I tied the briefcase to my pack, slung it and my rifle on my back, then straddled one of the bikes and switched on the key. The battery indicator light on the small console between the handlebars showed seventy-seven percent. Plenty for the two-and-a-half-mile trip to the St. Johns River. The motorcycle was a Zero MMX, at least that’s what the sticker on the cowling said. I twisted the throttle and the bike responded like a bat out of hell. I rolled across the grass, hopped the curb and turned onto the street. I heard the keening wail when a roving bunch of the undead spotted me, a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that they were headed my way at a dead run. The main horde would be right behind them, attracted by their shrieking.
I twisted the throttle and the bike surged forward. The only sound from the electric bike was the hum of the tires on the asphalt. The Zero was a powerful machine, quick, light and nimble. I barely slowed when I took the corners, ran full out on the straightaways. The speedometer topped out at eighty miles an hour, I pegged it out in seconds. One of these would make a great addition to my stable and I vowed to be on the lookout for one when I made it home.
I headed for the street that ran by the river, easily dodging and weaving my way through the abandoned cars that blocked the roads. Motorcycles are great for running away, but I’m pretty sure I already told you that. The zombies were a good distance behind me, but I knew they’d be coming and there wouldn’t be a fearless redhead in a monster tractor or a half dead zombie boy to get them off my ass this time.
A minute and half later I hung a hard right on Front Street, scanned the mailboxes looking for house number 513. If Shepard lied to me, I was good as dead. At the far end of the street, I saw more zombies, shuffling through an intersection. I was surrounded. The ones behind me would be moving straight towards my position, through the yards and ditches, untiring and relentless.
The numbers on the mailboxes kept counting down as I raced down the street towards the zombies ahead. 817, 745, 663, 513, there! I swung the bike to the left, down the drive, through the edge of the yard, dodged a gazebo and a swing set and headed for the boat dock jutting out into the river a hundred yards behind the house.
A pair of watercraft sat bobbing in the river, tethered to the end of the dock. I’d never seen anything like them before. The name Seabreacher was stenciled on the tail of each one. They were long and sleek machines with fully enclosed cockpits, stabilizer fins on the sides, back and tail. One of them was painted in a gray and white scheme to look like a great white shark, the other was painted black and white like a killer whale. They were two-seater watercraft, jet propelled like a jet ski, no need to be concerned about hitting a submerged obstacle if I kept it moving fast and skimmed the top of the water. The cockpit was laid out more like a fighter jet than a boat. I slid the canopy covering the cockpit open on the shark, cast off the mooring line and climbed inside. I threw my pack and rifle into the back seat next to a three gallon can of gas before settling into the form fitted pilot’s seat. I could hear the keening of the zombies that were hot on my tail when I slid the canopy closed and locked it. I looked at the controls, a joystick on each side, dual pedals in the floorboard, no key switch, just a red button labeled start. The speedometer stopped at sixty miles an hour, the fuel gauge indicated a full tank. I had no idea how to pilot the thing, but I would figure it out.
Zombies started leaping off the dock on top of the Seabreacher. They slid off its sleek exterior and disappeared into the depths of the river. It was time to go. I reached for the start button then paused.
“I’m not in any shape to kill you right now. Maybe later.” Shepard’s dying words came back to me. I looked around the cockpit, didn’t touch anything. Maybe I was being paranoid, maybe not. I finally spied the strand of translucent fishing line anchored to one of the dual pedals in the floorboard. It disappeared beneath the dash panel. I flicked open my Benchmade knife and cut the line, then felt underneath the dash until I found the white phosphorous grenade hidden under the dash. Sneaky bastard had booby trapped the boat and didn’t bother to mention it while he was drinking my bottle of Pappy. I wasn’t mad at him, it was something I would have done. After all, the Armadillo had several booby traps on board to deal with thieves. I stuck the grenade in one of the integrated cup holders for safe keeping.
