by Kuhn, Steve
In the melee that followed, Kylee pushed her way to the others to get in on the bernies. She had a close call as she passed by an old pickup truck, though. One of the dead happened to be lying in the bed, and it grabbed hold of her hair as she ran to catch the others. It snapped her head back with such force that she dropped her weapon, leaving her well fucked. She screamed for help, but no one was in a position to get to her.
Boom!
The bernie’s body went limp as its brains painted the truck a new color. She jerked her hair loose from its grasp. Lilly stood atop her car with her pistol smoking as she called out, “Sorry for shootin’, Mr. Hook!”
Fuck yeah, Lilly!
Hook told me firmly, “Go help.”
I didn’t argue. I dashed off to the others and helped finish off the last of the dead. Once we were clear, we spun to go help Hook out with the dogs, but instead found ourselves laughing hysterically. He was knelt down in the middle of the pack of them, passing out bits of food from the backpack Cutty tossed him, and petting them like some sorta welfare dog whisperer.
He looked over at us and said, chuckling, “They’re just hungry. And happy to see people, I s’pose. No tellin’ how long they been out here runnin’ wild.”
Cutty stayed at the back of our lineup, whispering, “I don’t like dugs, nigga. E’rry damn dug I eva seen like ta take a chunk out my ass.”
Lilly squealed happily and made her way to Hook’s side to help pitch in with feeding them. Chavez pouted silently to himself for freezing up, but Don tried to reassure him, saying, “Look, man. Shit happens. So, you froze. Now you know how it feels. Recognize it next time, and just make sure it doesn’t happen again. You got me?”
Silence.
We watched Lilly and Hook from a short distance while trying to shake off the chaos from moments before. Not much chatter was happening except Chalmers saying something about how he hoped Hook didn’t give away too much of our food.
Then, it just happened. There’s really no way to explain it and convey the shock.
Boom!
A single shot exploded Hook’s head as he reached to give one last scrap to the animals. His body slumped forward into the dirt without more than a thump. Lilly shrieked and scrambled away towards us as we all took cover, hunkering down between the vehicles to shield ourselves long enough to assess where the shot came from.
Don observed coolly, “That came from the east, behind us.”
Chalmers looked around with a chalk-white pallor to his face and asked, “How can you tell?”
Don pointed at Hook’s corpse and said, “The splatter sent the pieces to the west.”
This was further illustrated by the dogs, now feeding eagerly on hunks of Hook’s brain and scalp that had been sent flying from the exit wound.
Kylee made a snap decision and told us, “I’m going to get him.”
She didn’t even give us time to protest before running off towards the body. Don yelled to her, “No! Don’t!”
It didn’t matter. It was too late. Almost as soon as Kylee reached his body, another shot rang out.
Boom!
It blasted Kylee in the chest and sent her sprawling out on her back.
“No!”
Don, as if by some magic, kept his cool and quickly explained, “He’s trying to draw you in. If we keep trying to aid our injured, he’s just gonna pick us off one by one.”
Chavez snorted, “The fuck he is. I got caught slippin’ once. Ain’t about to happen again.”
He dashed off to our right and jumped in the cab of D-Prime, firing up the engine immediately. Hanging out of the window, he yelled, “Pull them outta there as fast as you can!” With that, he pulled D-Prime into position between the bodies and the unseen sniper, blocking any possible shot with the mass of the trailer.
Chalmers gave a nod and made his way double-time to the Hummer as the rest of us moved to the bodies. Hook was done, and the dogs had scattered by the time the truck was in place. Cutty knelt over Kylee and tore her shirt open, revealing a huge dent in her body armor. He gave a heavy sigh of relief along with the rest of us as Don noted, “She’s my wife for Christ’s sake. You didn’t think I’d make sure she was protected out here?”
There wasn’t time to celebrate. We tossed her in the Hummer with Chalmers, Don, and Lilly, and the rest of us climbed into the cab of D-Prime. We just plowed through traffic, hopefully not doing too much damage to the truck.
