Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors

by Benjamin Wallace

  Smiles turned to tears as Erica was forced to shatter the hope that had been restored by her presence. She hugged whom she could as each relived the massacre of their home. She did what she could to offer comfort, but she soon felt overwhelmed. Panic welled up in her as she looked around frantically for Jerry. She held Rebecca close and found comfort only in her hugs.

  Through the crowd of people she saw Jerry walking to his motor coach. Chewy was at his heel. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  Panic took hold of her. He was leaving. She fought her way through the crowd of friends and rushed to the coach, running as fast as Rebecca’s weight would safely allow.

  She got to the coach and pounded on the door, “Get out here, now!”

  Jerry opened the door.

  “You can’t do this now.”

  “But …”

  “No, you can’t do this and you can’t give me some crap about it being what a post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior does.”

  “There’s …”

  “No. No. You can’t just get ride off into the sunset.”

  Jerry stepped from the coach, grabbed her by the waist, covered Rebecca’s eyes, and kissed her.

  Erica did not resist, her panic abated in his embrace. She kissed him back. A moment turned into a minute. When he finally stopped she was quiet, calm, and in love—fully in love.

  “Erica, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just really, really tired and I was going to take a nap.”

  “Oh. Well, if you’re staying around, maybe you should kiss me again.”

  Jerry smiled and obliged.

  “Ewwww,” Rebecca still found men, with the marked exception of princes, gross.

  Erica and Jerry chuckled at the child’s response.

  There was a scream.

  Sarah had screamed. The scream was part fear and part frustration that the knife at her throat was the one she had used to cut Logan’s bindings.

  The warrior breathed heavily in her ear, telling her to shut up, and threatening to cut her throat. Convincing the girl to let him go had been easy. She had been less willing to be a hostage. He drove the point of the blade into her flesh to make his point.

  Jerry ran towards the struggling pair.

  “Forget it, Bookworm.” Logan positioned the girl directly between him and the town’s newest hero. “I’m leaving and Shelly is coming with me.”

  “It’s Sarah, you bastard.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it honey?”

  Jerry slowed and raised his hands. “It’s over, Logan. Your friends are dead. There’s nowhere for you to go.”

  “I’ll make new friends.”

  “You let my daughter go, you lying shit!” the mayor roared from the crowd. He had been welcoming the new residents personally. There was an election coming and a hundred new votes could really help.

  “Not happening, Mayor.”

  “If you …”

  “This is kind of your fault, Mayor,” Logan started to move towards the Mustang. “If you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t even be here.”

  The mayor began to protest, but Jerry signaled for him to be quiet.

  “Fine. Let the girl go,” Jerry gestured to the Mustang, “and you can leave.”

  The former prisoners began to protest. Jerry turned to them. “Listen, everybody. Shut up.” He turned back to Logan who had inched closer to his Mustang.

  “Let the girl go and you can just drive away.”

  Logan opened the door of the Mustang and pushed Sarah’s head down into the car. “No.” He pushed her across the seat and sat down behind the wheel.

  Sarah tried to scramble out the passenger door, but Logan grabbed a lock of her hair and pulled her back in the car.

  The Mustang roared to life. The exhaust stirred dirt into the air. The spinning wheels spat gravel into the crowd. The crowd scattered, seeking cover from the tiny missiles.

  Jerry broke into a sprint to the motor coach.

  The Mustang sped out of town.

  “Get after him! Everyone!” The mayor ran after the Ford.

  “Where are you going?” Erica yelled as Jerry rushed by her.

  “I’ve got to save her.” He dashed up the steps to the coach. The door rattled shut behind him.

  “But you can’t catch him in this,” Erica ran to the massive vehicle and tore open the door. She rushed into the cockpit. Jerry wasn’t there. Chewy lay in the passenger seat annoyed; Erica had woken her.

  “Where is he?”

  The dog looked puzzled and lay back down.

