by Gallier, TW
"Time to figure out how we can best help the villagers," I said. Looking the road warrior gang over again, I shook my head. "There are more bad guys than I thought. I was only really counting one per motorcycle, but every bike I see has two people. I think there are over a hundred members of the gang, and that's without knowing how many are inside the camper and in back of the U-Hauls."
The Harley-Davidsons were driving through the blackened fields far easier than I thought possible. Just taking out the ATVs and pickups wasn't going to do it. The camper and U-hauls probably couldn't drive through tilled fields very easily, so taking them out was not going to help us.
"I'd make a lousy general," I whispered. "I haven't a single idea now that I'm faced with reality."
"Bull," she said. Leaning over, she kissed me on the cheek. "You're doing great."
"You're biased. I want a second opinion."
"Sure. In my opinion, you're handsome, too."
"Thanks, babe."
"Aww, don't call me 'babe.'"
Two of the pickups drove up atop the overpass and laid down some truly horrific fire. That's when I spotted the catapult. Some of the defenders were left sprawled on the ground around it. They had no defense against M60 machine guns.
"I wish we still had the jeep," I whispered. "We'd rip them new assholes."
We had to take out the three pickups if nothing else. After so long behind one of those M60s the thought of going up against one terrified me.
"A grenade will take out one, but then the other two trucks will mow us down," she said. "But you're right, if we had the jeep and M60 then we could wait until all three were close and rip them apart."
The pickups relented, and drove off the overpass, and then onto the service road opposite Indian Village. We watched more and more of the ATVs and bikers finish their circuit around the fortified hill and park in a long line on the service road. Then the three pickups moved into defensive positions. One covered the underpass, another defended the other side of the bridge, and the last defended our side of the bridge.
"I have an idea, but it might be too crazy," I said. "You tell me."
My plan was simple. If we didn't have an M60, then we'd take one of theirs. Basically, use one of their pickups to take out the rest.
"I'm all tingly thinking about it," she said.
"That excited?"
"That scared."
We didn't move out right away. First thing, we camouflaged our ATVs as much as possible. Then we studied the terrain between us and them, decided on a route, and settled on the final plan of attack. That was the most thought put into any plan we'd made on our own. It kind of reminded me of the attacks we conducted with the men from Emory in Carson. Only this time it would be just me and Olivia against a hundred ruthless killers.
The biker gang settled down around a bonfire. I suspected they were discussing how to take Indian Village. I prayed they didn't decide to do it right away. Once it was full dark, Olivia and I moved out.
I took Ralph's old rifle with the M203 Grenade Launcher and our last grenade. It was key to the success of our attack. Olivia took both her M16A2 rifle and her sawed off shotgun. We had our M1911 pistols and ammo on our LBE belt.
I led the way down the ditch. It was the lowest, darkest ground between us and the camp. We kept close eye on their activities. As we drew closer the camp devolved from men and women eating around a fire into a drunken orgy. Emphasis on orgy.
"That is so disgusting," Olivia whispered.
"They have to be half out of their minds," I said. "Or they the most confident assholes in the world."
Their activities broadcast their utter contempt and disregard for the fighting abilities of the people in Indian Village. I'd be worried about a counterattack from the village, but they drank alcohol and had public sex. Once we got close enough to actually see what they were doing, I couldn't look that way anymore. It was too depraved.
Crawling up next to the closest pickup, I stopped to study the men on duty. There was just a single man behind the M60, and he was watching his friends more than looking for trouble. Past him, I could see the next truck also had a single guard manning the .50 Cal.
We eased up next to the pickup. Olivia moved around to the driver's door and peeked inside. I stayed next to the rear left bumper, ready to kill the guard if he spotted her. She gave me a thumbs up to say the keys were in the ignition. I nodded and moved to the other side of the truck.
Taking careful aim, I pulled the M203 trigger.
Poof. Ka-Boom!
Olivia immediately took out the gunner with a three round burst. Pap-pap-pap!
I didn't wait to see what damage the grenade did to the naked bikers. I vaulted up into the bed of the pickup. Olivia started the truck before I took the M60 in hand. As she put it into gear, I took aim and opened up on the .50 Cal.
Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat! And then I aimed past him at the other pickup, even though I couldn't make out the gunner on it. Ratta-tat-tat-tat!
Olivia gunned the gas. The pickup lurched forward. I hung onto the M60 for dear life, before regaining my balance and turned my weapon on the line of motorcycles. Three of them blew up as I empted the rest of that belt on them.
The pickup turned toward the fire, while I reloaded. I don't know how Ralph did it so effortlessly. It wasn't easy with that truck bouncing across bare earth.
Suddenly the air was filled with bullets. The far pickup was firing on us. I racked the charging handle and opened up on him. It seemed like we fired at each other forever. Finally, that pickup blew up in a fireball.
"This is for killing my friend Ralph!" I screamed, and opened up on the men and women running around. "Die!"
Olivia circled their little camp and I continued shooting until there wasn't anyone moving. I emptied two belts into the camper. I must've punctured its gas tank, because it erupted in flames before I finished the second belt.
