Super Pulse (Book 4): Defect

by Conifer, Dave

  With ammunition so scarce, it hurt to waste it on a shot without even trying to hit somebody, but he did it anyway as he sprinted into the street toward the parked vans. Without stopping, he awkwardly pumped the action on the rifle after firing, readying it for another shot just in case the vans weren’t unguarded. His heart was gladdened as he felt another shell slide into the chamber. He was going to need it.

  A volley of return shots peppered the van just as he reached shelter behind it. The back door was unlocked, so he yanked it open and climbed inside. Without bothering to pull it closed behind him he clambered forward on his hands and knees into the front, where he slid into the seat behind the wheel. The sight of the square-ended key in the ignition, a key that he recognized as having been made by the late Hal Loder back in Tabernacle, was another tremendous relief. It meant that his plan might actually work.

  After placing the rifle gently on the floor between the seats, he turned the key and felt the engine rumble to life. Most of the men he’d shot at were already charging at the van, led by one who was adjusting his rifle as he approached. Nick left his own weapon where it was. The leader might get a shot off, but he was no match for what Nick had in store for him. He didn’t know if he’d survive all these thugs, but he knew he’d outlive that one.

  A shot cracked the windshield as he put the van into gear, but didn’t shatter it. He ducked down as he steered toward the shooter while stepping hard on the gas. It was better this way, he decided as he felt the thud, followed by the man’s screams as his body crumple under the tires. At least he didn’t have to see it.

  Another look over the dashboard told Nick that the enemy now understood what they were in for. He ducked just in time to avoid a fresh rain of metal which vaporized the windshield. There was no choice now but to stay down and do this blind. The van moved sluggishly until clearing the mangled body beneath the wheels. Once he was free of that he accelerated as shots poured into the vehicle, tearing into the interior all around him. It was still impossible to get another look at their location to reorient himself, but he knew roughly where they were.

  He hurtled toward the curb, now aware of the bodies as they fell away from the van like bowling pins. He’d counted at least four more kills before deciding he’d better change direction to avoid the house.

  It was too late for that. He’d only touched the brake before the vehicle slammed into something hard and came to a stop. Nick’s body, which had been sprawled to the right and draped over the passenger seat in his attempt to stay out of view, was thrown forward. Although dazed as his head slammed into the dashboard, he was aware of something sharp slicing into his side between his ribs. He was probing the wound when a shadow caused him to look up, directly into a face that he’d never seen before. A rifle barrel appeared before Nick could react.

  There was no point in feeling around for his own weapon. Instead, he fixed his glare on the stranger’s face. He didn’t regret what he’d attempted. The men he’d run over deserved their fate. With one hand over his bleeding wound, he clamped his lips shut to suppress any outburst that the pain might lead to, and waited.

  Then he heard a shot. The glowering face that had seemingly been the harbinger of Nick’s fate fell away, replaced by one that was more familiar. He might live after all.

  “Are you, like, alive?” Dewey stammered as he looked in at Nick’s twisted form stretched across the two seats. Nick nodded in the affirmative as best he could before lapsing out of consciousness.

  Twenty-five

  “Do we need to do anything with all those bodies in the street?” Matt asked the others. The attack had been fully repulsed, mostly by Nick. After they were sure they were safe, Dewey and Matt had revived Nick by gently slapping at his face, and then carefully extracted him from the van. They were now behind the house, where Squid had labored from his hiding place to join them. “Can we just leave them? A few of them might still be alive.”

  “I say we leave ‘em where they are,” Nick said, holding his ribs. “What else could we do, anyway?”

  “Well, just for the sake of argument,” Squid said, “We could bury the dead and take the injured ones with us.”

  “Like, seriously?” Dewey asked. “That’s a lot of work.”

  “I’m with Nick, though,” Squid said quickly. “They got what’s coming to them. We have people waiting in the boats for us. That’s all we should be concerned about.”

  “Besides,” Nick added. “Somebody must have heard all that noise. Let’s scram before they show up.”

  “Right you are. Matt, why don’t you and Dewey go ahead down to the water,” Squid suggested. “So they won’t have to worry about us anymore. Shove off in one of the canoes. Nick and I will get there as quick as we can.”

  “Sounds good,” Matt said. “Ellie’s probably freaking out. You sure you two’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah, go on,” Nick said. “We’re good. Go take care of your wife and kids.”

  Matt smiled. “I will. You ready, Dewey?”

  “Ready,” Dewey answered. “I wish we were all going together. What if those guys come back?”

