by TW Gallier
The mob finally figured out they were in an untenable position. They turned and headed away. We ceased firing as soon as their attack ended. I wiped the tears away; kind of embarrassed to be caught crying after all everyone had been through. I didn't want the men thinking I was soft.
"Do you think – " I started to ask.
Someone in the mob had a bullhorn.
"People up in the log cabin. This is your only warning," he said. I looked through my scope and tried to locate him. I didn't see a single person out in the open. "We will be back tomorrow, but with bigger and better weapons."
"What do you want?" Bill called down.
"Give us your food and weapons," was the answer.
"Fat chance of that," Hector muttered.
I nodded. If we gave them our food and weapons, we'd be helpless to stop them from slaughtering us. Surrender was not an option in the new world order.
"We don't have enough to share," Bill said. "We are barely getting by right now."
"Tomorrow, you will either share everything and join us," he said. "Or you will die!"
As soon as I judged it safe to leave, I hauled ass to the Meeting House. Something had to be done. We couldn't allow them to come back up our mountain.
I was the third person to reach the deck. Amy, Rosa, and Sarah had the children all down in the basement. They were told to keep the kids down there until told otherwise. Everyone else was gathering to meet, though Sean ensured twice the usual guards were out watching the road.
"What are we going to do?" Fred demanded before Bill could call the meeting to order.
"We're going to build more foxholes," Sean said. "Everyone who can shoot and has a weapon will be deployed to – "
"Are you mad?" I cried, jumping to my feet. "There could be hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. It won't take them long to figure out that road isn't the only way up the mountain. They aren't stupid like zombies."
"Now, Jenny," Sean said.
"Don't now Jenny me! I got two sons to protect," I said, feeling my face heating. "We have to hit them before they hit us. If I learned nothing else growing up as an Army brat, it was an offense is the best defense."
"How do we attack them without committing suicide?" Fred asked. "Whether they attack or we attack, they still outnumber us by a lot."
"Sit down, Jenny," Bill said. "Let calmer minds – "
"Don't even finish that, Bill," I said, eyes narrowing as I pointed at him. "I will not be ignored."
"No, she's right, Bill," Sean said, looking thoughtful. "We have to scare them off before they realize just how vulnerable we are, and then overrun us."
"Exactly. I've already heard we are running low on ammo," I added. "Can we find a way to cause an avalanche or something?"
"Maybe. We'll need to find where they are spending the night," Sean said. He looked down at the road. "I think I know where they'll camp. There's some level ground not too far below us."
I looked over the rail, too. My eyes lingered on all the dead bodies sprawled out in awkward positions. I couldn't believe how much blood was covering the road. A couple of fires still burned above them, the smoke dissipating in the breeze.
Fire.
"Molotov Cocktails," I said.
"I saw them," Sean said. "Worse than useless, but I don't think they have many other options."
"No. No," I said, mind running a mile a minute. "They weren't effective because we were so much higher than them. But since we are above them, then we can reach them."
"And we have a lot of dead vehicles full of gasoline," Bill said. "Brilliant!"
Bill put Sean and Fred in charge of collecting all of the gasoline. I was put in charge of collecting gas bottles. I didn't wait around to find out who was tasked with finding material for wicks. We didn't have much time.
Chapter 33
The number of roadside businesses and homes began to increase as we approached Adamsville, Tennessee. It was a just a small town of a couple thousand at most. The town was big enough to have a few fast food places and multiple churches and banks. I'd stopped at the Sonic there a few times in the past.
I expected Adamsville to be deserted like most of the small towns we'd passed through. Imagine my surprise to see five columns of smoke rising over the town. And we needed to go through downtown to get to and take Tennessee State Route 64 east towards Chattanooga.
"That doesn't look promising," Mike said.
He was in the backseat. Charlie was riding shotgun. I rolled to a stop. Our map wasn't detailed enough to figure out what streets to take to avoid downtown. At least only three of the smoke columns were east of downtown.
