Click. Click.
Click. Click.
Empty.
Just before the ramp closed completely, Roper stepped up to it and said, “Not heartless, asshole, but not stupid either. Good luck getting back alive.” She tossed a handful of bullets at his feet just as the ramp closed. With the ramp shut, Roper turned to Zoe. “How will Sully take the news?”
She shrugged. “Depends on what story you tell. The asshole had it coming, that’s for sure.”
Roper got in the driver’s seat and headed back to the ‘gator farm.
“What story are you going to tell?” Churchill asked.
Staring straight ahead, Roper answered. “To Dallas? The truth. Always the truth.”
****
As they drove through the outer limits of the city and back to the ranch, Churchill called out for Roper to stop. “Buses.”
“What?”
“The Department of Education is over there. See all those buses? One bus will transport all of Sully’s people.”
Roper regarded Fletcher, who seemed to read her mind.
“If Hunter and I are positioned and secured on the top of one vehicle, protecting it whenever we are at a stop or going slowly will be much easier. I’m the only…what did you guys call it? Zombie bait…that has to be at risk.”
Hunter agreed. “If we get one of those buses with a rack, Dad and I can secure ourselves to it. Load up with bolts and back up weapons of handguns in the event we get overwhelmed.”
Roper considered this. “You sure you want to risk your life on the top of the bus? And what about Hunter’s?”
“Not my decision to make to make for my boy. Hunter may look like a young man, but he’s almost thirty. He makes up his own mind about his life and I do the same.”
“Hunter, you sure?”
Hunter nodded. “We got this, Roper. Just make sure you use a driver who knows what they’re doing. We don’t want to be jostled off the top at the first turn or slammed to the ground ‘cause they don’t know how to shift.”
“I’ll drive it,” Zoe offered. “At least to the farm. Maybe someone there drove a truck for a living and can drive it better than I can, but I…umm…well…I stole one once so I’m probably as good as we’re gonna get out here.”
Roper rubbed her chin. “If there is someone else who can, Dallas will know. Thank you, Zoe. We’ll keep Hunter and Fletcher with us until we get to the farm, and that way you won’t attract any unnecessary attention.”
Eight minutes later, Roper would choke on those words.
Just before the turn to the alligator farm, three Jeeps surrounded the bus. There was no hooting or hollering, but an eerie, silent tension that filled the air. These were not your typical marauders or outlaws.
“Goddamn it.” Roper muttered. “We don’t need this shit right now.”
Churchill scuttled up the ladder and Fletcher and Hunter notched their bows and waited for the ramp to drop.
“Don’t give them a chance to go on the offensive!” Roper yelled up to Churchill.
He replied with another Winston quote. “This is no time for ease and comfort. It is time to dare and endure.”
“Go for it, Roper!” Hunter yelled.
Simultaneously hitting the ramp button and grabbing the microphone, Roper practically growled into it. “Your feet leave your Jeeps and you’ll die where you stand. This is the only warning you’re going to get.”
The outlaws in the Jeeps fired on the Fuchs from open windows with no ill effect. Then they opened the doors to the Jeeps and stepped out, rifles aimed at the turret.
When the ramp landed, Fletcher and Hunter shot four men dead before Churchill could get off a single round.
The rest of the hoodlums leapt back in their vehicles. One Jeep sped off; the second and third turned their attention to the bus, only to find it driverless.
“Gwan’, Delmer, get the bus!” One of them yelled.
The man named Delmer hopped out of the Jeep and forced the accordion door open as an arrow ripped through his earlobe and deflected off the bus.
Grabbing his bloody ear, he hopped into the bus, and when he turned to the left to look down the aisle, a bullet went through his right cheek and out the back of his head.
Lying on her back, both hands wrapped around the grip of her .44 Magnum, Zoe grinned and said, “That made my day, asshole.”
When Delmer’s blood and brains splattered on the inside of the windshield, the second Jeep pulled out, leaving the third free to hide behind the bus.
“Churchill?”
“No line of sight.”
“Same back here,” Fletcher offered. “Bus is in the way.”
