It was a lot.
After acquiring his new ride, he’d left Kansas City like his tail was on fire. By that time, it was already late afternoon, and after traveling for an hour, he had to concede defeat. Riding blind at night was not a good idea, so he holed up in an abandoned barn. That wasn’t so bad. He had food and water, after all, and managed to keep warm by building a small fire.
The next morning, he set off again after filling up his gas tank. He was convinced he’d be home soon, but fate had other plans. In Columbia, someone tried to steal his bike while he topped up on supplies. He’d been lucky to return in the nick of time, or he’d have lost his ride.
St. Louis was a war zone, and he barely escaped with his life. It was only the bike that saved him by allowing him to zip through small spaces, cut across parks, and jump pavements. Even worse, he lost both his jerry cans there and had to push ahead with only half a tank. Not long after that, the gas ran out, and he had to push the bike until he could scavenge more fuel from abandoned cars. That slowed him down considerably, and he spent the second night camped up in a tree — an experience he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
He’d seen a lot along the way too. Things he wished could be unseen. The collapse of law and order meant that the worst of the worst had free rein, and the ugly side of humanity was laid bare. Looting, raping, and murdering was common. Throw a couple of million zombies into the mix, and you had a full-blown apocalypse on your hands.
Alex sighed, returning his attention to the pile-up in front of him. It covered the entire road, offering no way through except for a small gap to the left that looked inviting. Easy.
Too easy.
“Ambush?” Alex wondered. It was possible. More than possible. Likely even.
One hand tapped restlessly against his leg as he considered his options. Turning back wasn’t possible, but neither did he want to get robbed, killed, or both.
“Do the unexpected. Take them by surprise,” he muttered, eyeing the right side of the road. It appeared to be impassable.
To a car, at least.
But not his bike.
Maybe, just maybe, he could cut through the trees and make his escape without triggering the trap that he was sure lay waiting ahead. He had guns, of course, but would rather avoid a firefight if he could.
With a curt nod to himself, Alex took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
He closed the visor of his helmet and rode forward at a slow pace, angling toward the left side. The easy side. His heart hammered in his chest, and his mouth was dry. At any moment, he expected bullets to come flying his way. It took every bit of self-control he had not to turn around and race away. “Come on, Alex. You can do this. It’s for Amy, remember that.”
Alex kept the bike on course for as long as he could, keeping to an even speed. The pile-up grew closer and closer. His eyes roved across the smashed up vehicles and twisted steel. Still no movement. No sign of people.
At the last moment, he swerved away from the enticing opening on the left and raced toward the other side. He pushed the bike to the max, changing gears with lightning speed. He reached the far edge of the barricade and hit gravel where the tar ended. A sharp turn to the left nearly proved his undoing as the tires slid on the loose dirt. Stones flew in every direction, and he kicked out with one leg to regain his balance.
By some miracle, he managed to stay upright and shot forward. The going was rough with shrubs, trees, and clumps of grass clogging the way. Alex maneuvered as well as he could, swerving around tree trunks and dodging bushes as he forged ahead.
A spatter of gunfire sounded, and a bullet clipped a tree in front of him. It zinged off into the distance and confirmed his suspicions. Ambush.
More shots kicked up plumes of dirt around him, and he hunched down onto the bike to present a smaller target. A man reared up from behind a shrub holding a hammer and yelled, “Stop right there!”
Alex didn’t slow, nor did he turn away. Instead, he headed straight for the guy, passing right by him. At the same time, he kicked out with his right foot and landed a hard blow to the chest. The man dropped the hammer and fell as his breath left his lungs in a loud oof.
With a quick turn of the handlebars, Alex shot around the corner of the barrier and ramped over a slight rise in the ground. He hit the tar road with both tires, his knees braced for the impact.
A blonde woman wearing a startled expression jumped up from her crouched position. She leveled her pistol at him and pulled the trigger. Alex ducked, his entire body seizing up in expectation of a bullet hitting his flesh. Instead, the shot clipped the front fender. The bike wobbled from the force of the hit, and the back wheel began a sideward slide from which there was no return. “Shit!”
