Pickers 4: The Pick

by Garth Owen

  Maxine turned the gun to the second car, but it was already slowing and turning away. They were racing along the road between the river and old commercial buildings now. The car turned sharply down a street that offered sanctuary, started to fish tail, corrected and then ended up driving into a wall.

  There was nothing worth shooting at behind them for the time being. Up front, Fabien's and Sarah's guns still fired. In the relative quiet, Georges' breathing was ragged in her headset. She turned to find him still propped against the back wall of her cupola. His grimace put strange lines on his face.

  "Are you okay? What happened?" Maxine reached out to grasp Georges' arm.

  "The bullet proof vest stopped a bullet, but it still hurts like hell." He indicated a damaged section of his armour on the right side of his chest, pulling back a torn flap to expose the silver of a flattened bullet. "I think I felt something snap. Let me get my breath back. I'll be okay."

  Maxine squeezed Georges' arm. "Don't get shot again. I want you in one piece, lover."

  "I'll do my best."

  * * *

  The buildings ahead were getting larger and closer together. On the right, the hills drew nearer, and on the left, they were already a wall, just the other side of the river. They were approaching the spot where they would have to sweep left and hit the route down to where an ambush awaited those following them.

  They had been following a two lane road down to this point. Torn apart by repeated frosts and thaws, it was really little more than a grey line through fields and old hamlets. Now, it seemed to disappear altogether, giving way to squares of concrete, patches of bush and trees, and a multitude of burnt out, rusted car wrecks. Beyond the wasteland, the river grew wide and shallow. They would cross it there, rather than risk bridges which were obviously barricaded.

  Georges and Sarah had broken out the smoke grenades and were tossing them behind and to the sides of the trailer. Remy could see where he was going, and the truck could shunt aside most of the obstacles. The Raiders following them would have to slow down, or run the maze of debris blind.

  Remy weaved the truck between vehicles down what had been a street, following the buggy. Slowing, he turned as hard right as he dared. They were running along the side of the river now, looking for a place to cross. Remy pulled himself up to get a better vantage.

  "Can we cross soon? We're getting closer to their friends on the other bank." Fabien said.

  "If you see somewhere, shout out. You're higher up."

  There was chattering from Fabien's gun as he harassed the Raiders he had spotted on the far bank. Then he came back on the radio, "Slow down. About two hundred metres ahead."

  "I see it."

  "And I see Raiders." Justine said. "On our side of the river. I've got them."

  There was a gaggle of bikes heading along the road toward them. Guns had already been drawn, but they were waiting until they were much closer before they started shooting. The buggy zipped ahead of the truck. The gun mounted to its roof didn't fire, it had run dry some time before. They were going to meet between walls, but there would be room for the bikes to rush past on either side. They split. The buggy could, at best, get a couple of them by running down one side of the road.

  In the truck cab, Justine twisted the control wheel hard left. Ahead, the buggy turned sharply. The front right wheel dug in to the loose surface, and it turned harder. Then, the front hit the leading edge of the wall. The rear came around sharply, and suddenly, the vehicle was sideways, almost wedged between the walls. Unable to stop in time, the whole pack of bikers collided with it. A pair of riders were catapulted over the wreckage, to land hard several metres on.

  Justine flipped up her goggles and blinked. She shook her head a few times. She looked queasy as she pushed away the remote control driving rig. Fabien had discarded an ammunition box earlier, and, as the truck moved, it had bounced and slid its way down into the foot well before her. In one quick move, she was out of her seat and kneeling over the box as she vomited.

  "Hold tight, everyone. Hard left." Remy announced, hauling on the wheel.

  Justine spat out the last of the sourness, and managed to close the lid of the ammunition box before the turn really started. She fumbled with the catch and locked it, then braced herself against the front of her seat. "Motion sickness." she said, quietly.

  "You did good." Fabien said, before loosing a burst of gunfire at a target of opportunity. "Shame the buggy had to go, though."

  "Oh, it was never going to get across the river."

  They were rumbling across the concrete where a building had previously stood. "There's a step down into the river. Get ready for a bump." Remy warned.

  The front wheels of the truck sailed out over the water, and Remy juggled the balance so they weren't being driven any more. When the second axle was the only one still on concrete, the front of the truck began to drop. It hit down and raised a spray of water as high as the cab's windscreen. There was a harsher jolt as the rear axle dropped to river level.

  They were pushing up quite a bow wave, and Remy rebalanced the drive to the wheels again, so that the trailer was pushing the cab while it had better traction. Then there was another shake as the trailer dropped into the river level, and they slowed down. Remy set the drive evenly across all the wheels and pointed the truck at the nearest bit of bank on the far side.

  "Go right a bit." Fabien advised. "It's shallower over there."

  The wheels found grip as Remy turned. He couldn't see the water surface for the spray they were throwing up, so Fabien's instructions were the only guide he had for picking out the best route.

  The truck slowed, almost to a halt, as it reached mid stream. Water was backing up against the upstream side, and Remy could feel it beginning to scrape sideways under the pressure. He danced the drive balance around, until the rear wheels of the truck found traction and they gained speed. The acceleration was minimal, but it was enough. The water pushed the trailer around, not quite jack-knifing it downstream. It didn't matter. By now, the truck was in the shallow water running up to the far shore, and could haul its load onto dry land again easily.