“Shit.” Seeing no room to maneuver the Fuchs safely to the other side of the bus, Roper jumped out and ran to the opposite side, hiding behind the wheel well. She could hear the men in the Jeep trying to decide what to do. She pulled her .357 out and made sure it was loaded.
Quickly entering the bus, Roper stayed low, crawling across the nearly headless man still bleeding out. When she saw Zoe, she motioned for her to come to her, which she managed to do on her hands and knees.
Roper put one finger on her lips and then pointed outside. Zoe nodded and followed her out of the bus.
“I’ll go around that way. You go around to the front,” Roper whispered. “Take them out from that position so we don’t accidentally shoot each other. Can you do that?”
Zoe nodded.
“Don’t hesitate. We got this. On my three.” Roper scooted to the back wheel well and then turned and held up one, two, three fingers before she hustled around back with her magnum held in both hands. The first man she sighted drew a bullet to the back of his neck that severed his skull from his spine. He collapsed like a bag of rocks. The other two whirled around, shooting blindly in Roper’s direction.
It took three shots, but Zoe managed to shoot one in the shoulder. He fell into the driver, who struggled to push the body off. Too late, he realized there were two shooters, and, pinned in, raised his hands in surrender.
As Zoe walked out from her spot, Roper yelled, “No!”
The driver reached for a gun in his shoulder holster and had it halfway out when Roper dropped him where he sat with one bullet in the forehead.
When the shooting stopped, Roper waved a stunned Zoe toward the Jeep. “Get their weapons and anything else we can use, and be quick about it. Those other yahoos might come back.”
Suddenly, the loud THWUPPING sound of arrows hitting their target filled the air, followed by the rapid fire of the turret-mounted machine gun atop the Fuchs.
Laden with rifles and belts of ammo, Roper and Zoe peeked around the bus and saw one of the Jeeps had returned with a Hummer full of men with rifles.
“Get back in the Fuchs!” Roper yelled to Fletcher and Hunter, who each fired one more arrow before getting back in and pulling up the ramp.
Going to one knee again, Roper swung her Bushmaster rifle to her shoulder, aimed, and in five shots, managed to blow out the Hummer’s front tire. “They wanna play? Let’s make sure they stay for the entire game.” Taking careful aim, she blew out the other front tire. “Get in the bus, Zoe.”
Zoe just managed to get behind the wheel of the bus before they fired a few shots in her direction, shattering two side windows.
It was getting dark now, and the muzzle flash made it easier for Roper to return fire…which she did with some success.
Churchill made sure there would be no more shooting from the Hummer as he sprayed the vehicle from bumper-to-bumper with 7.62 mm machine gun bullets. When he finally stopped, the white Hummer looked like Swiss cheese.
Suddenly, over the mic came Fletcher’s deep voice. “Come out, hands high, or we’ll blow the damn Jeep to Hell.”
Zoe and Roper exchanged glances.
“Cover from behind,” Roper said. “Approach carefully. Expect return fire.”
Zoe was gone in a heartbeat, just as the rear passenger door of the Jeep swung open.
“Please don’t shoot! I’m just a kid!”
Roper couldn’t see him clearly, but she knew enough to know he was no kid.
A second shooter came out, his blood-covered hand pressing against a bullet wound. Slinging the rifle back behind her, Roper started forward with her sidearm in hand until she saw them. They had come because of the noise, just as they always did.
Shuffling up behind Zoe were five zombies, alerted, no doubt, by the sound of gunshots and voices.
“Zoe, do not move!” Roper called out. “Just stay where you are.”
Zoe froze, petrified and trembling as the five rotting man eaters limped past her as if she was invisible.
“Oh shit!” The wounded one man said. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Roy, get in the Hummer! Get in the god damned Hummer!” Diving back into the Hummer, he closed and locked the door, leaving his friend alone and in the path of the moaning quintet of eaters.
Realizing he was now alone and at risk, he ran to the Fuchs and pummeled on the side.
“Please! Let me in! I have money. I can help you.”