  Squid smiled. “You mean the guy you shot at point blank range?” A troubled expression crossed Dewey’s face. “Relax,” Squid said. “You did the right thing. You saved Nick from those creeps. No regrets. No remorse needed, okay?”

  ~~~

  “How’s the shoulder?” Nick asked Squid when they were alone.

  “It’ll keep for now,” Squid answered. “How’s your ribs?”

  “Bleeding, just like your shoulder,” Nick said. “I think it must have been the gear shift that cut me up.”

  A few seconds passed as each man readjusted his grip on his own wound. “They have doctors back at the place you came from, don’t they?” Squid asked.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “As a matter of fact, the head honcho is a doctor himself.”

  “You think I could go back with you and get this looked at?” Squid asked. “That slug’s got to come out.”

  “Listen, Squid,” Nick said. “You’re asking the wrong guy. I’m not welcome there myself. I left without permission, and I was on shaky ground even before that. I don’t know if they’ll take me back.” He looked up at Squid, who was back on his feet. “But I’m sure they’ll fix you up if you go there. As a matter of fact, they’d probably love to have you move in if you’re interested.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Squid said. “To the boats?” He reached down to help Nick up, but Nick waved him off. He wasn’t sure which of his body parts still worked. Better to do that on his own.

  “Go ahead without me, Squid,” Nick said after standing. “I have something I need to take care of. If all goes well, I’ll meet you back at the base.”

  “I forgot about this,” Squid said. “Hey, Nick, there’s nothing left here to take care of. It’s only a matter of time before more of these cockroaches show up. It’s time to go.”

  “You see those vans out there?” Nick asked. “They got stolen from Tabernacle. The same time they kidnapped Matt. A lot of people think—”

  “I know,” Squid said. “I heard all about it. But—”

  “I’m not going back with nothing to show for sneaking out in the middle of the night,” Nick said. “I’m taking one of these vans back with me. Levan told me what route to take.”

  Squid shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Nick. They’re not just going to let you pass if they catch you.” He gestured at the bodies in the street. “Especially if they see this.” His jaw tightened. “But I get it. And I know I’m not talking you out of it. I’d go with you, except I can’t even raise my arms. I’d be useless. Not that you’re in much better shape.”

  “I have to do this,” Nick said. “I’ll see you at the base,” he said again. He walked back into the street without looking back. He wasn’t surprised that Squid didn’t have any more to say about it, because as he saw it, Squid would have done the same.

  ~~~
<
br />   It wasn’t easy to avoid looking at the mangled bodies in the street, especially the ones which appeared to still be alive, but Nick managed to. The van he’d commandeered for his attack looked worse than he expected. The front was folded like an accordion, with various fluids dripping from the engine. His aching ribs throbbed more just looking at it. Since that ride wasn’t an option, he walked around two of his victims to check out the others. This one looks okay, he decided after a quick inspection, and also had a key dangling from the ignition.

  Remembering what Levan had told him, he opened the hood and sawed the wire that powered the left headlight with the key until he’d severed it in two. Then, just as he’d told himself that the hard part was over, something caught his eye up Iowa Avenue by the Boardwalk. There was at least one vehicle on the move, and he thought he saw some men on foot. Squid had been right, after all. They’d won the battle, but not the war.

  It might not have been too late to ditch his plan and catch up with Squid on the muddy shore. With his bad shoulder, he’d probably be glad to see Nick because otherwise he was going to have a hard time paddling a canoe across the bay by himself. But there was no way Nick was leaving Atlantic City without one of the stolen vehicles, and he didn’t even consider giving up. Knowing that every second mattered now, he placed the rifle within easy reach and fired up the engine.

  The oncoming convoy had already reached Atlantic Avenue, just two blocks away, by the time Nick had a chance to turn off Iowa. Without stopping at the intersection, he took the corner hard onto Fairmount. He’d have to get onto Atlantic himself eventually to get to the Dorset Street Bridge in Ventnor, but for now he’d settle for the side streets. At least he was heading in the right direction.

  Once he was out of view he switched on his headlight, although he didn’t see the point. There weren’t going to be any friendlies around. Then he concentrated on driving. Fairmount Avenue was narrow, but surprisingly clear of wreckage and debris, so he was able to move quickly. As he passed a playground in a residential area he saw his pursuers behind him on Fairmount, but they weren’t close. So far so good.

  The Albany Avenue Bridge, the southernmost one in Atlantic City and one which he knew was heavily guarded, suddenly appeared in front of him across the water where Fairmount bent to the left. That was something he hadn’t thought of. What were the chances they wouldn’t notice a runaway van speeding past? Not much. They may have spotted him already.

  Even if they hadn’t, he wasn’t going to slow down. He tore around a bend that took him within view of the Albany Street Bridge. Sure enough, several men were already rushing toward one of the trucks that was parked across the lanes. Now he had even more locals on his tail, and this group wasn’t going to be far behind once they got moving.

  After a left onto Albany and a quick right onto Atlantic, which was called Ventnor Avenue south of the bridge if he remembered correctly, he was in the home stretch. It would just be another mile or two. Unfortunately, the truck from the bridge was gaining on him fast. As soon as they, too, had turned onto Ventnor, Nick heard the first shots fired. At him.

  His wound, still uncovered by any bandage or wrap, was bleeding more heavily now. He could feel the blood seeping down his side and into his pants. He tried to ignore the weak, dizzy feeling that was slowly overcoming him since he’d been reawakened, but the loss of blood was definitely affecting his ability to drive. It also occurred to him that just getting across the Dorset Street Bridge wasn’t going to be enough if his pursuers were right behind him. If he continued on his way after that, he’d simply be leading them right back to home base.

