5
We had not been on the freeway long when the fog began to thin out and before we knew it, we were driving through a crystal clear and frigid New England day. Luke reported that the motorcycles were still following us but had dropped back quite a ways.
“I hope those persistent bastards don’t chase us all the way to the safe haven,” Luke said, his eyes locked on the mirror.
“We definitely won’t lead them there,” I replied. “Hopefully, they give up before we have to do anything drastic.”
We rode in silence for a few minutes, our light mood at the temporary reprieve from our pursuers suddenly dampened by what we were witnessing. The freeway was clear of vehicles, but not through any stroke of luck. There must have been an almighty gridlock at one point as people tried to escape the city, but now the vehicles were piled and heaped to the sides of the road, as though a petulant child had swept his toy cars off a track in a fit of rage.
That wasn’t the worst. There were bodies, too. Some hanging out of cars, some half-buried in the snowdrifts that were building on the wrecks. I glanced at Indigo and saw tears in her eyes as she took in the horrible sight. Bitter tears stung my own eyes. I didn’t try to comfort her – we would probably see plenty worse than this before we reached the safe haven.
The Chinese had cleared the freeway and one had to assume they were doing the same to all the major roads between cities, to ease their takeover and repopulation of the conquered continent. It only made sense. Luke looked into his mirror.
“They’re still stalking us. I’m just glad their little convoy of motorbikes hasn’t brought the Chinese down on us,” he said.
“Yet,” I said pointedly.
“Yeah, yet. That reminds me, I haven’t heard… oh crap.”
I glanced at him and then down at the CB radio on the dashboard and my stomach did a flip-flop. One of the bullets that had come through my window had torn through the side of it. “We’ve been driving deaf for at least a half-hour now. The whole damn Chinese Army could be waiting around the next bend for all we know.”
“Oh, well,” said Luke. “It’s not like we have anybody who speaks Chinese up here anyway. Brooke is in back...”
Indigo gave him a look.
“Hey, now... sorry. I didn’t mean... I wasn’t complaining.”
He looked mortified that she might think he was taking a swipe at her and I found myself taking a perverse enjoyment out of his discomfort.
“I hope the others are okay,” Indigo said, and I remembered the sound of the nine-millimeter bullets slapping into the side of the cargo area.
“We can’t stop to check on them as long as the Tigers are stalking us,” I said. “Luke, grab your atlas. See if there is a way we can lose them up ahead.”
“Will do,” he said, no doubt happy the awkward moment had passed.
He reached under his seat, where he seemed to have stored everything but a kitchen sink. A few seconds later, he was opening his atlas to Massachusetts.
“Indigo, we got on here, right?” he asked, pointing to a spot on the map.
“Yeah, that’s the place,” she said.
“I think I see a way,” Luke said. “Take the next exit and turn left off the end of the ramp. That should put us on highway 12 and we can follow that up to the 140 and then take the 140 back to I-190.”
“I’ve been that way before,” Indigo said. “It won’t take us too far out of the way.”
“Alright then, maybe we can lose them on the way.”
I saw the exit coming up and slowed to take it and, as I did, the motorbikes closed some of the distance between us.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw about eight bikes, some of them with two Tigers on. We were still well outnumbered as ten or twelve Chinese gangbangers were not something we were equipped to fight it out with, not even if everybody in the back was in good shape and ready to rumble. We just didn’t have the firepower. The Tigers would easily outgun us. My attention snapped back onto the ramp ahead of me and I pulled us off of the freeway.
The off ramp was forested on either side, but almost as soon as we turned onto highway 12, we passed an Ace Hardware and a grocery store. I would have liked to have stopped and looked for more supplies in both places, but with the Tigers on our asses, it wasn’t an option. Continuing up the highway, we passed a CVS pharmacy and after that a couple of strip malls and an RV dealership as we left the outskirts of town.
Worcester was finally in our rear-view mirror but unfortunately, so were the Tigers.
With the fog lifted I could open it up a little more, but I didn’t get above 50 or so. That seemed to be the speed at which the truck began to protest by shaking and whining. I knew there was no way that a rental truck was going to outrun the Tigers’ motorcycles, not for long, anyway.
“We need to get far enough ahead so we can find a place where there’s a corner to hide the truck. Hopefully, they’ll zoom on by and we can go the other way,” I said.
“I don’t know if that’s going to cut it,” Luke said, looking back. “These guys are hardcore and they’re not letting us out of their line of vision. I can’t believe that wasting a couple of them pissed them off enough to risk the Chinese.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. “You remember the guy I killed in the alley, back when we saved Indigo?”
“Seriously, dude? You’re asking if I remember the guy you gunned down in front of me?”
“Yeah, well ... he was ...”
“What?” Luke and Indigo asked at the same time.
“The younger brother of Chen, the leader of the Tigers,” I said, not looking at them and keeping my eyes on the road.
“Really?” Luke asked.
“What’d I tell you?” I said. “If it wasn’t for bad luck...”
“Well, I don’t care who he was, I’m glad you did it. You guys are my knights in shining armor – even if your shining armor is a stained parka,” she said to me then to Luke, “And your sword, a crossbow.”