Alex fought to regain control but failed. At the last moment, he kicked off into the air, performing a flying leap straight at the woman. Her expression changed from startled to horrified, and she raised both hands to fend him off.
He hit her with incredible force, and they both went tumbling across the road. His arms and legs spun like a top until he came to a grinding halt. With a groan, he raised his head to look around. An experimental twitch of each limb showed him nothing was broken.
The woman hadn’t been quite as lucky. She’d hit a nearby car wreck and lay slumped against it like a rag doll. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, her head bent at an unnatural angle.
“Broken neck,” Alex muttered, removing his helmet to allow for a clear field of vision.
Movement caught his eye, and Alex spotted a figure running toward him from the far side of the blockade. He hunched down next to the dead woman and unslung his carbine, ready to shoot. He was caught off guard when his attacker leaped across the hood of the car, landing almost on top of him.
Alex tried to roll aside, but his assailant was fast. Steel flashed in the man’s hand, and he struck with the speed of a rattlesnake. Alex grunted as the blade slid home, cutting deep into his side. White-hot agony shot through his torso. He twisted free and delivered a chopping blow with his rifle stock. It connected with his attacker’s jaw, hard enough to break bone. Blood and spit sprayed from between broken lips, and the man dropped to the ground with a pained cry.
Alex whipped his gun around and shot him in the chest, putting him down for good. Heaving for breath, he slumped against the car as another hail of bullets cut through the air above his head.
By the sound of things, there was only one shooter left. A glance over his shoulder showed no signs of the guy he’d kicked earlier. Hopefully, he’d either run off or was too badly hurt to come at Alex again. This didn’t look like a very sophisticated set-up — just a bunch of wannabe bad guys robbing unsuspecting travelers.
He waited for a lull in the shooting before daring to take a look. Like a real amateur, the other shooter had emptied his gun and was now reloading in plain sight.
“Dumb ass,” Alex muttered.
He lined up his sight and squeezed off a shot. Bulls eye. The third attacker’s head whipped back. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the tar.
Alex allowed himself a nod of satisfaction. He didn’t relish killing people, but this lot had asked for it, preying on the weak like a flock of vultures. He sighed and pressed one hand to his bleeding side. He needed to get to his bike and get himself patched up.
A grunt was the only warning he got. Instinct kicked in, and he jerked his head aside. The hammer whistled past his face and crashed into the side of the car. Metal crunched beneath the solid block of steel meant to stave in his skull. He ducked beneath a second blow that smashed the window above his head, showering him with glass fragments.
“Piece of shit. Killing my friends like that. My girl,” the guy roared, bringing the hammer down with brute force.
Alex rolled aside but caught a glancing blow on the upper arm that was enough to make him drop his rifle. He threw himself backward, scrambling across the rough gravel to escape. His shoulder and arm throbbed, pain shooting thro
ugh the injured limb with each move he made.
“I’m gonna kill you!” Hammer guy kept coming, a hulking behemoth with a thick beard and sagging pants. He swung the blunt head of his weapon with sweeping blows meant to take a man’s head off.
Alex was forced to retreat in an awkward scramble across the tar, unable to get to his feet. The hammer smashed into the tar between his legs, and he had a brief vision of being castrated right there and then.
Suddenly, his hand brushed against something solid, and he risked a quick look. It was the woman’s pistol. The one she’d dropped when he smashed into her earlier. Hope flared in his breast, and he gripped the butt with fierce determination.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Alex raised the gun and emptied the entire magazine into his attacker’s torso. It was overkill, a waste of ammunition, but he couldn’t help himself. Primal fear directed his actions. The man was a monster, and he had to go down. Now.
Hammer man stopped mid-swing as the bullets thumped into his chest, one after the other. Nine shots in all. His coal-black eyes fixed on Alex’s face, and he hissed. “Stinking piece of shit.”