  That wouldn’t do. After another quick look in the mirror he lurched right onto one of the smaller cross streets, and then just as quickly made another turn. One of the houses had an empty car port to the side, so he raced up the driveway and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop just before hitting a chain link fence. Then he snapped off the lights, grabbed the rifle, and exited the van.

  One tidbit Levan had shared with him was that the people who ruled Atlantic City weren’t used to fighting anybody who was as well-armed as they were. As he walked quickly to the street, where he ducked down between a ravaged SUV and an old Volkswagen Beetle, it was with the intention of taking advantage of this. Just as he’d expected, the truck came slowly around the corner moments later. They’d obviously seen him turn, but now had no idea where he was. He took a knee in his hiding place, raised the rifle, and waited.

  When the truck was directly in front of him he took quick aim and fired at the driver. Too easy, he thought. He hadn’t even had to shoot through the window, which had been rolled down. The truck immediately careened into the Beetle. Before anybody in the truck could assess the situation, he scampered behind it and pumped the rifle. Just like last time, he could feel another shell drop into position as the spent one was ejected.

  He could see through the rear window that there were still two living occupants in the truck. The one on the right had just turned around and spotted Nick’s rifle where it was perched on the tailgate. That made him the next target, and the jerk of his head after Nick fired said it all. Two down and only one to go. But by the time he’d pumped the rifle again, the man in the middle seat had pushed the driver’s body out onto the street and was speeding away as fast as he could drive. That was a good thing, Nick realized belatedly, because this time it hadn’t felt like he had another shell ready to fire.

  As he returned to his van he saw the curtains move inside the house. Somebody had been watching. Under different circumstances he might have offered whoever was in there a lift out of town. That would have ended in disaster for all involved, though. He was still pressed for time. Seconds mattered. He backed out of the driveway and continued toward the bridge, which he thought he could reach without returning to Ventnor Avenue. Except for the driver of the truck who’d just fled, nobody knew where he was.

  Driving slowly so as to keep the noise down, he carefully negotiated his way through the streets, hoping at each turn that he’d find himself on Dorset. Finally, when he saw signs directing travelers toward the Atlantic City Expressway on their way out of vacationland, he knew he’d found it. He turned right and there the bridge was. But after he was speeding toward it his heart sank when he observed a white van behind him.

  He jammed his foot on the gas, knowing he had fewer options this time because he had no more shells and no place to hide. When he saw yet another van parked on the bridge facing him, he no longer had any hope of surviving this. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the accelerator down as far as it would go. If he was going to die, he was determined to take some of them with him.

  Then he saw that the van on the bridge had one lit headlight on the passenger side. He immediately altered course, swerving at the last instant around a man on one knee beside the van. A fiery explosion flashed in his rear-view mirror just when he reached the foot of the bridge and raced onto the mainland.

  He’d lost a lot of blood and was fading fast now, so he decided to go the rest of the way without investigating what had just occurred. When he reached the ACME he leaned on the brake as hard as he could to stop, and then cut the engine. There was no need to worry about the figures running toward the van. This time he knew they weren’t the enemy.

  Twenty-six

  The four-convoy departed for Tabernacle shortly after Nick returned to base. Nick was surprised there were still enough among the group who were still able to drive. He and Squid were stretched out in the back of one of the vans. Neither had received medical treatment, but their wounds had been wrapped tightly with the cleanest cloth that could be found. At least the bleeding had stopped.

  Although he kept it to himself, Nick was dreading his return to camp. He’d only agreed to it because he knew he needed to get into the Medical Center for a few days. There was no doubt in his mind that they’d treat him, nor was there much doubt about what they’d do with him after he was sewn back together.

  That was okay
with him. He’d survive. Except for Dewey and Sarah, he wouldn’t miss anybody there for very long, although he had lots of friends he’d rather stay with if everything hadn’t turned out so badly. The weather would be turning warm soon. That gave him plenty of time to grow into his new life, whatever that might be.

  He’d miss Sarah pretty badly though. For the rest of his life he’d be wondering what could have been. If only he didn’t turn out to be such a screw-up.

  “You awake over there?” Squid asked. “This is the first time your eyes have stayed open for more than ten seconds since we left.”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “I can’t sleep anymore with this bandage wrapped around me. It feels like a snake’s got me wrapped up.”

  “Same here,” Squid said. “But it beats bleeding to death.”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t even know what happened back there. The last thing I remember was they had me trapped on the bridge. How am I even here?” He paused. “I’m pretty confused about what happened back there.”

  “You got lucky,” Squid said. “Your settlement sent a rescue mission for you.”

  “I doubt it was for me,” Nick said. “They were probably looking for Matt and his family.”

  “Levan told them you’d be coming across that bridge,” Squid continued. “They decided they’d meet you there and make sure you got back in one piece. Good thing they did, because somebody was right on your tail. One of your men—Carlo, I think—happened to have an RPG launcher on his shoulder while he waited. He almost took you out, but then he saw your headlight. So he saved his shot for the guys behind you.”

  “Carlo’s here?” Nick asked incredulously.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “And it’s a good thing for you that he is. I can’t believe you all have weapons like that.”