  The rear of the coach began to rumble. The weakened walls rattled.

  Erica spun and saw a panel in the rear of the cabin hanging open. It was dark beyond the small door for just a moment. Then it was flooded with sunlight.

  The loading ramp crashed to the ground and Jerry jammed the transmission into first. The old Dodge charged to life down the ramp.

  The crowd had begun to emerge from behind doorways and buildings. They dove for cover again as the Viper sent up another barrage of rocks. The metal walls of the town hall barn banged like thunder as the larger rocks left dents in the building. The braver ones in the group watched as the black sports car tore through town square and out into the wasteland.

  Erica rushed through the garage and down the ramp of the Silver Lining. She watched the Viper disappear through the gates of the town and began to chase after it.

  Logan’s dog, gray and grizzled, cut her off before she could step onto the dirt of the courtyard. He bristled, his hackles raised; the mutt drooled as he growled. Teeth were missing. What were left formed a jagged smile that snapped in the air as Erica began to back away.

  Three steps would take her to the safety of the motor coach’s cabin. Two took her to Chewy.

  She bumped into the mighty mastiff and stopped.

  Chewy yawned and stepped around her to face the wasteland mongrel.

  It’s true that it is not the size of the dog in the fight that matters, but the size of the fight in the dog. Sometimes, however, it is simply the size of the dog.

  Chewy strolled up to Logan’s dog and raised her paw.

  The mutt growled and stared up at the raised limb.

  Chewy brought the paw down on the dog’s neck and forced it to the ground. It struggled for a moment, trying to throw off the weight of the larger breed, but soon rolled over and began to whine.

  Chewy let the dog stand, and offered a single mighty bark that drove the gray mutt scampering across the courtyard. The massive dog strolled back to the passenger seat to resume her nap.

  Logan’s dog whined as it ran into the arms of Austin the boy bear.

  “A dog!”

  THIRTY-SIX

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  Logan had dropped the kitchen knife in favor of a gun he had hidden in the Mustang. He held it on her as he accelerated down the open road.

  “Sell you. I’m going to need something to get me started again.”

  “Sell me? What would your son say?”

  Logan smiled and chuckled, “Son?”

  Sarah stared out the window as the road flew by. Her thoughts of leaping from the car decreased as it sped up.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

  “I told you not to trust me.”

  She sighed, “So, the whole attack?”

  “Mike Jackson and Jeff Williams. Good friends of mine. Mike probably died in the truck. You killed Jeff.”

  “It was all staged?”

  Logan shrugged. “There’s usually one skeptic in town. If it’s someone important, I need to do something to get them to trust me. You’re the first murderer though. You should be proud.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  “We do what we have to. Now, shut up. I’m trying to drive.”

  “My father won’t let you get away with this.”

  “There’s little he can do. There’s nothing in that town that can catch this car.”

  Sarah’s heart sa
nk. He was right. The town had a total of three running vehicles. The battered pickup was the only one that was reliable.

  She returned to staring out the window. That’s when she saw the Viper in the rearview mirror. She gasped and turned to look out the rear window.

  Logan saw her reaction in the corner of his eye and checked his own mirror to see what had grabbed her attention.

  For a brief moment he saw Jerry in the black V-10. Then the mirror exploded into fractured shards of glass.

  “Where the hell did he get that?” Logan pressed the accelerator harder and began looking for a way off the long straight road.

  Gunshots continued to pock the body of the Mustang. The bookworm was good. The holes in the rear window were confined to Logan’s side of the car. Not one endangered Sarah.

  Apart from weaving behind the abandoned hulks on road there was no place to take shelter or lose the Viper. Logan knew it was a faster car and had to do something to lose him.

  He turned to fire out the rear window.

  Sarah grabbed his wrist and sunk her teeth into his forearm.

  Logan screamed and dropped the gun in the back. It fell to the floorboard and bounced under his seat. He pulled his arm free of her grasp and smashed her across the face.