"I say we hit the gas and blast through before they know we're here," I said.
"I agree," Mike said. He would. "Do you think zombies caused the fires?"
I couldn't imagine zombies starting a fire on purpose, but they could by bumbling. Fires spoke of a bigger problem than zombies.
I shrugged. "I doubt it, but it could be survivors fighting zombies. We've used fire against them, too."
I hit the gas. Prior to seeing the smoke, I thought we'd stop and get gas and food. It was just a one traffic light town, but there were a number of cafés, stores, and gas stations along 64, not to mention fast food businesses. But that was not to be.
"We have company," Charlie said. "Two ATVs coming in at two o'clock."
"More behind us," Mike said.
I looked in the rearview mirror. One ATV and five motorcycles were accelerating towards us, gaining quickly. The other two ATVs came to a stop at the edge of the road ahead of us, and their drivers lifted handguns. Charlie lit them up.
"Whoa," I cried, swerving left and right as the riders behind us opened fire.
Mike leaned out of his window and returned fire. Charlie joined him a moment later. I accelerated, trying to outrun them. The intersection of State Route 22 and State Route 64 was just ahead, so I didn't want to go so fast I couldn't make the turn. Then as the intersection came into view, I spotted two older model pickups cross to the east ahead of us. The second one skidded to a stop to block access to 64.
"Heads up," I cried, and turned the wheel sharply.
We turned off Route 22 just shy of Main Street, which was Route 64. There was a street sign that I failed to read, but it looked more like the alley behind the Main Street downtown businesses to me. It was a short block over before I could try for 64 again.
Men ran out of the back doors of a few businesses to shoot at us. All of them looked like big outlaw bikers to me. Most wore bandannas, with long hair and sunglasses. One was shirtless and in his boxers.
"Is this Biker Town USA?" Mike asked.
As I came to the end of the block, I spotted Route 64 a short drive to the right. Motorcycles, ATVs, and trucks turned off 64 and blocked that path. I turned hard left, and took off toward what looked like rural country. Homes with big plots of land lined the road, which had a sharp turn to the right ahead.
"T-intersection ahead," Mike said after we rounded the curve. "Go right to the highway."
Our pickup had a lot more get up and go than our pursuit. We were leaving the bad guys behind. I almost took the T-intersection too fast. We fishtailed as I floored it, heading towards Route 64 again.
I was doing 45 MPH when I came upon the Family Dollar store on our left, and more cars and trucks skidded to a stop to block off the highway.
Bullets riddled our truck as I turned into the dollar store parking lot. The front right tire blew, and I lost control. We crashed into a parked car.
"Bail!" Charlie cried, and fired at the vehicles blocking the highway.
Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat!
That made the bikers scramble for cover. Charlie then opened up on the men chasing us. Riderless motorcycles and ATVs went in all directions, and one of the pickups turned and crashed into a house.
Across the highway to our right front was the Church of Christ. To the left and a little further east down and across the road wa
s the Sonic. There were houses and open land between them. I hesitated. There were large-lot homes behind the dollar store.
The pickup was still running, but I could hear more cars coming and more bikers were flooding out of the Church across the street. We wouldn't get far on a flat tire, so I considered one of their vehicles.
The bikers started shooting at us again. Their vehicles were too well defended.
"East!" I called and grabbed the red pack out of the bed.
Leading the way north-east, I put the store between us and the bad guys. There were more houses east of the store, all fenced in. A six foot privacy fence separated us from escape.
We didn't make it.
"Halt!"
A dozen big, mean looking men had us cornered in the corner. There was no way to kill them all before they gunned us down. We didn't have a choice. We lowered our weapons.
They jumped on us in a flash. I fought with all I had. Mike and Charlie fought for their lives. But there were too many of them. Soon, all I knew was fists and boots pounding into me until everything went black.
Chapter 34
We were halfway across Route 64 before I came back to reality. Every inch of my body ached. Blood dripped from my nose, which I think they broke again. Maybe it never healed. Either way, it hurt worse than any other part of my body, and that was saying something.