  "For a moment there...." said Fabien.

  "Is everyone okay?" Remy asked, as he steered toward the parallel road and railway line they would be following for the next bit of their journey.

  "I fell over and landed on my bad ribs." Georges said. "It woke me up."

  Apart from this complaint, everyone else replied in the affirmative.

  The bed of the old railway line was, somehow, smoother than the road. Remy followed it, accelerating up to the safest cruising speed he could manage.

  "We've got company." Maxine announced. "There are a lot of them on this side of the river."

  "Well, we are almost in the home stretch now. We just need to keep them back for a while longer."

  * * *

  Luke was stood on the dash, palms and face pressed up against the windscreen. Tony and Veronique were little better, leaning forward in their seats to strain to see the action below. They could look through a gap between trees, down to the pinch point that was suddenly the scene of a lot of activity.

  Tony made a loud sigh, realising he was being an idiot, and walked over to the gun rack. He returned with his hunting rifle and tested it on the back of the driver's seat so he could crouch and use the scope. "That's better."

  Luke looked around. Spotting the rifle, he said, "Gun."

  "Yes it is, little man. And you cannot play with it."

  "Bang?"

  "Those are some odd words your great aunt has been teaching while we were away. No, it doesn't go bang while we're in here."

  "What are they doing?" Veronique asked.

  "Blocking the road and setting up to ambush the truck when it gets here." Tony turned on the intercom. "Are they in range for you?" he asked Myriam.

  "Easily."

  "Can you cause enough chaos?"

  "Well, I only have ten rounds. I can certainly get the chao
s started. Oh, hello, what's this?"

  "What do you see?"

  "They have flame throwers on the buggies, and they're filling them from the tanker. Oh, and one of them just lit his up." As Myriam spoke, a line of yellow, smoky flame spiked up from the group below them.

  "And that is a good thing?" Tony asked.

  "It is if I shoot the right things."

  There was a crunchy crackling from the radio. Someone was about to report in. "Lookout Point to Travelling Base. Come in, over."

  "This is Travelling Base. Over." Veronique answered.

  "We see them, Travelling Base. They just came into view. About nine or ten kays distance, moving fast. And there are a lot of Raiders with them. Over."

  "Understood, Lookout Point. We're about to start on the road block. Feel free to join in once we've stirred things up. Over."

  "Oh, we will. Over and out."

  "Town, this is Travelling Base. Are you ready? Over."

  "As ready as we'll ever be. Over."

  "Tante Myriam is going to demonstrate the long reach, and then it's going to be a free for all. Good luck. Over and out."

  "And to you. Over. Out."

  Luke had turned to look at Tony and Veronique as they spoke and invisible people replied. Veronique gave him a reassuring smile, then lifted him down from his viewpoint.

  There was a spot on the floor in front of her seat that would be fairly safe. Sweeping his feet forwards, she sat him there. "It's going to get noisy, so you just sit there until we're done okay?"

  Luke understood enough to nod. His expression said he would be up and looking around as soon as he got the chance, but, for now, he would do as he was told.

  "Okay, Myriam. When you're ready." Tony said over the intercom.

  There was silence in the cabin. Even Luke appeared to be holding his breath as they waited.

  The loud report of the rifle firing, when it came, was like a hammer blow on the roof. Luke's eyes went wide and he stared upwards. "Bang." said Tony. He raised his rifle to see what had been hit.

  It wasn't obvious that anything had happened. There seemed to be some confusion amongst the flame-thrower crews by the tanker, but Tony could not see what had caused it.

  There was another loud bang from the roof. A moment later, one of the buggies rocked as the flame-thrower fuel tank on its back was punctured. The liquid that plumed out over the pilot flame, and the vehicle disappeared under a mucky yellow fireball. The fire spread rapidly, racing across fuel soaked ground to the tanker.

  Now it became obvious where Myriam's first shot had gone, as the fire danced up and down the arc of liquid flowing from a hole in the tanker. There was another bang from the roof, and liquid sprayed from another hole in the tanker. The Raiders were running for cover, though the ones on fire were already doomed. Bikes, buggies and cars started moving, trying to find safety.

  There was another loud bang from above. One of the cars turned sharply, and drove on until it ran into a bank.

  "Okay. Most of them are running away now." Myriam said. "I'm going to concentrate on the tank...." The tanker exploded, lifting off the ground and landing on its side. "Never mind."

  "That should clear the way for them." Tony said. "Let's see what happens when they get here."

  * * *

  Georges felt sparks of pain across his chest and in his shoulder. They raised white pain in his vision every time the gun kicked. But he couldn't stop firing, not now.

  Maxine's big machine gun had jammed. She was trying to clear it, but the job was looking hopeless. Their pursuers were, again, taking the chance to close on them. Georges was trying to compensate, but even the explosive shells from the shotgun couldn't do enough damage.