“So, are they going to hunt us to the ends of the earth now or what?” Luke asked.
“I hope not,” I replied. “But back at the parking garage I came face to face with him and he looked mad ... no, more than mad. He looked psycho. I’m pretty sure he will keep coming after us until one of us is dead. Either him or me. Since we turned off have we gained any ground?”
“No, in fact, they’ve started creeping closer again.”
The road swerved to the right and I could see we were coming up to a long bridge over a stretch of water.
“Just on the other side of this bridge, you want to turn left. It’ll take us back toward the freeway.”
“That’s a big lake,” I said when the trees to the side thinned out as we approached the bridge. I realized I could only see part of the lake as it stretched to my left. There were places where it bent around, forming large coves.
“That’s the Wachusett Reservoir,” Indigo said. “My uncle used to bring me and my cousin fishing here sometimes when we were little.”
There was a sign that proclaimed the bridge prone to ice in the winter, but I ignored it and kept up my speed as we hit it. I could hear the motorcycles again and the roar of their engines were getting louder. It occurred to me they meant to take us while we were crossing the lake. I got my revolver ready and lay it on my lap in case any of them pulled alongside, and saw Luke was likewise preparing his crossbow for action.
“They’re coming,” Luke said, looking in his mirror. I nodded grimly. The roar of bikes told me that they were getting very close now.
“Oh, no!” moaned Indigo as we crested the bridge and started descending to the other side.
In front of us was our worst nightmare... a roadblock manned by Chinese soldiers at the other end of the bridge.
6
Wooden barricades were placed across the end of the bridge and an armored vehicle, topped by a wicked looking cannon, and four Humvees were parked behind them. Standing at the barrier, watching us
come toward them, were at least eight Chinese soldiers and I could see more behind the vehicles.
We were trapped between the Tigers and the Chinese Army... with no way out.
“You gotta be shitting me,” Luke said.
“Figures, doesn’t it?” I said, through gritted teeth.
“What are we going to do?” Indigo asked.
“Die, probably,” I said, unable to hide the despair in my voice. “I’m not stopping. They’ll have to kill us ... that’s the only way they’re stopping this truck.”
“Yep. This reminds me of that old country song about the convoy,” Luke said.
I had no idea what he was talking about and wondered how, just seconds from death, Luke could be spouting crap about songs probably written before either of us was born. Maybe it was a coping mechanism?
Mine was anger. I stomped the gas pedal hard into the floor.
“You guys might want to get down as low as possible,” I said. “The engine block should give you some protection.”
The Chinese soldiers in front of us suddenly realized they were in imminent danger and began scrambling to ready their weapons and take cover behind their vehicles.
We were maybe a hundred yards from the barricades when the Tigers opened up with submachine guns and pistols behind us. I heard a few hit the truck, but most seemed to be missing, probably because shooting and riding a motorcycle at the same time isn’t easy. The effect on the Chinese, though, was amazing; they seemed to think the Tigers were shooting at them and responded accordingly.
The last hundred yards to the barricade seemed to take forever to cross. If you asked me later, I would have sworn it took at least five minutes, but I know, given how fast I was driving, it had to have happened in no more than a few seconds. It's funny how time can seem so elastic when the proverbial is hitting the fan.
Indigo put her hand on my thigh, but I hardly noticed. We all hunkered down, Luke and Indigo below the level of the dashboard and me with just my eyes and forehead peeking over so that I could see where I was driving.
A few shots hit the windshield, high on the passenger side, and I felt a couple hitting the cargo box where it rose above the cab but, for the most part, the Chinese fire seemed to be concentrating on the motorcycles behind us.
If they think we are a Chinese military truck, we might still get out of this, the hopeful thought shot through my head.
The soldiers manning the barricade were not like the ones we'd been captured by. They wore simple gray-green trench coats rather than the urban camouflage with padded armor points, and they carried old style rifles. I later learned they were conscripts and had no choice about whether they wanted to be in the army or not, and that the Chinese Army was mostly made up of soldiers just like them.
The armored personnel carrier actually looked like a small tank to me and, to my horror, as I examined it, the turret started to turn in our direction. I saw it inching around in slow motion and I wondered if we'd make it to the barricades before it fired.
We did, barely. We crashed through the wooden barrier and Chinese soldiers leapt out of our way as we careened through. The armored personnel carrier started firing at the motorcycles behind us. I realized that rather than a cannon, the gun on the turret was more like a giant machine gun, and right now it was spitting hot metal death at the Tigers on our tail.
The truck was heading straight for a Humvee and I slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard to my left. We skidded sideways, sweeping up three Chinese soldiers who hadn't jumped out of the way quickly enough. They were crunched between us as I sideswiped the personnel carrier, causing both vehicles to shudder.
The truck slewed back to the right and stopped in the center of the intersection with a screech of tires.
Still alive.
“Are you okay?” I asked the other two.
Indigo nodded and a shaken Luke risked a glance through his window as I took stock of our situation.
“Damn, the Tigers are getting massacred, man,” he said. “We should get the hell out of here while the Chinese are distracted.”