For a moment, he remained standing, swaying gently. Then he toppled over backward and crashed to the ground. His legs twitched for a moment before he lay still. Dead at last.
Alex waited for several seconds, staring at the corpse with caution. He almost couldn’t believe the guy was dead. “What a freaking monster.”
Slowly, he rolled onto his knees. His breath rasped in and out of his lungs, and sweat dripped from his forehead. The slightest movement caused him to grimace with pain, but he had to move. The shots would draw zombies or even other bad guys.
Alex stumbled toward his crashed bike. To his immense relief, it was intact with no severe damage. It started on the second try, and he sent up a quick prayer of thanks before removing the first-aid kit. He pulled out a splint meant for stabilizing broken bones and placed it beneath his teeth. He was going to need it. Biting down on the hard plastic, he lifted his shirt and examined the knife wound. It was deep — a wide slit in the flesh that seeped blood at a steady rate.
He took a tube of antiseptic salve and pushed the nozzle right into the cut and squeezed. The thick ointment spread throughout the wound, and he kept at it until it oozed from the edges. Satisfied, he slapped a thick wad of gauze onto it and stuck an adhesive bandage over the area. As an added precaution, he wrapped cotton bandages around his midriff to secure it in place with more band-aids. It would have to hold until he got home.
By the time he was finished, Alex was about ready to pass out. His jaw ached from biting down on the splint, and he removed the mangled thing with trembling fingers. “Holy shit, that hurt.”
There was no time to waste, though. He had to get away from the area as fast as he could. After swallowing a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin, he looked around. A quick search yielded him an empty pistol, a rifle, a hunting knife, and the hammer that nearly ended his dream of becoming a father one day. He stuck them all into his saddlebags before straddling the seat. “Here goes.”
He rode away from the site of the ambush, clinging to the handlebars like a monkey. The vibrations of the engine traveled through his injured middle and caused fiery pain to shoot up his side. His bruised shoulder throbbed in time to the beat of his heart. In no time at all, he had to stop to take a break.
After the third stop, Alex had to face the truth. He wasn’t getting home that day. He’d have to spend another night by the side of the road. Two hundred miles was just too far in his current condition, and he’d better start looking for shelter. Plus, he’d have to take the back roads to avoid Louisville. If it was anything like St. Louis, it was no place for him, hurt like he was. On the one hand, it meant a safer journey, but on the other, it would take longer too. “Damn it all to hell. I’m sorry, Amy, but I’ll be there soon. Just hold on.”
Chapter 10 - Dylan
Dylan navigated through the streets of Sharpsburg and headed South-East to Taylorville. It was past noon already, and banks of gray clouds had moved in on the horizon. The countryside flashed by her window, its colors muted and dull beneath the sunless sky. An occasional farmhouse showed in the distance surrounded by crops and fields, but she paid little attention to any of it.
Instead, she remembered how the undead had surrounded her at the house and pulled over to transfer her supplies from the trunk to the back seat. Her stomach rumbled, and she ate another energy bar and drank a soda.
After that, she hit the road once more, following the route mapped out by Frankie. It was a good one which avoided the most densely populated areas where possible. With the window open a crack, she lit another cigarette from her small stash and drove as fast as the old sedan allowed.
She made good progress in this manner, passing through both Taylorville and Owaneco without mishap. She slowed down and drove with care, keeping an eye on her surroundings and steering clear of anything that looked like trouble.
The road wasn’t empty. There was other traffic. People like her heading for safer climes, maybe looking for something or someone. Once, she spotted a wreck and slowed to investigate. There was blood smeared on the windows, and she wondered if the driver had become a zombie. Anything was possible now.
At one stage, she fiddled with the radio but failed to pick up any stations. Nor had Susan possessed anything in the way of music, so the time passed in absolute silence. She was starting to wish for company when she spotted a woman and child standing next to a stranded car. The woman waved her down, and Dylan pulled over but kept the doors and windows shut. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, please. We need help. Our car’s run out of gas,” the woman said with a friendly smile. “If you could give us a little, I’d be very grateful.”
