Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber

by Alex Westmore

  “You think I don’t know that? I’d love nothing more than to make this crazy announcement, but we’re socialized to think a pregnant woman is a keg of emotional dynamite and we start looking askance at her.”

  Dallas laughed. “As if you haven’t been. Jesus H, Butcher, you’ve been on the rag like the queen of PMS. We don’t know whether to run, shit, or go blind.”

  Butcher tried to hide her smirk. “Which did you decide?”

  “The middle one. Look, if it would make you feel better, Roper and I can be there when you tell him and can set him straight on how this is going to be.”

  She nodded. “I’d like that. A lot. I need him to know that this changes nothing. I am the same person he knew a minute before I told him. Just fatter.” She laid her hand on her belly.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Dallas placed her hand over the top of Butcher’s. “You’ll have our support any way you want it.”

  “Thank you for that, Dallas. That means more to me than you know.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “I’m thinking four and a half, maybe five months. My height gives her more room to grow, so it’s a little hard to tell. My period’s been out of whack since this whole thing started so I stopped paying attention to its odd comings and goings.”

  Dallas grinned. “Her?”

  Butcher blushed and shrugged. “Just feels like a girl.” The blush transformed into something more like pride and excitement. “Not that I know. I can’t really explain it.”

  Laying her hand on Butcher’s cheek, Dallas smiled softly. “That’s more like it. Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Thank you for not making a big deal out of this.”

  “But it is a big deal. I just can’t worry about an unborn child when there are forty living people I need to move through the zombie minefield. So until the day comes that you want a safer assignment, we’ll continue as if nothing has changed, okay?”

  “I’d like that. Thank you, Dallas.”

  “Is The Survivor ready to rock and roll?”

  “She’s all set. All ZBs have been trained and briefed. We’ll be ready to set sail tomorrow morning.”

  Dallas handed her inventory checklist back to Butcher. “Unless something unforeseen happens, we’ll be waving ‘see you later’ at nine o’clock.”

  Butcher nodded as she took the list. “Roger that.”

  Dallas started to walk down the ramp, but paused. “Got any ideas for names?”

  Butcher looked out to sea a moment before replying, “I was thinking something like Machete or Killer.”

  Dallas mouth dropped. “Seriously?”

  Butcher let out a loud laugh. “The days of Brittany and Heather are over, babe. Go big or go home, right?”

  As Dallas walked away, she still wasn’t certain whether or not Butcher was kidding.

  Dallas was making her way back to the camp when she heard it.

  At first, it was just the familiar sound of a gator sliding into the river, but then she heard the splashing of the death roll––the distinctive sound of an alligator as it rolls over and over in an attempt to drown its prey—prey she knew couldn’t be drowned because it was already dead.

  Moving quickly toward the sound, Dallas pulled her Glock out of her waistband and led with it around a corner. Had she looked down at her feet, she would have seen the pair of fleshless hands grasping the air, trying to find a way to get themselves back to its body. They missed her front foot, but got in the way just enough to trip her up, and into the river she went.

  When she made a loud splash busting through the water’s surface, she looked first toward the zombie hand that had accidentally tripped her up. All that was there was a pair of arms with hands opening and closing.

  Nothing else.

  It hadn’t attacked her, but merely tripped her. “Son of a bitch.” That was when she noticed the death roll sound was gone and the river was deathly still.

  Deathly.

  The gator was making its move.

  Dallas knew turning her back on an alligator was certain death, so she stood her ground, Buck knife in hand, swamp water dripping in her eyes. She felt it approaching and knew she had only one chance to drive her knife into its eye or she would wind up like that zombie. If it came out of the water, she would shoot it in the head. If it stayed below, which she figured it would, she would have to use the blade.

  She silently thanked Luke for teaching everyone to use a blade with both hands.

  “Come on, motherfucker,” Dallas growled, gritting her teeth. She’d be damned if she was going out of the game as gator lunch.