The undead were bouncing off the hull, an endless line of them stretching from the dock to the street, all eager for a taste of me. I know I should have been flattered, I am irresistible after all, but I was ready to go home, and zombies just aren’t my type.
The boat had drifted against the dock pilings instead of floating away with the current and taking me down river. I didn’t know how many undead it would take to sink the Seabreacher, but I knew how many they had to throw at it.
Fuck it, I fastened the racing style harness and punched the starter button. The vessel roared to life. I pulled the dual joysticks backwards, nothing happened. I pushed the right hand floor pedal and almost managed to wedge myself under the dock. I pushed the other one and the boat turned to the right. I spun the craft around and pushed both pedals together. It rocketed forward across the river. I eased the pressure on the right pedal and got myself pointed downriver. This wasn’t so hard. I floored it. The Seabreacher responded instantly and shot off down the river. The boat was fast, the speedometer was bumping thirty miles an hour. I pulled back on the dual joysticks and it climbed to fifty in a heartbeat. I was on plane and skipping across the top of the water. Hell yeah. Curious to see what would happen, I shoved forward on the joysticks and the boat went nose down and submerged. It wasn’t as fast underwater, and I couldn’t see shit anyway in the stained water, so I pulled back on the sticks until I was above the surface and back on plane. I was starting to get a feel for the controls and pushed it for all it was worth. It topped out around fifty-eight miles an hour. If I could maintain that kind of speed, I’d be back at Tybee Island in no time.
The first bend of the river was approaching fast, I let the pressure off the right pedal, but kept the left to the floor. I wasn’t prepared for the barrel roll that followed. I could hear my gear bouncing around in the backseat before the craft righted itself. That was fun.
I was on the other side of Fort Caroline when I saw her standing at the end of a pier, red hair blowing in the breeze, pink camo bag slung over her shoulder. She stood there with one hand shading her eyes, staring at the Seabreacher as I pointed it in her direction. I slowed the craft and coasted in. She was grinning from ear to ear when I slid the canopy back.
“Nice ride.” Madi said.
“Thanks, I got a hell of a deal on it. Practically stole it.” She groaned at my bad joke.
“Got room for one more?” She eyed the backseat full of gear.
“Might be a little tight, but yeah. Climb aboard.” I was thrilled to see her, amazed to see her alive. I thought for sure when she drove into the horde to buy me time, it would be the last I saw of her.
She slid into the backseat, shuffled the gear around until she had room to sit. I slid the canopy closed and piloted back to the center of the river.
“Buckle up.” I pushed the pedals to the floor, and we were off.
“I want one!” She screamed in delight as we rocketed across the top of the water.
“I know where there’s another one if you fancy a swim.”
“I’m good. There’s nothing back there for me.” She sounded sad. Leaving her friends behind for the unknown must have been hard.
“Hey, they’ll be fine. The government in Lakota won’t abandon them once they know where they are.” I had no doubt that Gunny and his people would move heaven and earth if that’s what it took to rescue the citizens of Haven.
“How’d you escape? I thought for sure you were a goner.” I asked.
“Sean. He came back and pulled them away. I ran the tractor until I was close to the river, abandoned it and made my way down to the dock where you found me.”
“Is he...?” I hesitated to say the word. I knew he�
��d been her friend and if he hadn’t been bitten, possibly more.
“Yeah, they got him. He saved me. It was too late for him, but he gave me a chance to have a life. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore, if that’s okay.” I heard her sniffle and let it drop.
We exited the river into the ocean and headed north. Despite the power of the Seabreacher, it didn’t burn much fuel. We’d be able to run most of the coastline on a single tank. To Madi’s delight I submerged the vessel a few times in the blue water. Schools of fish scattered out of our way when we ran through them. A pair of dolphins flanked us for a while, I tried to mimic their graceful leaps. I pointed out the yacht full of zombies when we passed by. More of them spilled over the side after us when I ran the Seabreacher by it at full throttle less than twenty feet from the yacht’s hull. We left them behind to enjoy their swim, it was a beautiful day for it.