  The firing pin clicked on an empty chamber. "I'm out." Georges said. Maxine nodded. The machine gun was going to take more work than she could manage now. She grabbed an assault rifle from the rack beside her, rested it against the gun shield before her, and started shooting.

  There wasn't another magazine for the shotgun. Georges dropped it back into the locker, and picked up the assault rifle again. When he straightened, he spotted a head and arm, coming up over the edge of the cupola on his left. He pulled the trigger on reflex. The gun rose as it fired, and all the rounds went over the head. The Raider pulled himself further up, bringing a pistol around with his free hand. Georges fired again. Two of the rounds hit the Raider in the face, and he began to drop away.

  "We have hangers on." Georges said.

  Maxine looked left, then right. Coming over the right side of her cupola was a Raider, long knife raised high, and arching down toward her. She brought her gun around, too slow. The knife hit the gun, and carried on down. It went deep into her thigh, drawing a cry of pain.

  The Raider had let go of the knife and grabbed Maxine's gun, trying to pull it from her hands. Maxine's right hand dropped to a reassuring shape and grabbed it. The double barrelled, sawn off shotgun came up between them, and pressed against his nose. She pulled the trigger, and both barrels fired.

  Headless, the Raider's body tumbled backwards then fell from the trailer. Maxine dropped the shotgun, and realised the corpse had taken the assault rifle with it. She looked for another weapon, finding the stock of her big, converted pistol.

  Georges was lying on the roof so that his head and gun could poke over the edge. There was a pickup running alongside them. He couldn't even guess where it had come from. The Raider he had shot was draped, grotesquely, across the frame that covered the pickup bed. Two of his former companions were trying to lever it off so they could climb up and jump across. Georges aimed for the cab roof and fired three short bursts at it.

  The pickup turned in toward the trailer, hammering against the wheel guards and bouncing off. It dropped back each time, until a final swing found it behind the trailer and cutting across in front of the other pursuers. Georges didn't see exactly what happened, but as he stood to move across the roof, he saw a buggy, and a couple of bodies, tumbling through the air behind them.

  Something heavy, with arms curved into hooks, came over the edge of the cupola toward Maxine. In bizarre slow motion, it arced over until it landed, blunt side down, in her lap. Shocked by the pain it raised where the knife was stuck in her, she grabbed it by two of the arms and threw it back. Her vision narrowed, everything she saw blotted out by hurt.

  Georges had come across the trailer and lay down to point his gun over the edge. There was a Raider climbing up the hand holds. He was following the track of his grappling hook as it sailed back out of the cupola. It bounced across the ground, then found a tree stump and caught against it. Too late, the Raider realised he should have let go, as he was yanked violently from the trailer. Georges turned to check on Maxine.

  "Are you alright?" Georges said, shocked. Maxine looked at the hands holding her pistol. They, and her arms, were covered in blood. The shotgun had sent it everywhere.

  "It's not my blood." Maxine said, weakly. Her thigh throbbed, and she looked down at the hilt of the knife stuck in it. "Most of it's not my blood."

  Georges dared to take a quick look behind them. He fired the last few rounds in the assault rifle's magazine and shot a grenade toward the mass of the pursuers. "We've lost the big gun back here. There are still enough of them to cause us some trouble. How much longer until we're safe?"

  "Not much further. The pinch point is just ahead." Remy replied.

  Georges dared to look ahead. The mountains on either side closed in like pincers, but didn't quite meet. The narrow low point that was the gap between them was the pinch point. Beyond that, there would be people waiting for them, ready to lay down covering fire and mop up their pursuers.

  As Georges looked at the gap, it was filled with a yellow and orange fireball.

  * * *

  The road block up ahead came into view just in time to disappear again behind fire.

  They had turned off the old, major roads to head in this direction, and were now following a track that ran straight
through the middle of the flames. The road was straight and flat, they could get through the burning barrier quickly. Hopefully, there was nothing too dangerous on the other side.

  Spread across the space between the truck and the fire were shapes, moving quickly. Motorbikes, buggies, larger vehicles, all running toward them. Something flickered on the roof of a van, and bullets started hitting the front of the truck.

  The windscreen broke into stars as the bullets hit it and were stopped by the layers of laminate. Up above, Fabien returned fire, and the bright dots of tracer danced around the van until it started to slow.

  "I'm out." said Fabien, dropping into the cab. "I'd reload, but that bastard clipped me."

  The bullet had hit Fabien's body armour where it looped over his left shoulder, breaking bone with its impact and punching a hole through to gouge a nasty wound in the muscle. His feet slid from under him, and he slumped, held up by the harness. Justine was with him immediately.

  Remy couldn't see the road ahead so well, now the windscreen was frosted with bullet damage. He moved all around to find the best view. "Hold tight everyone, I think I see the best way through."

  One of the buggies that was closing with the truck dodged another car, cutting right in front of the truck. The collision barely registered in the larger vehicle, and the buggy was little more than a tangle of metal when it was thrown aside.

  Now, all the vehicles that had been charging away from the fire were behind them. With luck, they were causing chaos amongst the pursuers. The truck drifted away from the track, heading for the edge of the fire ahead. It pushed a wave of flame ahead of it, and sucked long tails after it when it had passed through.