  A slight ripple on top of the water told her the gator was fifteen…twelve…nine…six feet away, and Dallas prepared to drive the knife hard into the first part of the snout she could see. Even if it got its mouth on her, if she didn’t panic, she still had a chance to drive the knife home in the eye.

  Arms tight, stomach clenched, Dallas raised her knife, ready to plunge it into the water.

  She never got the chance.

  Roper came flying through the air and landed squarely on top of the alligator, sitting on top of it like it was a bronco—something she had done many a time before the virus. In a nanosecond, she drove her nine-inch Buck knife completely through the top of the large beast’s snout and all the way through its mouth and jaw, effectively stapling its enormous mouth shut.

  The gator tried to twist her off, but Roper had ridden bulls far tougher than a big lizard, and she jockeyed the beast to the shoreline all the while holding onto the handle of her Buck knife to make sure the animal’s jaws remained shut and locked. As the alligator tried to return to the river, its weapon-like tail slashing violently from side-to-side, a gunshot rang out and the animal twitched once before sinking into the silt.

  Roper put her foot on its head and pulled out the large knife, her clothes soaking wet and her short hair dripping with swamp water.

  “You okay?” she asked, gently pushing down the muzzle of the Glock Dallas had just fired.

  Dallas was staring at the dead beast. “Pretty sure I just shit my pants.”

  Roper wiped the blood off her knife and sheathed it before hugging a trembling Dallas. “You broke your own rule about going around alone, babe. That is a huge no-no.”

  Dallas pulled away, her legs trembling beneath her. “That…that was amazing. Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you sure you’re not Wonder Woman?”

  Roper laughed. “Only in bed, sweetheart.”

  Standing with their arms around each other, the two women laughed.

  “I’ve ridden far meaner bulls and broncs than that oversized handbag. He wasn’t even in the top ten.”

  Dallas kissed Roper’s neck. “Thank you, love. You just saved my life. Again. I’m pretty sure I’d be wedged under a log, tenderizing.”

  “Not on my watch, lover. But do me a favor and don’t do that again.”

  “You got it.”

  “Are we ready?”

  Dallas picked up the two still twitching zombie arms and tossed them in the water. “We are, but there’s something you should know, and there’s no way to ease into this, so I’ll just say it. Butcher’s pregnant.”

  Roper blinked. “No kidding? Well that makes sense.”

  Dallas then repeated her discussion with Butcher as they walked through the swamp. When she finished, they were back at camp.

  “Mum’s the word,” Dallas said.

  “Absolutely, but I, for one, think it’s great news. May be what we need to remind us that we have a responsibility to the future. The future is us and our progeny, and I think Luke is going to be ecstatic.”

  “Agreed, but my guess is that Butcher is correct in thinking he’s suddenly going to go all daddy-goo-goo on us, and right now, we need his head in the game.”

  Roper ran her hand along Dallas’s jawline. They stared at each other in that knowing way lovers have that drowns out all sound around them. “Yep. What do y
ou say we slip into our little bed and pretend we’re making one?”

  Dallas grinned. “Don’t tempt me. You know how I can’t say no to you.”

  “Then don’t.” Roper toyed with the buttons on Dallas’s jeans.

  “We have a lot left to do.”

  Roper put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Man. Dog on a bone. Okay, lover, what all do we need to do that’s more important than having sex?”

  She didn’t have long to wait for an answer…and ten minutes later, they were in bed, celebrating another day of having made it through the swamp.

  “I’m thinking there’s nothing better than survival sex,” Roper said, lying on top on Dallas’s naked body. “But next time…let’s not have a next time.”

  The next morning, when everyone gathered around the campsite, Dallas gave a rundown of the plan one more time so everyone was on the same page.

  Of those who were leaving, only eight were CGIs, and all eight were going in the Fuchs while the other thirty two were traveling on The Survivor.

  “We’ll stop by the gator farm and see if we can collect any of those there who want the chance to get out of the bayou. It will take you on the boat longer to get to Angola, and you’ll be fishing and gathering anyone you see along the coast. You’ll stay on the boat until you see the Fuchs. Once you see us, you’ll know we’re ready to clean out the prison. You are not to get off the boat under any circumstance. Are there any questions?”

