by Lukens, Mark
Brooke stared down the aisle, still looking for Tiger, pretending she hadn’t heard Kate.
“Brooke. Come back with me. I want to get you up on the roof. I’ll come back down and look for Tiger. I’ll find him, I promise.”
Brooke finally met Kate’s eyes, searching for the truth.
“The rippers,” Kate reminded her.
“I don’t want the rippers to get Tiger.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Again, for the thousandth time, Kate mentally cursed Max for bringing Tiger to Brooke. But Kate also felt that Tiger had helped Brooke, drawing her out of her shell and giving her something to care about.
“Come on, Brooke,” Kate said, her voice lower and a little deeper, her I-mean-business voice, the same tone she used in class when the students got a little too rowdy.
Brooke stared down the aisle a moment longer, like she might catch a glimpse of Tiger. And then she looked back at Kate. “You promise you’ll find him?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Just then Jo’s voice boomed from the middle of the store on the megaphone. “The rippers have gotten through the fence. Everyone on the roof now!”
Brooke’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. It looked like she couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Kate grabbed Brooke’s wrist. “Come on! We gotta go now!”
CHAPTER 30
Luke
“You knew!” Dawson yelled as Luke shifted into reverse and gunned the gas, backing up into the nearest front yard of a house set forty yards off the rural, two-lane road as bullets pelted the Humvee.
When they had stopped at the crossroads to say goodbye to Ray, Mike, Emma, and Josh, Luke had the order of their convoy switched around. Instead of driving in the lead, Luke told the others he was going to be the last in the line of vehicles. The lead Humvee would be driven by George, with Bella riding shotgun and Barry in the back. J.J. would drive the pickup truck with the three prisoners in back, and Luke would follow them with Dawson, Phil, and Max in his Humvee. No one questioned his sudden rearrangement of their convoy, no one dared.
Things were pretty peaceful for most of the journey, not much trouble with rippers along the way, no sightings of any Dark Angels. But the peacefulness was shattered when they were only two miles away from Hell Town (according to Dawson), rounding a bend at the edge of a small neighborhood at the outskirts of the town.
“You knew!” Dawson yelled again.
“Shut up,” Luke growled as he sped backwards across the front yard of a long-abandoned and looted home, bending down as low as he could get in the driver’s seat as bullets pinged the metal of their Humvee. So far none of the bullets had hit the windows or the tires, but that was understandable—the Dark Angels weren’t the best shots in the world; and at first they’d been concentrating on riddling the first two vehicles with bullets.
Luke hadn’t known for sure they were going to be ambushed before they got close to Hell Town, but he assumed it might happen; in his mind it was more of a probability rather than a possibility.
Had Dawson also known the attack was coming? Was he just acting shocked right now? Maybe, or maybe not; Luke couldn’t be sure. If Dawson was acting shocked and outraged, he was doing a hell of a job.
While Luke had been driving, he’d kept his eyes peeled, looking for possible ambush sites, keeping escape options open. This retreat right now wasn’t a full-proof escape—Luke had no idea what lay beyond the backyard of this abandoned house, and maybe that’s why this spot for the attack had been chosen.
Luke got across the front yard to the side of the brick house, backing up between the house and some of the ancient oaks and pines that made up so much of the coverage in the distance around the bend and up the hill where the Dark Angels had been hiding, pulling out across the road in their military truck and pickup, firing at them without hesitation. At least the ground alongside the house was somewhat level so far without too much junk in the way. Luke already saw that there was no fence in the backyard.
When they were beyond the back corner of the house and in the large backyard, Luke hit the brakes and cut the steering wheel hard. The big vehicle spun around easily in the grass until Luke was pointed the way he wanted to go: toward the far end of the yard. He stomped down on the gas pedal, the Humvee’s motor roaring. The backyard was large and it bordered another yard up the slight hill. Luke aimed the Humvee at a narrow gap between a line of shrubs that ranged from six to eight feet tall, a natural fence between the two backyards.
