Post Apocalyptic Ponies: Revolutions Per Mile, Book 1
Page 7
For us, after a day of hard driving, we needed a full tank. That meant trade.
“What do we have to trade, today?” she asked as she tilted her head down so she could look at me over her hideous designer shades.
“Why are you looking at me, this is your car.”
“Well...sometimes they accept trade on other payment plans.”
I knew she was joking because we just got done stumbling on, and putting an end to, an underage sex traffic ring being run right under the nose of everyone in our town.
“Ha ha. That's not how I roll.” It was true, though I'd been propositioned almost every time I'd gone to get fuel since I started delivering freight with the Prairie Express. It made me uncomfortable every single time, too. “Maybe you have some wares you'd like to show the boys?”
Oh yeah, almost all the fuel truck drivers were men. I think they picked the craziest of the lot because they were such high value targets for bandits.
“Tsk tsk, Perth, I'm the driver. You're the co-pilot. You have to help me, not the other way around. Now get out there and shake your moneymaker.”
She was sniggering, but it made me mad. Instead of complying, I reached into her cargo area behind our seats to see what I could find for trade. We came to a rough stop by the truck.
“Oh no. You're not taking my good stuff.”
I could imagine all sorts of “good stuff” back there. I'd seen her transfer all the crap from the back of her other car to this Death-black police Mustang, including the mysterious suitcase she'd gotten from the now-deceased professor. I know I saw bottles of liquor. She also had the oversized sniper rifle, though I came around to our need to keep that.
We were still arguing with varying degrees of seriousness when a kid knocked on Jo's window. We both jumped, but with amazing speed she pulled a pistol from somewhere on her, and pointed it at her window. The boy held up his hands, looking truly frightened.
When the threat was identified as harmless, Jo put the weapon back into a holster she'd had hidden inside the waistband of her pants. She didn't make an effort to hide it when she put it back.
“See?” I like to be prepared out here. That's lesson 1. Always be prepared.
“Like a Boy Scout,” I said. I'd learned about Boy Scouts from my dad. He was fond of his time with that group, and still recited their mottos, grails, or whatever. I remember nothing of it, except “Be Prepared.” He always said that.
Jo opened her door.
“Sorry, we thought you were a bad guy,” she nodded to the boy. “Where's the OO?”
“M-me. I'm the own-ner and operator.”
Jo froze while holding her door wide open. I couldn't see her face from inside the car, but I suspected she must have a look of surprise. The kid couldn't be a day over thirteen.
“You drive this thing?” Her tone was skeptical.
“Yes. I'm tall.”
He was tall for his age, I gave him that. But he had no business hauling god-knows-how-many tons of explosive fuel around.
After a long hesitation, she leaned all the way back inside the cockpit to whisper to me.
“I guess you're off the hook for a trade.” She winked at me, then pulled out the basketball and a bottle of hooch from her trash heap of a back seat. Unlike most of our cars, the police cruiser still had the original seats. Probably so they could haul in prisoners.
Jo went to talk to the curly-haired boy while I sat and waited. I looked at the bobblehead dog sitting on the center console. The one she thinks I talk to as if it were my dad. I knew better. My real dad usually sat in the passenger seat, though now I was in his spot. He'd get it back the day I got my car back out on the highway. Right now I was Jo's co-pilot while I learned the ropes.
I tilted my head back and rested. I didn't need to look outside to know what was going on. The boy would accept Jo's trade, then he'd use the big red canisters to transfer fuel from his supply to Jo's gas tank.
I woke up and we were already moving.
“How long was I out?” It was early evening.
“Not long. We have a new mission. You excited?”
“Does a chicken lay eggs?” I thought. I was hella excited, but kept it inside.
I didn't know what to say to her so I wouldn't look like a wide-eyed kid. I'd never been on a delivery up on the interstate. Ahead I could see the superhighway looming as a straight line against the backdrop of the blue sky. It ran east and west, cutting field and stream with few turns to make it interesting. I'd been on it before, many times, but not out here. This trip would be my first. First times for me are typically...awkward.
“So, how does this work? Where did you pick up the job?”
She seemed to appreciate the question. “Yeah, so normally we'd get our cargo at the depot in Hays, but today you and I are going on a special run.”
“Special?” I admit I was hoping she'd take me to one of the big garages—surely she belonged to one—or do a little milk run to get me used to the procedures. But now?
“Yep, and we already had the cargo. I picked it up back at the professor's house.”
The suitcase she'd taken wasn't floating on the mess in the back seats. It had to be back in the trunk. I had no idea what was inside.
“So, for my training run you plan to take me out onto the interstate as your co-pilot, with a mysterious cargo you picked up from a woman we later killed, and we're riding in a rogue cop car we basically stole from them after we shot them with a sniper rifle. That about sum it up?”
She giggled. “Yeah, that sums it up perfectly.” Then, as we started up the ramp toward the four-lane interstate she held out her hand to shake mine. I only hesitated for a second.
“Welcome to the fastest job you'll ever have.”
I shook her hand. I also noticed the skulls and crossbones painted in white all the way up the ramp… She was trying to distract me.
“Now, pull out the notebook under your seat and let's get started.”
I reached down and felt the spiral-bound notebook. It had a hard cover. I pulled it to me; it carried the seal of the Kansas Highway Patrol. I was excited and a little bit scared to open it up, but when I did all the wind that had been billowing my sails started to wheeze out.