We definitely can’t afford to lose a vehicle like D-Prime at this point. We’re being hunted…
Entry 132
This is getting ridiculous now. We lost Hook back there, and we couldn’t even give him a proper burial. Kylee came around after a few minutes in the Hummer from what I’m told, but her ribs are badly bruised. And for some reason the shooter is still on our asses. I can’t tell you why that is, because I don’t know, but one thing’s for certain. This guy has gotten way too close for comfort.
The biggest problem with this sniper is that the danger is unseen. Bernies are getting easier every day as long as they’re not in huge numbers. This guy (or girl, I guess), on the other hand, has us rattled. We’re looking over our shoulders every second of the day now and, honestly, I’m scared shitless every time I’m not inside a vehicle. I don’t even want to get out to stretch or to take a leak. I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone like that would be pursuing us, and I’m almost certain it isn’t one of the colonel’s people because he probably doesn’t even know he’s been exposed yet.
Regardless, we can’t even have someone up on top of D-Prime keeping watch, because no one wants to go up there for fear of having their head blown off out of nowhere—which leads me to the next problem. The Hummer is fucked already.
Last night, we all slept in the trailer. For reasons already mentioned, there was no night watchman. When we got up to leave this morning, the hood was up on the Hummer and all the electrical wires had been sliced up. Also, some of the hoses inside were cut up pretty badly. That means this person is still very much present, and more importantly, had the balls to come in real close last night. And why would they fuck up the Hummer and not D-Prime? Something’s fishy.
Now, as I said, this has us all rattled, and it’s beginning to show. As soon as the situation with the Hummer was made known, Chavez lost his shit. He demanded everyone get back inside the trailer and, once we were in, he laid into Chalmers with a quickness. “This is your fault.”
Chalmers balked at the accusation and shot back, “My fault? First of all, no, it’s not. And second, I’ll remind you that you are under orders right now, and you’ll act accordingly, got that?”
Chavez laughed sarcastically and told him, “Yeah, about that. I’ve been thinkin’. You got me on orders to risk my ass on two people I don’t give a shit about and to play bodyguard for you, so you can spring your family from a threat I’m not even convinced exists. I signed on to kill these dead fucks. I didn’t sign on to get shot at by some nutcase. What about my family, man? At least yours are in a Goddamn military base. I haven’t heard from any of my own people for months. This is bullshit!”
Chalmers held strong to his professionalism and told Chavez, “You signed on to serve your country, soldier! Right now, these two are the only shot we have at fixing this shit. It just so happens that my family is in the same place we’re heading. This is the mission. That’s all.”
The rest of us just sorta let it play out for a moment. People needed to blow off steam. We all knew that. There’d been so many arguments and fights between us since we’d been on the road that it barely even fazed me anymore. As long as shit didn’t get out of hand, it was probably healthy that these things happened. But there was a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Unfortunately for both of them, Chavez didn’t seem to care too much for lines.
Chavez furrowed his brow as he got more and more fired up. “My ‘country’ is dead, and every one of us will be dead just the same if we keep following your lead, man. In fact, how do we e
ven know you aren’t still working with Lang? How do we know this asshole shooting us down one by one isn’t one of your people? How do we know you aren’t leading us right into a Goddamn trap?”
Chalmers couldn’t believe it. “You gotta be shittin’ me! You really think that?”
Lilly covered her ears and shouted, “Stop fighting,” but she was immediately shushed by Chavez.
He told her, “Stay out of this, kid. It’s none of your damn business.”
Cutty calmly urged him, “I suggest you watch ya tone with the li’l girl, a’ight? Lest you an’ me have a problem.”
Chavez ignored him and turned his attention back to Chalmers, seething. “Whatta ya say we find out? I’ll go out there and catch the fucker myself. And if he says anything remotely involving you, I’ll kill you both.”
He drew his sidearm.