“Hold on!” Luke told everyone. He clenched the steering wheel, bracing himself, keeping his foot pressed down on the gas. Speed would be the key here, but it was also dangerous because he couldn’t make out clearly what was on the other side of the thick shrubs. For all he knew there was an RV parked right beyond them, or a big shed they were about to plow into.
But what else could he do? At least one of the Dark Angels’ vehicles had chased them, bullets were still flying.
Luke rammed the Humvee through the gap in the shrubs, and in that split second he saw a bit of clear backyard beyond it. Leaves and branches cracked against the sides of the truck, but nothing too damaging, nothing even remotely slowing them down.
The next backyard was just as big as the last one, maybe even bigger with a similar long, one-story brick home in the distance. There was litter around the house, windows broken, the back door torn off. Luke sped toward the wide side yard between this home and the one next door a hundred yards away. He drove down the side yard and onto a wide driveway, passing an old blue pickup with a rusty topper on the back. He was out on the small neighborhood street seconds later, turning right, driving away from Hell Town, figuring the Dark Angels would be coming from that way, driving down a side street from where they had attacked.
“They shot them,” Dawson said. He wasn’t yelling now, and Luke had barely heard his words. Dawson’s anger was gone; there was only shock now. “All of them. Even the prisoners.”
Luke saw the Dark Angels in the back of the pickup truck again, just a split-second image burned in his mind, bullets riddling their bodies as they screamed, perhaps trying to identify themselves as prisoners before they were gunned down. But the Dark Angels sent to kill them hadn’t cared if they were prisoners or traitors; most likely their orders had been to kill everyone.
At the end of the street Luke turned left, not wanting to head out toward the street they’d been driving on before. He got to the next street and turned left.
“Rippers,” Max said.
Luke saw them: four of them running through a yard, maybe more coming from the house. But they were already driving too fast for the rippers to latch on to the Humvee, and Luke felt safer in this sturdy vehicle, more so than any other truck he’d driven so far since the Collapse.
“The Dark Angels,” Phil said from the other side of the back seat. “Over on the next street.”
Luke had seen them too—a dark vehicle that resembled the Humvee he was driving raced along the street of the next block, just visible in the gaps between homes and trees and brush—a dark blur streaking down the road, keeping pace with them. Luke drove right through a stop sign and struck a ripper peeling off from a small group, going for the attack. The ripper he’d hit flew back, a blur of tattered clothing and flying limbs, a dark face and wide eyes.
“Where’s this road go?” he asked Dawson.
“I . . . I don’t know. How the hell would I know?”
Luke wasn’t sure if Dawson had patrolled the surrounding areas of Hell Town, perhaps searching from house to house for any food and supplies still left, any scraps that the Dragon could scoop up. He didn’t feel like explaining his question—he didn’t have time.
Dawson didn’t know where they were, and Luke didn’t either. They could be heading for a dead end. But if Dawson didn’t know the area around Hell Town, then maybe the Dark Angels chasing them didn’t know, either.
Right now Luke’s number one priority was to g
et away from their attackers, but he also didn’t want to get too far off course from Hell Town; he didn’t want to get lost and then try to figure out their way back through a maze of Dark Angels and rippers.
He glanced out his driver’s window—the black vehicle was still keeping pace with them on the next block. Luke turned right at the next stop sign, the tires squealing. They passed a small group of rippers near a streetlamp. He sped down the street, then took another left. The streets had to end somewhere, or maybe they eventually circled back to the main road. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he needed to ditch this Humvee soon.
CHAPTER 31
Luke
It was dangerous to leave the Humvee, but it was just as dangerous to try to keep outrunning the black vehicle chasing them. Eventually the other two vehicles would join the chase. Eventually they would corner them and pick them off as they tried to leave their Humvee. Ditching it would give them their best shot, and then they would need to find somewhere to hole up for the night, which was coming quickly.