  “What if we don’t see you? I mean, what if something happens?”

  “Then you’ll come back here and keep on keeping on. Anyone else?”

  A young girl by the name of Kat Warner raised her hand. “How do we know we can trust these new people?”

  Dallas shielded her eyes from the sun. “We don’t. That’s just the chance, one of many, that we’ll have to take.”

  Kat pet the pit bull she had found when she’d first arrived on the bayou. The dog was like a mini zombie hunter, emitting an odd growl when it sensed one nearby. Because of this, Dallas let her bring the dog on board the boat. “I think people are more dangerous than zombies.”

  Dallas smiled down at her. “Do you now? Well, hon, you’re probably not wrong.”

  After answering everyone’s questions, Dallas felt the tension in the group tighten and looked over to Roper for last words.

  Standing, Roper cleared her throat and addressed the group. “We know separating makes us all nervous. We’ve had a pretty uneventful eight months here and have made a nice home for ourselves, but it’s time for us to look to the future, to grow, to fight, to take back our lives. Angola is a fresh start for us, and we CGIs are going to do everything we can to eradicate these man eaters and make it safer for the rest of you. You need to have faith in us and believe that we’ll be reunited as soon as humanly possible. Trust that we are in this together.”

  The Joneses stepped up and the father cleared his throat. “We want you all to know you are always welcome back here if Angola doesn’t work out. As much as we’d like to go, we simply do not feel it is worth the risk. We wish the best for you and hope you remember us in the event you are successful in cleaning the area of those God forsaken creatures.”

  Once everyone had said their goodbyes, the ZBs all loaded onto the boat and, standing on the bank, Roper and Einstein said their final see-you-laters.

  “You guys be careful,” Roper said, tears welling in her eyes. “And keep everyone safe, kiddo. They need you.”

  Einstein nodded and reached for Cassie’s hand, something he had never done. “We’re gonna expect you guys there, okay? Don’t be a hero and don’t let us down.”

  “We won’t. We’ll collect Sully and his people and hustle our way to Angola. You just keep the faith.”

  Einstein jammed his hands in his pockets. He’d been quiet for the last couple of days, which was unusual for a kid who deserved his moniker.

  “Hey kid,” Roper said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “It’s gonna be fine. Better than fine.”

  “I know…it’s just…separating has never been a good thing for us, and now we’re not even going to be on solid ground. We should stay together.” Einstein looked up at her. He was beginning to fill out the way boys do. “It’s just…we said we wouldn’t separate again, you know?”

  Roper looked away. Almost every time they had separated coming here, things tended to go south, so they had promised each other they wouldn’t do it again. “I know, and you know if we could avoid it, we would.”

  He quickly blinked back tears, and Roper wondered if he was going to cry. “I think we’re doing the right thing, but I’ll feel much better when we’re all back together.”

  “I’m with you there, big guy.” She hugged him tightly. “You keep Butcher safe,” she whispered, not wanting to let him go.

  “Will do. And Roper?” He struggled to find the right words. “I love you, ya know?”

  Roper mussed up his hair. “I know…right back at you.”

  When everyone was on board, Dallas and Roper waved as the boat pulled away before they headed back to camp.

  “You think we should have brought him?”

  Dallas shook her head. “Nope. Too hard keeping him safe. It’s just easier to move among them without inciting their hunger.”

  “That broke my heart. It looked like he was going to cry.”

  Dallas sighed loudly. “My guess is he already did. We’re family now. It doesn’t feel right to be separated. Besides, he’s right. We did make a pact, and now we’re breaking it.”

  Roper took Dallas’s hand in hers. “Then, after this, let’s not anymore.”

  Dallas kissed the back of her hand and smiled softly into her eyes. “You got it.”

  “Is it me, or are there more man eaters than the last time we came?” Dallas slowed the Fuchs down as an emaciated horse walked in front of them.