I peeked over my shoulder and out of the window. Luke was right. The Tigers were being slaughtered… but not all of them. Well back on the bridge, far enough that the fire of the soldier’s machine guns was ineffectual, an all-too-familiar figure straddled his bike.
Chen, with the last two of his crew on their bikes flanking him, stood sentinel and looked down upon the destruction of the Red Tigers.
I knew it was impossible, but I felt like Chen was staring right at me and I shivered. Finally, as the turret on the armored vehicle began to whir and slowly raise its muzzle toward them, the remaining Chen and his men gunned their bikes and spun around, racing from the scene.
I snapped out of my trance. It was only then that I noticed movement to my left.
“I think it might be too late,” I said, glancing out my window.
A group of six Chinese soldiers were approaching from the rear of the truck on my side, waving their hands and shouting, although their words were lost in the roar of the gunfire going on around us.
“Indigo, hand me the rifle behind you,” I said, sorry that her hand would be leaving my thigh.
I slid the revolver back into my parka pocket. Three soldiers, two with rifles and one armed only with a side arm, approached the cab of the truck, while the other three stayed by the back corner. I ducked down as they approached. The soldier with the handgun – I think he might have been an officer of some sort – shouted something in Chinese just outside the driver’s side door.
I tensed as the door handle twitched and was yanked open.
There was a look of surprise on his face when he saw me scrunched down there with the assault rifle aimed straight at him, at least I tell myself there was when I think back. In reality, everything happened too fast for me to notice.
At this range, I couldn’t miss, and my chest shot went straight through the officer’s body and into the soldier behind him. Both crumpled to the ground.
The third soldier began to bring his own assault rifle up as I swung my weapon towards him. I wasn’t going to be quick enough. I heard a soft spitting sound next to my head and the soldier, wearing his own look of surprise, dropped one hand from his rifle and scrabbled in a futile attempt to remove the crossbow arrow embedded in his larynx.
He dropped to his knees and slowly fell forward, squeezing his trigger as he fell. One bullet pinged into the metal of the dash right by my head, another into the floor, and the last of the three round burst triggered by his death spasm slapped harmlessly into the roadway beneath the cab.
Reeling, I saw Luke rack another short arrow into the crossbow. I shook my head to clear it and leaned out of the door to see one of the soldiers by the back of the truck aiming his rifle my way. There were three flashes and the open door jerked behind me. I brought my own rifle around and returned fire. One of the three rounds found its mark and the soldier fell, grabbing at his thigh. Behind me, there was another spitting sound, and I heard a body hit the bitumen.
Luke pulled back from his window.
“Go!” he yelled.
I slammed the driver's side door and tried to restart the truck – it had stalled when we'd skidded to a stop. Despite my sense of impending doom, the truck turned over on the second try, and I slammed my foot on the gas and turned left. We shot down the road that would take us back to the freeway, leaving the firefight behind.
PART TWO
DECISIONS
7
I couldn't hear it but Indigo told me afterward the gunfire on the bridge had started to die down, so we probably got out of there at just the right time. The truck wobbled just as we were losing sight of the Chinese checkpoint. It felt as if a gust of wind had caught the side of the cargo box, but then we were clear. My head hurt from the roar of the gunfire and constant adrenalin, but I knew the others were feeling it just as much as I was.
“We need to stop and check everybody in the back is oka
y,” Indigo yelled over the cold wind howling through the broken windows.
I kept my foot planted on the accelerator.
“We will! Just not yet.”
Stopping this close to the checkpoint didn't seem like a good idea.
“We need to do it soon,” she insisted.
I nodded.
I drove fifteen minutes at full speed, which didn’t actually seem very fast in the damaged truck, but at least there had been no signs of pursuit.
“There’s the on-ramp,” said Indigo, pointing into the distance.
“Still no one on our tail?” I asked Luke.
“No.”
There was a boarded up old gas station with a large garage behind it a quarter of a mile before the on-ramp. I slowed the truck.
“We’ll stop here,” I said.
I turned into the driveway without further consultation, but I hadn’t slowed enough, and the truck pitched dangerously. For just a brief second I thought it might roll onto its side. Indigo gave a short squeal as she slid hard into Luke, squashing him against the door. I braked with a jolt and we were all propelled forward in our seats.
“Dude! What the hell?!” yelled Luke.
“Sorry,” I said, looking sheepishly at them.
I put my foot carefully on the gas again and eased the truck around behind the gas station to the garage behind it. The doors of the bigger building were open and it was pretty much empty apart from a few old barrels and assorted machinery. I drove the truck inside and pulled up.
Luke and Indigo and I looked at each other, their faces mirrored what I felt. Relief mixed with worry about our passengers.
“Come on.”
We jumped out and ran to the back of the truck. Indigo went to the cargo door of the truck as Luke and I shut the big doors of the garage, concealing the truck from prying eyes. Turning, I got my first look at the cargo box of the truck, and my stomach lurched.
The back door of the truck, remarkably, only had a few holes in it, but the sides were pretty chewed up.
Did the packed food and gear protect them? I wondered doubtfully to myself.
America Falls (Book 2): On The Run Page 4