Churchill looked down at him from his place atop the Beast. “Does it look like we need your help, asshole?”
The five man eaters gathered around the Hummer and beat on the windows shattered by Churchill’s shots. The windows caved in easily. As three reached for the wounded man inside, two dragged their meatless legs over to where the pleading man stood. When he saw the ladder Roper had forgotten to raise, he started up it. Churchill swung the gun toward him, but there was no reason to fire. The two zombies reached for his legs before he could get to the top of the Beast. Grabbing onto them, they clawed at him and bit at his flailing legs until finally a pair of teeth clamped down on his calf muscle.
His piercing scream echoed through the night air as the two man eaters took chunks of his legs out with every bite. As the man started losing his grip, he looked over at Churchill and gurgled, “Shoot me…please.”
Churchill did not, but Roper did. As his body fell to the ground, all five zombies converged on it, and soon knelt over their bloody feast, tearing intestines out and moaning as they ripped the meat from his bones. His screams stopped as quickly as they started.
“Shoot them,” Roper ordered Churchill.
As Roper and Zoe approached the Hummer, the door flew open and the wounded man took off running. Zoe lifted her weapon to fire, but Roper lowered it as she had Churchill’s earlier.
“He’s a dead man anyway.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s running in the direction the man eaters came from.”
Twenty seconds later came a hideous scream.
“That would be him.” She returned her gaze to the five eaters and watched, one-by-one, as Churchill shot each in the head.
“Fools,” Roper spat. “We’ll never get our country back as long as we fight each other.”
After gathering the weapons of the dead men, Roper dumped the assorted rifles and handguns in the bus and met everyone back at the Beast.
“That was pretty awesome,” Hunter said with admiration. “Cooler heads prevailed.”
Roper shook her head with disgust. “What that was, was a stupid mistake on my part. I should have had Churchill go with Zoe. I almost screwed this whole thing up.”
“You couldn’t have known outlaws were going to attack.”
Roper shook her head. “No, but I should have been prepared for anything. I’m…really sorry.”
Zoe rubbed Roper’s back. “No harm, no foul. It’s all good.”
Roper closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. “This time. I’m sorry I put us in that position. In the future, I’ll make sure everyone is covered.”
“Well, we’re covered now. Let’s get back to the farm before Dallas and Sully send out search squads.”
With Zoe and Churchill on the bus, Roper followed behind in the Beast. Her vehicle remained silent for most of the ride back. When someone did finally speak, it was Fletcher, who now occupied the co-pilot seat.
“Don’t beat yourself up over that back there,” he said softly. “The way you remedied the situation was General Patton-worthy.”
A slight smile played on the corners of Roper’s mouth. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. Sheer brilliance. That ambush may have surprised you, but you handed them their asses on a silver platter. If your leader is as smart or as daring as you, then my son and I are very fortunate you found us.”
Roper turned and smiled thankfully to him. “She’s not as daring as I am, but you’ll see—she’s way, way smarter.”
****
The Survivor had only been out of the bayou proper an hour when Butcher saw them. Three speedboats bearing the rising sun flag of Japan came skimming across the water toward them, kicking up three white wakes behind them.
“Jesus Christ, why can’t they leave us alone?” Butcher groused as she handed the binoculars to Luke. “We’re obviously moving parallel to the damn shore and we’re a group full of women.”
“Must be just a warning, otherwise they’d have already blown us out of the water.” He counted the men. “Twelve guys, four to a boat, three armed. One rocket launcher just in case, I suppose. They’re awfully scared of us.”
“Or of them.”
“Does it matter which?”
Butcher called up her best shooters. Ten of the shooters were to stand with their weapons at the ready on the lower deck. Everyone else was to go below, stay out of sight, and prepare for the order.
Einstein, not one of the best shooters, remained topside with Butcher and Luke.
“You heard me, kid,” Butcher said. “Get below.”
“I did hear you, and I’m not going. You need me up here.”
He had never, not once, contradicted an order by Dallas and it irritated Butcher that he would do so to her. “Oh really? And why is that?”
