hair.

  “It never occurred to me…never dawned on me or my team…” Shaking his head, he leveled his eyes at Dallas. “I don’t know what to think, let alone what to say. Can I…can I have a moment?”

  She nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

  When he stepped outside to discuss what this meant with Sean, Dallas’s people beamed proudly. They had not only brought the President to his knees, they’d handed him the key to the kingdom.

  When he and Sean stepped back into the room, it was deathly quiet. To everyone’s surprise, he asked if they would bring the garmy to New England. That was a negative. Then he asked if they would train gays willing to fight. Dallas agreed they would do so only in Angola, but every person he sent would have to walk in front of a zombie to prove their immunity. Any straight person impersonating a gay person would be released into the wilds of Louisiana unarmed and without rations.

  In the end, she agreed to train more for the garmy in exchange for more weapons and supplies for Dallas to begin the next prison transformation.

  There were other stipulations as well, but those had to do with life after the cleaning. He agreed to legalizing marriage across the nation, allowing gay adoption, creating federal laws that protected jobs, and a mandatory education about homosexuality in schools. Then and there they wrote up a contract giving homosexuals equal rights in every arena.

  Every arena.

  Sean was a little slower. “By recognizing that you’re born this way, you do realize what that means to the Church, right?”

  The room erupted in laughter, shutting Sean up.

  “You’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Olsen,” Dallas said. “But that ship has sailed. If there is a God, he deserted us long ago. The Church no longer has a place here, and if it does, it will have to go through a healthy revision to replace all of that homosexuals-burning-in-Hell bullshit, because right about now, Mr. Olsen, this country’s fate is in our hands…not God’s. So you’d better back that wagon up, way up, and come to terms with what this country is going to look like when we take the lead.”

  “I cannot agree to this, sir. I’m sorry.” Sean pushed his chair back and began to rise, but the President shook his head.

  “There is little of the Congress left but I’m sure when we restructure our government, we can—”

  Dallas leaned forward on her hands. “Your word means nothing here, Mr. President. We’ll take a signed promissory note or nothing.”

  He blinked. “A what?”

  “A promissory note. It’s when you—”

  “I know what one is. I’m surprised, that’s all. I did not expect to come here and negotiate.”

  “Because you are the President of the United States of America!” Sean exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be blackmailed into doing something that will––”

  “Careful, Skippy,” Roper said, leaning into his face. “That’s my president you’re talking to.”

  For a moment, there was a stunned silence.

  “She’s speaking metaphorically, of course,” Butcher explained. “But we’re pretty sure you get the picture. Careful, there.”

  The President cleared his throat. “No harm meant, ma’am.”

  “None taken. Mr. President, everything is going to be different for my people when this is all over,” Dallas said. “It’s not just about rights, which you will ensure. It’s about politics as well. We demand to be included…not voted in…Hell would freeze over waiting for a Christian nation to allow gays a chance to make policy. This is a game changer, boys, and it’s no longer negotiable. You want our help, it’s going to cost you. We’ll have the rest of the forms drawn up during dinner. We’ll see you out come morning.”

  “Morning? We can’t stay here tonight.”

  “I’m afraid you really have no choice. It is getting late. It’s safer leaving in the morning. You’re perfectly safe here. We have guest quarters which aren’t too shabby. They’ll get you a place for dinner.” Dallas nodded to her people, who started making their way to the mess hall.

  Everyone left except Roper.

  “One minute more, please,” the President said softly. “Sean, please go have dinner. I’d like a word alone with Dallas.”

  “But sir—”

  “It wasn’t a request.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sean looked at Roper as if she ought to leave as well. She merely shook her head and shooed him away.

  When everyone was gone, Dallas and Roper sat across from the President. “What is it you needed to say, sir?”

  President Rainier stared down at his folded hands for a long time before slowly looking up at Dallas. “Can your people truly stop these abominations?”

  Dallas nodded. “We have and we can. By our latest estimate, we have killed nearly a quarter of a million of them since we left California. The hordes come this way on their way to you.”

  “To us?”

  She nodded. “They go where the food source is, and sir, your area is like a smorgasbord to them. I don’t know if this is a good thing or not because I have no idea of your numbers, but they’re coming.”

  He nodded. “We’ve noticed more
activity.” He stared into Dallas’s green eyes. “And for your help, all you want is equality?”

  Dallas reached over and held Roper’s hand. “Sir, if it was that easy, if that was all we wanted then it begs the question why we never got it. You see, Mr. President, nobody wants to be ‘tolerated,’ and that’s what this country has done for too long. Now you need us. If we are to save us, if we are to put our lives on the line, we want in…all in. More than likely, when it’s all said and done, the majority of the population will be gay or lesbian. We won’t participate in any apartheid government.”

  “Aparth—”

  “Please. Let’s not pretend. We will have all the same rights, all the same representation, or this will never work.”

  He nodded pensively. “If you can destroy this curse, you can have me work as your maid if that’s what you want. You draw up whatever papers you need to, Dallas, and I’ll sign them. Consider it done.”

  “There’s one more thing. I don’t know if you’ve done so or not, but you need to start opening diplomatic channels with the leaders of those offshore ships. They’re vultures just waiting for us to die.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about what’s going on out there.”

  “It’s no secret, Mr. President. The rest of the industrialized world thinks we’re out of the game. You need to let them know that’s not so. You need to make it clear that we’re rebounding. If you do not, we’ll be fighting several wars within our own borders.”

  “I don’t know how that’s going to shake out, but you have my word I’m doing all I can do to keep those hounds at bay. I believe they thought the disaster would be whole. I hear they are somewhat surprised that it…that it didn’t clear us out completely.” That was when it hit him and he fully understood. “They don’t know, do they?”

  “No, sir, I don’t believe they do. Haven’t you had any communication with the outside?”

  “Of course I have. Our allies have made it clear they can do nothing until we have a handle on this.” He shook his head. “A handle. What a joke.”

  “You gave them Hawaii and Alaska. Why?”

  “I needed to placate them.”