  Sarah yelped as she flew into the passenger door. She sat up and spit blood at the con man. Neither was sure if it was blood from her mouth or from Logan’s arm.

  He struck her again, harder.

  Sarah slumped over in the passenger seat unconscious.

  Logan checked the mirror. Jerry had gained tremendous ground and was bearing down on the Mustang.

  Free from keeping an eye on the girl, Logan was able to put both hands on the wheel and give the post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior a run for his money.

  Jerry glanced at the speedometer. It read eighty and the massive V-10 registered at a little above 1500 rpms. The open-topped car had always been a marvel to him and if he was thankful for the apocalypse in any way, it was that he was finally able to pick one up.

  He had caught up to the Mustang easily and fired the warning shots to unnerve Logan. He couldn’t risk killing the driver for Sarah’s sake. It had seemed to work at first, as the driving had become shaky and erratic. But something had changed.

  Without warning, the car had stopped swerving erratically and accelerated. Now it dodged and blocked Jerry’s approaches.

  Something had changed in the car. Logan was in complete control. Jerry hoped that Sarah wasn’t dead.

  Logan wrestled with the wheel. He cut left and right to stop Jerry from getting near the corner of his bumper. The bookworm stopped shooting. Probably from a fear of hitting the girl.

  Logan smiled. Jerry’s weakness had always been other people. He was too caring, too unwilling to let anyone get hurt. Pinning the disaster in Colorado on the former librarian had been easy. Jerry’s guilt prevented him from questioning the situation. He simply accepted that it must have been his fault.

  But the man in the car behind him wasn’t the same one he had framed. It wasn’t even the same man he had shamed at the gates of New Hope. This man was dangerous.

  The Viper was close. He could hear the sound of Jerry’s engine over his own.

  Logan shoved the cigarette lighter into the dash and risked reaching into the back seat. An open crate produced several sticks of dynamite.

  The lighter clicked. Logan pulled it from the dash and held it in his lips. He touched a fuse to the lighter and waited for it to burn down.

  There was an off ramp approaching and Logan knew he had one chance.

  Logan veered right, half expecting Jerry to lock up the brakes of the Dodge. Jerry had confided in Logan the horrors of his survival in the city. He told him about the creature that had beat upon the shelter door begging for help. How that same creature had tried, and almost succeeded, in killing Jerry and his bitch companion once the door had opened.

  Jerry had shivered when telling Logan all this. His fear manifesting itself physically like that had convinced Logan of two things: Jerry would never follow him into Dallas; whatever lived in the city terrified the former librarian.

  As Logan replayed Jerry’s stories in his head, he began to spook himself.

  Logan hit the nitrous and increased the distance between the two cars. He threw the dynamite out the window and swerved onto the off-ramp.

  The blast struck far behind the Viper.

  Jerry was right behind him on the off-ramp.

  “Shit.”

  He would have to lose Jerry in the streets.

  He lit another fuse.

  Jerry stayed on the Mustang’s rear bumper to the end of the ramp and tapped the Ford’s rear as Logan turned to the right.

  The Mustang’s tires smoked but found traction and sent the Ford accelerating again.

  Jerry mashed the gas and caught up quickly.

  Every corner gave Logan more distance.

  Sticks of dynamite came quicker as the warrior behind the wheel became more desperate. This increase in frequency also led to longer fuses.

  The sticks exploded harmlessly behind the Viper and posed little threat. Still, the sound of the explosions in the canopied canyon of skyscrapers pounded on his ears and shook his concentration.

  Both cars weaved around the vegetation and drifted around corners as each tried to get the upper hand in the duel.

  Logan had spent little time in the city. Jerry knew the streets of the town from his time living in Dallas, but, as his earlier trip through the city confirmed, the vegetation changed everything.

  Any road could be a dead end. Logan feared that fact. Jerry savored it. He had no doubt that Logan would make good on his promise to make new friends. Letting him live would only allow him to dupe more people to their deaths.