That’s the line I was talkin’ about. A fight is a fight, but as soon as weapons come out, something has to change. Chavez continued ranting, gun in hand, and began gesturing at Kylee with it, saying, “Then I’ll take both of these idiots back to the facility where it’s safe!”
Kylee warned him calmly, “Don’t point that gun at me again.”
Dude was seriously beginning to lose it. At this point I wasn’t even listening to him anymore. I was just looking for an opportunity to diffuse the situation. I wished Murphy were there right then. He knew how to chill people out by saying the right things.
The gun swung in Kylee’s direction once more as his tirade continued, and she got pissed this time. She stepped forward and snapped, “I told you to get that gun out of my fucking face!”
He looked her right in the eye and told her, “I’ll point this shit at whoev—”
He didn’t even get the sentence out. Cutty yoked him up by his throat with one hand and swung him up against the wall of the trailer, pinning him helplessly. “Somebody get da gun, dammit!”
Don jumped in immediately since he was close and wrenched the pistol out if his hand, passing it to me. I dropped the mag to the floor and cleared the round from the chamber before tossing it uselessly to the bedrolls in the corner. Cutty spoke menacingly through his teeth, “I done had enough of yo’ shit, ya heard? You think we ain’t scurred, nigga? E’rrybody here is scurred, and we don’t need yo’ ass makin’ shit worse. Now sit yo’ ass down, and shut da fuck up befo’ I get ta movin’ furniture up in dis bitch.” He threw Chavez to the trailer floor and then pointed at Chalmers, saying, “He do got a point, though. If you settin’ us up, you’s a dead nigga, nigga. Consequences an’ repercussions.”
Lilly pointed at Chavez on the floor and sang, “Yooou got in trooouble, you got in trooouble. Now you’re on tiiiime-out, now you’re on tiiiime-out,” giggling girlishly.
Chavez wiped his face and sat there pouting. Kylee told him, “We’ve dealt with people like you before. We’re all in this, like it or not. Get your shit together, and do it now.”
I couldn’t help but remind them all that this was a big problem, though—one that needed to be dealt with immediately. At least we were all in agreement there. The trouble was that no one had a clue what to do. Don suggested that he and another person try to track this mystery shooter, but Chalmers shot it down immediately. He even gave Don some shit for suggesting it at all, saying, “You can’t be serious. The entire point of this operation is to keep you out of harm’s way. There’s no way in hell you’re going out there after him.”
Cutty agreed. “He right. Ain’t no sense in dat. Y’all go out there and get yo’ asses killed, den we may as well jus’ stop tryin’ right here and now.”
Chalmers suggested we just try and lose him. “We could try and throw him off our trail, just disappear into the sunset.”
Kylee nodded, saying, “It’s better than just going at him head-on. Let’s get some miles in and come up with a plan next time we take a break. Keep heading up towards Phoenix and maybe lose him in the mountains?”
Good enough for me.
Entry 133
It didn’t take much time at all to roll into Arizona. Even with the highways all jacked up, we managed to plow through a couple hundred miles in a matter of a night. Sucky part is that, as we pushed through the traffic, not only was D-Prime taking some damage, we were also clearing the path for our pursuer.
Kylee did most of the driving, switching off at times with Chalmers. They stayed together in the cab. I generally wouldn’t bother making a note of our driver unless it was worth mentioning for some reason or another. In this case, it seems important to note that this was the first time Kylee’s agreed to be behind the wheel of D-Prime since the accident and subsequent death of Bizzy. I’m beginning to think the reappearance of Don has somehow helped her move forward from some of the things we’ve experienced.
Don has been acting as though everything, every single thing, was a military issue or mission. It’s not been as annoying as you might think, though. It actually brings with it a certain sort of comfort—the mindset being that certain actions are forgivable in the climate of war, and some of the more gruesome things we’ve seen are just a side effect of the situations we find ourselves in. It’s done wonders for the conscience as long as one can hang onto enough civility to be a productive member of society once the war is over. For now, there’s no end in sight, so fuck it.