When Luke was sure he’d lost the black vehicle for a moment, he pulled the Humvee in behind a house, driving down a long concrete driveway that wouldn’t leave their tracks behind for their pursuers to spot. He pulled in behind the house, parking right next to a stand of brush and trees that hid them from the road. Scattered along the rest of the sprawling backyard in the distance were old cars, a few battered sheds, and aluminum awnings. There was even a dilapidated school bus at the far end of the yard, the bottom half overtaken by weeds and vines.
“Everybody out,” Luke told them.
“Luke, are you sure . . .” Max started.
Luke was already out of the vehicle. They needed to get inside, but not the house where their Humvee was parked. The Dark Angels would eventually find the Humvee and storm the house. It was dangerous running out here with rippers around, but it was more dangerous to stay in a house the Dark Angels would surely surround.
He opened the back of the Humvee and grabbed his pack, slipping it on. He grabbed the M-16, knowing he already had a few magazines for it in his backpack. The others were at the back of the truck, moving quickly. Max still looked unsure, ready to voice his opinion, but he didn’t. He grabbed his pack. Phil and Dawson grabbed theirs. The packs were small, with just the necessities and extra ammo. Each of them had at least one weapon on them.
Luke ran across the next yard to the next home, running up to the wall and slamming against it. The others followed him around to the back of the house. He kept looking for rippers, listening for them—they could be in any of these houses. There hadn’t been too many rippers around this neighborhood so far, only a few dozen, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t other larger groups around. As if to prove his thought, a few rippers called out in the distance.
After they made it to the back corner of the next house, Luke stopped and peered around the corner. He could see part of the street. No rippers, and no black vehicle. From somewhere nearby, maybe the next street over, he heard the black vehicle that had been chasing them, or maybe even another one of the Dark Angels’ trucks. Its engine was roaring as it raced down a street. Gunshots rang out. Rippers roared. It was all still pretty far away, but still too close. They needed to keep moving, get farther away from their abandoned Humvee.
He looked back at the other three crowded together behind him. Phil was the last in line, and he was constantly looking back, watching for any rippers running up behind them.
“Don’t shoot at any rippers unless you absolutely have to,” Luke said. He shoved the strap of the M-16 over his shoulder and pulled out his gun with the silencer on it. “I’ll shoot them until there are too many. Got it?”
They nodded. Luke wasn’t sure if he could trust them to hold their fire, but maybe they would. If they only came across a few rippers at a time, he could pick them off silently.
“We’ll keep working our way this way, and then west.” He looked at Dawson. “Right?”
Dawson nodded.
“That’s the way toward Hell Town?”
Dawson nodded again.
Luke looked around once more and then took off across the side yard to the next house, crouching down under a window at the back of that house when he got there. The others caught up to him, crowding in, but moving down toward the back door so they would be out of sight of any vehicles on the road.
“Ripper,” Phil hissed.
Luke turned and saw a lone ripper racing across the uneven backyard toward them. He looked painfully thin, his clothes ripped up, one sneaker gone, the other one untied. He had his arms out, no weapons on him. It seemed like a desperate kamikaze mission for the ripper to get some kind of food. Luke aimed and fired, the gun spitting, barely making a sound. The ripper was knocked down from a head shot.
“Shit,” Dawson whispered in awe at the shot.
Max looked through the back window of the home.
“Rippers inside?” Luke asked.
“None that I see,” Max whispered back. “I don’t hear anything.”
Luke could still hear the vehicles prowling other streets—there were definitely more of them now. He looked down at the line of houses ahead of them. Only three more homes until they came to a cross street. More houses on the other side of that street, and then what looked like a patch of woods. “Okay,” he told the others. “We stay on the move. We get across that street over there, and then we get to those woods. We keep working our way west.”
The others nodded.
They were on their way. Luke killed another two rippers while on the run. The Dark Angels might not see the dead rippers unless they drove or walked around to the back of the homes—at least that was a good thing; dead rippers would lead the Dark Angels right to them like a trail of breadcrumbs.