  He had changed allegiances before. Jerry doubted that the monsters in the truck were the same group from Colorado.

  Only Logan’s death would ensure that people were safe from him.

  He was right on the Mustang’s rear when Logan cut left, revealing a rusted SUV in Jerry’s path.

  Jerry swerved right and missed the wreckage but found himself heading down the wrong street.

  Doubling back cost him some time, and when he got back on the street Logan had grown his lead.

  A blast rocked the Viper. The stick had been close when it exploded. Jerry felt the car skid to the side, but the wide tires quickly gripped the road and put him back in control.

  The cars raced down Main Street. Vines stretched from window frames and building tops and choked out the sunlight. The transition from light to shadow put his eyes in a constant state of adjustment.

  As Jerry raced down the street, he noticed movement in the windows. At first, he thought it might be a trick of the light. But fear told him the truth. The creatures that spawned from his nemesis were watching.

  After the day’s earlier events, he had no idea what they would do.

  A wall of vines grew across Houston Street, closing Main to through traffic. Logan reached the dead end that he had feared. The empty box of dynamite also presented a problem. He slammed on the brakes and slid sideways to a stop next to the wall of vegetation. Jerry raced at him in the Viper. He couldn’t go back.

  Light shown through breaks in the vines. He could slip through. Daylight awaited him mere feet away.

  Sarah groaned as she came to. The setting confused her. “Where …”

  Logan grabbed her by the neck and pulled her from the Mustang. He snatched the gun from the back seat and shoved her through the breaks in the vines, then followed her through.

  The other side of the walls of vines wasn’t completely devoid of vegetation, but the wall seemed to be a barrier to the thickest growth of the jungle. The road was clear. The sky above was open.

  Logan forced Sarah to run. She struggled, her head still clearing from the fog of unconsciousness. She cursed at him with every step and kept her eyes open for any opportunity to escape.

  Jerry arrived
moments later. He slid to a stop and jumped from the car. He burst through the wall of vines into the sunlit street.

  Logan opened fire before Jerry had even gained his feet.

  Jerry dropped into a roll, trying to make himself a harder target. It didn’t help; a bullet struck him in the leg.

  He stopped rolling and expected to be hit again. No shot was fired.

  He looked up and saw Logan yelling at his empty weapon. Jerry grasped his own pistol as he struggled to his feet. The wound hurt; it burned like a torch against his skin. Despite the fire in his leg, it still supported his weight.

  He limped toward Logan who had spotted the gun in Jerry’s hand. Jerry raised the weapon.

  “Now wait a minute, Jerry.” Logan dragged Sarah with him as he backed away from his enemy. He threw the empty gun on the ground. “Look, I’m unarmed. And you’re a post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior. You can’t shoot an unarmed man.”

  “You’re thinking about cowboys.” Jerry limped closer. “Cowboys can’t shoot an unarmed man.”

  Logan grabbed Sarah in a headlock and put his hand across her face. “Come any closer and I snap her neck.”

  “Let her go, Logan.”

  Logan held the girl as a shield. His face barely exposed behind her. He continued to drag her backwards as her heels flailed to find footing.

  “I’ll do it, Jerry.”

  The bullet entered just below his right eye and blew out the upper back half of his skull. Logan fell straight back and began to bleed all over Houston Street.

  Sarah was shaken, but managed to avoid going into shock.

  Jerry stepped up to the body of the former con man, the gun still aimed at the bleeding corpse. Logan was splayed across a giant white X in the middle of the street. Jerry lowered the gun.

  “What … what does that X mean?” Sarah could not pull herself away from the sight of her former lover.

  Jerry looked around Dealey Plaza. He looked at the vines covering the city and back at the man who had led so many to their death.

  The world had changed when it came to an end. There was a lot more than fear to be afraid of. Life was worth celebrating. Death wasn’t.