A great example of Don’s know-how came after Kylee noticed the running lights of a vehicle some distance behind us on one of the huge straight-aways we’d encountered. She announced it to us in the back using our communicators.
Bah, who am I kiddin’? They’re not communicators. They’re really just some silly-ass, pink walkie-talkies that Lilly spotted in one of the abandoned cars. That was a nasty encounter on its own when you consider that Chavez had to pry one out of the severed hand of the kid that used to own it. He threw up on the spot—not from the act of prying it out so much as the smell of decay and the fact that the rest of the kid was still a mess of masticated flesh strapped into a car seat. No one had any time to comment on the sight thanks to this sniper asshole taking another potshot at us. He missed Chavez by an inch… maybe less.
Anyway, Don ordered her to stop the truck and then immediately opened up the hatch to the roof of the trailer. Cutty protested, immediately asking, “You ain’t gon’ out there, is you?”
Don assured him he was not with a shake of his head. He told Cutty, “Bring me a hat or something. And a mirror.”
Cutty complied and produced the only piece of headwear not in use. It was Fool’s old combat helmet. We had debated about placing it on his memorial, but instead opted for the baseball cap he wore once in a while. I guess I can admit now that, even though I suggested using the baseball cap because it was more casual and familiar, I really just wanted to keep the helmet in case we needed it one day. I suppose I was right in a way. With the help of Don and a stranger, that helmet saved lives today.
Lilly asked, “Will this work,” as she passed Don a small compact mirror. It was one of those snap-shut things that chicks use for their makeup. I honestly didn’t even know we had one of them. I assume it belonged to Dana at some point, seeing as she’s the only woman we’d come across who still gave a shit about how she looked to other people—not that it helped her much. Bitch was pretty much busted, in my opinion, anyway.
Don took it from her politely and ruffled her hair as if to tell her she did a good job. Then he set to work. He snatched some duct tape and broke the mirror out of the casing before taping the mirror to the front of the helmet. After that, he placed the helmet on the end of one of the rifles and poked it up through the hatch as we all watched in silence. It took about a minute for him to exclaim, “Aha! There we go.”
The sunlight flashed off the mirror as he worked the rifle with the helmet atop it from side to side through the hatch.
Boom!
The glass from the mirror rained down onto Don as he flinched from the impact. The helmet shot off the end of the rifle and landed at our feet with a neat ho
le right where the mirror was taped to it. “Welp,” Don said, “there’s our answer.”
Chavez sighed heavily and said, “Damn, man. Fucker’s still on our asses. This is ridiculous.”
We took a moment to think over our course of action, but found ourselves interrupted by Kylee on the walkie asking us, “Everybody all right? I’m feeling a little exposed at the moment.”
I told her we were all right and that we just needed a few minutes more to make a plan. There was the usual argument from Kylee, but the best part about walkie-talkies was that we could just turn them off. She started with her shit, and I just shut it down, much to Cutty’s amusement. The only downside was that I knew she was gonna smack the shit outta me for it the first chance she got. In fact, I probably should have left it on so we didn’t have the freak-out moment that followed.
It began with Kylee’s voice from outside the trailer screaming, “One more step and I’m droppin’ you, motherfucker!” This was followed by a frantic pounding on the side of the trailer.
I motioned for Lilly to stay put along with Cutty and moved to open one of the trailer doors. Chavez and Don were already next to me when the sunlight poured into the back of the truck and we made a point of keeping one door closed completely. That way we could stay fairly covered behind it in case the sniper still had our number. We were met by the shape of a man about thirty feet down the road, approaching us slowly on foot.
Chalmers, standing beside Kylee, called again, “Last warning, asshole!”
The figure took another few steps then stopped as ordered. Don and Chavez made a visual sweep of the surroundings and found it to be clear of bernies for the time being, so we held firm. From our position it was readily apparent that he had a rifle slung across his back. We also noticed his hands weren’t empty.