  “No, it’s not you. Looks like they’re definitely headed somewhere.” Roper gave Churchill the nod, and he started up the ladder. “Single shot, Churchill. Don’t waste ammo.”

  “I should go,” Roper said.

  Dallas shook her head. “He needs the practice, and this is as safe as it gets for that.”

  Churchill continued up the ladder. Seconds later, the gunfire started and zombies began falling all around the Fuchs. “I wonder where they’re headed.”

  Dallas and Roper looked at each other. “The gator farm.”

  Stepping on the gas, Dallas sliced through a half dozen zombies as she made her way to the alligator farm.

  The horde was definitely on the move, and Dallas knew it was going after the humans she’d left at the farm. She could only hope the fences held or that the gators could hold them off.

  When she screeched into the parking lot, she saw hundreds of zombies clamoring to get into the farm, their collective moaning piercing through the air, setting her teeth on edge.

  “Hold your fire!” Dallas yelled, which brought Churchill down the ladder.

  The zombies didn’t give the Fuchs a second look. There were no genetic markers inside to draw them to it, so they ignored it and continued pawing at the cyclone fencing—fencing designed to keep the gators from getting loose, so it was pretty sturdy.

  For the moment.

  The problem with zombies was they never tired. They never needed rest or food or water. They would just keep coming and coming and coming. Eventually, the fences would give in— but if Dallas timed it right, they would be long gone by then.

  Dallas grabbed the mic and announced, “Hold your fire. We’re going to clean the area, and then we’ll bring the Fuchs in. You’ll need to open the gate once I give the word to open up. Once we pull in, hold your fire. Shoot once if you understand what we need you to do, twice if you need me to repeat.”

  One gunshot was fired, taking a zombie near the gate out. They waited for a second that never came.

  “Excellent.”

  Dallas stopped the engine and addressed the other seven CGIs sitting in the
Fuchs. “You know the drill. We’ve practiced this dozens of times. Stay clear of each other’s swings. Be methodical in your choices and approach. When your arms get tired from swinging, take a break in the Fuchs. No gunfire when we’re this close to each other. Are there any questions?”

  No one had any.

  “Good. Here are your assignments.” Dallas gave each of them an area to clear. When everyone had theirs, they grabbed their machetes, bats, and tire irons and waited for the ramp of the Fuchs to lower.

  When the ramp touched the parking lot, they all hit the ground running and swinging. When all but Dallas and Roper were gone, Roper turned to Dallas and kissed her softly.

  “Stay safe, lover.”

  Dallas nodded. “You do the same, baby.”

  As they exited the vehicle, Dallas was not surprised that two dozen zombies were already down…headless and no longer a threat.

  Dallas ran to cover her area and used the two-handed method. Her new weapon of choice was a Katana, a very sharp Japanese blade Roper had found for her in a home in the French Quarter. As long as a Katana was sharp, it would slice through cartilage and bone with relative ease. With two hands, she could drive the blade through rotting flesh, cutting the head off in one fell swoop. She was very proficient with the sword and spent a lot of time keeping it sharpened.

  Her first eight kills were a piece of cake. With fresh arms and a sharp blade, she had no problem taking them out with a minimum amount of swings.

  As the moaning slowly quieted down, Dallas looked up and watched as Roper, wielding two machetes, cleaved heads with an efficiency that would have been admirable if it wasn’t also so frightening. Roper was a killing machine who could kill quickly and easily with her two machetes, and she had become even more efficient as they pressed on. She had exceptional upper body strength from all her rodeo activity, and it showed in the quick, powerful strokes of dual machetes.

  As another head was clipped off its rotting body, Roper looked over at Dallas and smiled. Their team had effectively mowed down somewhere between two and three hundred zombies in less than fifteen minutes. Not one of the team had gone back to the Fuchs. Everyone was covered in old blood and muck, and when the last head fell, they all stood there panting, with tired arms and bloody clothes, successful again.