Some of them escaped. I saw them running off into the darkness. I didn't want to be around when they snuck back. We were just as vulnerable as they'd been to our attack.
"Take me over to the .50 Cal pickup," I called. Olivia drove up beside it and stopped. I jumped down and moved over to look through the overpass at the berm and gas station. "Hello over there!"
Nothing.
"Hello, Indian Village! I am Kyle Holt of Plano. My family might be in there with you!" I shouted. "I am with Olivia Monday. Her family might be over there with you, too!"
"If you say so," a man shouted back.
"We just killed or chased off the bikers," I said. "We'll stay until daylight to keep the survivors away from their weapons. All we ask is that you check to see if our families are in there with you."
"We'll check, but stay away until it's light enough to see you!"
Chapter 23
A clanking sound brought my head up. I'd fallen asleep behind the M60.
"Olivia!" I cried. "Where are you?"
"Right behind you."
I turned to find her in the other pickup. She was looking the .50 Cal over. Then she tried to rack the charging handle, but failed. I relaxed and grinned.
"Good morning," she said, turning amused brown eyes on me. "Have a nice nap?"
"Sorry. I tried to stay awake. How long was I asleep?"
"About an hour," she said, and then tried to charge the .50 Cal again. "I think it's broke."
"No. You're forgetting what Mike taught us," I said. "Here, take the M60."
We swapped pickups and weapons. I turned the .50 Cal so that she could see the charging handle. After popping the top off and making sure the belt was loaded correctly, I slapped it closed and grabbed the charging handle.
"You have to snap it back hard and fast," I said. The charging handle was spring loaded, and fell back level with the ground as I pulled it, which was what I thought threw her off. Really, I yanked it with all of my might. It racked properly. "There. It's ready to fire."
"Don't fire! You might scare the guys in Indian Village an
d make them shoot at us."
"Duh. I'm not as dorky as you think."
"Would you like a second opinion on that?"
"No."
I was feeling good. Excited, really. At any moment we could be reunited with our families. Our long journey was almost over. The prospect of them not being in the village was too terrible to contemplate, so I didn't. Olivia hadn't looked that happy since before the zombie apocalypse came crashing down upon us.
"Across the street!" someone called. "Are you there?"
"We're here!" I shouted back, heart racing.
Olivia and I shared an anxious look. Fear filled me. If they weren't there…
"Show yourselves," he said.
"Hold on!" I turned to Olivia. "I might be paranoid, but let's be careful. I'll show myself, but you hang back and be ready to cover me if they start shooting."
She looked grim, but nodded. I hated not being trusting anymore, but the world had turned ugly.
Hopping off the pickup, I took my rifle and slowly walked out into the middle of the intersection. I could see parts of the gas station above the berm. Sandbags were piled up over the pumps. All of the glass in the store's windows was shattered. I didn't see anyone for a long moment.
"I'm showing myself. I'm Kyle Holt. Olivia will hold back for now until we know we'll be welcomed, or at least not murdered."
"Kyle?" my father's voice called. "Is that really you?"
I wanted to be tough. I wanted to be stoic, but I started crying right there. Then he walked up the back of the berm and stood atop it. We were less than a hundred feet apart.
"Dad? You're alive!" I called. "Where's Mom?"
"Right here," she said, rushing up onto the berm, face wet with tears.
They looked so happy and relieved. And then Olivia's parents came up onto the berm.
"Where is Olivia?"
"Momma!"
All self-control and discipline was lost. She jumped off the pickup, left her rifle and shotgun behind, and raced under the overpass. I followed her, just a little wary. Suddenly dozens of men came over the berm, all armed to the teeth. Olivia and I stopped in our tracks.
"No worry," my father shouted. "They're coming over to check out the camp."
Tall ladder looking things were brought up. They were tall enough to go over the fence. I watched in amazement at their ingenuity. They leaned the "ladders" against their side of the fence, and used a long pole to flip the other half up and over the fence. It locked into place creating steps up both sides.
"Come in," Olivia's father called, waving to us.
We looked at each other, and took off to the nearest ladder. I let Olivia go up first, following closely behind. Village men were hurrying over the other ladders. I glanced at them.
"They're going to secure the campsite, Kyle," my dad said. "Don't worry about it."
Made sense. They'd want to take anything valuable, especially arms and ammo. The two M60s and .50 Cal were priceless.
Olivia leapt off the top of the ladder amid thrilled squeals of delight from her mother. I paused to watch their greeting of hugs and kisses and lots of crying. Then my mother called for me to hurry.
I went over the top a little more dignified. My parents were waiting for me at the bottom. Mom was already crying, but our greeting was a little less hysterical than the Monday's.
"Have you heard anything from Kurt or Kim?" I asked.
My older brother Kurt was living in Atlanta with his wife and kids, while my older sister was out in Seattle. Neither had been heard from, though my parents were more hopeful Kim was well since the west coast wasn't hit as badly.
"We saw the map in Olivia's house, and it mentioned ham radios. Do y'all have communications with others in the western US?" I asked.
"Yes," another man answered. He was about my father's age. "It's not good. But first we'd like to hear your story. What's it really like outside our fences?"