“You know anyone else who understands Japanese?”
Luke’s head swiveled around. “You speak—” Then he shook his head. “Of course you do. I shouldn’t even be surprised.”
Einstein grinned, showing all teeth. “They don’t call me Einstein for nothin’. Years of private schooling gave me a pretty good grasp of a number of languages. Japanese is one of them.”
Butcher ruffled his hair and said, “Fine, but stay low. I’d hate to see Einstein guts all over the deck.”
Luke glanced at Butcher and took a step back. “What do you want to do?”
Butcher studied the approaching boats. They had cut their engines a good five hundred yards away and were now coasting toward them. Luke was right about them not firing. This was a recon mission only. “I want to do what Dallas would do.”
Sighing, Luke nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Leaning over the side, Luke called down to those bearing rifles. “Stay out of sight. On my go, fire at will and hit as many as you can.”
Butcher scowled at him. “You disagree.”
Shrugging, Luke swung his own rifle so it rested in front of him. “Doesn’t matter what I think. If I know Dallas, she’d rather we fight them than limp back home. Just be prepared to have Survivor blown to bits.”
Butcher glared at him. “Can they accurately fire this far?”
Luke laughed. “Absolutely.”
“Are we sitting ducks then?”
Luke thought a moment. “Not if we can hightail it back into the safety of the bayou. We’d be harder to hit there. Harder to find.”
“We need to take out the guy with the rocket launcher, or it won’t matter where we go.”
Luke nodded. “Agreed.” Leaning over the railing, Luke called for a kid named Dead-Eye. He got his nom de plume because of his unerring accuracy. “Dead-Eye? We need you to take out the rocket launcher as soon as I swing her around. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.” Dead-Eye carefully took his sniper rifle to the back of the boat.
“Okay, Sweetcheeks, here we go.”
“Then turn us about,
sailor, and be ready to put the pedal to the metal.”
Luke cocked his head. “What if they send a plane?”
Butcher shook her head. “I’m betting they don’t even have any. When’s the last time you’ve seen a bird in the sky?”
Luke shrugged. “I’m with you, Babe…whatever you decide, but––”
Suddenly, the skiffs started their engines and came straight for The Survivor, stopping about thirty yards away.
“Steady everyone,” Luke said. “Hold your fire.”
“It was a ploy,” Einstein said. “They caught us that time.”
One of the boats slowly approached. “Put down weapons,” the commander of the orange boat ordered with that I-speak-English-as-a-second-language accent.
Butcher shook her head. “Leave us the fuck alone. We’re not hurting anyone. We just want to get out of the bayou and up the Mississippi.”
The Japanese chattered to each other.
“The little one wants to fire, the commander says something like their job is to….group…no…herd. Something like that,” said Einstein, translating as quickly as he could.
“Herd us? Herd us? Oh hell no.” Butcher held Luke’s hand as she addressed the captain of the skiff. “All we want to do is head up river. We’ll be back inland in a couple hours. No harm, no foul.”
The men chattered to each other a little more.
“They want to blow us up right now,” Einstein whispered, “and I think they’re gonna.”
Butcher looked at Luke and squeezed his hand. “Now.”
“Fire!” Luke yelled.
Immediately, rifle blasts went off, killing all three men in the first boat and one in the boat behind it. Dead-Eye raised his rifle, zeroed in on the guy with the rocket launcher, and put a bullet between his eyes before he could get the launcher to his shoulder.
They continued shooting until the third boat tried making a getaway. Someone finally shot and killed the pilot of the final skiff, so Luke grabbed the wheel and turned The Survivor abruptly about. The sound of people below decks falling and items clattering to the floor echoed throughout.
“Go! Go! Go!” Einstein yelled, watching the one boat attempting to escape slowly sputter to a stop in the water. Grabbing the binoculars from Butcher, Einstein looked at the destroyer in the far distance. “I think…I think Butcher was right about the planes. I don’t see anything…any action. Nothing is happening so far. I think they’re shocked that we fought back.”
Man Eaters (Book 2): The Horde Page 13