“She told you it would be dangerous, K-Bear.”
My dad's voice was sympathetic. And, dammit, he was right.
Inside the notebook was page after page of sections of highway. Each drawn and labeled with meticulous precision to show a menagerie of speed traps, kill boxes, and other types of blockages ahead of us. Instead of being a straight shot to Salina, I was looking at mile after mile of danger.
“This is why I stole the car.” She pointed to my notebook. “With this we can get clear across the state. It lays it all out for us.”
I was impressed. It all made sense now. She needed the map from the police station to provide the routes, and the KHP notebook—she ended up stealing the whole car—to avoid the speed traps on the way.
“Wait a second.” My gears shifted very slowly. “Across the state? You mean we aren't turning around at Salina?” Salina was the turnaround for the couriers. Always. The Kansas Militia controlled the Flint Hills beyond. No one could say what was left to the east of that...toward Kansas City.
She was silent, which could only mean—
“Wait just a damned minute. I don't want to go that far.”
“Nobody with sense does. That's why you're perfect.” She smiled a conciliatory smile.
She picked up speed as we left the ramp; the motor was much bolder than her previous Mustang. She had to speak louder as the RPM's increased.
“But you don't have to worry, Perth. Seriously.”
I couldn't help but sound hurt, though I was also a little flattered. “And why is that?”
“Because you're with the best driver currently on this highway.”
She was in sixth gear and singing loudly before I'd had a chance to decide if I was thrilled or terrified.
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This ends the first sample chapter of Book 2.
About the Author
E. E. Isherwood has penned two books about post-apocalyptic driving, four books about zombies, and several short stories from both genres. He has designs for many more tales. His long-time fascination with the end of the world blossomed decades ago after reading the 1949 classic Earth Abides. Zombies are just a handy vehicle which allows him to observe how society breaks down in the face of such withering calamity. Fast cars can also help it along.
Isherwood lives in St. Louis, Missouri with his wife and family. He stays deep in a bunker with steepled fingers, always awaiting the arrival of the first wave of zombies.
Find him online at www.zombiebooks.net.
Books by E.E. Isherwood
E.E. Isherwood currently has four books in the Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse universe. He also has a series of high-octane post-apocalyptic stories called the Revolutions Per Mile series. Visit his website at www.zombiebooks.net to be informed when future titles are launched.
The Revolutions Per Mile series
A new series of driving adventures from post-apocalyptic author E.E. Ishwerood.
Book 1: Post Apocalyptic Ponies
When the world ended, Perth Hopkins was one of the lucky few. She jumped in her father's sports car and drove like a girl possessed to escape the nuclear fires. Today, years later, she drives as a high-speed courier between the small farming towns in the breadbasket of a new nation. She's learning the rules of the road in the safe interior—the pony pastures—but she craves the speed and danger of the interstate. Those routes are run by the older girls... When one of those girls shows up in her life, she's forced to consider whether she really wants to see what's over the distant horizon.
Book 2: Post Apocalyptic Mustangs
Perth is tossed into the high-speed world of "The 70." Interstate 70 was once a major artery across the United States, but what's left of it in Kansas has become a dangerous route traversed by brave couriers carrying pieces of the Old World between the surviving towns. Perth's driver, Jo, claims she is the best of the best of the couriers remaining on the highway and she wants to introduce Perth to how things work by doing a simple run from Hays to Salina. But Perth quickly suspects she's been seduced into being her co-pilot for an entirely different destination.
Book 3: Post Apocalyptic Chargers
***
The Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse series
Since the Sirens
Siren Songs
Stop the Sirens
Last Fight of the Valkyries
Zombies vs. Polar Bears [June, 2016]
***
Book 1: Since the Sirens [BUY ON KINDLE]
When 15-year-old Liam goes to stay with his ancient great-grandmother for the summer, he immediately becomes bored around the frail and elderly woman. He spends most of his time at the library texting friends or reading dark novels. But one morning stroll changes everything as the Zombie Apocalypse unloads itself directly into his life. Now he and his 104-year-old guardian must survive the journey out of the collapsing city of St. Louis while zombies, plague, and desperate survivors swirl around them.
Book 2: Siren Songs [BUY ON KINDLE]
Book 3: Stop the Sirens [BUY ON KINDLE]
Book 4: Last Fight of the Valkyries [BUY ON KINDLE]
Book 5: Zombies vs. Polar Bears [PRE-ORDER ON KINDLE]
OTHER TITLES
The My Zombie Apocalypse series
These short stories explore characters from the Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse world.
Liam
What if Angie had gotten to Grandma Marty on Day 0? How might that have changed Liam's life as the Zombie Apocalypse began?
Jones
As far as we know, officer Jones fell to his death during a heroic rescue of many of his fellow citizens. But what if he survived his crash?
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All these books are self-published. Self-publishing runs on word of mouth. Your review on the product page is that word. It's precious gasoline. It's like fresh blood for my zombies. It keeps them going. It makes them stronger. Please consider taking a few moments to pen a brief review for this book. Just a few words of encouragement will help me write many more adventures.
Review or not, you've already shown your support when you invested your time and treasure in this tome. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for purchasing and reading Post Apocalyptic Ponies.
E.E. Isherwood
Connect with E. E. Isherwood
Thank you for being a reader of my work. I value your support more than I can say. I also love interacting with fans. To contact me, yell at me, become a beta reader, or find more stories about the end of everything, look for me online:
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