“I don’t have any to spare. Sorry.”
“We don’t need much. Just enough to get us to the next town, Millersville. It’s not far, and we can get more there,” the woman replied, her smile becoming strained.
Dylan looked at her fuel gauge and shook her head. She couldn’t afford to part with any of her precious fuel. Not if she wanted to make it to Fort Knox. Who knew when she might get the chance to fill up again. “Where are you headed?”
“To Vandalia,” the woman replied. “My mother lives there in a gated community. She says it’s pretty safe, and I have to look after my son. He’s all I’ve got.”
“I can’t give you any fuel, but I can give you a lift. It’s on my way,” Dylan said, eyeing the boy who waved at her through the window.
The woman’s shoulders sagged with relief. “You’d take us all the way there? That’s so kind of you. Thank you so much.”
“It’s okay. Just load your stuff into the trunk, and we can get going,” Dylan said, popping the back open.
She watched while the boy and his mom transferred their luggage then unlocked the doors to let them in. As the woman slid into the seat next to her, she introduced herself. “My name’s Madeline, but everyone calls me Maddie. This is Kyle.”
Kyle ducked his head and waved, and Dylan guessed him to be about fourteen. “I’m Dylan. Nice to meet you,” she replied. “Buckle up; we’ve got a ways to go.”
As she steered onto the road once more, she couldn’t help but glance at her watch.
Sixty-seven hours and counting.
The first few minutes passed in awkward silence. Dylan had no idea what to say to the strange woman sitting next to her, or her son. After a while, she cleared her throat. “There’s food and water in the back seat. Help yourselves.”
The boy, Kyle, looked at his mom. “Can I, Mom? Please?”
Maddie glanced from Dylan to her son before nodding. “Okay, but don’t eat everything, sweetie. It doesn’t belong to us.”
Dylan suppressed a grin as Kyle tore into the energy bars and sodas, probably the closest he’d gotten to candy in days. His mother chose a bottle of water and a packet of dried fruit, chewing slowly as she stared ahead.
&nb
sp; “Thank you for the food,” Maddie said after finishing her apricots. “We ran out a day ago, and I’ve been too scared to stop anywhere to get more.”
Dylan nodded. “Don’t mention it. Things are pretty crazy at the moment.”
“Where are you headed? Have you got a family?” Maddie asked.
“Not me. I’m a foster kid,” Dylan replied.
“I’m sorry,” Maddie said.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Dylan longed for a smoke, but a quick look at Kyle munching away in the back seat deterred her.
“What happened to you?” Kyle blurted after eating his third bar in a row.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.
“You’re covered in bandages,” he pointed out. “Plus, your cheek is bruised.”
“Don’t be rude, Kyle,” Maddie admonished.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Dylan said before smiling at Kyle. “I had a run-in with a zombie earlier and got hurt.”
Kyle stopped chewing and stared at her with wide eyes. “You fought a zombie? For real?”
Maddie gasped and pulled away from Dylan, pressing her back against the passenger side door. “A zombie?”
Dylan’s smile faded. “Relax. I killed it.”
Maddie didn’t relax. Instead, she looked at Dylan like she’d suddenly turned into a cockroach. “Did you get bitten? Are you infected?”
Dylan stared at Maddie for a second before realizing she’d said too much. Judging by the woman’s reaction, she wouldn’t take kindly to Dylan being sick with the virus. Not even if she was still on day one. Suddenly, she was very glad her jacket hid the bandage and black veins on her arm. “No. I’m not infected. I got hurt trying to get away from him.”
“Are you sure?” Maddie asked with narrowed eyes, her voice thick with suspicion.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Dylan said, pointing at her head and hand. “I got this while falling down the stairs, and this while stabbing the zombie with a piece of pottery. The bruises come from the stairs too. I took quite a tumble.”
Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z Page 6