I went over the events of the job in my mind while we cruised through the open water of the Atlantic. Shepard had been well connected judging from the military grade electric dirt bikes and the pair of Seabreacher boats. They must have hauled the gear in with them, I’d never run across gear this high tech in any of my travels. I wondered if his employers would be gunning for me when Shepard didn’t return. If so, they’d have to take a number and wait their turn.
We stopped to refuel a couple of miles out from the shoreline. The Seabreacher bobbed gently in the ocean waves, Madi had her bare feet in the water watching the fish swim around them. “You can’t hear them out here. I can’t remember a day in the past year where I couldn’t hear their screeching. I can laugh or scream as loud as I want and nobody cares. I feel free, I’d forgotten how it feels.”
“The world’s yours for the taking, kid.” I tossed the empty gas can in the ocean after I topped off the Seabreacher’s tank to give Madi some more room in the rear seat. We were getting close to the river mouth at Tybee Island, maybe another hour at the most. Plenty of time to retrieve the Armadillo and hit the road.
An hour and five minutes later I steered around the capsized boat with the zombies trapped inside. They were still banging their heads and fists against the porthole windows. Hang in there guys, you’ll get out sooner or later. I accelerated the Seabreacher towards the concrete ramp and the momentum took us ten feet up the boat ramp. We grabbed our gear and exited the craft. I hated to leave it behind, it was the most badass boat I’d ever been on. I swore to myself I’d find another one someday.
I turned to Madi. “The Armadillo is stashed a couple of miles away. I’ve got a bicycle, but I wasn’t anticipating having a passenger. We can walk, or I can come back and get you.”
She was staring at the storage building, listening to the shrieks of the undead trapped in the jumbled maze of boats.
“Walking is fine, running is better, let’s just go.” She whispered nervously. “What’s the Armadillo?”
I grinned, shouldered my pack and M4 and grabbed the briefcase. “You’ll see.”
We walked a brisk pace back to the shop where the Armadillo was stashed. I looked for signs that someone had been here in my absence. No new tire tracks in the crushed oyster shell and sand driveway and my lock was still hanging on the door. I pulled the key from around my neck, let us in and rolled up the garage door.
Madi let out a low whistle when she saw my armored beauty. “Can I drive it?”
“No. Load up, my Florida vacation is over.” I placed the briefcase and my pack in the back seat, climbed in, disarmed the booby traps and fired her up. I wrapped my fingers around the leather covered steering wheel and sighed with relief at the sound of the big engine idling under the hood. I love my ride and it was good to be back behind the wheel.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” I dropped the transmission into first gear, and we started the long trek back home.
27
Push
Long Way from Home
I took us northward towards the Blue Ridge mountains. We had about five hours of travel time before darkness fell. Madi pored over the map and finally picked a dot as our first destination.
“Homer, Georgia.” She announced. I nodded my head in agreement. I didn’t care where it was as long as it wasn’t crawling with undead.
She bounced in her seat excitedly, hair whipping around her face from the wind as she talked about her future. “What should I do with myself? I like the bounty hunter idea, that sounds exciting. I can’t wait to meet Nurse Nancy, think she’d take me on as an apprentice? I need a vehicle too, something cool that makes a statement. What do you think?”
“How about an El Camino? I recently came into possession of one. It’s yours if you want it.” Stratton Haisch sure as hell didn’t need it anymore.
“Is that the truck car looking thing?” She asked. Before I could answer she started up again. “Yeah, those are pretty cool. I can see myself in one. Are we there yet?”
I shot her a dirty look. “Don’t start that shit. Your ass will be putting down roots in that seat by the time we get there.” Damn, the girl was a nonstop chatterbox. I turned on the radio to drown her out, but she just talked louder until I relented and shut it off.
“Yes, Madi. What is it now?” I asked.
“I need a gun too, and a knife, oh and some handcuffs.” She prattled on with her wish list.
“I thought you wanted to be a veterinarian?” I asked. Geez, I thought riding with Shanna was rough.