At the last house on the street, Luke waited by the corner. Dusk was coming quickly, the air colder, the shadows darker and more defined. The twilight gave them cover, but it also provided cover for the rippers roaming around. The Dark Angels would have to probably turn their headlights on soon. They were still driving around, speeding up and down the streets, close, but not right on the same street yet.
“Across the street,” Luke said. “Down that side yard over there. As fast as you can.”
Luke went first, running, looking up and down the street, looking for any of the Dark Angels’ trucks. Nothing so far. No rippers in the streets. Maybe some of the rippers were hiding from the trucks too. He got to the side of the house, hurrying down along the wall to the rear of the home. He peeked around the corner at the backyard. The yards next to this one both had wood fences, one newer and one that looked ready to fall down. This backyard had no fence; it would only take a short jog to get to the woods. A small screened-in back porch, the landscaping and lawn neat at one time.
Rippers howled in the twilight, one calling to the others from the area where they’d just come from; Luke wondered if that ripper had found some of their own dead. Were they calling for their forces to gather and avenge the deaths, or were they celebrating the fact that they’d found food to eat and blood to drink? Luke didn’t care—at least they were still far away.
He ran across the backyard and into the woods. The other three followed him.
It was darker in the woods than Luke had expected, but not pitch-black yet. If they hurried, they could hopefully get to some kind of structure before the night fully set in. Luke guessed they had less than an hour, maybe only thirty minutes, before it became so dark that they would have to spend the night in the woods, staying wherever they were.
Twenty minutes later, they found the edge of another neighborhood. These homes were smaller than the neighborhood they’d been in before, with a few trailers mixed in. Luke entered the first home they’d come to, getting in through a broken back door. It was even darker inside than it was outside, but a quick check proved the home to be free of rippers.
“We stay the night here,” Luke said.
Max sat down on the couch in the livi
ng room. Phil sat down next to him. They took their packs off but had their weapons close. Max opened his pack and handed out protein bars. Luke and Dawson sat down near them, Luke in a recliner and Dawson in a wood chair he’d grabbed from the kitchen.
“You knew your friends were waiting, didn’t you?” Phil asked Dawson after biting off a piece of his protein bar.
“You think I set my friends up to die?”
“I don’t think the Dragon has any problem sacrificing anyone to get what he wants.”
“I’m not involved,” Dawson said, looking from one to the next in the last light of the day. “I want the Dragon dead as much as you do.”
“Okay,” Luke whispered. “Arguing about it isn’t going to help. We need to keep our voices down. It only takes one ripper to hear us, one ripper to alert any others nearby.”
They were all quiet for a moment, chewing on protein bars and sipping water. Luke glanced at Dawson who was looking down at the floor as he ate. Luke thought it was possible Dawson could be involved with the Dragon, but he couldn’t say for sure. And if he was, then their attack mission had failed to get them all. And Luke was going to make sure the Dragon, and Dawson, paid for that mistake.
“What are we going to do now?” Max asked.
“We’ll rest for now,” Luke said. “Wait for dawn. At first light we’ll move toward the town. And then we’ve got a surprise for them.”
Luke didn’t want to talk too much about the plan he was formulating; he didn’t want the others to know, to fall asleep and then dream. He didn’t want the Dragon to see what was coming in their dreams. Luke didn’t plan on dreaming because he didn’t plan on sleeping.
CHAPTER 32
Kate
It was almost dark when Kate got up on the roof with Brooke. They’d gotten almost everyone else onto the roof along with as much food, drinks, and supplies they could get before the rippers collapsed the fence in the back of the store, the fence finally falling over lazily, dozens of rippers running across it, flattening it down even more. The tents were on the roof, but only a few of them were set up with cases of water and sodas inside to help weigh them down. There were piles of weapons, boxes of ammo, cases of medicine and medical equipment, bags of bathroom supplies. They’d set up most of the tents near the HVAC systems clustered together on the roof, something stable to tie the tents and tarps to.