They dragged us into the Church of Christ. Apparently some very non-Christian bastards had taken over the building. The pews were all gone, leaving a huge empty room which they'd filled with long tables. Upon the pulpit, or the dais since the lectern was missing, was another table. A giant of a man sat behind it that the others referred to as Bjorn.
They called him the President, whether that was of their motorcycle club or of Adamsville, I didn't know. Yet. I had a feeling I was going to learn far more about them than I wanted.
President Bjorn was big and blonde and looked meaner than shit. Bjorn looked the part of an outlaw biker, with long hair and beard. Hell, he could've passed for a murderous Viking raider, especially with that name. He wore dirty jeans and a sleeve-less jean jacket covered in patches. A pearl-handled six-shooter was holstered low on his right hip.
Hell, maybe he wanted to be a cowboy.
"Dump them right there," Bjorn said, voice so deep he all but rumbled.
The two men holding my arms thrust me forward, trying to make me fall to my knees. I struggled, but maintained my feet. Charlie and Mike fell, but quickly jumped back up. They moved to either side of me. We stood defiantly, glaring at him.
All of our weapons, and both packs with ammo, were put on the tables to either side of President Bjorn. He raised an eyebrow, and then looked pleased to see the four automatic weapons. He even picked up the meat cleaver before turning his full attention on us.
"You killed four of our brothers," Bjorn said, leaning forward and cold gray eyes narrowing. His big hand tightened around the cleaver's handle. "And wounded another seven."
The crowd grumbled and shifted. I looked them over for the first time. The vast majority were big, mean looking bikers. Some were women, ranging from pretty teens to rough looking old women. I looked at the bikers more closely, and realized a fair number were older men. And there were a lot of them, too. My head was still buzzing from the ass-whooping I just took, so estimating their number seemed too tough at the time.
"We didn't start it," I said. "All we wanted to do was pass through town peacefully."
"Yeah, man, you guys came at us with weapons drawn," Mike said. "We just defended ourselves."
"You murdered our brothers!"
"Can we agree to disagree?" Mike said.
Bjorn stood up. He was bigger than I originally thought. The man had to be seven feet tall if he was an inch. His arms looked as big my legs.
"Let me handle this," I said before Mike got us killed. I glanced at our weapons. So close, yet we'd have to get past a giant to reach them. "Hey, listen, we don't want trouble. All we want to do is go home to our families in Georgia."
"You should've thought about that before killing our brothers."
The others started moving forward. I didn't get the impression they wanted to share a group hug. Charlie and Mike started looking nervous.
"Take them out into the street and shoot them," Bjorn said. "Leave the bodies where they fall so the townspeople know not to fuck with us."
"Are you fucking out of your minds?" I asked. Bjorn glared at me. "Listen here, you pig-licking mother fucker, when the US Army returns to reestablish Federal authority, you and your butt-fucking boyfriends will all be strung up for all this crap."
Bjorn showed his Scandinavian roots. He turned red, growled, and his temper exploded in violence. The ginormous biker flipped the high table, sending all of the weapons clattering across the floor. Everyone surged at us with a cry of rage.
I must've lost it, too. I charged Bjorn, while Mike and Charlie kept their heads and jumped on their weapons. Gunfire erupted, sounding like cannon fire in that enclosed space.
Picking up a folding chair, I flung it at Bjorn's head. He smashed it aside with his left arm, while lifting the cleaver high in his right hand. The biker jumped off the dais at me, so I ducked and plowed through his legs.
That flipped him over to fall on his back.
The bastard didn't even grunt with the impact. Did anything faze him? I grabbed another folding chair just in time to block the cleaver slash. Bjorn was on his knees, and still pretty close to my height. I kicked him in the face, but he just sprung back with a grin.
Mike shot a grenade point blank. BOOM!