“Can’t I do both?” She feigned an offended look.
“If I let you drive, will you shut up?” She mimed zipping her lips and nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Can you drive a stick?” Please say no.
“You bet, you should have seen the piece of shit Tercel I got when I turned sixteen. It was puke green, the cushions in the seat were worn out and ripped and the sunroof leaked every time it rained.”
I pulled over and swapped places with her. She adjusted the seat all the forward, I was regretting my decision already. I winced when she ground the transmission into first gear. She let off the clutch and the Armadillo lurched and stalled.
“Shut up, it’s been a while.”
I held my hands up in surrender. She got it on the second try and pulled out onto the road. I found a ball cap in the back seat and pulled it over my eyes and reclined my seat. “You know where we’re going. Stick to the backroads, stay away from the interstate, go around any towns even if they appear deserted and most importantly, don’t wake me until we get there, or you see zombies.”
“I got it. Get your beauty rest, you look like shit.” She looked over at me and grinned.
I showed her my middle finger and closed my eyes. “Eyes on the road, Calamity Jane.”
I was rudely awakened by the sound of gunfire and empty shell casings bouncing off the Jeep. I hit my head on the roll cage when I nearly jumped out of my seat. We weren’t moving. I peered out the windshield to see what the hell she was shooting at. A handful of undead were laying in the road, shot to shit.
She shrugged innocently. “I wanted to try out the machine gun. That’s pretty neat. Relax, we’re only about twenty miles from Homer.”
“Madi, I understand your excitement, but that was stupid. Every zombie in earshot is headed this way. You’ve got to be smarter, avoid them when you can. There’s no one out here to impress but me and you’ve already done that.” I was harsh with her, but she deserved it. Engine trouble or a flat tire would leave us up shit creek with nothing but a spork. I hate sporks with a passion. Useless as a fork and useless as a spoon.
She was quiet the rest of the trip. Finally. We rolled into Homer, Georgia late in the evening. The sign at the city limits boasted that the town of twelve hundred and seventy-four was a former Guiness World Record Holder of the world’s biggest Easter egg hunt.
I pointed at an Army Surplus and Pawn store. A jewelry store sat across the street from it. Perfect. “Parallel park there, in case we have to run for it. Always have a quick way out, more if you can find them.�
��
She brought the Jeep to a halt in front of the Army Surplus store, shut off the engine and handed me the keys. She was still pouting. Tough shit, I didn’t bring her all this way to see her killed or infected. The door was locked up tight and a few raps with my pistol butt indicated it was empty. I fished a crowbar out of the tool kit and jammed it in between the door and frame of the store. It let go with a soft pop. I held the door open and waved my hand for her to enter.
“After you.” I followed her inside the store. “Start looking for some gear and fatigues in your size while I check the back. If you hear shooting or see me running, don’t hesitate, get your ass back in the Armadillo and hunker down.” She grabbed a plastic basket and started shopping.
A search of the backrooms revealed we were alone. Madi had changed into her new outfit and was modeling it for me. I was eyeing the pistols in the glass case on the far wall. I called her over and had her handle a few different models to see which one fit her hand best. She settled on a model 66 Smith & Wesson chambered in .357 Magnum. It was a solid choice and would also fire .38 Special rounds and the recoil would be manageable for a person of her stature. I scrounged up a holster and speedloaders from the pegboard racks behind the counter. A Remington Tac-14 chambered in twenty gauge along with a scabbard she could wear on her back was added to her growing arsenal. I picked out an AR9 to round out the package, an AR-15 variant that fired nine millimeter ammo and used Glock pistol magazines. When her skills improved I would gift her the Glock I’d taken off Stratton. It was convenient to have weapons that used the same magazines in case one of them failed. She picked out a fixed blade combat knife and strapped it and the holster to her belt, slid the scabbard over her shoulder and fit the single point sling for the AR9 across her chest.
Road to Riches: Deadline: Book 1 (Zombie Road) Page 20