"It's not good," Olivia said. "Nightmarish, really." She looked around. "Daddy, did Ralph's family come here with you?"
I froze. Unable to breathe. I dreaded breaking the news of his death.
"His father and one of his brothers died fighting the infected," Mr. Monday said. "His mother is here. I don't know about the other brother. He wasn't in town when it all went down."
Olivia and I looked at each other. She looked as upset as I felt.
"Why?" the strange man asked. He kept looking at us curiously, with glances through the overpass. "How many more of you are there?"
"May I ask who you are?" I asked.
"I'm John Forrester. The good folks of Indian Village elected me as their mayor," he said. "I'm in charge here."
Everyone around us nodded.
"Ralph was killed back in Plano by those road warriors," I said, jabbing a thumb back toward the west. "We should go break the news to his mother."
Mr. Forrester sighed with a nod. "I see. Sad. Well, you two are safe here. Welcome to Indian Village, and thank you for all the help, but you didn't answer my question."
I had to think about it. What question? Then it hit me.
"It's just us two," I said. "I thought we mentioned that earlier."
He looked incredulous. "Just you? A boy and a girl? A pair of kids?"
"Is there a problem?" Olivia asked. "And we are not kids. My boyfriend and I are both college graduates."
Our parents perked up. I guess that was one way of telling them. But Mr. Forrester didn't look satisfied with that answer. Fortunately, I understood what he was asking. How did we defeat over a hundred big, scary outlaw bikers when they had automatic weapons? I had to admit, thinking about it, what we did was kind of amazing.
"It was just the two of us. No one else. We took them by surprise and used one of their M60s against them," I said. Everyone, parents included, were looking at us in disbelief. I shared a look and shrug with Olivia, and grinned at them. "They weren't the first road warrior group we've crossed paths with, sir."
"Or the toughest," Olivia added.
Mr. Forrester gawked at her.
"We can talk about this later," my father said. "We're just glad you came home to us. Maybe we can have a little welcoming party."
"I don't think so," I said. "Fact is, we need to strip those vehicles of weapons, gas, and anything else needed as quickly as possible."
"Why?" Mr. Forrester asked, looking suspicious.
"A mega horde of zombies is coming down the highway," Olivia said. "They were about two hundred miles north of here last night. We have to be ready for them."
Chapter 24
The villagers proved to be efficient scavengers. They backed the U-Hauls up to the moat, laid down some narrow homemade bridges, and quickly emptied the trucks. The bridges were as ingenious as the ladders. They came in four pieces with built in supports exactly the right length to keep them level across the moat. That told me they put a lot of time, thought, and effort in digging out the moat so that those little bridges could work anywhere along its length.
I was becoming seriously impressed with them.
Another team gathered up all of the discarded weapons and ammo they could find, while another group went around draining gas tanks. Two of the three pickups were drivable, so they were disabled in a way to make it hard for other survivors to easily fix. They used the backhoe to lift the road warriors' and our ATVs over the fence. All other vehicles were disabled by blowing up their gas tanks.
The dead were piled up, drenched in kerosene, and burned.
I helped with the unloading of the trucks, while Olivia was led away by our mothers. Girl talk, I suppose. From the look she gave me as they took her away, I think Olivia would've preferred to stay and help. I can only imagine what questions they had.
I worked side-by-side with my dad and Mr. Monday, as well as Mr. Forrester. I told our tale of woe as we worked. Lots of the men asked questions, and they all seemed amazed by our ordeals and especially our success. Everyone was suitably appalled by Emory's policy of impres
sment.
"Are you serious?" Mr. Forrester asked, looking incredulous. "The citizens of Emory enslave every survivor they find and force them to fight the zombies?"
They were calling the infected zombies before I was halfway through my story. I had the impression they never associated them with zombies, which was just bizarre to me. After listening to and speaking with others on the radio they only thought of them as poor infected people whose minds were burned away by a biological weapon of mass destruction. They were probably right, but I still thought the definition of a zombie was loose enough to include them.
Once the villagers salvaged all they deemed usable, they removed the bridges and ladders, and then everyone started back toward the hilltop. There was going to be a gathering to decide what to do about the coming mega horde.
As we ascended the hill I started spotting how they adapted to survive. The big corporate farm had lots of barns and warehouses on the hill, which they'd mostly emptied to divide up into living quarters. So all of the tractors and equipment were parked and stacked everywhere. Outside a pair of warehouses were stacks of pipes and large sprinkler heads for irrigation. They'd used the bulldozers to dig out trenches to park and protect gasoline tanker trailers. I was told they had warehouses full of seeds. And they'd even gone out into the surrounding country to disassemble and bring back some windmills for pumping water out of the ground.
They'd come a long way toward becoming self-sufficient. The zombies and road warriors were the only things keeping them from starting a successful farm town. The only hitch I could think of was modern crops didn't produce viable seeds, so they'd have to find another source of seeds in the future.
"We just have to survive until the die out is over," Mr. Forrester said.
"Die out?"
"The government scientists out west think the infected will all eventually die of starvation, disease, and exposure. They aren't sure how long that will take. Maybe a few years. Once the infected are gone, then we can start the process of recreating civilization."