He blew a hole in the wall behind the bikers, knocking quite a few down. All got back up, but looked dazed, tattered, and bloody.
My ears rang louder than ever before. I could barely hear the continuing gunfire. Charlie was butchering them with the SAW, and Mike helped. A few of them were frantically returning fire, but since they surrounded us they were shooting each other, too.
They watch too many movies, I thought, noticing the bikers were shooting their pistols sideways like on TV and the movies. No wonder they couldn't hit shit.
Bjorn tried to disembowel me as he started to stand. The cleaver was in his left hand, which I found odd. Then I noticed his right was unsnapping the strap over the six-shooter.
"No!" I screamed and slapped the folding chair into the side of his head.
Bjorn didn't go down, but surged to his feet. How did such a big man move so fast?
"Stop!" I screamed.
No one listened.
The six-shooter swung around toward Charlie. I realized since I was unarmed that Bjorn didn't see me as a threat. Mike and Charlie were definitely threats, well into the process of rendering them all into hamburger meat. So I charged him with a wild rebel yell.
My foot lashed out, striking his gun hand in the wrist. The revolver fired. It seemed in slow motion, so I saw fire all around the cylinder and the end of the barrel. Spinning into him, I brought my knee up between his knees. Bjorn grunted, starting to bend over in agony. I seized his left wrist, twisted the arm around, and brought my elbow down with all my strength on his elbow.
"Aaiiee, you bastard!" Bjorn cried, dropping to one knee. "I'm going to kill you!"
The six-shoot started swinging back toward me. I twisted the cleaver out of his hand, gave the dislocated elbow another savage twist, and released. And then I brought the cleaver down upon his right wrist and took that hand completely off.
The look on Bjorn's face was incredulous. Shock. Disbelief. He'd probably never lost a fight in his misspent life. I brought the cleaver back across his face, across his eyes. He wailed, throwing his head back. Without hesitation, really without thought, I brought that meat cleaver straight down and split his skull open, wedging the blade in deep.
"Bjorn is dead!" I shouted. "Kill them all!"
That created an exodus. Not a big rush to the doors, since there weren't that many left, but men and women ran for the front door. They moved
crouched over, continuing to return fire. Even the women were shooting.
Suddenly… Silence. It was deafening when the guns went silent.
"Wow," was all Mike could muster.
It was just the three of us standing in the middle of the church. Blood and gore were everywhere. Big puddles were slowly spreading around every corpse. The walls were dripping with blood. There was even blood on those soaring vaulted ceilings. The air reeked of sulfur, blood, and feces.
"This is literally a blood bath," Charlie whispered. "Oh my god."
I just stood there shaking. I don't know why I was shaking – emotion, exhaustion, horror – but all I could do was numbly stand there and look around at Hell on Earth. It didn't help knowing they were one and all very bad people who were going to murder us.
"What are we going to do now?" Charlie asked.
"Get the hell out of – " I started, but the front door opened. "Down!"
We dropped to the floor, sprawled out and weapons trained on the door. A gray-haired man came in hesitantly.
"Hello? Anyone alive in here?" he said.
"Halt! Who are you?" I demanded.
"M-Mayor Alfred Wilkinson," he said. "Are you one of the newcomers?"
I shared a look with Mike and Charlie. They just shrugged. That didn't help me any. So I sighed and slowly rose to my feet. I motioned for them to remain in position and to cover me. And then I walked closer to the door and Mayor Wilkinson. My new position kept me out of Mike and Charlie's line of fire.
"I'm Roger Gilley, formerly of the US Army," I said, indicating my thoroughly blood-soaked uniform. "My friends and I just want to pass through without trouble."
"We're hardly in a position to offer any trouble," Mayor Wilkinson said, moving inside a little more. He stopped and blanched when his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. The scene was pretty damned gruesome, even for a war veteran. "God have mercy."
"I don't think Bjorn and friends will give you anymore grief," I said. "We kind of killed most of them."
He looked at me with horror in his eyes. I cringed.